#he just has fun and never speaks of it again and never has to think about it beyond that

[thatbuddie]

mel/frank | ~500 words | rated t | mentions of a minor injury ↳ for day seven: hammock of the august @kingdonmicrofic challenge

“Please,” Mel begs, “you can't tell anyone about this.”

Santos looks like this is the worst thing she has ever been asked to do. She is pressing her lips together firmly, as if struggling to hold her laughter.

If it wasn’t for how he’s holding Mel’s hand in his, he would get up and very maturely flick Santos between her eyebrows. This would most definitely devolve into a very adult-like slap fight. He knows that she would probably turn it dirty by pulling his hair, and so no one would be able to blame him if he responded in kind by giving her a noogie.

Like she can read his mind, Mel squeezes his hand three times, pulling his attention back to her. Even with a nose splint, the beginnings of a nasty bruise around her eyes, and some blood still caked up on the lower half of her face, the sight of her brings him peace.

This only lasts until Santos speaks again.

“You want me to keep this to myself? You want me to never talk about how you broke your nose because you and Langdon tried to get freaky and nasty on a fucking hammock?”

Mel looks away from him to very calmly respond, “Yes, Trinity, that’s exactly what I want you to do.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Mel,” Santos sighs, quickly raising her finger to point at him. “Not you, Langdon. You should have been the one to break your nose.”

“Well, look at that,” he says, “we can agree on things sometimes.”

Snapping her gloves off, Santos turns to walk out of the room but not before sticking her tongue out at him. He can’t help but notice how she conveniently turns so Mel won’t see her do it. What a sneaky, little devil.

Once they’re alone, Mel relaxes into the hospital bed and closes her eyes.

“So how long until the entire hospital knows about it?”

“Give or take 25 seconds,” he confidently says.

This makes her chuckle, which in turn makes her wince.

“We are never having sex again,” he states, driven a little dramatic by seeing her in pain.

“Okay, now, let’s not get hasty,” she says, her eyes still closed. “I think it’s enough if we just never try to have sex on a hammock again.”

He silently concedes to her point by bringing her hand up to his mouth and kissing her knuckles.

“It was fun while it lasted, though,” he says, remembering the way her hair cascaded over him, how the last of the day’s sun rays tinted her skin golden.

Opening her eyes, she turns her head to look at him.

“I’m sure we can find other fun things to do.” Her voice is sultry and, as always, he feels caught in her spell.

“Not until that nose is feeling better, though!” Santos announces walking back into the room, Javadi and Whitaker in tow.

Even without a timer, he knows: that was give or take 25 seconds.

[cinder-stella]

-ˏˋ. “𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡.” ˊˎ-

satoru gojo | best friends | reader has a savior complex

<18+ NSFW, MDNI>

“I’ve never finished from head,” he says, like it’s a fun fact.

You pause mid-sip and tilt your head slowly, like a possessed doll in a horror movie. “…Sorry. You’ve what?”

Gojo shrugs. “Yeah. Like it’s fine. It just doesn’t do that much for me.”

You stare at him like he told you he’s never had water. “You’re kidding.”

“I mean, maybe I’ve just never had good head,” he says, already grinning. “Sex has never been mind-blowing either.”

You set your drink down hard. Then you lean forward—elbows on your knees, fingers laced like you're about to discuss an investment strategy.

He continues. “I usually end up doing most of the work. I’ve never had anyone, like…really go all in, you know? I’ve never even finished from a blowjob.”

“You’re tall, rich, obnoxiously hot and funny. There's no reason you should be walking around thinking blowjobs are mid.”

“Wow, thanks. I think.”

“…I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” You say in your best Italian mafia voice and then lean back on the couch like a crime boss.

“Are you—are you offering me head?”

“Yeah. Exceptional head. The kind that makes your soul try to leave your body through your dick.”

He raises an eyebrow, that usual cocky glint in his eye but he’s not saying no. In fact, ten minutes later, he’s sitting on the edge of your bed with his pants halfway down, a little less smug than usual.

“This is gonna be funny if I still don’t finish.”

“Mm,” you hum, kneeling between his legs. “Not on my watch.”

He stops laughing about thirty seconds in.

By the one-minute mark, he’s gripping the sheets.

By minute two, his hand’s in your hair and his head’s falling back against the pillows like it’s the only thing keeping him afloat.

“Shit—okay—hold on—wait—fuck—”

You glance up at him, eyes innocent, mouth full.

“What?” you ask, pulling back just enough to breathe.

“I am quite literally having a seizure.”

“No, babe,” you murmur, licking along the tip, “that’s just me.”

He groans and fully collapses back. One hand thrown over his face like he’s shielding himself from the sun.

“I—don’t let me finish like this. Not yet. I’ll actually cry.”

“You can cry, that’s ok.”

“That’s not the point!”

You laugh, wipe your mouth and climb into his lap.

“So,” you say, sliding your hands up his thighs, “you ready to graduate?”

“Graduate?”

“The full program. Next tier. Unlocking premium access.”

“You’re talking like this is a Kickstarter and not my actual body.”

“You signed the terms and conditions the second you took your pants off.”

You’re climbing into his lap before he can argue. And when your bare thighs settle over his, you feel the sharp inhale he takes.

His hands come to your hips instinctively.

You guide him into you slowly.

“Fuuuuuck—”

When you sink down onto him, he exhales like it physically knocked something out of him. “Oh my God.”

“Better?”

He doesn’t respond just purses his lips.

You ride him steady, confident and just enough to make him fall apart in your hands. He’s still trying to joke through it, still gasping out half-teasing nonsense between moans.

But the second you tighten around him and grind down just right, his voice breaks completely.

“I’m—holy shit—I’m gonna cum.”

“Go ahead.”

“No like—I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Okay,” you whisper, “go ahead.”

He finishes so hard you feel it all the way through his chest—the full-body tremble, a desperate, shattered moan against your shoulder. And you stay there, letting him breathe.

And when he finally speaks again, it’s a hoarse whisper, “I can’t see.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Am i dead?”

You grin. “My job here is done.”

( ⸝⸝⸝ > ̫ <⸝⸝⸝ )

[francium127]

Here's Sweet Milk Cookie

Not much to say, I've made a lot of mistakes while I was drawing him, but I gave up and might need to redesign some of the swapped beasts

Also, cast a vote

Story

The fount of knowledge was made for one purpose, spreading knowledge to everyone,but he had one on his own......keep all his frds in touch, every argument, every celebration, he will try and keep them tgt as frds, and he took those part seriously, but one day the witches gave another purpose.....becoming the bringer of happiness and blessed the garden of delights, and now , as the keeper of the garden, he blessed every cookies with eternal happiness, and he took that part very..... seriously.......

Fun facts abt him

1. He mostly covered his face with feathers until pv's arrival

2. He was rather shy compared to the other bringers of happiness, unlike them, who greeted their other half very passionately (besides E mfc) , when he met pv, he distracted him and let him enter the woods and start playing hide and seek, although it was a fun time until he pops up and giggles

3. If in the multiverse, where esc is in the style of bsc, the witches actually ripped her wings off and took her garden to give to another, and she hates whoever is the keeper of it besides E mfc, E smc often hates her for randomly enters his garden and wreck his things until he knew the truth

4. Whenever is was REALLY shy, his wings will just shut his face

5.the eyes will appear on his wings and hair if he opens his real eyes

6.when pure vanilla was abt to leave, he gave his a flower bracelet, which will never wither, before he left, which is attracted the monsters to attack him, and at his final leave, he gave the same bracelet, but it wasn't attracting anything again

7. Most of the E smc eventually fell in love with Pure vanilla

8.If he has a lover, he would write a lot of love letters and send them every few seconds

(Here are some stuff for shadowvanilla in case anyone thinks it's not enough )

1.Pure vanilla enjoys rubbing his wings as he let out soft purrs whenever he did so

2. E smc doesn't speak loudly but pure vanilla heard it loud and clear, which it was unusual as most will tell him to speak louder

3.When pure vanilla cookie said 'We could be frds tgt', E smc screamed as he couldn't believe he could befriend with pv or just didn't believe that they weren't lovers yet

4.In one of these stories, B esc visited his place as pv was stuck in there, B esc knew that he was trapped instead of willingly, she actually tried to help him escape, but pc said no as he thinks they grew a string bond tgt, which B esc was like '......do you need therapy ?'

5.Well........Pure vanilla actually took E smc out to visit his kingdom, ans now he often flew around just to meet his other half

That's all, I'm tired

Once again, thank @fluffshi-wxffle for providing this template

[deancity]

dean's issue is commitment not sexuality. that's not to say that those things don't intersect bc they 100% do, BUT we are talking about dean, king of denying himself what he wants, winchester. this man knows he's attracted to other men and doesn't have much of a problem with that in itself. his issue is the fact that that attraction is fun to act on but can never lead anywhere. guys can fool around together but they can't settle down together type mentality. and that's not an issue for him bc he can't settle down with anyone anyway. he's a hunter and hunters don't do that so no need to think about it too hard. he knows he's into guys and he knows he'll never have one for more than one night and that's the end of it.

[slightlytoastedbagel]

when you think about it Vivid Bad Squad was the first time any of them truly had people outside of family and not just classmates or family acquaintances. it's no wonder they got so ride or die for each other despite the rocky start they understand each other in ways no one else has before

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[burnthybread]

iiiiiidont know how to feel

[shackleton2]

I love this scene.

When you think about how sure Steve was that saying those words would immediately not just get his 2012's attention but cut his puppet strings completely, and THEN you think about what Rumlow said to him in Lagos and what he said about that to Wanda: "Rumlow said 'Bucky' and all of a sudden I was a 16 year old kid in Brooklyn again" ?????

I think Steve has a pretty sad private insight about his state of mind after waking up in the future. I don't think he becomes consciously aware of it until he is Tired Endgame Steve. But he woke up in a strange world all alone, was immediately pointed at an alien army destroying his home, and mentally survived it. How? Maybe by partitioning and compartmentalizing his whole self to an insane degree that most of us would not only be incapable of, we also wouldn't get away with it, because someone who KNOWS US would be like dude wtf why are you being a weird mannequin right now?

So 2012 (and the years past that) Steve Rogers is playing the role of Captain America full-time. He is going along with what modern people assume of him after being a dead legend for decades. Captain America is not of a particular era, he is a timeless symbol. He is not so much "of" the 1940s as a person, he is a cartoon character with a WW2 theme. He is a soldier. He is a grandpa because everyone quips about it. He is indestructible and always mentally ok the same way everyone's WW2 grandpa was always ok.

What he is definitely not is Steve Rogers, the actual living guy who grew up poor in Brooklyn and ran off to war. Which is fine because there is no one left in the world who remembers that guy-- nothing but the occasional moment of recognition Peggy Carter in the nursing home can offer him.

Bucky Barnes shattered that when Steve saw his face on the bridge and every time he saw him or thought of him or was reminded of him after that.

So when he's fighting his 2012 self and can't get out of his chokehold he tells him Bucky is alive because he knows the guy behind him is a strong but brittle front or shield protecting Steve Rogers who is too traumatized and desperately alone to even FIGHT.

I know I'm anti Endgame but

The fact that 2012 Steve was trying to kill current Steve because he thought it was Loki but immediately stopped when hearing Bucky's name 😕

[tracksidebaby]

His Favourite

Summary: It's no secret that Max Verstappen has no time for press, media and interviews. That is unless you're there.

Requested: Yes / Anon

Requests are open!

