#And then fucked off and refused to take part in the story anymore

[plasticferal]

hey queen! can you pls do an angst story with chris. where they get into an argument and chris said things he never meant. then he apologizes to her afterwards. ( basically angst to fluff)

damsel in distress | chris sturniolo.

i added my own twist to this ask. it's my favourite prompt so thank you! 18+ protective!ex-boyfriend chris x fem!reader. fighting, touches on themes of unwanted attention, mentions of alcohol, explicit language. reader discretion is advised. p.s inspired by the unreleased olivia rodrigo song 'prison for life'.

the house is filled with familiar faces and strangers. a small gathering turned into a full blown house party from the moment the word got out. where the sturniolo triplets are, a flock follows. you sigh, pushing and shoving your way through the unwanted crowd.

all you want is to make it into the kitchen, miraculously being the only place no one wants to linger. the last person you need to see right now is your ex lover. chris is standing ahead of you, leaning on the kitchen counter, alone in the room. you shut the doors behind you, needing to escape. even if it means with him.

“if you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked." he speaks smug, before taking a sip from his red solo cup.

“i'm not in the mood,” you dismiss. you open the fridge, eyes scanning the shelves but nothing calling your name.

you know you're not actually looking for anything, you just don't want to look at him. the entire night has you shaking with anger. from the mess in your home, the lack of care everyone is taking, the noise complaint you know you'll be getting later, and worst of all, that one guy who won't leave you alone.

you've never seen him before tonight, you don't even know his name, but all he's done is make you uncomfortable. try to dance with you, try to give you drinks. he brushes your waist every time he walks past.

all of your friends have been encouraging you to go for it, to get over chris. and honestly, you consider it for a moment. just to finally move on, but you can't bring yourself to. at least not with some random creep.

the break up is still raw. he tells everyone it was 'mutual' but it was a part on your request. he'd never throw you under the bus like that. he knows why you made your decision, he's never questioned it.

chris feels like it's unrequited love. although, you haven't lost any love for him, no matter how much you try to push him away. he has every right to despise you, but he doesn't.

every time you close a chapter with him, you find yourself in a sequel. it's like you're re-reading different stories, but the ending stays the same. your heart wants him, your brain wants to hate him.

"what's wrong?" he asks, sensing you're genuine in your frustration.

"nothing." you refuse to let him know what's happing in your world, let alone your mind. you don't need to let in him anymore, even though you want to let it out. he's the one person who could just sit and listen to you for hours on end.

"alright, just askin" his words trail off into a hush. he switches the tone, not wanting the conversation to stop.

“your friends are nice” he speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone, because if anyone knows how to kick you while you're down, it's him.

"you would think that" you scoff, implying that you've seen them throw themselves at him all night. him pouring them drinks, smiling and frothing over the attention he's receiving.

"the fuck is that supposed to mean?" his temperamental side seeps out, and you grow only more irritated.

"chris, can you get out please?" you huff, hands crossing over your chest. an unintentional way to seperate yourself from him, a metaphorical wall being put up.

"such a party pooper. you really gotta let loose, relax a bit." his words come out a lot more nasty that you hope he meant them, and it makes your face hot.

you give him the benefit of the doubt and think he's speaking with resilience, at the fact you keep shutting him down.

"i wonder why we ever broke up." you reply sarcastically, a fake smile on your face. he rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink and letting out an audible "ah," like a child finishing a juice box.

"i haven't seen you all night, y/n" his voice softens, and it becomes clear he's speaking for the sake of talking to you. he always wants to talk to you.

looking at the counter quickly to place his cup down, he looks back at you, tilting his head to the side slightly. he's not being horrible to you, he never has been. he's still in your life whether you like it or not, despite your hostility.

"sorry. i'm just tired." you lie. he knows it.

"your poker face isn't very good. i learnt that the hard way," he bounces his eyebrows, biting the tip of his tongue, eyes a bit wider as he stares at the ground and you can tell he's having a flashback.

you chuckle at the reference. the one time he caught you faking an orgasm didn't end very well, and he's been able to catch you out ever since. he's never been afraid to pull you up on your own fibs.

"sorry, again." you hug your body tighter, avoiding his eyes. he pushes himself off the counter with a stretch like hum and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"stop apologizing, you sound like matt," he rolls his eyes lightheartedly, and you let out a small laugh. that's always his intention, to make you smile.

"c'mon princess, let's get you a drink. seems like you need it." he nods toward to the door, rubbing your shoulder enthusiastically.

you let him try to fix your mood, because god knows you do actually need to stop stressing. you can't control what happens, just how you react. that's what chris always used to say when you were together.

feeling safe in his embrace, he security guard style moves you through the party. he hollers "excuse me!" and "coming through!" and everyone just listens, parting like the red sea. he's not the biggest guy in the room, but he sure is the most assertive. especially with you under his arm.

when you finally get to the drinks table, he makes you a vodka lemonade, saving the rest of the can for himself to finish off. it's not the most thrilling drink, but enough to keep you settled. ease the tension a bit. plus, it tastes good. no harm, no foul. as chris is mixing the liquids into cups, you feel an unwanted hand snake up around your hip.

"there you are. are you hiding from me?" your stomach drops at the voice of the mystery man towering over you, and you look ahead to watch chris's eyes snap up instantly.

chris lowers the cups, holding his eyes on the man behind you. you watch as he kinks his neck and his jaw tenses, taking a step closer. you shake your head at chris, holding a hand up subtly to tell him not to come any closer.

turning around, you stare up at the man. his breath reeks of liquor, and his shirt is drenched is sweat. it makes you sour your face and tense your entire body.

"i don't know what you want from me, but it's not gonna happen. i think you should leave." you speak sternly, trying not to let your voice shake with pure nerves. not even liquid confidence could help you right now.

"the party's just getting started," the man smiles, stumbling toward you in what you think is an attempt at a hug, but you begin pushing his body away from yours with a shove.

"dude, she doesn't want you. walk away." you hear chris's direct voice over your shoulder.

the last thing you want is negative attention on chris in a room full of people who would spread the news like wildfire. you never want that for him.

"it's okay, i got this." you dismiss chris in the nicest possible way, but you're being serious.

"come on, we'll have fun," the man hiccups through his words, mumbling them and tripping over toward you again.

"get the fuck away from her." chris's breath hits the back of your neck as he moves even closer to you.

"christopher, i'm serious. stop." you speak through grit teeth, so people can't read your lips, as he lingers next to you.

you try to be as inconspicuous as you can in your rejection to his advances, but he won't give up. the man appears more annoyed, and he grabs your wrist with a tight grip.

"let go of me." you grab the mans hand, trying to pry his grip without making it obvious.

you’re shaking at the thought of attention drawing. not for you, but for chris. eyes are already on you, being his ex. it's not what he ever wanted for you either. if he could make it all disappear, he would. it becomes more difficult when chris notices, and this time, has no intention of backing down.

"i'm not gonna repeat myself, back the fuck up." chris walks around your body, face to face with the guy who has a hold on you now.

"please, chris." you beg, voice quivering.

you know his temper can change in the blink of an eye. him and matt both have that in common.

"she doesn't need your help, pretty boy." the man splatters his words, a malicious smile on his face as he leans toward chris, almost nose to nose.

chris smiles criminally, flashing his teeth.

"you're right," chris puts his hands up in defence, a downward smile on his face as he chuckles darkly, taking a big step backward.

there's a feeling of relief, and intense fear as he actually does start to back away. but you know chris. unfortunately, it's unavoidable.

you try to catch his eyes, and speak through a begging stare without using words. he looks at you with sadness, and you mime the words, 'please don't'.

the moment the man tugs your wrist as if to leave with him, making you wince with the grip he holds. you regret your counteraction instantly, because chris reacts viscerally.

he flares his nostrils and squeezes his nails into his palm, balling up his hands by his hip. his knuckles are turning white.

before you can get pulled away, chris lunges forward with a tight fist, throwing a strong, perfectly aligned punch to the mans cheekbone. it throws the man to the ground in the blink of an eye, relieving the pressure on your skin. you stumble backwards, out of the line of fire.

chris steps heavily forward, shoving a foot into his ribcage before straddling his legs, completely overpowering him. the man projects forward to swing and hit chris's mouth. chris doesn't even flinch, like it was painless. you watch chris raise his arm up again to pummel down onto the now defenceless stranger.

the surrounding crowd gasps and yells, clearing the space that chris has created with his actions. iphone cameras flash, making you feel sick. the whispering and gossip you can already hear pounding in your head is overwhelming.

you feel so futile. chris is too in his own world to even realise the repercussions. you're not saying the guy didn't deserve it, you have no care in the world for him. you care about the aftermath.

in a fantasy world, a daydream, a fairytale even, this is attractive. a knight in shining armour, fighting for his lady. a world where there are no consequences, or social media, or fear. a reality chris has suddenly forgotten about.

he looks natural doing it, too. the veins in his arms so prominent, his tight mouth and huffed breaths as he gives it everything he's got.

you're frozen in shock, watching chris pelt another punch into the man, and you want to pull him off, you know you need to, but all your body can do is watch. watch the two men roughhousing and exchanging blows, chris taking every hit with pride.

you're numb to the feeling, screaming in your head.

appearing out of thin air, nick and matt are in your line of vision, hiding the chaos ahead of you. his brothers move into action before anyone else needs to.

they've obviously been summoned, but there's a part of you that believes they could just sense it. like they telepathically knew chris was getting himself into trouble by the lack of surprise they express.

nick grabs chris by the collar of his shirt, pulling him off. matt grabs his wrists, to stop him from using his fists. the fight comes undone, finally, but chris is disoriented. he spits onto the man as he's being escorted into the kitchen by his brothers.

your eyes burn with tears that refuse to fall, and matt sweeps your hand up, guiding you with them in a hurried manner. matt is trying to snap you back to reality, but it's just white noise.

chris hits his palm aggressively with frustration against the door frame of the kitchen as you all walk through, and you take a deep breath to compose yourself. your eyes are still welling as you choke back a sniffle, and you're not sure if it's shock, hurt, or anger anymore.

you're in a trance as you walk over to the freezer. your body is in autopilot, moving without you even knowing. you grab a frozen bag of vegetables out of the tray.

"so fucking stupid," you say nastily under your breath, slamming the door shut.

walking over to chris who's sat up on the ledge of the sink. you throw the packet at his chest, and he grabs it, questioning you for a second before matt walks over and shows him to place it on his bruised and red raw knuckles.

the room is filled with tension.

matt is biting his nails, you're leaning against the closed door, and nick finds himself squatting on the floor.

"what the actual fuck was that?" nick is too stunned to even yell, he just speaks aloud.

"i asked you not to, chris. i could have handled it myself." you shake your head, vision blurry as you stare vacantly ahead. you want to lash out at him, but for some reason you can't.

"yeah, it really looked like you had it under control." he crushes the frozen packet harshly against his hand.

"we'll leave you two alone." matt cuts through awkwardly, shooting nick a warning glare.

matt knows it's not his place to go off at chris right now. he'll do that later.

"but-" nick begins, and matt snaps toward the door. you hear nick sigh, knowing he would love nothing more than to stay and listen to you tear into chris. alas, they both leave promptly, matt flashing you a sympathetic smile on the way out.

you can hear from the other side of the door, both nick and matt are hustling trying to kick everyone out. it’s a weight lifted off your shoulders. the literal mess being left behind is the least of your worries now.

you're alone with chris in the kitchen again, the second time not being anymore pleasant than the first. you blame yourself fully for dropping your guard, even if for a second.

“i begged you not to, chris.” you repeat with a stern tone, laced with betrayal and genuine hurt.

he’s silent for a moment, staring at you from across the room with no emotion on his face. you know he feels terrible, he doesn’t have to show it. or tell you.

“did you think i was just gonna stand and watch?” he rebuttals.

“i would have preferred that, honestly.” you don’t understand how he can’t grasp the intensity of the situation.

"did you want him? go back out there then." he's bitter, pointing at the door. you roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

"chris," you start. he keeps talking.

“because i’m sure he’s still laying on the floor. go ahead. he might have a hard time talking now, though.” chris shrugs, speaking in a provoking manner.

“you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges." you apprise.

“he should feel lucky i didn’t do worse.” he takes another step toward you, presumptuous in the way he carries himself.

"you've done a lot of stupid shit, chris. but that," you raise your hand as you speak, laughing in shock.

"that was unbelievable." you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking yet another deep breath.

"you know what's unbelievable is how you haven't even thanked me once" he ignores your words and bites back with irritation, face growing more twisted with upset.

"thank you?" you repeat, jaw dropping. you step toward him this time. you feel dejected trying to get him to understand.

"thank you for what? for causing a scene? for putting yourself in danger?" you step forward again, feeling like you could drive your heels into the ground beneath you.

"you're acting insane" he brings his hands to his head, tugging at his own hair with despair. his words sting, despite the back and forth arguing.

"you're the one that lashed out on that guy with no consideration for anyone else around you. that's insane" you speak with physical gestures unconsciously.

you're trying to reason with him, but with the state he's in, it's like trying to put a brain in a statue. you examine him, trying to search for his eyes but his body won't keep still, twisting and moving around.

"fuck, okay, i get it! i get it, y/n. you're not happy with me. you never fucking are apparently," his words trail off and he waves you away, turning his back to you. he sounds desperate for it to end.

you want to scream at him at the top of your lungs, and quite frankly, you could. your face burns and steam is about to shoot out of your ears.

"you don't need to protect me anymore, chris."

"i saved your ass out there." he speaks with his hand, four fingers direct to your chest. his words are like salt being rubbed into an open wound.

"saved me? that's a fucking stretch. your brothers saved your ass, because you don't think before you fucking act!"