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen1, redbullracing, mclaren, lando and 792,901 others

ynln: missed this place

username: YES CONFIRMED YNS BACK !!!

username: oh max is gonna love this

redbullracing: our favourite journalist

| username: ok hi max

username: thank god when she didnt show up for the first two gp's i was worried

username: max has been so annoyed girl get back in that media pen

| ynln: 🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️

maxverstappen1: never leave again

| username: lmao not max exposing himself

| ynln: 🫠

| username: yns screaming rn i just know it

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen1, ynln and 1,001,921 others

redbullracing: Media days just got better

username: the difference between yn interviewing him to anyone else is so funny

username: the way hes so cold in interviews and then yn shows up and suddenly he has so much to say

ynln: always a pleasure 🤭

| maxverstappen1: Glad you're back

| username: are they dating?

username: its the fact they have to post only from yns interviews bc he looks miserable every other time

username: did someone let max write the caption??

username: ok but even redbull ships them

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen1, lando, redbullracing and 992,901 others

ynln: lovely to speak to the drivers, good luck for tomorrow!

maxverstappen1: but I'm your favourite, yes?

| lando: nah mate that's me, right @/ynln?

| ynln: no comment 😶

| username: tell him he's ur fav its killing him

username: shes acc so shy and yet all the drivers love her

username: landos getting rammed on the track tomorrow

username: ive never seen max smile so much

| username: and when i say they're in love

username: i dont think ive ever been earlier than Max wtf

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: ynln, redbullracing and 1,320,101 others

maxverstappen1: Good fun, good race, good company 💪🏻 💪🏻 💪🏻 

username: and guess who he's looking at in slide 4

| username: wait is it actually yn

| username: yeah she caught him on the way to the garage

yln: congratulations!

| maxverstappen1: Best company

| username: you know she is blush and giggling like crazy

| ynln: 🫠

| username: as if there was any doubt yn was the good company

username: he's in love

username: not yn getting her own slide

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen, lando, mclaren, redbullracing, and 832,402 others

ynln: another day, another city

username: MAX MAX MAX

username: pretty girl

username: imagine being her, this pretty, travels the world and max verstappen is in love with you

maxverstappen1: Why are you at the McLaren garage, Redbull is better

| username: lando count your days

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 892,901 others

ynln: I guess I'm good at my job 

username: they way he just WILL NOT do media without her anymore

username: tell me how bad you were screaming when he demanded you personally

| ynln: 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

username: the highest compliment girl

username: ok jokes aside he lightens up so much when hes around her its adorable

maxverstappen1: Making you sign a contract so only you can do my interviews

| ynln: ✍🏻 ✍🏻 ✍🏻

| username: hes such a diva

username: he flirts so boldly and shes so giggly and shy omg i love it

username: not max saying to her face shes his favourite and her being speechless

Instagram /

liked by: ynln, redbullracing and 1,792,901 others

maxverstappen1: Brilliant weekend! 💪🏻💪🏻 What a race!!

username: ah it wouldn't be a max post without yn

username: 🦁🦁🦁

username: man gets p1 and still posts her

username: i know every time she makes it into one of his posts shes so giggly

| ynln: please don't expose me like this

| username: SCREAMING

username: i love that you can always spot when yn is interviewing even when shes behind the camera

username: HIM SAYING TO HER 'THAT WIN WAS JUST FOR YOU, Schatje (sweetheart)' !!! CUT TO YN GIGGLING SO BAD AND NOT BEING ABLE TO RECOVER FOR THE REST OF THE INTERVIEW AND MAX LOOKING SO PROUD

liked by: maxverstappen1, ynln and 1,592,901 others

CC:

YN: You've, I mean obviously it has been a brilliant weekend for you! Is there anything different this season that's helping you?

Max: The pretty journalist for sure, the more wins you get the more media time you have.

YN's eyes widen and a blush spreads across your cheeks, stammering out another question as Max grins, proud of himself and so much affection in his gaze.

redbullracing: Whatever gets him to do an interview.

username: OMG not redbull just exposing them

username: shes so flustered, stop thats so cute

username: imagine max verstappen calling you pretty

username: watch the rest of the interview, she could not recover

YN's Instagram Story /

Instagram DM's /

Max's Instagram Story /

Story Replies:

username: no way you got her moved from mclaren 😭

username: diva

username: just tell her you love her atp

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 992,901 others

ynln: your favourite driver's favourite journalist

username: wow this is so bold for her

username: her in red bull merch !!!

| username: you just know max gave it to her bc she was in mclaren

| ynln: no comment 😶

| username: WOW

| username: i fear for lando on the track

maxverstappen1: My favourite

| ynln: i need to lay down 🫠

maxverstappen1: You look good in my colours

| username: post three is yn rn after reading this comment

| ynln: @/username please dont expose me

| ynln: deleting this app

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen1, ynln and 1,492,901 others

CC:

YN: Not the best start to the weekend for you.

Max, laughing and shaking his head: Not at all. I blame you.

YN, smiling nervously: Oh, it's my fault?

Max: Yes, if I wasn't so focused on keeping you for Redbull I would have done better in qualifying. Perhaps a deal for the real race, something to look forward to? I win, you let me take you out.

YN, blushing so brightly and left speechless.

Max, grinning: I'll take that as a yes.

redbullracing: Who needs points and trophies to cross the finish line?

username: forget the points max, get the girl !!!

username: its happening omg

username: she likes him sm you can just tell she wants to flirt back

username: if anyone else had done that interview and started with 'not the best' he'd have been so mad

| username: fr instead he just laughed !!!

YN'S Instagram Story /

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: ynln, redbullracing and 2,092,901 others

maxverstappen1: better than a trophy 🏆

username: wait they actually went out???

username: she looks so happy

username: look at my parents

ynln: perfect night💙

| maxverstappen1: Perfect girl

| username: this feels illegal to see

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen, redbullracing, lando and 1,292,901 others

ynln: simply lovely

username: THE CAPTION

username: omg theyre still together

maxverstappen: Best day with you 💙

username: love yn posting the fan pic of them kissing

Twitter /

YN's Instagram Story /

Instagram /

liked by: ynln, redbullracing and 1,992,901 others

maxverstappen1: Couldn't have asked for a better weekend 💪🏻

username: THE KISS

ynln: what a win 💙🏆

username: hes been looking so good lately

username: boyfriend life suits him

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 1,992,901 others

ynln: that's my winner right there 💙

username: they've both been looking so good lately

username: shes been so bold lately i love it

maxverstappen1: mijn mooie meisje (my pretty girl)

| ynln: 💙💙💙

username: my parents i love them 😭

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen, ynln and 2,092,901 others

CC:

YN: So you've been on a winning streak lately,

Max: Yes I've got to keep your eyes on me somehow, traitor.

YN laughing: It was one day of media in McLaren months ago! That you dragged me out of by the way. But yes, you're certainly impressing everybody lately.

Max: I'm impressing you too though, right?

YN rolling your eyes: Yes Max, I'm impressed love.

Max grins and looks smug.

redbullracing: Whatever motivates you, @/maxverstappen1 💪🏻🏆

username: SHE CALLED HIM LOVE ON LIVE TV

username: redbull is so over them and so in love with them

username: ok but is nobody going to talk about how much more confident she is

| username: no bc if he had said that to her months ago she'd have been a blushing mess

| username: and now look at her, giving it as good as she gets

username: he looks so proud

Instagram /

liked by: maxverstappen1, redbullracing, lando and 2,792,901 others

ynln: moments like this with my love 🤍

maxverstappen1: Mijn mooie meisje, ik ben voor altijd van jou 💙 (my beautiful girl, i am yours forever)

| ynln: i love you so much

username: i want this

username: matching outfits !!!

username: you can see how blushy she is in slide 1 im obsessed

[madamechrissy]

Blueberry Yum Yum

The art in this banner is from my AMAZING moot @sweetlandspos who makes the most delicious Kuna art ahhh! go follow her <3

pairings - Fratboy Plug Sukuna x Nerdy stoner reader

summary You decide to ask your plug, Ryomen Sukuna for a hook up - but can he match your freak!? Just a fun ass oneshot about falling for your hot ass plug - he won't give you free weed though! :') WC- 11k

warnings - college AU, explicit sex, oral ( m and f receiving) Sukuna whimpering, reader is a nerdy lil freaakkk, weed smoking, jealousy, Sukuna talking shit, p in v sex - with and without protection, cum swallowing (both) tummy bulges, back shots, Kuna has piercings hehe, aftercare, Sukuna being a little yandere tbh

Comments/rbs so appreciated if you enjoyy - also I hit 18k followers the other day, I wanted to thank you all so muchhh for following me! :')

"What if we like... had sex?" Sukuna starts coughing up the thick smoke of his purple haze, wondering if it's fucking laced with something as you sit there, blunt in your hand and your legs crossed, casually smoking it as if you brought up the fucking weather.

"The fuck did you say!?" He demands after he catches his breath, you inhale your blunt now, you're by far his nerdiest client, you shocked him when you asked to buy from him the first time.

You scream good girl, certified Velma from Scooby-Doo - annoying  'actually - jinkies' nerd. The two of you even hanging out was a fucking anomaly, a mathlete and a frat boy, one he didn't try to figure out. He enjoyed selling weed to you and smoking with you, hearing your stupidly intelligent thoughts, he enjoyed looking at you too. Sure you were fucking gorgeous in that soft, sweet way.

So what the fuck was this!?

"It's been a while," you murmur, handing him the blunt back now, he takes a huge rip, coughing again as you speak. "If I'm not really your type it's cool."

"If you're... you... I..."

"Shit, it's fine. Calm down. Just was thinking it'd be fun." He keeps staring at you, mouth wide open, and you sigh, rolling your eyes. "Dude it's fine don't freak out. Forget it."

"Forget it? The fuck?" He's glaring ruby eyes at you, while you take a wad of money out of your little black backpack, decorated with anime pins all over and a ridiculous amount of keychains.

"Here," you hand him the cash, fingers brushing for a moment while he just stares. "Shit, I made it weird."

"Yeah you fucking did. Who just says that?" He glares right at you, thin brows low over his narrowed eyes, those sooty pink lashes too fucking pretty and long, god you're jealous of them!? Are they so pretty because you're baked?

"Sukuna, you've fucked like half the girls I know, I have heard you're pretty good at it." He blinks again at that, a rare blush to his cheeks, not fitting his cocky persona while you put out the blunt, letting it smoke against the tray. "Here's the money. Thanks again."

You turn, and he grips your wrist, pausing you, it feels way too good. Not only has it been way too long, Sukuna was fucking hot, every time he got too close you felt that heat, you literally clenched when he just brushed a big hand across your shoulder to grab something. And your boyfriend broke up with you six months ago, you thought maybe it would be fun to fuck him, Sukuna is sexy as fuck and chill. Now you want to disappear, clearly reading the room wrong as usual. 

You suck at that.

"You wanna fuck me? What, like... some friends with benefits? Or one time shit?" He stands, hovering so fucking tall, you turn and look at him, blazed whites of his eyes red, you swallow nervously, eyeing the tattoos on his chest in that thin white wifebeater that's just unfair to wear around you while you're ovulating, you can see his nipple piercings through it, and it's doing too much.

"I thought like once, if we liked it sure we could do it more. If we're both single and... get along... plus you're hot."

"Yeah I am." He grins and you roll your eyes.

"You know... never mind."

"Wait brat, shit." You sigh, looking up at him now, as he turns you to him, his cock twitching just looking at your dilated eyes behind thick glasses, your parted lips. His fingers brush against the softness of your sweater, watching your nipples press against the material.

"It's cool if you don't want to. Like I am chill about it  promise." He fingers the edge of your sweater, blitzed off his ass wondering if you're some fucking dream for a moment. But he feels the heat of your skin as his fingers slip up your waist.

"Think you can keep up with me, huh brat?" He murmurs then, snarky with his smirk. You step closer, your finger drifting up his hard chest.

"The question is if you can keep up with me, Sukuna." He scoffs at that, raising a brow that has two little barbells - eyebrows shouldn’t be so sexy, but then Ryomen Sukuna just is sexy, everything about him from his tattoos and piercings, to his ridiculously strong body. His height, his face… his eyes.

It’s no wonder girls do flock to him.

“Me, keep up with you?” He’s chuckling now, sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, impossibly cocky as he eyes you, acting like his heart isn’t racing when you set down your bag. “You won’t get any free weed from it.”

“I don’t want free weed, and you’re kind of an ass.” He chuckles again, when you sink to your knees however he falters, vermillion lips parted, you unbuckle him and look right under your glasses at him then, smiling just a bit.

Are you… cocky too!?

Sukuna hasn’t ever had this happen, someone just smiling as they unbuckle him with ease, he’s sure though when you see his cock you’ll pause. He’s a solid ten inches and thick as fuck, even if you’re some dick sucking pro, you’re gonna give pause. Your eyes widen then, licking your lower lip, making him ache to kiss you.

What are these corny ass thoughts!? He’s scowling at them, irritated that you on your knees has him, Sukuna, nervous!? Since when is he nervous about shit- and when you’re revealing him, and he doesn’t even help you tug down his black silky boxers, you let out a little whine that almost ends him. His hand enwraps in your hair, and your eyes meet his again.

Why are they so pretty? Why is he thinking that instead of being excited to get a blow job, as usual? You’re running your finger over his tip, making his hips jerk just a bit, moaning softly. “Are you sensitive, Sukuna?”

“Am I… you’re a brat, ya know that?” He glares as you giggle, acting like his cock isn’t way too fucking big, and you’re figuring out if you’ll be able to walk after this. “Stop teasing and show me what you got, running that pretty mouth huh?”

His thumb brushes the plump lower lip, you stroke him then, looking right at him as the rough pad of his thumb caresses soft lips, calloused from years of football but so gentle over little teeth indentations on your skin. You swallow, a little nervous suddenly, before taking a breath and leaning forward, pink tongue lapping at the precum already oozing from his slit.

Sukuna whimpers when you do.

You think you imagine it, this giant man whimpering, but as you lap again at his reddened tip, your hand slipping down his thick length, he does it again, quieter, hand pulling your hair so hard tears prick your eyes. The sight is so sexy you can’t take it, taking more of his thick tip deep in your mouth then, looking up as you suck him, your glasses fogging up from your breath.

“Oh, fuck…” He shakes it off, biting back another pathetic whimper as you start sucking hard then, he’s acting like he’s controlling your movements but he’s just pulling your hair, watching as you make more and more of his cock disappear. “Can you take more, brat?”

“Sure can,” you taunt, pulling back with a suctioned pop, but he is intimidating. But damned if you would back down from a challenge. You have next to no gag reflex, but you’ve never had a cock this big to contend with. You start sucking him deeper, head bobbing, the sounds of your saliva and his cock fucking your mouth lewd in Sukuna’s apartment.

The sight of him losing it as you suck his cock deeper in your throat, until he’s burning and stretching it with his thrusts is far too attractive, you can’t help but clench your thighs, grinding on nothing for friction watching him. His red eyes are bright, pupils shrunk to pinpoints as he fucks into your throat, the mix of need and the weed making you even wetter.

Whatever strain this was, it was making you unreasonably horny.

“That’s it, suck me deeper if you can,” he taunts softly, hips bucking up as he cups your face almost gently, fucking your throat so deep, feeling it tighten as you reach down and play with yourself under your skirt. “Fuck, fuck, fuuckk…”

You’re swallowing all you can, relaxing your throat as you find your clit, moaning then and vibrating right around his cock as he fucks your face. Your hair falls, and he uses one hand to hold it into a ponytail, letting out the weak little whine again while you slide two little fingers in your slick hole, aching for his cock inside you - even if you couldn’t walk the next day.

You’re thinking of how perfect all the ridges and veins would feel while you keep fingering yourself, tears pricking your eyes, glasses so fogged you can hardly see. He’s so close to cumming from just a few minutes of your mouth it’s pathetic, he yanks you off him then, looking down and seeing your hand between your thighs.

“What’re you-” You’re slipping your panties off eagerly then, straddling him and making his breath catch when you grind on his cock. “Let me touch you, fuck…”

“Don’t need it.” He glares ruby eyes at your audacity- he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to touch your body, your tits that are enticing him with every breath, that soppy little pussy.

“Well I do, fuck you’re slutty, huh?” You ignore him, focusing on how good his hot, heavy cock feels between your slit, whining out when he yanks down your sweater, revealing your lacy bra.

“Fuck me, please,” he huffs at that, revealing a pretty breast and moaning, thumb brushing over your pretty nipple, making you whine. “Ah!”

“Let me take my time, shit,” he mumbles, sucking your nipple into his mouth then, your hands entangle in spiky pink locks, feeling the softness of his hair as his other hand grips your ass under your skirt, dragging you over his cock. “This soaked, how? Haven’t touched you.”

“Touched myself,” he glares again, sucking your other nipple, having both your perfect breasts out for his mouth, while his hands sink into your hips, grinding that cock against your clit then, watching your head fall back. “Mnh!”

“You touched yourself, sucking me got you that excited?” He taunts, only for you to reach down, stroking his cock again, watching the blush on his cheeks as you move it up and down, twisting your fist just so. “Fuck…”

“Condoms?” You whisper, he nods, tapping your hip real quick for you to get off him. When he’s back with a gold magnum from the drawer, you’re straddling him again, but he’s lifting you up, sinking two of his fingers in your cunt now, and you whine out at the stretch. “Ah!”

“God, you’re tight… fuck…” He groans as his fingers curl inside your slick, gummy walls, gripping him so good, watching your eyes roll back into your skull. “Think you can take this cock, really?”

“Y-yes, I c-can…” he chuckles, shaking his head and hitting your spongy spot now, making your cunt gush down his fingers as you cry out.

“Cum f’me first,” he murmurs - he would never let a girl not cum before he gets his cock in her. He’d love to eat you out but you’re not giving him many chances to do shit. He’d love to kiss you, but he’s leaning back watching you fall apart for him, nodding just a bit when he curls them just right in your hole, gasping. “That’s it, can’t help yourself can you, slutty little brat?”

You should be offended, but you’re shattering for his thick fingers, gushing as the orgasm smacks you, rushing all over your body until you’re making a mess, the sound loud and echoing as he groans. Watching you cum, intense as he stares, something you’re not used to - gasping out when he sucks your juices off his fingers, moaning while he cheeks hollow.

He’s tasting you.

The sight has you faltering for a moment, cunt pulsing from aftershocks as you watch him, hearing his moan, when he hands you the gold wrapper. “Fuck, you taste that good?”

“It could be the weed,” you tease, breathless. He chuckles a bit, leaning forward, pressing a kiss on your lips, unsure of what you were okay with. But you meet his lips, and that’s when Sukuna almost cums then and there, he’s never felt whatever the fuck that is. “Mmm, your lips are so soft.”

“Surprise you?” He teases, but you nod a bit, a rough man with plush lips so soft they’re pillowy is surprising. “Take what you want, brat.”

God he’s fine as fuck.

You’re hiding your nerves when you tear open the packet, slipping it over his huge cock, did it get bigger, harder somehow!? Even the magnum barely stretches over him as you roll it down his shaft slowly, watching his sooty pink lashes flutter as you do. His lips kiss yours again, and you taste yourself on his lips, when his tongue slips into your mouth.

A mix of weed and your juices, along with something sweet - whatever flavor Sukuna is.

It’s too intimate then, yeah you’ve last fucked your boyfriend, but you’re not inexperienced either with hook ups or a friend with benefits. You’re choosy, but you’ve done this - but for whatever reason your heart races as he lets you take what you want, as his tongue ring clicks against your teeth, and you picture how good it’d feel everywhere, your tummy tightening.

The scent of the weed still smoking out in that ash tray mixes with his cologne, heady and dizzying, your glasses get so fogged you take them off, earning his chuckle as he pulls them off, sitting them on the table. “You blind now?”

“Literally… I can still see you though.” You whisper, it makes his heart race, seeing your eyes without them for the first time, he cups your face as you rub his latex covered tip on your soppy cunt.

“Pretty fucking eyes, shit,” he curses then, seeing them grow lidded, as your tight little hole starts sucking him in.

“Fuck…”

You both whisper it at the same time, as you sink down on his cock, bit by bit, and he can’t help his moan, loud as his hands move to grip your skirt, yanking it up and using it to pull you down. Your gasp fills his ears with the squelching of your greedy, slutty little cunt sinking more and more on him, and he can’t help but think if he was raw he’d already have busted.

That would be so fucking embarassing, he is Ryomen Sukuna!

He thanks god for the layer, but it still feels far too good, your cunt so tight, gripping him as you move your hips, rolling them in a way no woman should know how to do. He’s pausing you when you do it again, glaring. “You know how to ride cock that fucking good?”

“Show me what you got, Sukuna,” you whisper, acting like his cock wasn’t burning with that stretch, like you weren’t on the edge. He glares now, picking your hips up with those huge fucking hands, slamming you until he’s against your cervix now, watching with a mean grin as you scream out. “Oh my g-god!”

“Ride it now, huh pretty little slut?” He whispers, repeating it again, hands leaving marks on your ass as his fingers sink into the fat of it. “Where’s all that talk?”

You glare, shoving his back against his soft leather couch, moving your hips again and eliciting that whimper, making you smile. “You whimpering, Sukuna?”

“Oh I’ll fuck your vocal chords up next time, swear to - mmm…” he’s crying out again as your fingers grip his soft shirt, and you glide up and down his cock again. “Fucking brat.”

“Mmhmm, can you handle it?” You’re gliding up and down his cock, watching him fall apart even with your blurry ass vision you see it, how handsome he is, feeling his strength as his hands wrap your waist, and he bites his lower lip, brows drawing together as you hit just that spot in your cervix. “Mnh!”

Sukuna groans, kissing down your collar bone, your tits bounce as you work him, and he’s worried you were fucking right, how can he hold back his cum when your cunt is gripping him like that!? He’s lifting you up, slamming you back down hard, you scream out, your nails pressing into his shoulders, and he does it again, again, harder inside you, until you fucking drool.

“That’s it, can’t talk shit stuffed full of this cock, huh?” You don’t talk shit back, your eyes are rolled back as he fucks his hips up into you, holding you right up in the goddamn air damn near and using you like a little fuck toy. “That’s it, gonna cum aren’t you?”

You answer that when he slams hard and hits your cervix again, reaching down to find your clit with the rough pad of his thumb. “Sukuna!”

God, you crying out his name fucks him up, when he rolls it, feeling how soaked you are, making a mess down his thighs and yours, dripping with how much wetness is pouring. “That’s it, can’t help yourself,”

He’s pressing too perfectly, hitting that spot in you again when his tip drags along your slick walls, and you’re screaming out, the orgasm so hard it’s blinding, you’re trembling in his hold while he watches you, moaning at the sight. Your scream is ridiculous when he pulls back his thumb, sucking more of you off him before bottoming out inside you as much as he can.

“Ah! Sukuna…” You cum so hard you have tears of overstimulation, two little ones falling, just making you hotter. Sukuna groans, fucking up into you again and again, wrapping his arms around you as he moves you, and your cries are caught by his lips. “Mmm!”

“Mmm,” he’s lost inside you then, your little body moved where he wants you, your lips parted in screams that he drinks. Sukuna’s close, so fucking close, slowing his thrusts then and looking at you, saliva hanging from between your joined lips when they fall apart. “Fuck you’re pretty.”

“I a-am?” You whisper, confused and fucked out. Sukuna didn’t seem the sweet words type of guy, he swallows, adam's apple bobbing as he pulses inside you, making you whine out again.

“Shut up,” he scowls, you blink and giggle breathlessly then, trying to roll your hips only for him to smack the fuck out of your ass. “No more of that, I’m about to…”

“Cum.” You whisper, rolling them and earning another smack, loud and stinging your skin, just making you more desperate. “Cum for me, Sukuna.”

“Brat.” He huffs, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck, making you gasp out at the sharp tearing of your delicate skin, when you feel him fuck into you hard, his thick cock ruining your cunt, while he’s teeth hurt so bad you’re cumming from the fucking pain.

You shouldn’t have talked shit.

He’s way too big for it all, smacks of skin louder when he uses you, moves you, all you can do is gasp and cling to him, while he’s busting inside that condom finally, slowing as he moans right in your fucking ear. You’re clinging to his back, nails pressing in, screaming out as he pulses so deep, rocking you on his cock himself now, tongue slipping up the curve of your neck as he busts.

He’s never cum like that.

He can’t see for a fucking second, biting back that whine as he nips at your ear, barbell flicking against it, and he feels your aftershocks milking him, picturing filling that cunt up so full then. The thought makes him leak more and more cum inside the barrier he wants to rip the fuck off, groaning out as he hears your little whimper, as he feels you trembling under his hands as the run across your skin.

He wants you all naked, spread for him, hands slipping over curves he only got to see bits of. Wants to see that pretty cunt spread wide for him, shit he felt it - how does it look? How would it look pouring out cum for him? He’s kissing you again, rocking you on him, still hard inside your tight walls, which keep quivering around him, until he pulls back, looking at your fucked out face.

Holy fuck. - It’s all you can think in your head, mouth opening and shutting, when he smirks up at you.

“Think I kept up with you huh?”

“Shit…” You just take a breath, smiling a bit then. “I took it easy on you.”

“What now?” He glares again as you giggle, easing off him, hissing at how sore you are. “Acting like you can even walk after that?”

“I can walk f-fine.” Your thighs are aching, trembling when you stubbornly stand, blushing as you look at the cum spurted into his condom, so much of it too, it makes your throat go dry, wanting to swallow him up next time -

Next time - Would he want one?

You shouldn’t care, but you feel it, the nagging need again that shouldn’t exist, when you grab your glasses, putting them back on and bringing him even more clearly into your vision. He stands up then, walking over and throwing the condom out, wincing as he touches himself, so sensitive and still throbbing, while he watches you slip your panties back on.

“No free weed huh?” You tease, he chuckles then, shaking his head - as if you didn’t suck dick so good he wouldn’t buy you a fucking rock if you wanted to do that every day.

“No way,” he teases back, you brush back your messy hair, giggling a bit when he comes back, buttoning his pants. “Want me to fix your hair? Looks like shit.”

“You are a dick!” He smirks again, but you nod, and he grabs a brush, a flat black one with a wide handle. “You don’t have to.”

“I fucked it up, might as well fix it,” his voice is husky then, he turns you around, slowly running it through the tangles he’d caused, and something feels way too easy, too perfect. Your head falls back a bit, eyes fluttering shut, he’s sweeter than you thought he’d be, that’s all.

Right?

He’s methodically running it through your hair slowly, until it’s much closer to where it was when you walked in, and for a moment you feel so vulnerable, sucking his dick and riding him was intimate, but this feels even moreso. Aftercare is not something you’re crazy familiar with, you were always one to dart out of wherever you were after sex.

But you don’t really want to leave.

You’ll blame the weed and his huge cock, for your mind turning to mush, when he starts braiding your hair. “Sukuna, what are you up to?”

“Shut it, think it’ll look good on you,” he huffs, running his fingers through your strands now. He’d braided hair a ton during endless football events where the cheerleaders joined in, a lot of the football guys were actually pretty good at that and even curling hair.

Your hair is silky and gently falling through his fingers as they card through it, until he holds out a hand for a ponytail. You take one of the few off your wrist when he finishes his work, slipping it over your shoulder. You touch it gently, feeling far too many emotions hitting your throat then at the sweet gesture from an outwardly rough and brash man.

“Does it look cute back there?” You tease, looking up at him, and he clears his throat then.

“I’d love to see how you look from the back,” his husky words are met with a tug on your braid, you bite back a gasp at how good it feels - when his doorbell rings, making him grimace. “Yeah what?”

“Sukuna, open up,” he hears Satoru’s pouty voice, making him sigh, and you step away now, hastily grabbing your back, looking at him. Your little braid is tempting him to no end, to yank it, to bend you over the couch, so much he can hardly fucking stand it.

He’d always found you pretty, but it’s like he can’t get his eyes off you after it, after kissing you.