"this is about YOU, y/n! what i did for you!" he slaps the back of right hand into the palm of his left.

"i'm not some damsel in distress that you need to sweep up and put in a tower, chris"

"yeah well at least in a tower you can't attract trouble." he speaks as if it's your fault, and of all the things he's just spit out, that's by far the worst. the most menacing and cut to the bone tone he's used.

"that was low, even for you." you huff, emotions at an all time high.

your breathing feels tight, but instead of reacting, you force yourself to seperate your emotions from the reality of the situation. you're both feeling very intensely, and expressing it the same way.

in hindsight, you could have redirected some of your emotions, but you also wish chris would take back some things he's said. there's no excuses.

chris re-collects himself and turns toward you again. he shrugs his shoulders, like he has nothing left to say. no fight left.

the closer chris is standing the more prominent his face is, and more specifically, his busted open lip.

you gasp in a mix of being upset, and shock. it feels like a piece of your heart is breaking off, seeing his delicate, pale skin so sore.

"your lip, chris." you exhale, stepping toward him.

he flinches when your hand raises to touch his face, and you know now that you've acknowledged it, it's hurting him. neither of you paid any attention to it amongst the turmoil.

"come here." you sigh, pulling his arm, bringing him over to where the paper towels are, in the corner of the sink.

tearing a white square into your hands, you rinse it under cold water lightly before squeezing the saturation out, leaving a damp cloth in your hand.

turning into chris's body, he looks down at you. he's still at last, and looks like he has no thoughts behind his now seemingly innocent eyes.

you cup his cheek gently, to turn his face downward. you bring the towel up to his lip, wiping his stained chin and mouth. he lets you, and doesn't even wince. he visibly gives into your touch. he's content.

"i need you to promise me you'll never do something like that again." you pull back, folding over a clean side and then wiping his lip softly, trying not to cause him pain.

"i can't promise that." he speaks in a whisper, as if he doesn't want you to hear his word.

with his lip no longer being red, you toss the damp and crumbling paper into sink, making it a problem for another time.

"why?" you look into his eyes, wiping your hands on your shirt.

his blue eyes are big but blameless, pupils dilated. holding his stare as your arm lowers.

"because if anyone lays a hand on you again, i'm going to prison for life." the piece of your heart that broke off earlier reattaches at his words alone.

chris's much shorter hair is spikey around his ears, and wet at the ends, turning dark brown from his sweat. you caress his messy curls, tucking it over the curves of his ears and taming the wispy strands. you hold his head in your hands, tiling him up and your mouths are inches apart.

"how hard did he hit your head?" you ask against his lips. he chuckles, genuinely.

he's an idiot, undeniably. but the gut wrenching, lawless love he has for you makes him that way. his low, smooth laughter, makes your heart skip a beat.

"i mean it, y/n."

"but i know, i know it was stupid." he admits.

"yeah, it was." you agree, shaking his head around slightly.

he grabs your hands with his own, engulfing them and holding them in his palms. he squeezes your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

"i'm sorry." he speaks on your skin.

"like really fucking sorry." he strains his head back with remorse, making his adam's apple more prominent, and he swallows hard. like he's swallowing his guilt.

"i said some nasty things. i wish i could take them back, y/n. i really do."

"i know, chris."

"no, you don't. i'll apologise to you everyday for the rest of my life if i have to. i've been horrible tonight."

"chris, enough," you hush him, the calmness in your tone making him understand you hear him. loud and clear. you need some time to forgive, but you absorb his words.

"i don't know how you didn't smack me in the mouth." he jokes, and you giggle through your breath.

"there's still time," you joke back. and he knows it by your tone.

"i could never bring myself to do that. as much as you deserve it." your banter eases the pressure, and you feel chris squeeze your hands in his again.

you rub your thumbs over his knuckles, looking at the little purple marks forming. he notices your face drop with stress, and he slips his hands away, moving to your hips instead.

"hey, i'm fine. i don't care what happens to me, i just need you to be okay."

"i am okay," you reply. he drops his face with a look that expresses he doesn’t believe you. you give a light eyeroll, and small smile.

"i mean it, i swear.” you raise your pinkie finger to him, to keep your promise. knowing it’s the only way he’ll actually believe you.

chris smiles, weak with his bruised lip, and wraps up your pinkie with his own, wriggling your hands around.

"i'm always gonna want to protect you." he pulls you toward his body. he's so warm, and radiates a magnetic energy that makes you want to collapse into his arms.

you know you don't need him to, but deep down, you would like his protection. his unconditional love. selflessness.

"i'll be sure to send you love letters in jail" you grin up at him, and laughs from the chest.

his voice is like a scratched record, fatigue taking over his body. you swallow hard, all of your senses coming back. he feels so real standing in front of you all of a sudden, like it's not just a dream you're about to wake up from.

"stay the night." you speak mindlessly.

chris brushes your hair from your face, cupping the back of your neck lightly to pull your forehead to his lips, kissing just above your eyebrows gently. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, pulling you tight to his chest in an embrace.

"i'll stay forever if you ask me to."

this is the feeling he fights for. requited love.

[doumadono]

Hi baby!! Mwaaah! I have an emergency request if it’s okay? Can you have either Bakugou or Touya (maybe him as just Touya or maybe Dabi? You can decide) where the reader is having such bad flashbacks of their abusive relationship before them that they can’t get out of bed and every little thing set them off in a way they starts to get worse with them flashbacks?

Touya & Bakugo with gn!Reader who deals with flashbacks of past relationship

A/N: I hope you'll enjoy these two short stories 💋

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

Touya

Touya sat by the edge of the bed, his pale fingers tracing absentminded patterns on the sheets. His partner, Y/N, lay beside him, their body curled into a tight ball under the covers.

It had been a rough night. The nightmares that haunted them were growing worse, and Touya could do little more than hold them as they trembled and cried in their sleep. 

Now, as they lay still, Touya watched over them with a heavy heart. ”Y/N," he murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair away from their face. "It's morning. You should try to get up."

Their eyes fluttered open, but the vacant, haunted look in them made it clear they were still trapped in the grip of their past. 

Touya’s heart clenched at the sight. He had seen that look before – in his own reflection, back when his life was consumed by pure pain and hatred.

"I can't," they whispered, their voice barely audible. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I feel his hands on me... I can't escape it. I can’t believe I spent so much time in such an abusive relationship… I should have tried to escape but I felt weak."

Touya’s jaw tightened. He understood the feeling all too well, the relentless grip of trauma that refused to let go. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to their forehead. "You're not there anymore, Y/N. You're here, with me. And I won’t let anyone hurt you again."

They shook their head, tears welling up in their eyes. "It's not that simple. Everything reminds me of him. The sound of the door, the creak of the floorboards... even the way the light filters in reminds me of being trapped in his flat."

Touya’s eyes darkened with anger – not at them, but at the monster who had done this to them. "We’ll make new memories to replace the old ones. If you still feel trapped, maybe you should consider moving to another town, to leave the past behind?”

They looked up at him, hope flickering briefly in their eyes before being extinguished by fear. "What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m broken forever? And I distinctly remember you saying that “the past never dies”, Touya.”

Touya's breath caught at the mention of his own words, thrown back at him like a painful echo. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself against the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. When he opened them again, his gaze was steady, intense. "I did say that," he admitted, his voice a low, steady rumble. "The past never dies. It’s a part of us, a shadow that follows wherever we go. But that doesn’t mean it defines us." He leaned closer, his forehead pressing gently against theirs. "I know you feel broken. Hell, I’ve felt that way for years. But look at me, Y/N. I'm still here. Still fighting. Because even though the past never dies, it doesn’t mean it wins. We get to decide who we become, every single day."

His fingers traced gentle patterns on their arm, a calming, grounding touch. "I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. It’s not. There will be days when it feels like the shadows are winning. But you’re not alone in this. We’ll face those shadows together." He paused, searching their eyes for any sign of understanding. "You’ve already survived so much, babe. You’re stronger than you think. And if the past tries to drag you down, I’ll be here to pull you back up. Every single fucking time."

Touya cupped their face in his hands, his touch gentle despite the callouses. "You’re not broken, Y/N. You’re healing. And healing takes time. Allow yourself to heal.”

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them filled with unspoken words of comfort and solidarity. Slowly, they began to uncurl, their breathing evening out as they leaned into Touya’s embrace. "Okay," they whispered finally. "I trust you. Thank you for being here for me, Touya.”

Touya smiled, a rare, genuine smile that was reserved only for them. "Always."

Bakugou

Katsuki Bakugou was not a man known for his patience. His explosive temper and brash demeanor were infamous, but when it came to Y/N, he was willing to wait. Wait for them to feel safe, to heal, to trust. 

Today, however, his patience was being tested to its limits.

He stood at the door of their bedroom, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Y/N lay in bed, their body trembling under the blankets. It had been a bad night, and the morning wasn't proving to be any better.

"Y/N," Bakugou called softly, trying to keep his voice gentle despite his frustration. "You need to get up. You haven't eaten anything for nearly two days."

They didn't respond, their eyes fixed on a spot on the wall as if it held the answers to their torment. 

Bakugou took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Losing his temper wouldn't help them at all.

He walked over to the bed, sitting down beside them. "Hey," he said more softly, reaching out to touch their shoulder. "Talk to me."

They flinched at his touch, a reaction that sent a pang of hurt through Bakugou’s chest. He pulled his hand back, clenching it into a fist to keep from lashing out. Not at them, of course, never at them – but at the memory of the person who had hurt them.

"It’s him," they whispered, their voice shaking, "I can’t get him out of my head. Every sound, every shadow… it’s like he’s still here, watching me."

Bakugou’s eyes flashed with anger, his mind filling with violent thoughts about the man who had done this to the person he loved the most. But he knew that wouldn’t help right now. What they needed was reassurance, not rage.

"He’s not here," Bakugou said firmly. "He’ll never hurt you again. I swear on my life, Y/N. You’re safe with me."

They turned their head to look at him, tears streaming down their face. "But I don’t feel safe! Can’t you understand that?! Everything reminds me of him. The way the door creaks, the shadows on the wall... I can’t escape it! I know I’m no longer in his hands, but goddammit, I feel like he still owns a part of my soul!”

Bakugou’s heart ached at their words. He wished he could take away their pain, fight off their demons like he did with villains. But this was a battle that couldn’t be won with fists and explosions. He took a deep breath. "Then we’ll change it," he said finally, determination in his voice. "We’ll get rid of the shadows, do whatever it takes to make you feel safe. We’ll make this place your little haven, does it sound okay?”

They looked at him with a mixture of hope and doubt. "What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m always scared?"

Bakugou leaned in, pressing his forehead against theirs while rubbing their shoulders. "Then I’ll be here, every step of the way. I won’t let you face this alone. We’ll fight it together.”

They took a shaky breath, their body slowly relaxing against his. "Okay," they whispered. "Together."

Bakugou nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Together."

[solar-wing]

⚣ Rag Doll 🤬

⚣🤬 A/N → My first Jason Todd fic I posted on my other account! This full NSFW will be posted here since taking it out would lead to half the story being taken out. WARNINGS: NSFW. Breaking&Entering. Consensual-Non-Consensual. Bondage. Anal Sex. Rough Fucking. Mentions of Throat-Fucking. Domination. Breathplay (Choking). etc.

⚣🤬 Summary → Jason hasn't gotten it through his head that you and he were broken up. But, for the vigilante, you haven't gotten it through your head that you belong to him. He plans on reminding you of that little fact. Sorry for your window.

⚣🤬 Words → 2.1k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🤬

“I’m not arguing about this with you again, Jason!” You shouted into your phone while pacing back and forth in your living room.

It was damn near midnight and you were just about to get in the shower after a hard day. Your job was stressing you out, your neighbors were getting on your nerves, and your ex-boyfriend, Jason Todd, hadn’t gotten it through his thick head about the ‘ex’ part.

“I don’t want you fucking working with him, Y/N!” Jason shouted back through your earphones. You had to switch the call to them after you got tired of holding the phone against your ear for over half an hour.

Your job put together a new team for an important project after your company merged under Wayne Enterprises. You were selected to lead this team, along with one of your co-workers who you had been aware was interested in you since you started working at the company.

Unfortunately, your ex was the jealous and possessive type of guy who upon finding out this information demanded you quit. It turned into a major argument that lasted for weeks until you eventually called it off with him after two years. Obviously, he wasn’t happy about that and refused to accept it. 

You kicked him out of your shared apartment, changing the locks, but it didn’t stop him from coming back, acting like you guys were on a break instead of actually broken up.

“I don’t give two flying shits, Jason! We broke up. You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life.” You repeated, for probably the 14th time within the last 30 minutes.

“Don’t raise your fucking voice at me, Y/N!” He growled through the phone.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m your child, asshole!”

You heard him go quiet for a minute, though you could hear how hard his breathing was through the line indicating he was reaching his limit but so were you. Many people wondered how you two managed to stay together as long as you did since you both were hotheads.

“I’d remind you, Y/N, to watch who you’re talking to like that. Don’t think for one second I won’t-”

“You won’t what, fucker?” You cut him off, your patience non-existent at this point.

“Baby boy, please just-”

“No, Jason! I told you I am through with your controlling ass behavior. We’re over. Stop calling me, stop texting me, and stop having your family watch me. You have no say at all in my life anymore. If I want to go fuck Levi, Adrian, Steve, and the whole motherfucking HR team, I will do so. And there is not one thing you can do to stop me. So with that, goodnight, Jason.” You said, clicking the button on your earphones to hang up the call.

A deep sigh escaped your lips before you took your earphones out and placed them in their case. You walked to your bedroom and tossed the device onto the bed, missing the silhouette of a tall, bulky body standing on the building across from your apartment window.

You had just finished brushing your teeth and were about to wash your face when the sound of glass shattering from your bedroom alerted you.