The fuck is in this weed!?

“Sukuna!”

“God, hold on.” He sighs and walks over, opening the door while you grab your lighter, decorated with some nerdy anime guy you seem to be obsessed with. He’s on the back of your car and on your bag, he noticed.

Sukuna looked better than any anime guy, surely.

Satoru and Suguru are at the door now, holding up baggies of weed, bright blue and green nugs that look way too pretty and fluffy, when their eyes catch sight of you behind them. “Heyy, it’s the hot nerd.” Satoru teases, earning your eye roll.

“Oh whatever,” they laugh as they walk in, Suguru carrying a case of beer. It was the summer after college, but they used to all live in a huge frat house together, now they’ve all moved into this insanely fancy apartment together - you could fit your entire dorm in their living room - as they moved on to their Master’s degree. You were an underclassmen, still a Senior in college.

You remember them all very well, but they’re all pretty annoying. Honestly, Sukuna at least seems to be a little more mature than them, but not by much. He’s taking a beer out of the case, as they plop themselves down, Suguru puts the rest of the twelve pack in Sukuna’s fridge, Satoru busts out the rolling tray and eyes you with insane blue eyes.

“Wanna smoke, sweets?” He asks, and you shake your head with a little smile.

“I already have, and still have to drive back to the dorm,” they laugh again.

“Shit those suck, though I hear there’s a big party at the old frat house this weekend,” Satoru murmurs, handing Sukuna the blunt to finish rolling. When his stupidly long pink tongue laps at the seam of it, your tummy clenches, eyes unable to remove themselves. “You coming, nerdy girl?”

“I don’t know, not really my thing. And should you be calling me nerdy, when you’re wearing Lucemon on your shirt?” Satoru glares, and Suguru and Sukuna snort in laughter.

“You know who that is? Damn, you just got even hotter.” He smirks and earns another eye roll, they chuckle but Sukuna’s jaw tenses.

He does not like someone flirting with you.

Holy fuck did your mouth work a number on him like that!?

“Uh huh, I might go, I don't know. Um…” You turn to Sukuna now, tilting you head back to look up at him. “Thanks for…”

What do you say - thanks for the dick?

Thanks for kissing you, braiding your hair, making you cum?

“Um… the smoke, I appreciate it,” you murmur, not wanting to just blurt everything out in front of his friends. He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, biceps tensing and bunching, you see your crescent nail prints in his skin then.

It makes you ache to see the visible proof.

This was a dumb fucking idea. When you thought of fucking him, you figured it’d be great, it’d be fun, but you didn’t anticipate whatever feeling this was, the one where you didn’t even wanna leave. This wasn’t how you were - you can chalk it up to the breakup, chalk it up to the weed, to the huge - at least ten inch - cock that has currently fucked you stupid…

Yeah, chalk it up to that.

“Thanks for,” Sukuna trails off now too, seeing the evidence of his teeth against your lower lip, swollen from brutal kisses. His cock is back on hard when he also notices how your sweater is hanging off a shoulder, and there are marks along your pretty collar bone from his suction, damn near making him feral as he thinks of it. “Coming over.”

“Yes, of course um… bye you all.” They wave as you rush out, leaning against the door and exhaling now, trying to collect your breath as you hear them murmur.

“Do you like her or something?” Suguru’s voice is muffled, but you hear it, and you can’t help but act like some spy, listening when you shouldn’t for the answer.

Did Sukuna…

“She’s cool, we hang out I guess.” Is his gruff answer, and you hear the echo of laughter. “Drop it, so what’s up with this party?”

You sigh, stepping away, sitting in your car for a moment too long, looking up at the window of Sukuna’s apartment for a moment, wondering if you made it all fucking weird now. You wouldn’t say you two were ‘friends’ but you were cool with each other, and now you were listening if he liked you - as if you’re silently listening on the phone with a friend in middle school or something.

You shake it off and head home, ignoring the gnawing feeling, shifting in your seat at how sore you are, you really talked more shit than you should have, you need a good hot bath after taking him.

Sukuna shuts the blinds, having looked at you as you walked, just to make sure you were good. “You hit it, huh?”

“Shut up, Suguru.” They’re snorting as the smoke fills the room.

The three of them usually share all the details of their encounters, but he sure the fuck wasn’t sharing anything about you - how you are probably the best thing he’s ever felt wrapped around him. How you sucked him stupid - got him whimpering!? - yeah, no fucking way he admitted that to anyone.

*****

It’s been a week since you last talked to Sukuna, and during that week you’re absolutely mortified by the amount of times you thought about texting or messaging him on his IG. Much, much worse, after you looked at some of his gym posts before bed, you woke up the next morning cumming thinking about your fucking plug and his huge cock inside you, fuck it was embarassing.

You wanna message him now even, but he hasn’t written you, and you don’t wanna be the girl who mentions - let’s hook up - then gets clingy. That’s just not you, and it’s not fair, you’d brought it up and it wasn’t like he asked to hook up with you. When your friends bring up going to a DnD match tonight - instead of going to that frat party, nine times out of ten you’d go for the DnD.

You don’t dig parties, and the DnD group has primo weed too.

Sukuna supplied for all of them after all.

But you instead find yourself dying to go to the party tonight - you may even find yourself buying a whole outfit. Like some goofy, corny ass 90‘s movie where the nerdy girl gets hot with a dress, except you sure the fuck weren’t taking your glasses off for that moment, since you’re damn near blind without them.

When Sukuna took off your glasses though?

God.

Snap out of it?!

You may or may not have freaked the fuck out when he hearted your instagram story before the party, biting your lip and giggling way too fucking much. You don’t even take pictures for shit, but you were feeling cute, and that just cinches it in your mind - you want to see him again and not for some weed. You just…

Want to see him.

Plug Sukuna - Hey brat, you coming to the party or doing nerd shit?

You roll your eyes a bit, ignoring the butterflies in your tummy at how excited you are to have him messaging you.

You - Do I look like I’m going to DnD?

Sukuna flushes, looking at your insta story for the twentieth time, surrounded by girls wearing literally next to nothing, coming up to him as he sits on the couch alone - shit Sukuna never did at parties. He was the life of the party usually, beer pong champion, the one making sure everyone had the best smoke or really anything they asked for.

But all he can think of is seeing you again, and he wishes it was just your pussy and not that he misses your cute little laugh - how you snort just a bit - how you push those glasses up your nose. How excited you get as you’re trying to convince him to watch your cartoons - sorry, anime - and how you take a hit from that blunt, just a bit of your glittery gloss on the tip.

He’s got one rolled up right now in the middle of a party with music blaring, mixing with the conversation and laughter of so many people, dying to share the blunt with you, to talk to you - he wanted to hit you up so many times, but he sure didn’t wanna be the dude who got pussy whipped in one encounter. You mentioned casual, one time maybe more- but the two of you hadn’t spoken since.

Sukuna was used to women blowing up his phone, begging for it again, even now he has women coming to sit on his lap, which usually is par for the course, but he just doesn’t find much excitement in it. He happens to have one on his right thigh right now, when he watches you walk into the room - and Instagram didn’t even do you justice.

You look so fucking cute, sexy little pleated skirt and a black top that shows that his marks on your pretty breasts faded - they’re just begging for more on them. He swallows nervously, god why is he nervous, it irritates him!? But he is, as your eyes meet his, and of course dart to the girl on his lap, you give him a little wave and smile, and he curses as you turn away and talk to someone then.

Sukuna unceremoniously shoves the girl off his lap, he can’t say he feels bad about it either, as he heads straight toward you, hearing one of the underclassmen gushing and simping over you. You’re just staring with a brow raised, unimpressed at the fumbling man, when he walks over smoothly with a blunt, holding it out.

“Wanna smoke, brat?” You look at him now, he’s unfairly hot and shirtless basically, unless you wanna call that black silk open kimono a top. You can see those nipple piercings, a fucking belly button ring leading to a light happy trail that makes your brain short circuit.

You hadn’t seen him shirtless, even sucking him.

“We were talking - oh, it’s Sukuna, shit! Sorry…” the boy learns fast, backing up and stuttering when Sukuna glares at him. “Catch you later?”

“Sure,” you sigh, taking the blunt from Sukuna’s fingers now, yours brushing against his softly. “I gotta pay for this?”

“Nah,” fuck he was a dick huh? He always is, but for a moment he feels bad, even though you’re teasing with a little smile, holding the blunt up for a light. Sukuna immediately busts his out, bright orange flame igniting the tip, watching the cherry brighten as you puff on it. “It’s blueberry.”

You inhale it like a fucking pro, when don’t you? Heavy, thick smoke falling out of your mouth then getting sucked back into your mouth. You look so good doing it, handing it to him without even a cough, just exhaling it back out, a smile on those pretty lips of yours. He pauses, unsure of even what to say, as he puts it to his lips, and your eyes drift lower.

Your thoughts are filthy as his, his tattoos curve with his body in a way that’s just slutty actually, black thick lines that aren’t fair honestly. Your body remembers him far too well, when he snatches up two drinks as you two walk over to a quieter part of the party, past a sea of bodies that eye the two of you. You take it gratefully, then wince as the liquor hits your tongue.

“Lightweight.” Sukuna teases, earning a playful shove from you, but your hand pauses on bare skin, watching his rippling, cut abdomen tense as you do.

Fuck.

Your pussy is pulsing from touching his skin, ugh it’s annoying. You know he hasn’t asked you to come over, so you shouldn’t be thinking this badly about him, but how can you not? The memories flit through your mind, his big hands that now hold a blunt and a red solo cup, and how they touched you.

“You look…” He pauses, wanting to say dumb fucking words.

Beautiful.

You do look beautiful.

Your eyes lock up with his, and he’s just sputtering like a fucking idiot, as if he’s never talked to a woman, he notices the shimmery shadow you’ve brushed across your lid as he looks down at you, so small compared to him. Sukuna towered over everyone, he was used to it, but something about it makes him want to pick you up, carry you somewhere and devour you.

Watch his cock in your tummy bulge.

“I look what?” Your whisper breaks his racing brain, he sips his drink and sighs now, clearing his throat and putting on a smirk.

“Hot.”

You blink a bit at that. “Hot?”

“Yeah, hot.” He curses himself internally.

“Thanks,” you trail off, it was nice you guess, but you supposed Sukuna said that to every girl, including the ones on his lap as you walked in. And you really hate that it made you sick to see it, off one time fucking him. “You look good too.”

“I always do.” You roll your eyes and laugh a bit, the sound making him ache, when his name’s being chanted by the pong table.

“You’re being summoned, Sukuna.” You tease, inhaling his blunt and stepping closer, so close he inhales your scent, driving him fucking insane.

It takes so much to save face and not drop to his knees and beg you to just allow him to lick your entire body. And he would, fuck, if you let him.

What is wrong with him.

It didn’t help he’d jerked it to you this morning, and every morning, since you’re clearly some succubus hitting all his dreams and making him wake up leaking pre.

“You good?” You ask softly, he clears his throat then, glaring at the men waving him over.

“Yeah, catch you after I wipe the floor with them?” He teases, and you nod, just a bit disappointed, but it wasn’t like you were close to Sukuna suddenly.

You were just…

A buyer, and he was your plug. A plug you had literally propositioned, seduced. Him being friendly was sweeter than he even needed to be. You put a hand on his shoulder then, feeling the weed hitting - mixing with the drink in your system, but when you touch him again it’s something else.

“Of course, I’ll be here for probably an hour or so, I don’t know too many people here.”

“Tch won’t be three minutes they’ll all be shitfaced and losers.” You laugh at that, but it’s forced, a little awkward.

The party goes on, and every time Sukuna wants to find you, you’re hidden, when he does see you, someone’s in his fucking way. Like everything and anything is blocking his way - why does he know everyone? Right now he doesn’t wanna fucking catch up, or talk, he just wants to talk to you.

He’s standing with Suguru and Satoru, as the three of them are sipping on drinks, and he sees you again finally, emerging from one of the bathrooms, but before he can think, there are three dudes talking to you. His jaw clenches at the sight of it, and he can’t keep excusing it to good sex, or wanting to hit again, it just doesn’t feel the same.

Sukuna can’t stand seeing you getting hit on, he’s glaring right at those men, sure he’s only fucked you once - but that’s enough to make him lose his shit. Suguru and Satoru are trying to get his attention, waving the blunt at him as he scowls over at the pretentious assholes talking to you. Your eyes catch his, you’re clearly unused to the attention it seems, a blush on your cheeks.

Or you like those losers.

Sukuna has been dying to fuck you again, but not just that - been dying to talk to you again, smoke you out, he didn’t say all he wanted to that day. Was it just a one time thing for you? He didn’t even get to drink your pretty pussy, didn’t get to hit it from the back, fuck he has so many positions he wants to do with you, he wants to-

“Earth to Sukuna.” Satoru says, and he clears his throat, taking a hit of the blunt and letting it fill his lungs.

“Yeah?” He grumbles, and their gazes go in your direction.

“You really like the cute little nerd, huh?” Satoru teases, earning Sukuna’s glare.

“Shit, you’re down bad bro.” Suguru chuckles, taking the blunt from Sukuna’s fingers then.

“Shut the fuck up. Just… we hooked up and…” He trails off again, and his friends chuckle, nudging each other.

“So you did, called it. And how was that, is the nerd freaky?” Satoru asks, sipping his solo red cup, and Sukuna scowls right at his best friends.

“None of your fucking business.”

“Oh shit, real bad,” Suguru says then, coughing as he takes his hit.

“Learn to take a real hit, and shut up. Not telling either of you shit.”

“We share everything, that means…” Satoru takes the blunt between his lips now, inhaling and smirking as Sukuna finds one of the men practically dragging your awkward ass to the dance floor.

You are awkward, hot and pretty as you are, you can’t dance for shit, at some point making a really awkward move Sukuna can only describe as shaking dice in your hands. “Is she… doing…”

Suguru trails off, as Sukuna laughs a bit at you. “Some interesting dance move she learned in DND maybe.” Sukuna murmurs, and he’s almost okay with it, you seem to have no interest, until the guy drags you by your hips against him.

That’s it.

“Shit… we strapping up for a fight?” Suguru asks, and Satoru grins, batshit psycho as always.

“I’m down to fight.”

“I don’t need your help,” he scoffs and stomps right over to you, where you’re being grinded on against, snatching the dude’s wrist up quickly. “She’s not enjoying herself.”

“What bro?” He’s clearly wasted, when Sukuna’s grip tightens he winces. “Shit, is it your girl or something?”

“Go sober up and dance with yourself.” He shoves at him now, and you blink in confusion. You hadn’t known how to dance really, you figured you would try, him grabbing you was creepy, but you figured you’d get him off you in a moment, when a giant, tall ass Sukuna had practically tossed the kid off.

You can’t help but feel it more, that tightening in your tummy, when his angry red eyes flit down to you. “Sukuna…”

“You weren’t enjoying that, were you?” He demands, speaking through his teeth damn near.

“Um… huh?” Are you just really high?

Is Sukuna… jealous?

“C’mon,” he tugs at your wrist now, and you follow him, so confused, yet fucking thrilled by his big hand on your wrist, in a way that concerns feminism you want him to literally throw you over his shoulder. “Short ass legs can’t keep up.”

“We’re not all giants over six four!?” You huff as he keeps tugging, and you yank back weakly, who wouldn’t be weak in that hold? “What’s up with you? You’re acting super fucking weird.”

“Am I?” He laughs, yanking you in his old room - no one has occupied it yet it seems, it was for the head of the frat and they probably haven’t appointed one yet.

“Sukuna, you’re acting… jealous?” You whisper, he scowls down at you, locking the door to one of the rooms then, arm on the other side of you as he is pressing you against the door, making you gasp.

“You didn’t like them, those guys, did you?” He whispers angrily, you blink a bit, biting your lower lip, he tugs it out from under your teeth. “Did you?”

“Would you be mad if I did? Aren’t me and you just… hooking up?” You murmur, earning a deeper glare, as your heart races.

“Once. We hooked up once, brat.”

“Once. You didn’t want more, right?”

“You didn’t want more.”

“Says who!?”

“You never messaged me… you…” He trails off, cursing now, and the two of you just stare at each other, your breasts rising and falling with your breaths, as Sukuna’s hands tighten on your face now, cupping it tightly. “Did you just want it once?”

“What do you think?” You answer back, hand slipping over his bare chest now, and then he slams his lips on yours, tongue ring clicking against the roof of your mouth when it dives inside, huge hands cupping your face even tighter. You whine into his lips, body aching. “So do you want more than once?”

“The fuck do you think?” He takes your hand, putting it right on his cock, throbbing and hard, you brush your hand against it, earning his moan.

“Then say you want it again.” You’re taunting him, nerdy fucking brat, he scowls as he tilts your chin up.

“You talk a lot of shit. Think it’s time to get all your attention focused on me now, huh?”

“How you gonna do that - ah!” Sukuna’s on his fucking knees in front of you, making you tremble, breaths coming so fast you cant function, when he lifts up your skirt, looking up at you with dilated eyes almost black, fingering the fishnet stockings you’re wearing - they have no right looking that good on your thighs. “Sukuna?”

“Hold your fucking skirt up, brat. Now.” You blink again, lost at the giant man slipping your panties down your thighs, moaning when your pussy is in his face. “Fuck, knew it would be pretty but… fuck you for it being that pretty.”

“Fuck me for it!? What’re you even doing down there!” You’re yanking at his hair, and he chuckles now, lapping his tongue along your inner thigh, watching as your pussy drools out.

“What do you think I’m doing? Gonna lick every thought of anyone from your pretty fucking head,” he whispers, kissing your inner thigh again, you gasp. “Haven’t you been eaten out?”

“I have, just… you… you do that?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he looks under those pink lashes at you.

“Of course I do, ya didn’t give me a chance last time, jumping my dick like a slutty little brat.”

“You- oh!” You’re gonna talk shit, but when Ryomen Sukuna licks up your slit then, tongue ring flicking on your clit, you lose any words. “Mnh!”

You almost say you love him from one fucking lick, one wicked stripe of his wet, hot tongue between your lips.

“Nothing smart to say, brat?” He whispers, breath hot against your cunt while he holds your folds open with his thick fingers. You can’t respond, you arch your hips now, resting your shoulders back against the door, silently pleading for more. Sukuna moans softly, flicking his tongue again. “How about you be nice, say please?”

“Please,” you let out breathlessly, and Sukuna buries his fucking face against your cunt then, drowning himself in your sweet taste, your heat, while he listens to your moans mixing with the blaring music of the party, just an echo, his heart racing in his ears as your cunt gushes down him, messy as fuck. “S’kuna mnh!”

You can’t even say his name he muses, palming his erection over his pants, he can hardly stand it, he’d tasted you before off his fingers but this was more intense, the sweetness pouring as he tries to catch it. He looks up at you, your head falling forward, feels you trembling, while you crumple that skirt in one hand, the other balancing on his shoulder.

Sukuna’s tongue slots itself into your eager hole, already pulsing around the wet muscle, curling up wickedly and hitting your spot with that fucking barbell, you scream out hoarsely, head slamming the door as he does. He has you cumming with two more flicks, as his nose bumps right against your engorged, twitchy little clit, your whines and grinding hips urging him on, drawing that orgasm out.

You’re shivering, hips bucking up to fuck his face, wanton and fucking insane how you work them, greedy, pulling at his hair now. “Sukuna!”

“Mmh, you’re so easy f’me, huh?” you want to talk shit, but his tongue flicks and swirls your clit, as your thigh brushes the soft silk of his kimono, and you can’t take it, how fucking good it feels. “Say it, and I’ll let you cum again.”

“Easy… ah!” He’s moaning now, sucking your clit into his hot mouth, vibrating it with his own moans, your skirt falls so he shoves it back up, but your hands have entangled in his pink hair, while he’s devouring all the juices pouring from your slutty little hole, all over his handsome face. “S’Kuna…”

“Can’t even say my name, huh?” He murmurs, pulling back, his face coated in you, the sight should be embarrassing, but instead it’s so sexy you whine out, he smirks - having you whimper this time, when he stands, you wobble. “Can’t stand up brat?”

“Fuck… shut up…” he’s taunting you, but he’s right, he has to wrap an arm around your hips, bending low and running his two fingers up your sensitive slit, watching as your eyes roll back, feeling you tremble in his hold. “Kuna…”

“Not my name, tch.” You’re delirious when he’s pumped his fingers deep, curling in your quivering walls. “Take them off. Now, get on the bed.”

You are not one to take orders, you scowl at first, but when he’s slid two of his fingers in your mouth, and has a thigh between yours, you’re grinding on it, desperate, soaking his pants now. He’s kissing you again, before pulling back, turning you around and unzipping the back of your skirt.

“Do I have to undress you, brat? Where’s all the shit talking? Keeping up with your freak, hmm?” He’s taunting you even as his hands shake, when your skirt slips down, and your head falls back, whining out. “You don’t talk shit when you cum, is that when your pretty mouth shuts?”

“Shut my mouth, Sukuna.” He groans, kissing down across the side of your neck, tugging your top down, then up over your head, turning you as the skirt pools around your heels. He is stunned when he sees your body, swallowing nervously, tracing the swell of your breasts, the nip of your waist, the jut of your hips in wonder.

You’re nervous, him seeing you fully, but his eyes are bright rubies when they hungrily make their way up your face. Your hands slip to his body, slipping off the black kimono, revealing his body fully, so sculpted it’s ridiculous, you lean forward, kissing along a tattoo on his chest, over a thick pectoral muscle, and he huffs, hand entangling in your hair.

“You’re fucking…” he doesn’t know how to say it, fuck.

He’s never said that.

“Hot?” You tease, kissing lower, unbuckling his belt as you do. “You’re gorgeous, fuck…”

“Me? Tch.” You nod, and he sighs now, swallowing a bit, tilting your chin up and making you pull away from kissing across his tattoos. “You’re beautiful, brat, okay?”

“I am?” You blink a bit, and he sighs, nodding, jaw tensing so hard there’s a vein popping out. “Oh Sukuna… thank you…”

“Shut up.” You blink in confusion at him, but he’s already picked you up, your arms wrap his strong neck, as his huge hands hold you. “Don’t fucking dance with anyone.”

“Like… tonight?” You ask curiously, he snorts, shaking his head and carrying you over to a huge bed, one he used to sleep in, sitting you on it and brushing your hair back.

“Like not at all.” Your blush decorates your cheeks, as you bite your lower lip.

“Do you like me, Sukuna?” Your question makes him laugh, a huge tattooed hand cupping the side of your face and leaning down.

“Do I like you?” You nod then, suddenly shy for running it like you do, and he sighs, brushing your hair back as you tug at his pants, going to stroke his cock and eliciting that soft whimper of his that wrecks you. “Yes, I like you… alot. Okay!?”

“You sound so mad about it.” You tease, stroking him slowly, over those veins that wrap his pretty, heavy cock, and he sighs, snatching your hand now.

“And you, brat, huh? Do you like me, baby?” He whispers, flipping you around, your ass arching up and out, two fingers slipping back inside your hole, stretching you out, making your head fall back as you arch for more.

“Y-yes, I do, ngh!” He pauses then, cock slapping your ass so fucking heavy, precum drizzling across your ass cheeks, dancing messy on your skin.

“Shit, you like me?” His surprised words hit even your horny ass, high ass brain, you look back, getting up on your knees, reaching a hand back around to him now, he leans forward, sighing, cupping you under your chin.

“Yes, I really do. I thought… maybe you didn’t?” He shakes his head, he’s not sure the word ‘like’ covers what he feels, but for now it’ll suffice. “As more than a friend?”

“I don’t do that to friends,” he murmurs, kissing you again, fingers running along your slit. “Don’t bury my face in my friends.”

“Then… more than that?” He nods a bit, and you melt, pressing back against him as he wraps his strong arms around you. “I’d like that too - I’d also like your cock in me.”

“Cock hungry brat, can’t have a fucking moment, huh?” You giggle, and the sound wrecks him, he’s kissing you again, tip sliding on your folds. “Wanna fuck you raw, wanna cum inside you.”

“So do it…” Your answer to his insane statements is to get in the perfect arch for him, he moans as you do.

“Fuck, you sure?” You nod, hands clinging to the blankets while you soak his tip, gushing down in a soppy, squelching mess to the bed. “I’m not going easy on you this time, slutty cunt can take it huh?”

“I won’t go easy either, gonna have you whimper - ah!” Sukuna’s slid inside your cunt in a deep stroke, and without the condom you feel every fucking bit of his cock, from that fat, musroomed tip, to every vein in your slick, gummy walls. “Sukuna!”

“Fuck, loosen up,” he huffs, smacking on your ass cheek, you gasp as he groans, trying not to cum while you grip him so tight. “Now, brat.”

“I c-can’t, shit… ah!” You’re shaking as he slips out, then back inside, feeling so fucking delicious in your cunt you moan, glasses falling right off your face as he fucks into you harder now, slamming and bullying his thick cock deep inside you, so full you feel like you’re splitting apart, still wearing those heels and thigh highs, the sight of them right under your ass taking him the fuck out.

“Fuck, feel you, gonna remember my shape, aren’t you?” He huffs, as he fucks inside you, leaning over you now, hand on the mattress, gripping the blankets right next to you, veins raising from the back of his tattooed hands while his leaky tip drools on your cervix. You gasp out, whining when he stuffs you, his other hand cupping under your chin. “Asked you a question.”

“Conceited,” you huff, only earning him slamming inside your cunt, you’re blinded when he does, gasping out, ass arching for more of his brutal thrusts while he gives you the most wicked backshots, the sounds of skin slapping echoing and filling your ears, the party long since faded. “F-fuck, ah!”

“Like me, huh? She doesn’t like me, she loves me, doesn’t she?” He’s whispering in your ear, you weakly nod, you’re not typically submissive, but for him you want to be, when he rolls his hips up just so and hits your spot, you scream out at it. “Say it.”

“No… mnh!” He flips you then, right before you’re about to cum, making you whine, picking your thigh up and pulling it high, your heel and stockings ripped off, one by one, until your legs are bare, and the heel of your foot is against his chest. Like this, him hovering over you, cock prodding your soppy entrance, it’s way too intimate.

Like wasn’t a good enough term.

Fucked up over him was better.