“What the fuck?” You muttered to yourself before opening your bathroom door, looking to see your bedroom window in pieces. But that wasn’t what shocked you the most. What had you staggered and growing furious was the person you saw standing in the middle of the mess, dressed in his vigilante attire, just without the helmet.

“Jason Peter Todd, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” You seethed, a tight knot forming at the back of your head from your anger toward the beefy vigilante.

He held a smug grin, slowly walking toward you while grabbing something off his belt, “You hung up on me baby boy, and we weren’t finished talking yet.”

There was a dark tone to his words as he backed you into the corner of your room with him easily dwarfing you in size. The glint of the metal handcuffs in his hand shined in your eye as you let out a gulp.

Your wrists ached and were the color of an apple as they were repeatedly dragged and rubbed against the handcuffs that had you bound to the headboard on your bed. Tears pooled in your eyelids and ran down your cheeks as you felt Jason thrusting roughly into you with his hand squeezing your dick, denying you another orgasm for the 4th time. 

He’d been at it for over an hour, fucking you in every position he could think of all over your no-longer shared bedroom.

There was a growing soreness in your hole from your ex’s rough treatment, only slowing down every now and then to delay his own orgasm. He only would allow himself to cum when you did first. Such a gentleman.

Thing was, he would keep denying your orgasm until you submitted to him and agreed to take him back. Now, he chooses to accept your break-up! Great fucking timing…

His body hovered over yours as forced your legs wider with one hand while using the other to hold you around your neck. It was something from his possessive nature that just liked the feeling of control he got when he could squeeze and take your breath away at a moment’s notice. 

“A-Ah! Cl-Close a-a-again.” You whined as you felt your body jutting up and down with the shaking bed frame. 

The sound of fists pounding from the other side of the wall, your neighbors signaling their annoyance and request for you to quiet down, but Jason ignored them. Before, he would always stop and yell out an apology. He was considerate like that, but tonight, he couldn’t give one fuck if the entire building came knocking on your door.

You were his entire focus. All he cared about was you and making you feel every bit of pleasurable pain while at his mercy.

“Uh uh baby boy,” He grunted in your ear, squeezing down on the base of your dick again, preventing you yet again from reaching your blissful end. You felt more than heard the cry of frustration you let out, your head turning back as he licked and bit at your earbud.

Your body was littered with bite marks and hickeys, another thing from your ex’s possessive attitude toward you. The red marks would remind everyone else who you belonged to while the soreness from your hole would remind you. Jason’s size alone could have you squirming all alone without his rough pace.

Looking over his shoulder in the distance, you could see the mirror facing your bed, and Jason’s large frame fucking into you like an animal from behind. Even with his shirt still on, you could see how sweaty he was which did nothing but increase the arousal and need for release in your stomach.

Jason knew just how much it drove you crazy seeing his muscles underneath the compression material even when you guys were just out on a regular outing, let alone during sex. It was very obvious he did that on purpose just to make it even harder for you to resist him. He even kept his mask on too, probably remembering that one time you said you liked the mysterious vibe it gave him.

All you wanted at that moment was to touch him, to run your hands up and down his back and over his arms, or through his dark hair to grip and hold on as he pile-drived into you mercilessly. But, as cruel as fate was (fate being named Jason), your restraints would not give way no matter how hard you pulled against them. 

He let out an amusing chuckle at your struggling before tightening his grip around your neck, restricting your airways.

“Ja-Jason, please…” You gasped before he increased the pressure even more, stealing your breath away.

A soundless yelp escaped your lips when he gave a particularly hard thrust against your spot while rubbing his thumb over your red, weeping head, smearing your pre-cum all over before he slowed down to a dragging pace so he could speak into your ear.

“You know what to say, Y/N. I let you have this little charade to give you time to cool off like the caring boyfriend I am, but obviously, you needed a reminder of who’s in charge here. So tell me what I want to hear, baby boy, and you can have your reward.” He gruffly stated before his movements suddenly paused inside you and he released the pressure on your throat.

“N-No! Please- a-ah, fuck ... ! Please, Jason, I-I need…” You cried the second you felt him stop and the air came rushing back into your pipes.

Jason was buried all the way inside you, throbbing hard against your walls. You could tell he was close and was using this as an opportunity to calm himself down so he could keep fucking you if you didn’t give in.

“Those aren’t the fucking words I want to hear, Y/N.” He scolded in your ear with a harsh slap to the side of your butt causing you to scream out in pain before he tightened his hold around your neck again.

He brought his head up from between your neck, his hard stare looking you down as you tried to hold back the tears still building in your eyes. “Fuck, you’re so hot like this and you feel so good around my cock. You’re tight and wet and all for me. Stop torturing us both like this, baby boy. Just say it.” He dictated before leaning down to kiss your lips which were still swollen from when he face-fucked you for 10 minutes.

You suddenly felt him give you a pounding thrust, squeezing around your dick at the same time causing you to scream into his mouth.

“Come on baby, just say it for me. Who do you belong to?” He muttered against your lips, punctuating every word with another thrust and squeeze, forcing more tears from your eyes as your body shuddered from the pain and stimulation.

He laid soft kisses around your cheeks, treating your face like a flower but your body like a rag doll.

“N-nh, ah ... f-fuck ... y-you you…” You breathed, barely able to form any coherent words from his increasing grip on your neck.

“You what, baby?” He prodded, watching as your eyes fluttered close from the pleasure of his increasing thrusts, “Ah ah, open up those eyes, baby boy. You need to look at me when you say it.” He ordered, thrusting against your prostate again forcing you to open your eyes with another whine.

“I-I b-belong… oh fuck… t-to … ah you…” You muttered, hearing his growl in response.

“Say it again.” He ordered, punching against your spot again while squeezing your dick.

“I belong to you.”

“Louder!”

“I belong to you!”

“I said louder!” Your bodies rocked together with the shaking frame hearing items hit the floor from the wall where your headboard was banging against as the pounding from the other side started up again.

“I BELONG TO YOU!” You shouted at the top of your lungs.

You could hear the smirk in his voice as he smashed the head of his dick against your prostate before he leaned down into your ear, releasing your dick with an order, “Cum.”

Your body felt like it was encased in white-hot fire release overcame you, screaming out “O-OHH, FUCK ... !”

You twitched underneath him as your dick exploded with your orgasm, painting your stomach and his shirt with your white sticky cum while your legs were shaking from the stimulation as you came down from your high.

Jason feverishly increased his pace, fucking into you with erratic movements before he let out a loud groan, pushing as far as he could while shooting his load inside you. It caused an aftershock to turn through you, sending more spurts of your own cum out your weeping dick as he tensed and tried to hold himself still while breeding you.

He moved slowly back and forth, both your bodies still lightly shuddering in pleasure. He brought his face back over yours, pressing your sweaty foreheads together.

“You’re quitting tomorrow.” He stated, leaving no room for argument.

“Fuck you.” You replied, slowly catching your breath.

“Watch it,” He retorted with a small hard thrust while flexing his still-hard dick eliciting a small cry from you.

He chuckled at you pressing his lips against yours again before muttering out against them, "You're mine, and if I have to remind you of that again, I will."

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[coveredinsweetpea]

Do you think Eddie lets his girlfriend hold his dick while he pees? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

👀 I'm only like 100% sure he does?? I wanted this to be shorter but um I got carried away?? So like 1.4k smut ahead, of the first time you ask Eddie to let you do this and a little bit of how it goes!! 18+ pls OBVI!!

"... oh yeah, mhm, I heard about that…" Eddie hummed along to his neighbors rant about whatever affair they spotted during their daily cigarette break by the window. He lied though, he hadn't heard about it before, and didn't care one bit, but it was the most polite way he could come up with in order to extract himself from the conversation as soon as he could - nod along and wait for an opportunity to mention he left something on the stove. 

"... and he had no shame about it, that little rascal …" the neighbor went on. You weren't listening either, but when you squeezed Eddie's ring and pinky finger into your hand and he showed absolutely no signs of taking the hint, you knew it was time to take matters into your own hands. 

Nodding along to the rest of the story, you leaned in to grab the groceries bag from Eddie's free hand, hoping the commotion would help speed up the conversation. And it did. 

"Ah, you're probably busy" the neighbor said, hands clasped in front of his chest as he prepared to resume his walk, "I'll let you two do your thing, but if you want, I'd love to have you over for a coffee some time"

"Absolutely" Eddie bowed, a huge smile on his face, his enthusiasm most likely rooted in the chance to finally bolt inside. "Maybe during the weekend"

"Sure, of course, let me know. You know how retirement is…"

"Thank you for inviting us" you smiled too and then waved at the man as he said his goodbye and turned to leave. 

Eddie barely managed to mumble a poor and hurried "Bye" before forcing the door open. "Fuck!" he cried, throwing his jacket on the floor, the keys on the counter and then rushed further into the trailer. 

"Eddie, wait!" you dropped the bags and sprinted after him, barely managing to grab a handful of his shirt as he stepped inside the bathroom, "Eddie, I-"

"Just a second, sweetheart!" he cringed, peeling your hand off his shirt. He kissed your knuckles though and sent you an apologetic smile before disappearing behind the bathroom door. 

With a deep frown and a disheartened pout, you stomped your way to where you had dropped the bags earlier, fished out one of the chocolate bars, and plopped down on the couch. 

Despite furiously munching at it, you weren't even halfway done with the desert by the time Eddie walked out of the bathroom. 

"Ah, fuck!" he stretched, walking over to you, "Sorry about that, I thought I was gonna piss myself for a second there. What did you wanna tell me, love?"

"Nothing" you spat and sank your teeth into the chocolate.

"Sweetheart?" his tone softened, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes"

"Can you look at me?"

"No"

He knew what this was - didn't know what it was about, but knew you well enough to be able to tell you got upset over something trivial. Whenever it was something serious, so were you, starting a conversation with him and being mature and reasonable about it. However, the less serious the matter was, the more dramatic you got. So he knew there was space to tease you. "Puppy, come on, look at me, my angel" Eddie parted your legs and kneeled between them on the floor. He grabbed your hips in his hands and leaned down to get himself in your field of view. "Sweetheart?"

"You don't love me anymore" you huffed and raised your chin. You faced the kitchen, still frowning, and refused to look at him. 

"Why would you say that, baby?" Eddie pushed himself up to sit beside you. When you still refused to engage, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. "Tell me what made you upset, you know I make everything better."

"You slammed the door in my face" you exaggerated, knowing damn well he didn't even fully close the door. He always did though, and you were fully aware the only reason he didn't properly shut it was because you had been still standing there. But you were upset, and that was good enough of a reason to push his buttons. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to" he played along, "Forgive me, sweetheart, I'll make it up to you. But right now, please tell me what you wanted to say earlier"

"I don't want to anymore"

"Please? If you tell me, I promise I'll do absolutely anything you want"

You raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Anything!" Eddie energetically shook his head. "I promise"

"Will you let me hold your dick while you pee?"

For a second, all he was able to do was blink. "Hold my what?" he did a double take. 

"Your dick, Eddie. Please" you pouted, completely unbothered by the absolute shock on his face. 

It took him a second to gather himself, "And then you'll tell me?"

"This is it. This is what I wanted to ask you but you ran and then locked yourself in the bathroom" 

Realization hit him like a rock and as soon as the thought settled and the information got processed, he visibly relaxed. He swung one arm around your shoulders and leaned for a kiss. "I'm sorry, baby" he spoke against your lips, "Of course you can do that. I promise, I'll let you know next time I have to go"

"Really? You don't think it's weird?"

"No, it's definitely weird" he shook his head, "But when has that ever stopped us before?"

"Ok, thank you" you giggled, suddenly nervous enough to make you hide your face into his shoulder, but not nervous enough to remain there for long, as another idea popped up in your head. 

Curiously, Eddie watched you stand and hurry to the kitchen, only to burst into laughter when you returned to him with a bottle of beer in your hand. "To speed up the process" you said.

-

"How long until you're done with that?" Eddie popped up in the reflection of your mirror, peeking over your shoulder at the makeup you just put on. 

"I think I'm done?" you frowned and turned to face him, "Why?"

"We didn't take into consideration the fact that I drank today at lunch. I can't drive us to the movies, so we'd better get going if we want to make it there on time"

"Ok, right. Yeah, I'm done here anyway, let's go" You didn't pay too much attention, just walked past him and into the hallway, making a beeline for your shoes. "What?" you questioned when Eddie grabbed your boot from your hand and then dragged you back deeper into the trailer.

"Promised you'd help me piss" 

"Oh!" you exclaimed, "Yes, yes, yes! Please, let me, let me!"

"Of course, princess," Eddie laughed, guiding you into the bathroom. He undid the belt himself and hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his jeans and then pulled them down his thighs, along with his underwear. 

You looked at his cock and then up at him, "Do I just grab and aim?"

"Basically" Eddie chuckled and then wrapped an arm around your shoulders when he saw you hesitate. "Don't be nervous, you literally touched my dick thousands of times before"

"Yeah, but what if I miss?"

"I don't think you will, but if you do, I'll clean it up, don't worry" 

"Ok…" you mumbled but still hesitated. 

"Y/n, I don't wanna pressure you or anything. I don't know what's wrong with me right now, but there's a sliiiiiight possibility that I'm gonna get real hard, real soon if you keep staring at my dick with that look on your face, so-"

"Oh, no, yeah!! Sorry!" you giggled and went straight for it. As gently as you could, probably the most carefully you had ever been with his dick, you grabbed it into your hand, angled it however your brain figured appropriate and then looked at Eddie, "Is this ok?"

"Perfect, fuck. Ok" he hissed and then let himself go. 