“Wanna watch me fuck your guts up, huh? Bet you haven’t had that have you, cock ruin your fucking insides?” He’s possessive, feral as he looks down, you’ve put your glasses on all askew, he tenderly fixes them before tilting your chin down to watch your cunt make his cock disappear. “God…”

He can’t take it, how sexy it is to see the bulge slowly form as he shoves his thick ten inches as much as he can, between your puffy lips, while you watch him, lips parted, glasses slipping back down your nose again, covered with a sheen of sweat. “Oh…”

You’re watching it, the bulge, ridiculous as he fucks into you so slow, leaning over you and making your leg press up higher, a hand on the back of your thigh, he eyes your face again, as he slips in deeper, till he’s stuffed you far too full. You’re struggling to take him at this angle, deeper, slower strokes, fucking you up with every single one, your eyes going crossed then.

“Wanna see your pretty eyes,” he murmurs, taking them off, setting them aside and leaning low over you now. “Can you see me, blind little brat?”

“Y-yes. Yes.” He kisses you again, while he’s bending you in half, fucking you so deep you feel him everywhere, your stomach, fuck your throat, all of it, he’s ruining your cunt until she will just know his shape and you can’t say you mind, not when he slams hard, and you feel your body tense. “Kuna, please…”

“What, brat, need to cum?” He whispers, saliva breaking apart in a thin, gossamer string as the filthy sounds of his cock wrecking your squelching cunt fill the room. “Say please, huh?”

“Please, mnh! Kuna, please,” Sukuna reaches down, like he already knows your body after two fuck sessions, finding your twitchy little clit and leaning up, rubbing little circles and angling his hips just so, your orgasm hits you so hard, already sensitive from his tongue, his mouth, those fingers.

“That’s it, cum all on me, make a fuckin’ mess,” he murmurs, but in his head he’s already mad with one thought.

His.

You weren’t dancing or talking or smoking with another dude, ever the fuck again - he knows enough people, he can make sure of it too, watching your eyes roll back, that mouth in a slutty O as your cunt starts milking him then. He sucks in a breath, now laying his heavy weight on you, mean strokes hitting so hard and deep the smacks keep echoing as you’re so fucking full.

“Slutty hole wants all my cum, huh? Should I fill you the fuck up, have you drip me the rest of this fucking party?” Sukuna’s eyes are so dark with his blown out pupils, all you can see is black with red rings around them, as he grips your hip bruising. “Can’t even talk? That pathetic huh? Thought I had to match your freak, brat.”

“Mnh…” You wanna talk back but he’s fucking you from one orgasm into another, and all you can manage is a - ‘cum in me’ - which pushes him over the edge.

“Yeah, can you take all this cum, baby?”

Baby.

It’s echoing - Sukuna, your plug, the most popular dude there is, is sweet talking you and rolling his hips. One moment it’s ‘fucking slutty cunt, feel her’ the next it’s - ‘so pretty, look at you’. The mix of filthy, nasty words and sweet whispers, and brutal strokes that ruin your cunt and tender caresses is too much, he’s too much, you can’t formulate words, a girl who's never at a loss for them.

“I c-can take it,” you whisper finally, eyes locking, and then he moans, lifting your thighs up high, shoving them until they’re flushed with your breasts, smushed as his weight presses on your thighs, and he starts fucking his veiny, slick cock harder and harder.

“Yeah? Beg for it, huh?” you bite your lip, glaring. “Beg for me to fill this perfect little cunt, be the only one to.”

“P-possessive… psycho…” he’s chuckling, like he’s really fucking lost it, slamming in one more time. “Beg m-me, huh?”

“Fuck,” he’s done with your ass, you’re literally so annoying, but he also is fucking loving it, your attitude even as he has you bent and folded in half. “Tiny little cunt, bet she can’t.”

“I can, f-fuck… just… cum in me- stop talking and - ah!” He’s done when you demand it like that, when your nails press into his biceps, his head falls back as he feels his release, so much cum, despite jerking it all week it’s been building up, waiting for you. “Sukuna!”

“God, feel her, milking every bit, greedy, slutty,” he murmurs, kissing you over and over, barbell massaging your tongue, his huge hands slipping your thighs down as his ropes of white cum paint your walls. “Fuck…”

“Mnh…” You’re weak, head falling to the side for his kisses, thighs shaking violently when he moves again. “Sukuna!”

“Mmm, never wanna fucking leave your pussy, god.” He keeps kissing and slowly pumping, your nails tear into his back, and he loves it, groaning, hoping you leave your marks as he sucks on the base of your neck, lapping up sweat off your skin.

“You cum so much, holy…” He pulls back, grinning as he leans up, kissing your lips sweetly for just a moment, then glaring.

“You’re my girlfriend now, got it?”

You giggle, breathless, brushing a lock of his pink hair back. “Am I now? Not even gonna ask me?”

His brows lower, ruby eyes narrowing. “Nope. I do have a question…”

“Hmm?”

“Wanna smoke?” You grin, nodding, and Sukuna dips, for a moment you panic, but he’s soon back with water bottles and his bag of weed, while you’re in the bathroom cleaning up. He comes behind you in the mirror, wrapping an arm under your breasts and groaning. “God, look at you.”

You turn, leaning up as he leans down, kissing you again, soon the two of you are lounging in the bed, half dressed and laughing, as he inhales the blunt and turns to his side, studying you seriously for a moment, everything feels so comfy and perfect with him, heady. “What is it?”

“Just… you’re really pretty covered in me.” He murmurs, you flush, eyeing the marks on your thighs, your breasts, taking the blunt from his fingers and inhaling it into your mouth, gesturing for him.

He leans forward, and you blow the smoke into his mouth, he lets it fill his lungs and moans, big hands gripping the narrow of your waist, thumbs brushing under the swells of your breasts. He sucks in the smoke now, exhaling, when he takes the blunt again, sighing, brushing your hair back with his free hand.

“You’re still not getting free weed, you know.”

You scoff, glaring as he grins wide. “You are a jerk!”

“Just saying, you gotta pay. Maybe a small discount.”

“A discount!? You just came inside me.” He laughs now, husky with his smirk, laying back on his arm, bent under his head, inhaling again.

“Hmm, yeah I did, didn’t I? Okay, a good discount.”

“Psh!” You shove at his big body, when he pins you down, sighing and slipping up your skirt.

“Tch, fucked her up, huh?” He leans down, pressing bites, sharp along your thighs, you gasp out, feeling dizzy and weak, cunt throbbing from him still. “She’s wasting all that cum.”

“Wasting, what- oh fuck.” He’s got two fingers shoving his sticky cum back in your abused hole, inhaling the blunt and blowing the smoke right on your clit then, you’re arching your back, hips bucking up. “What the… mnh…”

He sucks his fingers, handing you the blunt, you’re blushing as he makes his way back between your thighs. You inhale the blunt now, letting it hit deep as Ryomen Sukuna’s tongue ring collects the milky white cum oozing from your cunt now.

“Hmm,” you earn a glare when you decide to put your glasses on his face. “You look hot, imagine - Nerd Kuna. Ow!”

Sukuna bites your clit, the glasses looking far too sexy on him, and watches you giggle, making his heart race. “Only nerd here is you.”

“Mnh, Sukuna…” He’s lapping at you more and more, the clicking and squishing of your cunt as he cleans up the mess he’s made, all while your glasses on his face are fogging up.

He puts out your blunt, back inside you, spitting his cum and yours in your mouth, tongues swapping it so messy together, big hand wrapped around your throat, bringing you with him to cum over and over, and you realize that night, in your fifth or so round - You think you might just be in love with your plug.

I had wayyy too much fun, hope you all enjoyed ittt hehe

@teddiiursula @helpmeimbored @sukubusss @lizatonix @kitchen-cryptid @yenayaps @all-with-angel @take-metothe-moon @quackingcrow420 @notsaelty @urlocalsucc @deadasssmut @fauxxfacade @blitziwitch @lvc-lv @niamhssecretlibrary @hiccupberries @yamadramallamaqueen @din-is-a-real-mando @sagegotthesauce @sadrna @saitamaswifey @beabamboo @akirawhore @coralbae @midnightry @ehlaaa @yuaisen @sapphireillusions @rosieandthethorns @sofi4dsam @choerryp1e @hunbun-posts @melotter @hellish4ever @smoooootie @anacod @jkslvsnella @bunbun444 @toffeebrat @ehcilhc @dizzylmwahh @emochosoluvr @tyyqqaaa @mimiluvzu2 @gojoscumslut @bakery-angel @blackbeauties102

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact: Them

Characterizations for the Boys

Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Author's Note: Not a chapter update. Characterization prompts for all the boys just to give you a glimpse of their personalities and characters for my fic The Crimson Pact. Thank you to everyone for your lovely comments! I'll be posting chapter 2 most likely tomorrow.

Story Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning. Read the story here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

A little bit about the boys

🖤 JINU – The Leader. The First. The Curse You Chose.

“She said my name like it tasted wrong on her tongue. But one day, she’ll moan it like a prayer.”

He’s the one who holds the leash on everyone else’s insanity—but barely.

Jinu is calm. Controlled. Refined. Until he’s not.

He craves reverence. He wants to be chosen by you, even if he has to manipulate fate to make it happen. He’s your shadow in every life. Your ruin in silk and soft words.

He doesn’t raise his voice.

He doesn’t need to.

“I don’t need to take her. She’ll give herself to me. She always does.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

❤️ ABBY – The Protector. The Fire. The First to Bleed for You.

“I don’t care if she loves me. I just want her safe. And I’ll break every bone in this city if someone makes her cry again.”

Abby is loud. Brash. Playful on the surface.

But underneath the teasing is volcanic violence barely suppressed by loyalty. He notices everything—every flinch, every unspoken hurt.

He doesn't know how to be gentle with the world.

Only with you.

“Let the others beg for her. I’ll show her. I’ll be the one she runs to when she’s scared.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

💋 ROMANCE – The Liar. The Lover. The Puppetmaster of Her Heart.

“If she won’t choose me willingly… then I’ll become the only choice she has.”

Romance is silk sheets and shattered mirrors. He weaves his love like a trap—one you're not supposed to see until you’re wrapped in it.

He’s the one who makes you smile through tears. The one who makes you think he’s the victim.

He’ll build you a fantasy, then chain you to it.

“She thinks she’s free. That’s what makes this fun.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

🐾 MYSTERY – The Echo. The Creature. Her Devoted Shadow.

“She looked sad again today. So I smiled until she stopped.”

Mystery doesn’t understand the world without you in it.

He doesn’t need you to remember. He just wants you near.

Touch-starved and terrifying, he mirrors your feelings like instinct. He’ll growl at your sadness, purr at your joy. He’ll follow you until you call his name again.

“I don’t want her to be afraid of me. But if fear keeps her close… I’ll take it.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

🕷️ BABY – The Quiet Obsession. The Sadist. The End of the World.

“She doesn't need to love me. She just needs to stop looking at anyone else.”

Baby doesn’t speak much.

He doesn’t have to.

Everything he does is for you, and only you. The rest of the world is white noise. People? Disposable. Obstacles? Erased.

He would burn down centuries of work to keep you looking at him.

He smiles softly while thinking of tearing everything else apart.

“They can touch her first. That just means I get to touch her last.”

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

Author's Note: I'm so excited to continue this series! I feel like having a glimpse of the boys' individual drive and character may help when reading the rest of the fic. (Also of course, to help make the fannies flutterrrr ✨✨) Also, I tried tagging some people but tumblr wouldn't let me? Not sure why. :(

───────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ─────────

Tag list: @faerie-soirxx @strayharmony943 @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @anonymousewrites @cottonheadedninnymugggins @apelepikozume

[himasgod]

PLEASEEEE platonic Malleus x reader where he just judges your taste in men

Basically calling u out bc *gasp* you like THEM?!

If I could REALLY ask about who are THEM pls pls PLS make them Ace, Riddle, Leona, Vil and Kalim (I'm a slut okay)

Malleus and Reader

Where he complains about the boys you like

How would Malleus complain when you told him about the boy you like?

With Ace, Riddle, Leona, Vil and Kalim.

APPROVED ONES EDITION

SECOND PART HERE

I BUSTED MY ASS WRITING THIS. PLEASE, SOMEONE MAKE A REQUEST WITH OTHER CHARACTERS. I’M DOWN TO DO ALL OF NRC.

"I think Ace is kinda cute, actually.” Malleus, blinking slowly: “…You think who is what?”

He turns his head toward you like he’s just spotted a crack in the very fabric of reality. There’s silence. You swear the air gets colder.

“Ace Trappola. The one who argued with Professor Trein over homework formatting. The one who once attempted to cheat on a pop quiz and still failed. The one who slapped Rosehearts's face. That Ace Trappola?”

You nod.

“You are aware that, last week, he mooned the enchanted armor in the hall and declared it ‘a win for man over machine,’ correct?”

“Okay but—”

“And this is the person you've found appealing.”

He stares ahead, hands folded behind his back, voice unnervingly calm

“He treats life as a game he does not know the rules to, nor does he care to learn them. He teases you daily, refers to you as ‘bro’ and once called you ‘mid.’ And this endeared him to you?”

“...Maybe?? He’s fun! And kinda smart—when he wants to be.”