You didn't know what exactly you were expecting, but excitement took over your body when you saw the stream coming out of his tip, a huge dumb smile on your face as you refused to look away. 

Nervous all of a sudden, Eddie raised your hand a little so the stream would hit the toilet bowl and not the water - the sound was making his cheeks burn, why was he like this? Why was he hot all of a sudden?

"Can I spell my name?"

"Technically yeah-" Eddie laughed in disbelief, "But next time? I'm almost done right now"

"Can you do it?" 

"Sure"

"Can I watch?" 

"You're insane" he shook his head, amused - and in awe, kissing your temple as the last droplets of piss left his tip. "But of course you can"

[apocalypse-shuffle]

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

────────────────────

────────────────────

“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?, crying?

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Ma. God, no one called you that anymore. The way your eyes begin to prickle is a clear indication.

With you Dick wasn’t the type. Once he’d worked himself up to it he’d called you mom; slightly different from the few ways he referred to his bio mother, but something shared between the two of you all the same.

And Tim? Well he wasn’t your child plain and simple. Tim still had his parents for one, and for two he was intrinsically Bruce’s. By the time he’d figured his way into the Batcave you’d been gone, most of your shit moved out of the manor, and desperately waving divorce papers Bruce refused to acknowledge in the air. You didn’t have anything to do with his indoctrination outside of exactly one instance of him finding you to ask if you’d reconsider the separation. Some Batman needed a Robin and Bruce Wayne needed his wife type shit.

Either way Tim didn’t call you any rendition of mom because you weren’t his. The most you got was him addressing you by your maiden name and then eventually your first and you were content with that.

Then if he didn’t call you mom, the girls sure as hell didn’t either. Outside of Barbara the others never even became regular conversation partners. Cass was a rare sighting in your life and Stephanie and you’s relationship would never progress past the casual advocacy you tried giving her because she was another dead Robin to add to what’s now technically a list.

At the end of the day, out of all the people who considered you a mother, only Jason added that ‘a’ and you wanted to grip that name tight and hold it to you. Break your ribs open and force it into your chest cavity. The need to fulfill that ache cuts deep and you take a step forward.

Jason startles though, undoing all his own forward progress, and you falter. That’s right. Jason didn’t like for people to touch him. Definitely didn’t like hugs either. Not surprise ones at least. Before his death you’d gotten close enough he didn’t mind when you swooped in, but now?

“Can I-? Can I hug you?” You press trembling lips together for another horrible swallow. “Please…?”

Jason jerks, two hastily aborted movements at once, before his obstructed voice meets your ears.

“Fine.”

You practically fall on him before pulling him into you. Unfortunately he’s just as stiff as his voice and you have to take a second to figure out how to slot against him.

Jason fits in your arms differently than he used to - broader and taller by a mile - but after a few beats he relaxes into them just the same. The subtle addition of weight makes a sob bubble up your throat.

You rap your knuckles on the side of the helmet.

“Take this shit off.”

He hesitates and a sharp pang manages to worm its way into the already shitty cocktail of emotions you’re feeling. It hits your spine like lightning, forces you up and has you an arms length away in half an inhale.

Maybe before now you’d been going through too much all at once for the trepidation to hit, but it was hitting now. You’d never seen Hood without- well without the Hood. Only Jumbie raised from the dead the way Jason did, and while you’d take your son anyway you could get him you wouldn’t accept some Thing parading around in his skin.

Reading your burst of movement for what it is, Jason backtracks, rising arms dropping to his sides. “Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“Jason Peter-” you inhale deeply, catching yourself, and hold a hand up to stop him. You both ignore the obvious way it trembles. “-only… if…if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything.”

He’s slow to nod, weight shifting from his left to his right leg and back again before he says something too low for you to hear. You’re about to ask him to repeat when he speaks up, this time aiming his voice somewhere around your shoulder while bowing his head.

“No, I- Alright. Just hold on.”

Haunches suitably raised and heart in your throat you pay close attention as the helmet comes up, Jason having released some catch in the back.

It goes over, the helmet clatters to the ground, and the man who stares back at you is…hard to place.

The low fluorescent lighting of the narrow room combined with the concrete walls casts soft enough shadows over his face that while his features are warped they’re not discernible. Which means you can’t completely rule out the uncanniness wafting off of him as just your brain (along with your entire perception of the universe) splinting in half.

It makes your face heat up. He looks familiar, but you can’t say you wouldn’t have passed him straight if you’d seen him on the street. He’s too big for one, even for how you’d all imagined he’d look grown up, standing more than a foot taller than the last day you saw him. Taller than malnourishment would’ve ever let him be.

The sob you let out makes you both flinch.

One hand snaps to your mouth, the other waving him off.

“I’m sorry I- I don’t-. This is just-”

Even with the way he’s leaning away from you he shakes his head. “I get it, it's fine.”

His voice is faint, cut up and hoarse like he hasn’t used it in a while, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve heard in ages.

“Oh,” you laugh. The wet kind that makes your throat sticky. You can only stare at him, blurry form and all, words lost to you.

Eventually, after watching your fervent effort to wipe away tears that are in no way inclined to give you a break, arms crossed Jason takes a half step forward with a shrug.

“We can…try again?”

The next little laugh you let out you practically choke on but you nod all the same.

When Jason’s the first to move your heart starts speeding away like an overexcited middle school drumline. You roll with it though, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes so they’re dry enough for you to actually see him clearly for a few seconds.

When he’s directly in front of you your hands come up slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to move away. Or maybe to vanish.

When he does neither, only giving you a guarded look, you allow yourself to touch.

Problem is, the domino mask he’s wearing very quickly gets in your way and on your nerves when you move to frame his face. Quickly feels like if it’s not gone, if you can’t see his eyes, you’ll throw up.

To stop yourself from taking the risk and ripping it off you have to take a deep breath. Have to force down the thick build up of saliva gathering in your mouth so it pushes back the bile climbing up your throat.

“I’d like to see my son, Jason. All of you.”

To emphasize your point you tap the tip of your nail against the mask. There’s no intention on your part to cross his boundary but Jason’s hands snap up to hold onto your wrists all the same.

You look into the white lenses of his domino, fingers buzzing along the corner of the mask closest to them. His mouth twists into a frown.

“Please?”

You beg with the same ferocity a grieving mother once used when begging for her child back.

“You’re asking for a lot.”

He lets go and he takes a couple steps back and you don’t cry.

No, instead you swing your hands behind you. Clasping them together in a poor attempt to stop the buzzing sensation that travels from the tips of your fingers to take over your entire hand.

“Mmm,” you incline your head. “Well. I did help a boy get over first date jitters with a made up song once. Let that same boy talk me through an entire dissertations’ worth of his analysis of Their Eyes Were Watching God - as choppy as it was - because TWMS wouldn’t allow him to present it in class. Let him skip going to that same school and cry to me for hours after the death of Gloria Stanson. Remember a knife hidden in the corner on the highest shelf in his closet, and I remember not revealing any of that when I gave his eulogy because he once asked me to keep the important things between the two of us. So you don’t have to show me, but I think I make a pretty good qualifier when it comes to keeping this safe.”

You point straight to where his heart is tucked safely behind layers of gray armor before shrugging.

From the way his brows furrow over the domino you know he’s at least thinking about it so you step away to pick up your disregarded mask and stuff it in your waistband.

One blink. Six.

“You remember Rena?”

In front of him again, you rock back on your heels. “Mhm. And the ‘how to tie a tie’ lessons me and Bruce walked you through even though you didn’t wear a suit to that date. Remember that too.”

Jason’s smile is crooked on his face but it’s nonetheless present as he makes a noise of agreement.

“I’d just wanted to spend time with you two, I was never planning on wearing a suit to go to the skating rink.”

“We figured.”

You’re rolling onto the balls of your feet when that small smile drops and he shakes his head.

“I’m not that same boy anymore.”

You take in the way he could raise his hand and so easily touch the ceiling without having to jump. You clear the phlegm from your throat.

“I can tell.”

Jason grunts and makes a general gesture indicating something somewhere behind you.

“And I got no interest in trying to live up to whatever fucked up embalment Bruce’s got going on with my burnt suit in that case.”

That suit. Bruce’s memorial. His warning. Your breath hitches as you think of the smell of crisped blood and methanol. If Jason didn’t want to talk about it you sure as shit weren’t going to.

“I will one hundred percent take that into account.” You keep it simple, rocking on your heels again. He wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable so there wasn’t really any debate to be had. “You wanna be treated as you are? I can do that.”

Moments pass once you’ve said your peace where Jason does nothing but stare at you. The only indication he’s at all alive being his shoulders still moving - and you are watching. Eyeing that tell tale up and down like your own life will end at its falter. The pattern is slow enough to come off as pacivity but the time between each rise and fall is too measured to be uncontrolled. Exactly three point eleven seconds one way and three point eleven seconds the other. Every time.

Then he sighs, curses, and the little veil of dissolvent for the adhesive that adheres the mask to his face is in his hand. A different vial and color than when he was Robin; you don’t know why you thought it’d be the same. Or why it makes your heart clench that it’s not.

Between one thrum of the fluorescent lights and the next Jason is peeling away the domino, and you would be lying if you claimed to know where it disappeared to after that. Too caught up on what he’d been hiding to track it.

Blue. Nothing more and nothing less. Just blessedly familiar, vibrant blue. Not the dull gray they’d become by the time you were given the chance to put a gruesome sight of a child six feet under.

The “Oh wow,” tumbles from you without permission and then there’s zero hope for the waterworks you’d been holding back. The levee fails and you’re bawling before you know it. Barely holding back snot and who knows what else since you already feel like screaming.

At that point there’s no carefully thought out sentence for you to spew, no more hesitancy, no more measured breathing, and linear thought. Just the crushing need to have him close to you again.

You’re rushing forward before you know.

Wrapping your arms around Jason the next go around is both the best and the worst thing. You accommodate his new size faster, already writing over the ways he used to fit against you with the ways he does so now, but he’s still so stiff and he’s not reciprocating the hug either.

Maybe you should let go. You crossed the boundary too fast. Were too reckless. You literally have training on this and now you’re crowding him.

Okay, you’re pulling away. It’s a herculean effort but you’re forcing your arms from around his middle. You’ve got to, you don’t want to scare him off. Not when you just got him back.

There’s a soft “Not yet,” mumbled into your shoulder and then arms finally come around yours and you don’t hesitate to snap your own back into place.

He’s hugging you back.

You cry a little harder and bring one of your arms up to drape across his shoulders, pulling him closer. When you start rocking and Jason copies your momentum you press a kiss onto his temple.

“Hi,” you stutter out. Another sob. “Hi baby.”

Since he’s finally letting his arms wrap around you you don’t hesitate to run dark fingers through the truly unruly mass of black curls on his head. His hairs’ damp - most likely from sweat - but cool. Probably being tempered by the cold air blowing into the room.

It’s when you press a kiss to his forehead that you feel something else wet and your breath stutters.

“It’s okay. I got you, everything’s okay,” you whisper.

“God Ma-” his voice cracks and then you can hear the sobs he’s trying to muffle into your suit. “No it’s not.”

“I know,” you sob. “I’m sorry- so so fucking sorry.”

You sniffle and pull away to see him better. Jason’s face is flushed, his eyes wet, and cheeks streaked with tears shed. You hold your hands up to frame his face for a second time and run your thumbs through the tear tracks. His chest heaves as his body tries to regulate his breathing.

Jason clears his throat, gaze boring into yours. “Hi,” he says.

You smile, finally beginning to map out his face. First you move to frame his cheeks, too feel the warmth in them. To see if they still feel familiar. They don’t; you force yourself to accept that fact without letting it show in your expression, letting out a measured exhale before continuing. You find his jaw is more defined now too, cheeks devoid of the baby fat of five years prior.

From then on brushing your thumbs along his brows, over the bridge of his nose, traveling over his ears and skirting around his hairline - it all fills your mind with incoherent cheers.

Your thumbs hover over Jason’s eyes and you hum when he closes them for you.

The skin underneath your shaved off pads is soft. The thin layer of protection allows you to feel how his eyeballs shift, to see the way his veins show stark under light skin, to clock the life thrumming through him.

It makes your heart feel so goddamn light. You can’t stop smiling at the sight of him. Eyes still wet but clear.

“I feel like such a horrible mother,” you hiccup, hands slide down so you can once again cup his face. “I barely recognize you.”

Jason’s breathing shakes nearly in tandem with yours and his eyes squeeze tighter shut, head turning away.

“Don’t.” He takes a second to look up. Look right through you. Lashes wet and glassy eyes open, voice grating over his next words. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame any of you for that, but especially not you.”

What you want to do is argue. You should’ve never let him put on that suit in the first place, one fucked up son should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve dropped the case you were working the second you’d heard he’d run away and you should’ve found him. Instead you keep your thoughts personal, pinning them to your brain as if it’s a cushion so that you’ll never forget, and pull your son closer. An action which he allows, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you whisper into his hair. The way he instantly shakes his head makes the cool strands tickle your jawline.

“You can’t mean that.”

“If I didn’t mean it I wouldn’t have said it, Jay.”

Jason tenses before responding, words spewing without warning.

“Yeah except I’ve killed people, and I don’t regret it, and Bruce hates that - and you probably do too - but his way isn’t good enough. The people in this city deserve better so I’m doing what’s necessary-”

And that has you bristling. He must notice too because he stops short and edges away, face steeping. Caught somewhere between wanting to leave and wanting to fully kick start an argument.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! I had to split this bitch in two cause it was 5,000+ words and I’m not in the business of under-indulging myself.

Listen, I’ve looked into it. Every mother/mother figure Jason’s ever had he’s referred to as “Mom”, but me personally, I didn’t grow up addressing my own mother that way so I wanted to play around with “Ma” (differentiate a little). What's funny though, is that I’ve read Dick referring to his mother as both “Ma” and “Mom” so that’s fun.

• TWMS = Thomas Wayne Middle School

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

Tagged: @aarinisreading, @niphredil-14, @mxtokko, @calsjack, @brunnetteiwik

[granolawriting]

A change in fate ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your toxic ex kicks you out of your place without another word. Only hiring a mover to get your stuff somewhere else. And when Joel finds you in a state of disarray, and stays indifferent, you butt heads until it comes to a head when your paths cross again after that night. That time, much more complicated.

Content warning: age gap, you're 21 and Joel is mid 30s to early 40s. Enemies to lovers.

word count: 4k

A/N: this is the first of a two-part series inspired by an old movie I grew up with. If you can recognize it, I'll like, give you a really big treat. no nsfw this chapter, but the next one will. And as always, let me know if you like my work or if you have any suggestions for anything else I could write :)

Part 2 out now!!: to make you forget

“NO. No. No no no no no no no NO!!!” 

Your fist hits solid wood once more. Every slam that pounds upon its impenetrable front leaves a mark on your hand in the shape of bruises and soreness-- you try the door once more. It's locked, as it had been the last ten times you attempted to open it. Desperation laced in the fruitless fervor that played its sound of metal clanking on metal as the knob refused to turn. 

The thump on the ground follows a fall of your knees. Defeated, hopeless, in a dress that isn't even yours. Tears stream from your face in such passion you can't even feel them anymore as more of you is wet than it is dry. You imagine you look a mess, hair disheveled as you held it as you screamed at him-- makeup once beautiful and elegant streams down and across your face in the motion your hands chose to wipe away your tears. 

A screeching of tires followed by the shutting of a door is what knocks you out of this pathetic display. A man walks over to you and begins to pick up the boxes right beside you, carrying them to the back of his truck that has the title “MOVERS” painted on its side. You clamor to your feet, disorientation doesn't help the heels strapped to your feet as you chase after him;

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going with those? Who the hell are you?”

Rancor coats your tongue as your anger spits out onto him, He stands in the middle of an empty parking lot with only the light emanating from houses and lamps decorating the street are you able to take him in. 

He was tall, perhaps 6ft, an older man. Salt and pepper hair covered just above his forehead and a stern face was complimented by equally gruff facial hair of similar color, and a frown that seemed natural for him. He wore an old jacket-- probably made in the same year you were born with plaid linings on its inside to support a Carhartt branded outside. All the clothes upon his body seemed worn, from the stained jeans and a belt fitted so many times it might as well have been made for the exact curve of his body, to the heavy worker's boots with every scratch telling a story beyond your years. He looks at you. Up and down his eyes register curiously the woman that stood before him. He scoffs, and with a low Texan drawl he replies in kind; 

“Well princess, looks here like someone was kind enough to get yourself a mover for all them boxes outside the house. ‘Supose you know where i'm to drop em off?” 

“They can stay right here.” 

It comes out of you not in a literal sense, but you guess a plea of desperation. You can't imagine that this is actually happening. You can't just leave. After all the years you spent with him, all the hours you poured into his care and the best he can do is call up some old guy to take your shit somewhere else? 

“Now you know I can't do that. I ain't come all the way down here just for’ nothin. Now, I was hired to move, least you can let me do is my job.” 

His palms outstretched to you as he finishes putting the first box in the back of his truck, looking to you with little care for what you’re properly going through, moreso just a plea to let him go home sometime before 1 in the morning. 

your breath grows uneven again, you feel something build up in you again as you just refuse to accept this. Turning your back to him, you storm over to another box untouched by him and kick it, screaming and crying and truly just making a mess of yourself as you collapse once again on the curb of the sidewalk. Folding your arms across your knees, and with a head buried deep in your chest you sit there for a moment as you listen to the crunch of his boots against the loose gravel along the pavement trail back and forth past you as each box is stored into the vehicle. 

“Still haven't given me an address. Or were ya’ thinkin' of just sitting here and lettin' me take yer’ things?” 

Irritation follows his tone as he becomes increasingly impatient about your behavior. 

“I don't have anywhere to go.” 

“Surely you got someplace. Now get a move on, I'm bout damn tired of all this.” 

He drags you up by your upper arms, feeling his calloused hands hold onto the smoothness of your body as he lifts you to your feet. Shocked though, you push him away from you in haste;

“I can get up by myself. Thank you very much.”

You dust yourself off for just a moment before continuing, he looks at you with impatience.

“And I need a ride.” 

He stammers a bit as he begins to speak, 

“A- fucking,? Damn. alright then. Just get the hell on alright? Sure you wouldn't want em’ having to pay me extra.” 

He walks back to his truck as you follow, The two footsteps upon the concrete road are all that can be heard in the neighborhood as your pain slowly wells into your chest, and the outbursts cease. 

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

“Now, listen here. We've been drivin' for damn near an hour now, and ain't nothing come of it. Where the hell am I takin you? Or I'm about to leave ya on the side of the damn road. I've got a kid at home.” 

“Just take me to the other side of town.”

“Are you fuckin kidding me? Now, I don't know what you've got goin on and I truly, don't want to. But you're real damn selfish ya know that? Makin me drive all over town like this like I'm some goddamn taxi. This place best got some money to pay me for.” 

His voice is deep, gruff, and when laced with the anger of a despondent woman who seems as if she has all the time in the world he's not keen to hold back judgment anymore. His hand grips the steering wheel firmly and doesn't look at you for a moment as he speaks to you. 

You're taken aback, to say the least. After the pain you've felt, the torment you've faced the only thing to greet you is the unwanted mouth of some old man who doesn't know what he's talking about.

“I'm selfish? You don't know the night I've had. How can you call me selfish? You were hired for a reason so why don't you just do your fucking job okay? As long as you’re getting paid it shouldn't matter a damn to you.” 

You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms in his passenger seat, watching him with disdain as he grips the wheel and drives relatively carelessly through the empty streets just to get you out. 

After a few minutes more, and by a few you mean around 30, you find yourself in front of a home you’d never think to see again truthfully. As you take in the sight of it, a simple house facing an otherwise unimpactful street, but you held memories of all your years within the confines of these blocks. You were home, after so many years away. 

“Get out.” 

He says bluntly. The clock shines a bright 1:47 on its dash, signifying that you definitely didn't meet his “before 1” pleas. But damn, could he have been any nicer about it? 

You watch as he hops out of the car himself, to the sound of a hard opening of the back that held all your belongings. And as you made your way ever so slowly out of his truck, trying to not fall as the step was coated in the darkness of the night that was no longer politely illuminated by street lights. As you made your way to the concrete below you, rounding his truck was he almost done putting your stuff back out, only on a different curb this time. And without a second to spare, he gets back into his truck, and leaves. Not a word said to you, not even an exchange.

What an asshole. 

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

“So you’re telling me, that the man you were with for how many years, kicked you out for what?” 

The voice of your childhood friend rang once more through the old walls of the house, in the kitchen where you two sat. this was her family home, one that she now inherited, and one that after many years of silence on your part, she gladly opened up to you as well. 

“We were together almost 3 years. And he just, found another girl I guess. But she was in my closet, filled with her clothes. It's as if he’d moved me out overnight. He didn't have a word to say to me, it's like I never even mattered to him. But I've told you this time and time again, what more can I even do at this point?” 

She repositions herself with her legs crossing over one another as she looks for a response, taking a sip of coffee before having it dawn on her. 

“Today. 3 pm. Uncles holding a barbeque. You remember my uncle right? Everyone will be there. Maybe we could find you a good little rebound to bring you down to earth.” 

“Are you- a rebound? Seriously? Is that all you can think of right now?” 

“Listen. The only thing you can do with a broken heart is fix it. And that doesn't happen in a day. Least you can do is get something tasty to chase the pain with. Like hot old guys. You’re only 21! This is the prime time to do whatever you want.” 

You think for a second. Letting this wash over you as you try and figure out the next thing to do. Do you really doll yourself up after the most traumatic evening of your life is not even 24 hours in your past, just to eye all of your friends older relatives, and family friends that you’ve been ogling at since you were 16? 

I mean fuck it, what else are you going to do. 

Following your friend up the stairs, she lets out an excited giggle at the prospect of having you back after so many years. There's so many things to tell, different people to see, and subsequently laugh at, but the best of all her skills with a brush have gotten much better since the last time she helped you look good. Much better, apparently for as you looked at yourself in the mirror you could barely recognize the woman looking back at you-- let alone any trace of the girl sat in a torn dress the night before screaming outside her ex’s house. 

You put on a pretty yellow dress, adorned with flowers It's hemmed all properly frilled to some level, and the flow of the skirt portion barely getting over your back end does the top also treat you well; a low neck cup to shape your chest perfectly as the daintiness of your outfit, paired with little yellow heels, made you look properly irresistible. 

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

“Guess whos backkk!!!”

The excited shrills of your friend beside you make everyone who'd arrived at the party thus far to crane their heads back to look, all of which subsequently smiled with shock as they looked upon you. None of them had seen you since you were 17, about 18 years old. That's when you left, the moment you could. Looking back you missed all of this so much, the community, the story told in every face that looked upon you. But all is lost now and the most you can do is make the best out of the time you have right now-- and as it stands you’re at the center of it all. 

They approach you by the droves, asking every question they can that have undoubtedly had rumored answers to in your absence; detailing from where you've been, what you’re doing, where you go to school, where you work, and most hurtful-- how your ex was doing. You briefly told them all that you and him had since parted, and that you were just getting back on track, spending some time at your friend's house in the meantime. They all looked upon you in sympathy, but as more people entered the party the more they dispersed to greet other guests. 

“Oh my god, is that who I think it is?” 

A low, familiar tone enters the backyard where you stand, and turning around to face you is your friend's father. Who, for most of your life was like a father to you as well. He opens his arms and you follow suit, embracing him in what feels like a much-needed hug, before setting you down again to continue talking to you. 

“Oh, honey if, if I'd known you were coming I'd have brought you something. How long has it been since I last saw you? God, you seem so grown up now. It's like I barely even know you.” 

His head moves to look behind him for a second, and soon he ushers someone forward to join in the conversation. 

“Ah, there's something I'd love for you to meet. This is a good friend of mine, Joel. I haven't had him around any of these much, he just moved back here from Texas a couple weeks back. But he's someone I've known my whole life. Kinda like you and my daughter in a way!” 

Though as the man who emerged behind him reared his head, you couldn't believe your eyes. It was him, of course, it was him. That asshole that drove you home like you were the greatest burden he's ever had to carry. 

“Yer fuckin kidding me.” 

He looks at you in shock. Nothing more. However, you see that to his side is a young girl, no older than 12 who seems to be in awe over you. Her hair was tucked into each side of her face to illuminate it in a crown of curls that came to her shoulder and stretched all the way to her ears in volume. She wore a small shark tooth necklace, and some form of singer on her shirt that you didn't recognize.

He-, Joel, looks down at her; 

“Sarah how bout you go say hi to your friends for me. I'm gonna be busy a moment” 

She runs off, and your friend's dad begins to speak again. 

“Do you, know each other from somewhere? I can't imagine you do.” 

“She's that insane little girl I told you ‘bout. The one kickin n’ screaming all over the place. Reason why Sarah hadta’ stay the night at your place.” 

“The insane little girl?” 

You chime in.

“There's no way- Joel, you’ve probably got the wrong girl” 

“No, he has the right one.” 

You stare directly at him, sending daggers into each of the brown eyes that look back at you. 

“He kicked me out of his car at almost 2 in the morning without a single word. Isn't that right?” 

Though no matter how piercing your gaze it fails to impact him as it should, for with equal level tone he snipes back; 

“Yep, after makin me drive all the way cross’ town just cause she wanted to. Knowin I got someone waitin’ for me. Clearly, something she don't understand all too much anymore.” 

That was unnecessary. 

Something brews inside of you as you glance upon his finger void of a ring, even a tan that would indicate its recent removal. Though as the only sane-minded person seemingly left to observe watches your eyes as you make such a connection, he swiftly puts an end to it. 

“Now, Joel. you know how young girls are they-” 

“I'm not that young.” 

“Alright well, they. Are just passionate, that's all. She was with him for how many was it now? Three years? Left the moment she turned of age. Clearly she just doesn't know how a mans supposed to be. This is all she really knows.” 

This is all she really knows.

That's all that rang through your head as the conversation died and Joel exchanged brief apology. That in a way, he was all you really knew. And now you’re back home, and you don't know what to do with yourself, really. You don't know what you like, or what you don't like. It was all just, him. For so long. You vowed to yourself that day that, no matter what went on you would say yes to anything. To embrace kind of, anything that came your way as some divine fate, or at the very least a fun experience. 

As the night droned on, and you fielded the barrage of squeals, hugs from people you don't remember, and a bit more liquor you could've accounted for, the night came to a slow end. Feeling eyes on you constantly was one thing, but feeling the eyes on the man with who’d you'd had a comfortable reunion was even worse in a way. Although, as you looked upon him in your own moments you saw in him something unveiled after the veil of hatred and sorrow fell off of you. Something, interesting about him. Attractive. Obviously nothing you were going to personally indulge in, but an interesting assertion nonetheless. He stood in the light of the evening, fairy lights covering the backyard as it illuminated his now more time-appropriate outfit; one of marginally better jeans and a plaid shirt, rolled to his elbows to reveal what were impressive forearms, and with the proper fit of his shirt, showed an impressive physique for a single dad.

… … …

 Thats stupid. Anyways, the night drew to a close and as you saw your friend too wrapped up in the conversation of someone relatively older than her, you decided to take the few blocks walk home, especially since you didn't have a car anymore either. Though as you exit the front door to travel down the sidewalk you hear a familiar accent call out to you after only a few feet have been made distance between you and the doorframe; 

“Ya’ walking home this late at night?” 