Malleus places a hand over his heart.

“You must never let Lilia hear of this. He will not survive it.”

Malleus Draconia does not approve!

“I think Riddle’s really admirable. I like him, Like, he’s passionate and smart and—”

"Interesting."

Malleus, 0.02 seconds later: "Concerning, but interesting."

He tilts his head like an owl and stares directly into your soul.

“You speak of someone who nearly sentenced you to public decapitation for wearing the wrong socks.”

“That was a month ago! He’s mellowed out—”

“The same Riddle who recites bylaws at breakfast? Who lectures you for yawning during study hall, claiming it disrespects the sanctity of ‘scholarly hour’?”

“Okay, yes, but he’s also really driven. Like, I respect his work ethic—”

“He once corrected Silver’s grammar in the middle of a fire drill. The building was actively burning.”

You open your mouth. Close it again.

“You are attracted to a man whose idea of romance is likely organizing your schedule to the minute and berating you lovingly when you are sixty-two seconds late.”

He sighs, deeply, as if bearing the weight of your poor judgment alone.

“...You deserve flowers. Not spreadsheets.”

Malleus Draconia does not approve!

“I dunno, I think Kalim’s kind of sweet…”

“Sweet?” he echoes, tone vaguely offended. “You once nearly perished because he brought exploding fireworks into a dining hall.”

“But he apologized! And then he bought everyone cake!”

“He bought seventy cakes. Half of which were flan. You were comatose from sugar consumption for two days.”

"He meant well!! He just wanted people to be happy!”

Malleus pinches the bridge of his nose like you’ve just announced your intent to marry a hurricane.

“He does not understand the concept of ‘danger,’ nor ‘budget.’ Nor the line between ‘generosity’ and ‘bankruptcy." Even if he's rich.’”

He looks at you very seriously.

“If you confessed your feelings to him, he would likely throw a parade. During a thunderstorm. On carpeted floors. With live tigers.”

"That sounds kinda romantic though.”

“That sounds like a liability.”

He sighs, turning his face to the heavens as though begging some greater power for strength.

“It is not love, it is survival. You are enamored with chaos dressed in gold.”

Malleus Draconia does not approve!

"I think Leona’s really… alluring.”

“Ah.”

Malleus, slowly turning to face you.

“You enjoy being insulted, then.”

“What—no?! I mean, he’s confident! And smart! And he has that whole… brooding bad boy vibe—”

Malleus raises one elegant brow, his tone somehow both dry and royally disappointed.

“You are referring to the man who skipped an entire midterm because he was ‘emotionally allergic to mornings.’”

“He just needs someone to believe in him, y’know?”

“Believe in him? He kicked you off a sand dune because he ‘felt like it.’ He naps in alchemy. He once said, and I quote: ‘If it looks like effort, I’m not doing it.’”

“He’s just… misunderstood!”

“He is perfectly understood. He is chaos made of ego and nap schedules.”

“You would become his favorite pillow, his errand assistant, and—if you are lucky—his designated ‘person he smirks at when bored.’”

He puts a hand on your shoulder, face solemn.

“You do not need a man with a superiority complex. You need one who knows the day of the week.”

Malleus Draconia does not approve!

“Okay but… Vil is gorgeous. Like. Undeniably.”

“And tyrannical.”

“He’s disciplined! He has standards!”

“He once threatened to replace your entire wardrobe because your color palette was ‘offensively autumn.’ You were wearing beige.”

“He just wants me to shine!”

“He wants you to be a doll. A well-dressed, properly postured, kale-eating doll who never slouches and only drinks water with lemon slices.”

“And you think that’s bad?”

“I think if you gained three pounds he’d try to ban sodium from your life.”

Malleus looks at you like you’ve brought home a sentient blender and called it your soulmate.

“You would never have peace. Only toning creams and judgment. He once insulted Lilia’s eyeliner.”

“Okay but—he’s driven and elegant and talented and—”

“And ruthless, dramatic, and convinced that only he knows what beauty is. If you had a bad skin day, he’d schedule an intervention. With a PowerPoint.”

He exhales, softly. Almost kindly.

“You are lovely as you are. Do not let him convince you that loveliness must be earned.”

Malleus Draconia does not approve!

[tastenorris]

⟢ duolingo streak · lando norris #4

lando has been learning spanish. no, it’s not for you (it's 100% for you)

pairing: lando norris x colapinto!reader faceclaim: cande gallo and pinterest girlies warning: use of y/n, spanish language, fluff, lando being a simp, inaccurate timelines (kinda but nothing major) also this is just for fun and obviously fiction, i'm not trying to reflect any person in real life ‹3

a/n: happy one week anniversary since lando won silverstone 🤍 this is the first time i'm posting something on tumblr !! any feedback, likes, or reblogs mean a lot ‹3

francolapinto

liked by yncolapinto, lando, alex_albon and 683.543 others

francolapinto feliz cumple a la mejor hermana del mundo, te quiero hasta cuando me ganas en los karts o me robás la ropa😄😄 gracias por ser mi fan nro uno

→ see translation: happy birthday to the best sister in the whole world, i love you even when you beat me in karting or steal my clothes 😄😄 thanks for being my number one fan

view all comments

yncolapinto basta me vas a hacer llorar en público que vergüenza [stop u are gonna make me cry in public and it's embarrassing]

yncolapinto igual te amo un poquito [kinda love u anyway]

username3 FRANCO POSTING HER MEANS WE GET LANDO IN THE LIKES HELLOOO

⤷ username4 it’s literally tradition atp ⤷ username5 why is he always first 😭😭 stalking behavior ⤷ username6 i think someone's has a crush

username7 i wanna be her so bad it’s getting unhealthy

alex_albon the first pic unlocked a memory i’ve been trying to suppress (she beat me)

⤷ yncolapinto and i'll do it again albono🫡 ⤷ francolapinto she’s actually terrifying behind the wheel

──── ୨ৎ ────

yncolapinto

liked by lando, francolapinto and 64.785 others

yourusername festejando mi cumpleaños en mónaco 🤍 al final los yates existen de verdad y no solo en pinterest

→ see translation: spent my bday in monaco 🤍 turns out yachts are actually real and not just a pinterest thing

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francolapinto obvio que existen boluda en qué mundo vivís [ofc they exist, where have you been living???]

⤷ yncolapinto te voy a bloquear [i'm gonna block u] ⤷ francolapinto hacelo, no te tengo miedo [do it, i'm not afraid]

username1 yn the woman that you are 😍

lando feliz cumpleaños 🍾 los yates es muy divertido [happy birthday 🍾 yachts is very fun]

⤷ lando son muy divertidos* [yachts are very fun*] ⤷ yncolapinto gracias landooo🫶 estás aprendiendo español? [thank u landooo🫶 are you learning spanish?] ⤷ lando trying my best, still looking for a good teacher ⤷ yncolapinto lucky for you i’m fluent ⤷ francolapinto what. is. happening. here.

username2 HELP LANDO SPEAKING IN SPANISH???

⤷ username3 "los yates es muy divertido" baby no but A for effort ⤷ username4 he tried and that’s what counts (but also pls never again)

username5 bestie you're the pinterest board irl

──── ୨ৎ ────

lando updated their close friends story.

❤︎ liked by yncolapinto, carlossainz55 and maxfewtrell

──── ୨ৎ ────

f1gossipwags

liked by username1, username2 and 25.754 others

f1gossipwags Lando Norris spotted having dinner in Monaco last night with Y/N Colapinto, younger sister of Alpine F1 driver Franco Colapinto 👀 The two were seen laughing together over dinner and leaving together, with Lando holding what appears to be her purse and a phone with a Rhode phonecase.

Ahead of the GP weekend, could this be a casual catch-up… or something more?

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username1 OMG THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM

⤷ username2 i am NOT calm. i am refreshing their profiles every five seconds

username3 after months of him liking every single post where she appears this is a big step

username4 manifesting a podium with her in the paddock

username5 he’s carrying her stuff like they’ve been married 3 years 😭😭 what a simp

──── ୨ৎ ────

yncolapinto updated their story.

──── ୨ৎ ────

lando

liked by yncolapinto, francolapinto, mclaren and 1.446.278 others

lando monaco win. for you mum and dad ❤️

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francolapinto well done landinioooo top weekend 👌🏼

username1 monaco babyyyyyyy

yncolapinto VAMOS LANDOOOOO🥹 [LET'S GO LANDOOOO🥹]

⤷ lando gracias hermosa [thanks beautiful] ⤷ francolapinto did you just call my sister beautiful ⤷ yncolapinto déjalo está practicando [leave him alone he's just practicing] ⤷ francolapinto practicando para que? [practicing for what?] ⤷ username2 the silence is loud even in comments ⤷ username3 🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗 ⤷ username4 “gracias hermosa” giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair

username5 i still can’t believe he won monaco like that

username6 LANDGOAT 🏆

lnfour no u don't understand what this means to me

⤷ username7 i'm not crying u are

username8 POLE POSITION FASTEST LAP AND GRAND PRIX WINNER

──── ୨ৎ ────

yncolapinto and lando updated their story.

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alpinef1team · Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

liked by yncolapinto, pierregasly and 423.754 others

alpinef1team We have an intruder mclaren please come collect your driver before he becomes our new social media manager.

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username1 WHERE’S FRANCO RN

⤷ username2 plotting how to murder lando and yn quietly ⤷ username3 talking to their mom abt his future british brother-in-law ⤷ username4 updating his “reasons lando is banned from our family dinners” google doc ⤷ username5 inventing a new language and forcing yn to only speak that from now on ⤷ username6 the way all of them could be true

username7 lando you’re not slick we all see why you’re there 😭

username8 imagine being so whipped u start hanging out with another team mid-season

yncolapinto mclpine is a thing now

⤷ lando i just work here (no i don’t)

mclaren We’re reviewing his contract

username9 zak brown disliked this

──── ୨ৎ ────

yncolapinto

liked by lando, maxfewtrell and 70.542 others

yncolapinto besitos from barcelona xx

view all comments

lando 😍😍😍 ❤︎ liked by author

username1 i'm obsessed with you pls give me one chance

username2 lando can you fight

francolapinto quién es el de la tercera foto [who's that in the third slide]

⤷ yncolapinto métete en lo tuyo [mind your business]

username3 girl be serious we know who that shadow is

username4 YOU'RE SO GORGEOUS IT'S UNFAIR

──── ୨ৎ ────

lando updated their close friends story.

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ln4content

liked by username1, username2 and 86.436 others

ln4content In the F1 premiere, Lando talked in Spanish for a bit!

I: Lando! Hola, how are you? We heard you’ve been working on your Spanish lately… is that true?

L: Kind of. I wouldn’t say “fluent” but I’ve been practicing.

I: That’s impressive. What made you want to learn?

L: I think... just spending more time with people who speak Spanish.

I: Would you say you're more “Duolingo streak” level or like… holding full conversations?

L: I started with Duolingo and I was very proud of my streak but now I have a real teacher. She's very patient.

I: Can you say something for us? Maybe a little message for your fans watching in Latin America or Spain?

L: Okay but please don’t judge me… I’m still learning.

L: Estoy aprendiendo español y es un idioma muy lindo. Todavía me cuesta un poco pero practico todos los días.

→ see translation: i’m learning spanish and it’s a very beautiful language. i still struggle a bit but i practice every day.

I: Wow, that was really good! You're a natural

L: Hopefully next time we get to do the whole interview in Spanish!

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username1 CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING

username2 we lost him girls

username3 from 'soy lago' to this... we've come so far

username4 he's so cute 🥹

──── ୨ৎ ────

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francolapinto, lando and yncolapinto updated their story.

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lando.jpg · Argentina

liked by yncolapinto, francolapinto and 652.852 others

lando.jpg muy linda vista 🇦🇷

→ see translation: very nice view 🇦🇷

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username1 babe wake up lando.jpg is alive

yncolapinto u always get my good side

⤷ lando.jpg you don’t have a bad one

username2 he flew to her continent and then called her a “pretty view” in spanish i fear i’m melting

maxfewtrell Did you get lost orrr

⤷ lando.jpg dw i had the best guide ⤷ francolapinto i was there and he did in fact get lost multiple times ⤷ yncolapinto the bakery was two blocks away how is that even possible ⤷ lando.jpg ... i got distracted

username3 lando.jpg has risen from the dead

username4 he remembered the password just to post his gf i'm not okay

──── ୨ৎ ────

yncolapinto · Argentina

liked by lando, francolapinto and 83.243 others

yncolapinto they say home is where the heart is but god i love the english

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yourbff te acordás cuando dijiste que ni en pedo estarías con un piloto? [remember when u said “i’d never date a driver”]

⤷ yncolapinto 🫣🫣🫣

username1 LANDO WINNING AT LIFE FRRRRR

francolapinto los quiero un montón [love u both so much]

⤷ yncolapinto esto es lo más tierno que me dijiste en tu vida [that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me] ⤷ francolapinto espero que lo hayas disfrutado porque no va a pasar de nuevo [hope you enjoyed it because it’s not happening again]

mclaren Is it too early to ask for you in team merch in Austria? Asking for a friend

⤷ alpinef1team Nice try but she's ours

username2 i’d read a book about their love story

username3 we’ve been waiting this post since “los yates es muy divertido”

lando te amo hermosa [love u gorgeous]

⤷ yncolapinto te amo más🥹 [love u more🥹]

username4 i want what they have

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francolapinto · Red Bull Ring

liked by yncolapinto, lando and 604.762 others

francolapinto bienvenido a la familia landinio (no la cagues)

→ see translation: welcome to the family landinio (don't mess it up)

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yncolapinto estoy eligiendo ignorar el hecho de que acabas de amenazar a mi novio públicamente [i'm choosing to ignore the fact that you just threatened my boyfriend in public]

⤷ francolapinto no fue una amenaza, es una advertencia con amor [it wasn’t a threat, it's a warning (affectionate)] ⤷ lando 😐😐😐

username1 men will post “don’t mess it up” instead of just saying “i like you for my sister”

username2 i'd pay to be in their family gc

username3 lando passed the franco test omg he’s in

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yncolapinto and lando updated their story.