“Yeah, I am. Not like I've got a car do I?” 

You turn your body to look at him, but only after you've finished your sentence, using the body language of someone unequipped for any more stupid banter to cue him into leaving you alone. 

“How’s about I drive you home. Least I can do after what I’d said today. It wasent quite my place.” 

His voice has an unfamiliar tune of sympathy as he lets out that apology of sorts, so you engage. Though, begrudgingly. 

“Don’t you have a daughter to take care of? That seemed what got you so mad before.” 

He sighs a little, you notice you've hit a bit of a nerve. 

“Well, she’ll be stayin' at a friend's place for a few days, really hit it off. Got nothin but time on my hands now.” 

“Well in that case I'm not gonna say no to a free ride. Obviously.” 

You smile a bit, a first with him. Other than ones of sarcasm, every interaction you've had with him thus far hasn't been all that pleasant. And he smiles back. And, as the light of the moon shines down upon his weathered face, the smirk on his makes your smile grow even more. 

Hopping into his car once more, you take the road to your place with a little more enjoyment than how it transpired the night before. This time, the sound of his music accompanied by a hum through his car is what played to fill the silence of the atmosphere. Something old, country, of course. You’d never heard it, and it sounded well beyond even his years. But despite that, there was a comforting air that was shared in the car-- cool air blowing in from the windows rolled down, watching as his arm held on to the side of the car door from the open window, tapping its side in unison to the beat. 

“This here is it right?” 

Pulling up to your shared home you felt almost a little reluctant to respond with a yes. Though when you do, he steps out of the car as you do as well. You watch as he awaits your circle to the front where he stood, as a means to walk with you to the front of your door. Looking at him curiously as you reach the entrance, he gives response to your motions, though you watch as his fingers fiddle with one another ever so slightly as he poses such a response;

“It ain’t right leaving a lady to walk all by herself after dropping her off. And, I just wanted to say again that it ain't my place makin assumptions about you like that. Wanted to know if I could make it up to ya’. Kinda seems like lifes dealt you a bad hand right now, thought to offer you a drink over it.” 

A drink? 

You thought about that for a second. The man that kicked you out of his car, literally less than 24 hours ago, is now offering to take you out for a drink. Well, it was as a means for apology. So that's something. Nothing more to it, it's a Southern thing. They drink to anything. Especially sorrow. 

“I think I’ll have to take you up on that. You’ll know where I’ll be.” 

You reply with a smile that grows just large enough to show your teeth. He gazed at you for a bit longer, as his eyes grew brighter at the prospect of an invitation accepted. He was a lot less harsh than meets the eye, it seemed. But you still weren't properly convinced. And, there was still much a mystery about him that although intimidated you, enticed you even more. You cock your hip to the side of the doorframe, leaning up against it as he spoke to you as a means to accentuate your figure just a bit as he looked at you. Just to see what would happen. 

“Oh, alright then. 7 alright with you? I’ll come pick you up course’.” 

“Seven’s more than alright with me. I'll see you then, Joel.” 

As you bid farewell to him, you watched as his eyes tracked your movements as you did so. The way your hips have shifted place, the tone at which your voice shifted ever so slightly. He took in your gaze, a small cat eye that sharpened your eyes paired with the sly smile of a woman your age was enough to catch his stare for a moments longer than it should've. You relished in that. 

He leaves you off with a nod and a smile, though you take the time that he walks back to his truck as a means to take in all that he was without interruption. He was handsome, to say the least. There was something to be said about a man with southern hospitality and an ass made from manual labor that reached deeper into a realm of attraction that was often untapped by the men of your age range. And you enjoyed greatly that you’d discovered such a thing. 

Tomorrow, 7pm, Joel. 

[coldfanbou]

Culmination

Somi's story continues as her husband returns; what will she do? No, but we will see this conclude the story.

Length 2.2K

Somi X Mreader

Previous Part

"I don't want to go home! I want to stay here with you! I want to keep fucking!" Somi cries as she holds onto your leg. Her phone buzzes again, another message.

"I can't wait, honey. I'll have a different position when I get back. I won't need to travel so much, and I can finally spend time at home." You both see the message from her husband.

"He'll be back and spending more time at home. Even if I wanted to, there would be no chance." 

"I-I… no." Somi shakes her head violently. She runs her hand through her hair, ruffling it. Her breathing quickens, "I-"

"No more of this, Somi. Go home. He'll be waiting for you." You get up and toss Somi a jacket. "I'll take you there." Somi sits on the floor, unmoving. Through many struggles, you put Somi in her clothes and get her to her home. She doesn't move or make a sound. Walking over to her side of the car, you open the door and carry her inside. You leave her on a couch and bring in her things, clothes, toys, and everything that she had brought to your place. She sits on the sofa, head buried in her hands as you leave. The drive back home is quiet and peaceful. 

The following day you wake up to a load of videos and pictures from Somi. Each one involves her doing some lewd act and begging you to continue the relationship. In one, she's bouncing on a dildo with her legs spread wide open, letting you see her dripping sex as she wishes it was your cock. In another, she's forcing a toy down her throat, her throat bulging when she pushes it in deep. Somi looks into the camera with lustful eyes in each video. As for the pictures, the final one she sends is of her with self-degrading words written on her naked body, "master's pussy" with an arrow pointing to her cunt and the like is written everywhere. A constant throughout everything is the collar she wears. The collar symbolized her submission to you; it was bought for that specific purpose. "Master, your fucktoy needs you. These toys aren't enough for me; I need your big hard cock." She sends in her final message. You ignore her, putting your phone back down. 

When Somi's husband arrived, she made it seem as if everything was normal. However, Somi would send you videos where she'd have a vibrator inside her, explaining that she was hiding everything from her husband. She would still wear the collar, though. You don't know what he thought when he saw Somi wearing such a collar. One day you received a message from him asking you to join them for dinner. You tried to refuse but were forced into it in the end. When the day came for this meal, you tried to keep things professional. "It’s nice to have you back."

"It’s nice to be back. I'm glad I managed to finish early; I was missing Somi." He responds.

"Where is she, by the way? I haven't seen her." 

"Oh, she's cooking." Somi pokes her head out and smiles at you, still wearing that collar. As you turn your head back, you see him rubbing the back of his neck. "Um, you may have noticed that collar. I'm not sure what's come over her. She refuses to take it off."

"Yeah, it's something alright." You reply, trying to figure out how to continue.

He leans in and whispers, "Between you and me, she's also been craving sex at every moment. I can't do it anymore, so I thought inviting you might give me a break."

"Well, you know, you've been gone for so long. She's… probably pent up." You say that, knowing fully why she is the way she is. 

"Dinner's ready!" Somi shouts from the kitchen. She brings out plate after plate of food. You both go to help her and while her husband goes to place a plate on the table, Somi kisses your cheek. "Master, I've tried filling the void, but he's not enough. He doesn't- can't fuck me like you can." She whines quietly into your ear. "Master, your fucktoy needs her owner to use her," Somi adds before returning to the dining room. You follow quickly and place the final plate on the table. Taking your seat, you're annoyed Somi is sitting opposite of you while her husband sits to your right. As you all begin eating and talking, Somi can't help but rub your crotch with her foot. You don't react and push her foot away. Somi frowns for a second before trying to hide her expression. 

"So, how was the trip?" You ask.

"Oh, you know, business is business. I was missing Somi the entire time, though. Did you miss me, Somi?" She fakes a smile and nods without saying a word. She stuffs her face so that she wouldn't have to speak. "I'm just glad to have a different position now; I can stay here and not leave her alone so often." You glance at Somi and see her roll her eyes as her husband continues talking. The meal went like this for a long time; her husband drank a lot of alcohol and got drunk. "Did I tell you about how we've been having sex nonstop?" He boasts. "You should hear her." He says before leaning in for a kiss from her. Somi looked as if she was going to boil over in anger. You watched on awkwardly.

Somi stands up and slaps her husband. "You can't make me feel anything!" She yells. "Anytime we've had sex, I've faked it! I faked everything! Every moan, every orgasm, everything!" Somi's husband looks at her with a shocked expression. "Your little shrimp dick can't make me feel anything! I need a real cock…. I…I want a divorce. I can't do this anymore." Somi glances at you before storming off. 

You and her husband sit there in silence before you eventually stand. "I think I should go. You two seem to, uh, need space." You nod your head at him before leaving him to sit there. Soon after you arrive home, there's a knock at the door. Checking through the peephole, you see Somi, much like the first time she came to you. 

"Master, your fucktoy is ready for you." She says as she opens her jacket. Words like bitch and whore are scribbled on her body, "Do you like what you see, Master? I brought my toys too." She says as she steps to the side to reveal a suitcase. Somi knocks again, "Master? I know you're in there. I saw your car." You open the door.

"What are you doing here, Somi?"

"I can't stay at that place anymore. I'm divorcing him after all. So now we can be together. We can go back to how things were before. We can have all the sex we want." Somi says matter of factly. She steps toward you, pressing her breasts against you. " She stands on her tippy toes and whispers, "You can do anything you want to me, Master. You can even get me pregnant. Can you imagine that? Me with a big swollen belly, you can still fuck me then if you want. We don't have to worry about anyone being involved anymore." 

You step aside and allow Somi inside. "Would you mind explaining why you did what you did?" 

"I couldn't stay there anymore. I tried having sex with him, but he couldn't make me cum. He'd be done, and I got nothing out of it." Somi throws her jacket off and kneels down. She gazes up toward you and opens her mouth. Waiting for you to use her, she sticks her tongue out and kneads her breasts. The sight before you makes you hard, and as much as you want to ignore her actions, you decide not to. You pull down your pants and ram your cock down her throat.

Somi happily accepts it, placing her hands on your thighs as you thrust. "You're just a stupid little whore aren't you?" Somi smiles and nods as best as she can. The cock going up and down her throat doesn't give her the ability to speak. The look on Somi's face is one of pure bliss as her tongue runs along the underside of your cock. Holding her to the base of your cock you feel Somi's tongue slither to your balls, lapping at them before you thrust again. Somi moaned; she rubbed her cunt while you used her warm mouth. Her lips were tightly wrapped around your cock, but that didn't stop drool from dripping down her chin onto her tits. She giggles as you reach down and starts playing with them.

You slowly drag your cock out of her mouth, leaving it at her lips for a second. Somi knows what you want and kisses the head of your cock. "If you want my tits so badly, then why don't you use them?" Somi kneads her breasts, pinching her nipples while waiting. Placing your cock between Somi's tits, you feel the soft flesh surrounding your shaft as she begins stroking your cock with them. "I love your cock." Somi whispers as the warm member slides between her tits, coating them in saliva and precum. "Master's cock is the best." Somi stares at your cock before glancing at you. "Do you like watching your dumb whore use her tits?" She asks, almost innocently.

"Of course," you reply as you push her head down and make her take licks at the head of your cock when it pokes up from her mounds. You start thrusting between Somi's big tits when you feel your orgasm coming. Somi can tell you're close, too; the throbbing cock between her breasts tells her as much. 

"Are you going to cum?" She asks. When you nod your head, she continues, "Cum on my tits, Master!" You explode on her chest, releasing a large wave of semen onto her chest and neck. You pull on her collar, ensuring she gets a pearl necklace.

Pulling on Somi's collar, you get her to her feet. You drag her along to the kitchen, where you bend her over the counter. A hard strike to her ass makes her yelp. You hit her again; Somi's ass slowly becomes red with a large handprint in the middle. "That's it, Master, show your whore who's boss." Somi moans as you spank her again. You press your cock against her cunt, waiting for a second before you impale Somi with it. "Oh fuck!" She cries, and she feels you tear through her pussy. "I feel so full, fuck me, Master. Fuck me!" You hold Somi in place as you start thrusting; her tight cunt holds you as your bodies slam against each other.  Long breathy moans fill the space as Somi enjoys the feeling of your cock slamming into her womb. Letting go of her waist, you move your hands to her breasts, pinching and pulling her nipples. 

"I'm going to cum inside you." You say to Somi.

"Cum inside me, cum inside me!" She moans. "I want you to fill me with your hot cum!" Somi places her hands over yours and squeezes her tits. Being brought so close to her climax, Somi's toes curl as you impale her on your cock and begin filling her with your cum. She screams; the few days of having no orgasms are over. Somi's nectar blasts out onto the cabinets under her as she climaxes. Your cum paints her walls white as they travel to her womb. "Oh god. I feel so full. So full of nice warm cum." Somi lays her head against the cold marble countertop and smiles. "You definitely knocked me up." You lean back and spank Somi. "Oh, Daddy, not so rough on Mommy," Somi coos. You pull your cock out of Somi and watch cum leak onto the floor. Somi's feet reach the ground, and she kneels before you again. "Are we done, Daddy? Or is this just round one?" Somi takes your shaft in her hand and strokes your cock, her hand is dirtied by the cum and nectar on it, but that doesn't bother her. She drags the tip of her tongue along your shaft before popping the tip in her mouth and sucking on it. You push your cock in deeper, causing Somi to laugh. "I knew that was just round one." She says, mumbling her words. You continued to fill Somi's holes with your cum the rest of the day. 

Somi had gone back to wearing nothing as she lived with you. You tried to get her to live elsewhere, but it didn't work out. She’d just be your live-in fucktoy for now. She'd occasionally get messages from her husband, hoping that they would be able to repair the relationship. That didn't work out, either. After he had figured out Somi was living with you, he came to try to talk. Having happened to just gotten home, you were both fully dressed; answering the door, Somi stood there surprised. He was in shock, too, Shocked to see his ex's belly swollen with a child. He fell to his knees, and Somi stared at him before shutting the door in his face without a word being said.