→ see translation: my winner !!! ♥︎

→ see translation: better than any trophy

[veejiez]

𝖒𝖉𝖓𝖎ㅤ★ YOUR AWFUL EX-BOYFRIEND SUGURU leaves your bedroom looking worse than a crime scene after he's done — and he's fucking shameless about it.

𝖈𝖜ㅤ★ smut, toxic themes, cheating, rough sex

His heavy leather biker jacket's on your floor, right next to your abandoned pair of dazzling hot-pink heels. Empty condom wrappers somehow missed the bin by an inch — oops, I guess the only thing that he's good at throwing is himself into your bed.

Black eyeliner smudges on your white Egyptian cotton that lay on a broken bed. Broken. Yes, broken. And it's not the first time. And whenever your new boyfriend gets into it at night, he scratches his head thinkin' — shit, did I do that? Are we fucking too hard?

Poor guy. He really believes that he's fucking you too hard and breaking the bed.

But oh, no.

Now if there's one boy who knows how to commit such heinous crimes, it's your ex.

The wort part is that he doesn't bother covering up his tracks because he doesn't care about getting caught by your new little loving machine.

Everything smells like his cheap cologne and cigarette smoke; the pillows, the bed, the slut — you try to wash it off in the shower, try to scrub yourself clean of all your dirty deeds, but nothing can get that feeling off your back nor the smell of him between your legs.

Suguru muses behind a cigarette, thinking about everything you tell him when you're cock-drunk under him.

What things? Oh, you know, sweet and stupid things, like "It's too big!" and "Treat me like a slut" and "No, he can't reach the same spots as you can!" and "I love you!".

Though it's so awful to admit it, those three words mean more to Suguru now than they ever did back then. Even better when they come out your slutty mouth while you're clawing at his back, trapping him with your legs and aching for every inch of his nasty cock. It's almost disgusting, the sound of skin slapping together and grunting, the wet squelch each time he thrusts back in, the yucky grin on his face that speaks volumes of his smugness... Suguru knows he has a big cock, and he knows that it never gets easier to take it.

Grabbing your arms and pulling them back, he forces your chin up so you have to look at him — you have to look your asshole ex in the eye while he's pounding up into your overused pussy, and you can feel the beats like a drum in your tummy. While your conscious flickers between reality and slutworld, Suguru is searching your eyes for any hints of that affection he so dearly and bitterly misses.

God, Suguru's just been the worst to you and yet you crawl back to him each and every time, fully aware that he'll only hurt you again — but nothing and nobody can top the headrush that he gives you.

Your meticulous craft of your two hour, multi-step beauty prep, the anxiety and excitement in your stummy as you get ready in your car to meet him, the way he looks you up and down like he's going to devour you the second he sees you.

And you can block him and cross your arms and pout as much as you want but he'll just smirk when his messages don't go through, because by Saturday night he'll be unblocked again.

Why? 'Cuz both of you are just as crazydesperatehorny for each other — nobody 'new' or 'better' can actually fill the needy void that's at the center of both your long lost souls.

It always goes something like:

I still hate you and I meant what I said.

ㅤMissed you, babydoll ❤︎‬

No other has turned you on this much and Suguru knows it, yeah, sure, he's all smug and having his fun... but you're not the only one who's fucked.

No, no, no, there's always this unshakeable panic in his chest when he slides into your gummy walls, when he looks down at your face and into your horny little sweetheart eyes, then he lets out a shuddery breath that signals the total disintegration of his composure and, hell, his integrity, too.

It's not that he can't get any other girl, it's just that he can't get any other girl who makes him feel like he's falling apart and being put back together at the same time.

"Get on your stomach," he demands so coldly sometimes, but just as you narrow your brows at him he lifts his tone and adds a charming, "So I can see your pretty back curving up for me, pretty girl."

'N then the sex goes from sophisticated to face-down, ass-up, sweaty and breathy and bed-breaking debauchery.

Suguru loves holding you down by the back of your head, but not as much as you do. Oh, and god, he loves how your ass jiggles when he strikes it with his palm; the red mark it leaves, the noise it ellicits from his favorite slut in the whole wide world — but not even close to as much as you love it, you terrible creature.

Oh, and he just can't get deep enough, can't sate his desire to drive his cock into you until you're wailing and feeling it brush way too close to your cervix. It's just too much fun, ruining parts of his sweet ex-girlfriend's pussy that her new boyfriend can't reach.

Stretched open nice and wide on him, cock-drunk pussy sucking his length like a lollipop, he can feel every wave of your orgasm and that brings on his own — ugh, isn't it terrible, how he fills you like he wants to give you his babies but refuses to even call you his girl?

His cherry on top is giving you affectionate kisses all along the side of your face and neck after he's done ruining you, then letting your panting, exhausted frame fall out of his grasp and drop into the plush salvation of a destroyed bed.

"Suguru..." you're breathing choppy and uneven, "You fuck me like an animal."

He smiles, upturn of the corner of his eyes catching your heart, "But babyyy — isn't that what you asked for?"

"You're insane!"

"But you love me."

"Ugh, fuck... fuck you, Suguru!" there you go again, he's heard that so many times by now that it sounds just like "I love you" to him.

He mimics your "I never want to see your fucking face again, get out!" perfectly, pisses you off completely, and yet something about you wants to claw into his big, muscly back and drag him into your bed like it's hell.

You glare at him while he dresses. He swings on the door, tilts his head at you, and has the cheek to say;

"By the way, I love you too."

He giggles and shuts the door right in time before your high heel says hello to his head, leaving you a mess in the sex-drenched bed with four new hickeys to hide from your boyfriend.

ㅤ🍒 x 🐇 x 💗@𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖎

[acid-ixx]

ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1, chapter five pt 2,

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

otherwise, i can't add anymore to my taglist so taglist requests are closed!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku , @okaybutfullhomo , @trasshy-artist , @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa , @ilovvmyhusband , @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony , @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts , @darling006 , @starringyau , @samanthahanes, @rosecentury , @jaythes1mp , @pi1nkl0ver , @i-thirsty-boy, @sharks-are-cool-l, @silverklaus, @traumaramacenter , @maddimoon , @anxrq, @thedarknesslord , @h0rr0r-10ver-69 , @lazy-idate , @cupids-pretty-boy , @alishii, @mel-star636 , @sitepathos , @freakyotaku059-blog , @dirtydiavolo, @sunbleachedantlers, @24hrsoflanii, @ceramic-raven , @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit , @tdickensstuff4 , @thickerthanthieves , @arlandvery , @distressed-lezbo, @bunbunboysworld , @bellethesleepypotato, @nebuluma, @alliwantisadonut, @alishii, @kusakiguzen, @sirenetheblogger, @emmbny, @ryukyuin, @solkara, @starsdotalk, @nightstarblue, @huhuhhuhh, @shadowpup163, @sunshine-skz, @24hrsoflanii, @bazellawrites, @pato-spoiler-27, @harumy07cat, @rains-mae, @funnybunnyxxx, @littlelilithspost, @howisgroguthiscute, @yuyuzi-ling, @tullipam, @coldcrusadehideout, @princessloveweird, @hybridcon

[hoondrop]

JUNGWON IS THE PERFECT CANDIDATE FOR LOOKS SWEET AND PLAYFUL AND SOFT BUT BEING ACTUALLY MEAN

unable to stop picturing him with an older gf inexperienced and shy and him being the one in control 🥴 pls pls post anything about mean younger bf jungwon ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

i love how most of my asks are for wonie

MEAN YOUNGER BF! JUNGWON HEADCANONS

warnings: female reader, mean jungwon, jungwon constantly reminds reader he's younger, noona kink, baby trapping, dubcon?

1. He lives for the contrast. You're older, more reserved, still blushing over things he says and he adores it. The way you shy away when he whispers something filthy in your ear? He’ll say it again, slower, with a smirk, just to see you fidget.

“Why’re you acting so shy, noona? You’re the older one. Shouldn’t you be teaching me?”

2. Has a massive noona kink. He gets hard just hearing you call yourself that. "I’m older than you, I should know better…” and he’s like, "yeah, but you don’t. That’s what makes it so fun.”

3. Teasing touches all the time. His hand on your thigh under the table, thumb rubbing tiny circles. Leans in too close when speaking, brushing lips against your ear like it's nothing. Whispers, “Are you getting nervous again? You’re so easy to read, noona.”

4. Calls you “noona” in the filthiest tone. When you’re whimpering, trembling, begging. he murmurs it like a reward and a taunt. “You sound so pretty, noona. This is what you needed, huh?”

5. He's a pervert, full stop. The kind who steals your panties, keeps voice recordings of you moaning, takes photos of your expressions when you're lost in pleasure, especially your flushed, tear-streaked face.

“Don’t hide your face. Let me see you. You’re so cute when you fall apart for me, noona.”

6. Degrading praise. “So dumb on my cock, huh? Is that what you like? Being ruined by someone younger than you?” But he kisses your tears away after, always holds you close afterward. It’s twisted and tender all at once.

7. Loves corrupting you. You're innocent, not clueless, but you've never done much. And that just turns him on more. He loves being your first for everything; first orgasm from someone else's fingers, first time on your knees, first time tied up.

8. Brings toys. Vibrators, silk ties, plugs. and he teaches you how to use them, patient but smug. “We’ll go slow, don’t worry. But by the end of the night, you’ll be begging me to fuck you stupid with this.”

9. Power play is constant. You’re older, but he’s always in control. Pushes you on the bed, makes you repeat what you want. "Say it. Say ‘please make me cum, wonie...’ and when you do,

"Good girl.”

10. Dirty talking kink. Whispering to you during phone calls, voice notes, or while you’re out in public. “I want you to think about my fingers while you sit there acting all professional, noona. Are you wet just from my voice?”

11. Aftercare prince. He knows he goes too far sometimes, so afterwards.. he cuddles you like you’re fragile glass. Runs his fingers through your hair, tells you how pretty and good you were for him, makes you drink water, kisses your wrists and cheeks like a sweet boyfriend.

12. “You’re older, but I’m the one teaching you?” He’ll say this while you're squirming under him, moaning helplessly as he thrusts into you like he owns you. "How embarrassing for you, noona." He says it with a smile that makes your stomach twist.

13. He taunts you with your age while fucking you, always in that mock-innocent tone. “Shouldn’t a noona like you be better at this? Look at you... shaking like a virgin.”

“How does it feel to be this ruined by someone younger?” He says that right after pulling his fingers from you and sucking them clean in front of your face. “Bet no one ever made you cum like this, huh?”

14. Loves to humiliate you in private. Asks you filthy questions with a sweet voice: “Noona, how many guys have done this to you? …No one? Just me? You’re my dirty little angel then, aren’t you?”

15. Gets hard at the thought of being your first real lover. The fact that you’re inexperienced eats at his control. He’ll bend you over and whisper, “You waited this long just to be mine, didn’t you?” while grinding against you.

16. Makes you say it. Repeats filthy lines till you whimper them on your own. “Say it. Say ‘wonie, you fuck me better than anyone ever has.’ Say ‘You’re the only one who knows how to touch me.’ Come on, noona, don’t be shy now.”

17. Public whispers. In elevators, crowded places, dinners. he leans in and softly murmurs, “Remember how you begged for my cock last night? Noona, I can still feel your nails scratching down my back.” Then just smirks while you choke on your drink.

18. Wants to break you into only craving him. “You’ll never be able to cum without thinking of me again, noona. I’m gonna ruin every toy, every memory you had before me. Your body? it's mine now.”

19. Possessive as hell. Gets jealous you had a life before him, even if it was boring or sexless. He gets off on replacing it. “Don’t even think about them. I’m the only one in your head now, aren’t I?”

you nod.

"that's right.. in your head, your eyes, your heart.. and your pussy"

20. He always pulls out. Or at least he used to. But lately… he’s been stopping. Slipping up. Telling you mid-thrust that he can’t help it.

“I know I said I’d pull out, noona. But your pussy’s just begging to be filled. Look at how it squeezes me.”

21. He keeps a quiet, private calendar of your cycle. Acts chill. Until one day, you mention cramps and he lights up with dark, excited eyes.

“You’re late, right?” he asks, voice flat but hopeful in that sick way.

You stare at him. He just shrugs and kisses your neck.

“Good. I’ve been cumming in you like it’s my job.”

taglist: @jaylaxies @yourislandgirl