[the-little-ewok]

Enraptured (Poe POV)

Poe Dameron X Fem!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 2600 (ish)

Warnings : PIV, fingering, semi-public sex, tiny bit of needy!Poe, sprinkles of feral!Poe, reader wears a dress, lack of self confidence, praise kink, cock warming, fluff, brief mentions of F/oral receiving, a tad of possessiveness in a soft way

Summary: Poe litterally can't keep his hands off you during a party (This is Clandestine... but from Poe's POV ;) )

A/N : It's not necessary to have read Clandestine to enjoy this. It's simply the same story from another (slightly more feral) point of view.

He can't stop his foot from bouncing impatiently under the table, trying anything to distract himself from the way you look, bathed in flickering multicolour lights, your dress accentuating every part of you that he loves.

He has so many regrets about agreeing to come tonight. He hates these types of parties as it is, full of stuck-up politicians, only out for their own gain. But this one, this is so much worse because of you. He can't concentrate on anything, and now to top it off he can't even leave the table because, well, in short, everyone would see exactly what you do to him.

He wants to look elsewhere, he wants to distract himself, but he can't. All he can do is stare at you, imagining the way you would look bent over the table, your dress hiked up high, the plush of your ass against his hips as he presses himself deep inside you, making you scream his name.

Damn Jess for helping you pick that dress. He really must remember to thank her the next time he sees her.

"Stop that," you scold him, for probably the thousandth time tonight.

"Stop what?" He grins at you, licking his lips as his eyes flicker up and down your body for absolutely the thousandth time. He really can't help himself anymore.

"Looking at me," you hiss in response, adjusting your dress.

He wishes you didn't fidget the way you do, like his gaze makes you uncomfortable. You don't see how truly beautiful you are — more than anyone, anything, he's ever seen. Your smile, your laugh, your kindness, your good heart, the way you never take any of his bullshit, the way you make his heart beat just as wildly as flying does. Poe knows he's in too deep with you. He's fallen harder than he ever has. He can't stop looking at you because you're all he can see, all he can ever see these days.

But you, beautiful, sexy, sweet, funny, you can't always accept that. And so the fidget only cements that he wants to show you just how much he wants you, right now.

"I'm admiring," he clarifies, refusing to move his gaze, determined to make you see what he sees.

"Well, admire something else," you answer, refusing to look at him.

Poe almost scoffs to himself. Admire something else? Not fucking likely with his cock impatiently throbbing with need.

"I can't," he leans in close to you, his voice a low hiss. He's genuinely surprised you haven't realised why yet, that it hasn't even been a thought to cross your mind. "You have no idea how much I can't."

He has a fleeting thought about grabbing your hand and showing you exactly what you do to him, but honestly, if you touched him now, he'd probably cum in his pants and ruin all the fun he plans to have with you later.

"Poe."

It's only half a warning. He can see it in your eyes — the flicker of desire. He's an expert at reading you, or at least he likes to think he is, and so far he hasn't been wrong. Maybe he can convince you to leave early. One of you could fake an illness, make your excuses, and stumble back to your room. He reckons he could probably make it as far as the lift before he has you pinned against the wall, your leg held up over his hip, fingers gripping your thigh as you tremble for him.

Kriff, he needed to slow down before he blows his load without so much as a brush of your flesh against his.

Taking a breath to steady himself, his eyes flicker over you once more, reading every micro expression. Yeah, you are starting to want this just as much as he needs it. Bedroom, lift, hell even getting to the door out of here is going to be too much trouble. He isn't making it that far.

"Come sit with me. At least let me hold you," he whispers softly, slipping his hand into yours. Your fingers grip his, warm and soft, suspicion in your eyes. But when he tugs, you follow, allowing him to guide you down onto his lap.

Such a good girl for me.

Your gasp as you sit makes his cock twitch, just the soft friction of your movement enough to start shredding whatever little patience he has left.

"I need you," he whispers against your ear. "I need you, now." He brushes his nose up the column of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of you, wishing he had time, and enough restraint, to climb under the table and taste you before he cums, but he doesn't.

"Poe, we are in public!"

Maybe you are right. Maybe it's time to stop before he gets too far but fuck, he's too far gone. The delicious little wriggle you do on his lap does absolutely nothing to help.

"I can't wait," he groans, his hips rutting against you of their own accord, desperate for any sort of friction. "Please baby, it's been like this all night. Please. I need to be inside you."

He's begging now and he doesn't care. All he can think about is how desperately he needs to feel you soaking his cock, how desperately he wants to show you the effect you have on him, how desperately he wants you to believe you're worthy of it.

Even in the dim lighting, he catches the little smirk at the corner of your mouth. Perhaps you're just a little proud that you can reduce him to this. You have no true idea what you could reduce him to if you wanted to. If you asked he'd get down on his knees and beg you for just a glance in his direction. There isn't anything he wouldn't do for you.

"I'll be good to you," he promises, catching the hem of your dress and dragging it up, splaying his hands against your soft thighs, inching them up higher. "You know how good I can be to you."

You shiver at the touch of his hands and he wonders if your mind fills with memories like his does — back to all the nights you've spent together, your head tipped back on sweat soaked sheets as he worships at the altar of your body.

"If anyone sees…" your voice trails off with a sigh as he presses his lips against your neck, fighting to keep his hands still while he gives you time to consider your position.

"They won't." He's confident in that. If there's one thing he is, it's observant. He knows everyone is too caught up in their own night to worry about the two of you tucked away in a dark corner. The table just about covers your lap, where your dress is hiked up, his hands drifting closer to your hot core. The music is loud enough that nobody will hear you.

They won't see, but honestly, Poe couldn't give a damn if they do. Let them look, let them watch, let them see you are his.

He moves his mouth down your neck, slowly, invitingly, pausing to suck against your pulse point, marking you as his own, his hands pushing your thighs apart. Your pliancy to his actions only fuels his desire for you. He's proud that you allow this, that you trust him to do this. He's absolutely going to make it worth your while. Well, he's at least going to try and last long enough to make it worth your while.

His fingers finally slip between your thighs and it's like his lungs have suddenly collapsed, all the air rushing out suddenly.

You aren't wearing panties. His fingers brush against bare wet, no not just wet, soaked, flesh.

His plan was to gently tease you, make you admit how much you're enjoying this, how much you want this, but somehow his entire vocabulary is erased by the shock.

"Fuck," is all he manages to punch out as he drags his fingers up over your clit, relishing the way your hips jerk in response. He lets out a low whine against your neck as he ruts into your ass, desperate for release.

He swears he almost cums at the gasp you let out when he slips a finger into you. You're so hot. He has to pause for a moment, calming himself as you take a breath of your own, before he finally draws his finger up and over your clit, and then back down, sinking two fingers into you.

"Shouldn't have let you leave the room," he grumbles as you squirm, each jolt of your hips only drawing his attention to his painfully hard cock.

Why did he decide to listen to you about coming to this party? Why did he decide he could wait? Of all the questionable decisions Poe has made in his life, he's putting the one of agreeing to leave the room before burying himself inside you, at least twice, right at the top. Well, at least for now.

He curls his fingers slowly against your walls, his thumb barely stroking your clit with feather light touches, keeping you just tiptoeing the edge. After all you've put him through tonight, you deserve a little payback.

When your wriggling increases and your chest starts to heave with the effort of biting down your moans of pleasure, he licks a hot stripe up your neck, enjoying the way your breath catches and your body jerks.

"Can I fuck you now?"

He waits with bated breath to see how far you'll let him take this.

He'd never push you further than you wanted, never make you do something you're uncomfortable with. If you say no now then he'll wait, as much as it might drive him to the point of absolute madness. At this point, he might just cum in his pants from looking at you anyway.

"Yes," you breathe out, and then you roll your hips back against him. Poe curses loudly, unceremoniously removing his fingers from you and scrambling to undo his pants, every last bit of patience blasted to pieces. Later he'll apologise about the rush, be embarrassed about it, but right now, he has to have you.

His hands grip your hips, probably a little harder than necessary if he was honest, as you take a breath and sink down onto his cock. Poe's eyes roll back and he has to bite down on your shoulder to muffle the moan of pleasure as your walls flutter hot and tight around him.

He realises too late that`s a mistake, and right as his teeth sink into your flesh, your pussy clenches around him. His hips jolt upwards of their own accord, pressing him deeper into you and listening to your choked moan as he fights not to cum then and there.

"Shit baby, don't do that," he warns, taking a trembling breath. "Not unless you want this over really qui-nghh!"

Of course, you do it again. Of course, he should have expected it. But he didn't, and it takes every last bit of self restraint he has not to pin you down over the table and fuck you so hard you'll still feel it tomorrow.

"Stop," he warns, gritting his teeth, trying to think of anything but the searing heat engulfing his dick. "Don't wanna rush this."

You clench again and he growls a frustrated warning. He wants you to just sit still for a damn minute while he catches his breath before this ends too quickly for both of you. But you seem to have no intentions of letting him do that.

Well if it was going to be that way, two could play that game. He was going to drag this out now. Fuck you slowly, deeply, like he has all the time in the world. Poe's stubbornness was the only thing that could outweigh his desperate desire.

He grinds his hips upwards, pressing deep inside you, pulling you down against him as he does, ensuring you feel all of him. Your whole body reacts, and he can't stop the smirk forming on his lips.

There we go baby, take it all for me.

He adjusts just slightly with each grind of his hips until he finds that one spot that makes you whimper. And then he presses against it, again, and again, and again.

Oh, how he relishes in the shivers of your body, the gasps escaping your lips, the beads of sweat rolling down your neck, the clench of your pussy as he holds you still against his lap, forcing you to accept the pleasure, even though he knows he's holding you on the edge of bliss for longer than you would like.

"Good girl, taking me so well," he praises, his voice low against your ear, trying to stop his own breath from heaving, lest you know you could tip him over the edge with one well placed word. "Letting me have you here, where anyone can see us."

The bite of your nails digging into his arms only spurns him on, making his cock throb inside you. He wonders if the marks will still be there tomorrow, something he can admire, something that marks him as yours.

"Driving me crazy in this dress. Lookin' like the hottest fucking thing. Fuck baby, you're so good to me, letting me do this." He knows he's rambling now, but his mouth, as it so often does, is going before his thoughts are connecting. All he can think about is how good you feel, your body pressed against him, anchored by his arms around your waist, your pussy gripping his aching cock as you take all he's willing to give you.

You're so close, he can feel it. Your body is stiff, your nails digging in painfully now, your head leant back against his shoulder, chest heaving, pussy fluttering, whimpering with each slow torturous grind of his hips.

His own climax creeps up far quicker than he's expecting and suddenly he desperately needs to let go. Scrambling to pull your dress up out of the way he presses his fingers against your clit, drawing quick tight circles as you gasp.

He needs you to fall first. He needs to feel what he does to you.

"Cum for me. Cum now," he demands.

Your back arches, your breath catching as you let go of his arms to grip the table, your pussy clenching and fluttering as your climax hits. It's too much and Poe finally lets himself go, burying his moan of satisfaction into your neck, his fingers moving to grip your thighs as you writhe on his lap. He continues to roll his hips slowly, milking every last bit of your climax, savouring each little shiver and whimper until you collapse back against him, boneless.

Even though everything seems hazy around the edges in the post orgasmic bliss, he notices the way your head turns just slightly, checking if anyone has noticed what has transpired.

"Told you nobody would see," he smiles, nuzzling your neck, enjoying the closeness of your body.

"You're lucky," you turn your head to kiss him and his heart jumps. How could there have ever been a time when you thought he wouldn't want you? How could there have been a time you didn't realise he spent every night, cock in hand, thinking about you. How could you not realise he was hopelessly, utterly in love with you?

"I am very lucky," he nods, wishing he could form better words to explain just how lucky he feels. But you're sitting there looking so prettily dishevelled, sweat still drying on your skin, your nail marks in his arms, and he can't think of anything but how much he wants to drag those noises from you again.

"Thanks for helping me take care of that problem." He grins, his hands moving to brush his fingers against the inside of your thighs, slowly inching upwards to where he's still buried deep inside you. "I'll repay the favour later tonight…" he pauses, wondering if you can go again already. "Or now?"

You let out the prettiest noise as his hands creep higher, placing a solitary kiss on your neck. Poe decided that means you need a minute, but he has no intentions of making it an easy minute.

He bites down a groan as his fingers are met with slick wetness, almost halfway down your thighs. Judging by how wet you are, and a small shift of his legs confirms his suspicions as his pants stick to his own skin, there's no way he's moving any time soon anyway.

"I'm sorry baby, but it seems you might have made quite the mess. You're soaked everywhere."

He's about as un-sorry as he can get, his mind already filled with how many more times he can get you to cum before the party is over. How much can you take before it's too much? How many times can he make you whimper? How many times can he make you soak his lap?

You could be stuck here for hours yet, right where you are. The thought makes his cock twitch.

His arms wrap tight around your waist, ensuring you aren't going anywhere anytime soon. He feels you shiver in anticipation as his lips ghost the shell of your ear, a wicked grin forming on his lips.

"I guess you'll just have to sit right there until the party's over."

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

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please reblog and let me know your thoughts! Remember interactions keep writers writing!

[cursedkeyboard]

Babies shouldn't grow up ☆ Jason Todd & GN!Reader (PT.3)

What does Jason do after feeding and giving a home to the brat he stole from the slums of Gotham? Raise the kid lovingly like he wished he'd been raised, of course. [PART ONE ♤ PART TWO ♤ PART THREE ♤ PART FOUR ♤ PART FIVE ♤ PART SIX]

Pairings: Platonic Jason Todd & Child GN!Reader

In the beginning, living together wasn't very smooth

Despite your shared pasts, the immediate fondness from Jason, your eagerness for affection and love, you two were still very much strangers

You were hesitant and skittish, often sticking to the guest room Jason said it was yours, since for your entire life you mostly lived by yourself

Jason didn't actually know how to deal with a vulnerable and traumatized child, he wasn't Dick, he didn't have an innate charm that allowed you to be drawn to him easily

But that didn't stop him from trying

Every day, Jason made sure to get you out of your room to eat

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner

Eating was non-negotiable, even if you were used to only a bite or two a day, he wanted you to eat what you could

You felt sick for the first few days, your body unused to so much water and nutrients, causing it to think something was wrong

Jason almost went insane with worry, rubbing your back, carrying you around, and even refusing to go out when you told him you were fine

From your vomiting, you were anything but

Despite his fear and anxiety, Jason sat down to google all your symptoms and treatments when you finally fell asleep after throwing up again

Pushing the multiple deadly diseases and cancers aside, he learned that your body was just a little overwhelmed and all you two had to do was increase your meals little by little instead of shoving food down your throat

Though he still insisted on you drinking at least five cups of water every day

Then, maybe a week or two later once you two were a little more comfortable around each other

You not feeling like a bother anymore and Jason not eating himself with anxiety

The two of you started spend more time together

Jason cut some of his vigilante work, told Bruce to fuck off when he was questioned, and made sure to take you out to buy a year's worth of clothing using the old man's credit card

You started clinging a bit to him, asking him to teach you how to read and write, seeking validation when you managed to understand a whole page without needing help, asking about his life and past

And Jason always made sure to be honest with you, about the good and the bad because he wanted you to trust him

From experience, he knew that keeping things from you would only cause problems down the line

He'd tell you about his days in the slums while preparing a meal, you at his hip helping him put things in the pot

He'd talk about being a Robin with both fondness and bitterness while he helped with your hair, having done so much research to make sure he treated your type of hair correctly

He'd confess about what happened with the Joker, keeping it slightly less gory than it was

About his mother and Batman

About his death, hell, the pit, the after

He'd tell you everything as the days went on

And you'd sit by his side, cuddling with him, hugging him close when his voice trembled

Jason's hold would often tighten around you when he talked about something that made him sick to his stomach

Especially when it was a story about almost losing someone

Like he thought you'd disappear even in his arms

Like that, the trust between the two of you only grew as weeks turned into months and soon enough those months turned into a year

Jason had returned to his normal patrol hours once you were finally caught up with your studies and managed to put you in middle school

You were so damn excited and Jason knew exactly why

For a kid who was deprived of seemingly boring things since forever, school is a place filled with knowledge and wonder

The very first thing you did when you got home was show him a drawing of your hero the art teacher asked your class to make

Jason cried when he saw a poorly sketched version of Red Hood

He put it up in the fridge after printing it twice

You two definitely started matching, by the way

Jackets, shirts, shorts, hats, even phone cases

Jason never thought he'd be so lame as to buy stuff like that but once the two of you wore the exact same ugly christmas sweater, it was over for him

It was a little embarrassing, especially for you

But when you two went out with the same jackets and an elderly couple complimented the father and kiddo duo, you couldn't help but love it too

It was jarring for Jason, for sure

He didn't really consider himself your father, maybe your guardian or your older brother, but... it wasn't too bad

No, in fact, he kind of liked it

You are his kid

God, the restaurant dates

He'd take you to every food place in Gotham

From the ones that made you two throw up for the entire weekend

To the ones that made Bruce call him after spending eight hundred dollars on golden lobsters

It would be no surprise if you ended up liking burgers the most though

Like kid, like father

If you had any problem in school, Jason wouldn't try to hide away

He got himself a fake identity for the sole purpose of making himself your guardian through more than illegal terms

Doesn't even matter if he was in the middle of a meeting with other rogues, heroes or even his family

Jason would drop everything for you

Especially when you punched the fuck out of little Timmy for saying something bigoted

The dean and the teacher would probably try to make him scold you, telling the two of to you that this violent behavior is unacceptable and should not be rewarded

And Jason would look at them, at little Timmy's infuriated mother, and tell them that if Timmy didn't want to get his shit rocked, he should've kept his mouth shut

Of course, he also threatened them saying he'd let all of Gotham know that they protected and encouraged bigoted behavior from ten year olds

Needless to say, little Timmy didn't bother you after that day

And you also got ice cream after getting a two day suspension

"Did he make a noise?"

"Squealed like a fucking pig."

"That's my fucking kid."

Jason wouldn't let you act spoiled

Sure, he'd spoil you rotten, give you everything he wanted as a kid and what you want

But he knows the important of humility

That doesn't mean he'll let anyone ever try to bully you, though

To be continued...

[xylianasblog]

A new discovery.

Pairings: Agedup! Aonung x Fem human reader

Summary: It was Aonung of all people you’d expect to do something stupid, well… at least to this extent.

Warnings: MDNI, xenophilia, mentions of drugging, use of sex drugs, bondage, riding, size difference.

꒦꒷❀꒷꒦ ❀✿❀꒦꒷❀꒷꒦DMNI ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦❀✿❀ ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦

How could he have been so stupid, stupid enough to wonder off. Normally he’d never do something like this, especially not while a celebration was happening. He couldn’t help himself he had to get away even for a little while, but wondering into an unknown part of the village was definitely not on the agenda.

He had been knocked unconscious; he could only tell by the slight throbbing in the back of his head. There’s no way this tiny human female could have dealt some heavy damage, enough damn he to know out a fully grown male na’vi.

You stared at the male, watching and waiting for him to wake up because you didn’t want to hurt him. No, definitely not you just wanted to experiment and find out everything you can about them. Him, everything about him.

He was so pretty to you, so attractive from his hair to facial features all the way to his body. You couldn’t help but wonder why lie underneath the loincloth, what could possibly be hiding. You’ve heard stories, of how the Metkayina men are different from the Omaticayan men in some regards, and your curiosity was only at its peak.

You walked around where you had his body bound to the bed, he fit perfectly even while being spread out. Your hands trailed over his arms then over his legs and thighs, but you never went higher than that. Never touched the spot you were so desperately trying to get yourself hands on. Not long after your innocent exploration of his body did the male begin to stir, his eyes dilated, breathing heavy, body so hot as if his rut was due to start.

He felt different, his mind hazy and clouded with only thoughts of fucking into your small human body senselessly. He let out a low growl as he tried and failed miserably to get out of the restraints, just one touch. One little taste of you was all he needed; all his body craved. Your eyes lit up at the disheveled state of the male, your body humming with excitement as your curiosity grew in more ways than one. You were allowed to finally give into your wants and that meant undoing his loincloth to finally get a peek, a taste, anything your body and mind could crave.

“You look so needy.” You whispered softly to him as you tossed his loincloth to the side, your eyes lit. It was very different from anything you had seen or experienced for that matter. Your eyebrows furrowed in interest, your eyes studying his slit before your fingers gently poked around at it. The action itself causing Aonung to grumble lowly from within his chest, his arms tugging on the restraints.

“What’s wrong tawtute? Go ahead, touch it.” His deep gravelly voice filled your eyes just as your eyes found him, your lips jutted out in a small pout, but you obeyed nonetheless, your slide your finger along the slit feeling it, watching it as it began to leak what you presumed to be precum. “That’s it, you want it?” He asked, his tone sounded like playful taunts as you took your time exploring the alien genitalia with a newfound aroused interest. Your touching and rubbing became more persistent as his groans and growls became deeper and louder.

Your eyes widened as his hard throbbing length unsheathed itself from his hiding spot, precum leaking heavily from the tip. The male in front of you was panting and writhing underneath your explorative touches.

Eventually you took the tip into your mouth wanting to taste him, the sweetness of his cum on your tongue had you moaning just as his hips bucked up. A loud groan fell from his lips as you took him in inch by inch until you couldn’t take anymore. “Oh fuck, your mouth.” He forced out, your small mouth around him caused him to throb.

You weren’t sure if he was close, but you refused to take any chances as you freed him from your mouth. Half of his cock was coated with a mixture of your saliva and his precum. You were so fascinated and so incredibly horny? You wanted to fill him buried deep inside you, wanted to know how full you’d feel with each inch of him. You could only ask yourself certain questions like “Would he rip you?” “Would you cum instantly?” “Would be immediately cum from how tight you’d be?”

You rid yourself of your clothes before climbing on top of his body, your dripping entrance placed over his chest for moment. You wanted to untie him, wanted to see how he’d react if he could touch you. He laid still watching you intently as you released him from his restraints, you barely had time to process anything until you felt the tip of his cock pushing past your slick folds and into your pussy.

Your loud moans drowned out the sounds of his groans, for a moment he took his time as he lowered you down. Loving the way your soft gummy walls clung greedily to his length, each little thrust inside had your breath catching in your throat until finally he was bottomed out. Your stomach bulging from just how deep he was.

You felt incredibly full, he felt so good inside you. Without much thought you started moving as best as you could without his help, your hands sliding down to grab ahold is his hands that were secured around your hips. “Fuh…“ you couldn’t even get the words out as your bouncing got slightly faster, his nails digging into your skin as he tried to hold himself back.

The pleasure was so overwhelming his mind was spinning and his little bits of control were slipping. “So tight, so fucking tight around me." He growled out. “Squeezing me so tightly, yet so wet for this dick little one.” Your tight cunt seemed to be squeezing the life from him, yet he wasn’t going to complain, his mind was foggy. All he wanted to do was use you and fill you, hell he wanted to breed your small body. Fill you to the brim with his kids.

With each thrust up into you his control wavered until it finally snapped, his hold on your hips becoming increasingly tightly. The pain of his grip added to your pleasure as he fucked into you roughly now, his eyes trained on the way your stomach bulged each time he filled you with his cock. His cock throbbed wildly at the sight, it only seemed to make his movements faster and harder. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your body convulse from the unexpected orgasm that was forced upon your body.

“That’s it little human, give it to me.” You cried out from the overwhelming orgasm, Aonung loved the way your already tight pussy grew tighter, squeezing him. Thrusting into you became harder for him but fuck he didn’t care he was gonna release his load any second. “Gonna give you my kids little human. Have your belly round with my baby.” He ground out as he thrusted up into you once last time, his orgasm rippled through his body as he filled you up as planned.

After a moment of you coming down from your high you tilted your head slightly to stare at the male, eyes wide as you realized what happened, yet you weren’t mad. “Can we do this more often?”

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamsoare @hiddensnow1 @criticallybella @sunfyresrider @neteyamsyawntu @tiredmamaissy @headsincloud9 @etherialblackrose @strongheartneteyam @blue-slxt @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @justcaptainnoodles @Neteyamyawne @erenjaegerwifee @oakbuggy @hotdsworld @plooto @itchaboi-itchyboy @luvv4j4ybe11

[raina-at]

Journey

Warning: You guys, this one HURTS. Seriously. Trigger warning for death, grief, sadness.

Proceed at your own risk. And don't yell at me afterwards if you proceeded anyway and this hurt you. You were warned.

----

There’s a bit of dirt on her dress. If she had to guess, she’d say it’s probably Jo’s fault. But she’s Sherlock Holmes’ daughter, so she doesn’t guess. She deduces.

She wets her finger, picks up a crumb.

Rice cake. Raspberry flavour. Jo’s favourite.

She brushes it off. Then she fixes her hair. Checks her shoes.

Anything to delay. Anything to put off this particular journey for a few more seconds.

She meets her own eyes in the mirror. “Come on, Watson,” she whispers. “You can do this. You have to do this. Remember your promise.”

Look out for him, he’d said to her. Before he couldn’t speak anymore. Look out for each other. 

Fuck, she’s crying already. 

No. She bites the inside of her cheek and keeps the tears in. 

She had forty years of parenting. Now she needs to step up. She needs to be strong. 

She nods at herself one last time in the mirror, then goes down the corridor to the bedroom door. She knocks, just once. “Are you ready?”

The silence that greets her is ever so slightly sarcastic.

Stupid question, she chides herself. “Let me rephrase. Are you dressed?”

He opens the door. Of course he’s immaculate. The black suit fits him perfectly, and even though age has somewhat diminished his ramrod straightness, he still looks distinguished and elegant without much effort. His face is a study of outward stoicism, and if Rosie hadn’t known him her entire life, she wouldn’t have noticed how much of a strain it is for him to take even a single step.

This is hell for her. She can’t even imagine what it’s like for him.

But she was raised by two British men of a certain age, and public displays of emotion make her as viscerally uncomfortable as it does them, therefore she knows how important it is to him to keep his composure in public.

They did a lot of crying together when it happened. Though quite honestly, it was a relief when it was finally over. The weeks and months prior were pure hell, for all of them. Dad was always a dignified man whose autonomy was important to him. When he refused further treatment, she supported him, and so did Paps. 

It’s the circle of life, she knows this. They help you into this world, you help them out of it. You travel together for a time, and then you have to let them go.  And it’s her duty to accompany him on this last leg of his journey. 

But she has a more important responsibility. 

She holds out her hand, and Paps takes it. They help each other into their coats. Paps’ coat is unchanged, and she wonders what he paid for this one. Every time one of his coats gives out, he has one made. With the same red embroidery around the buttonhole.

“Where’s Jo?” Paps asks, the first words he said all morning. 

“Mark’s taking her. They’re meeting us there.” 

He nods in acknowledgement. 

They walk outside. It’s incongruously sunny. It’s cold, and windy, and she’s glad for her coat. 

Should it be sunny, on a day like this?

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, she thinks. 

But no. The hard part is that life goes on. That nothing stops even for a second, just because your heart is ashes. Dinner, errands, bedtime stories, maths tests, patients, laundry, paperwork, bills. 

Ironically it makes it easier, for her. That she has something to do. That she has somewhere to go. That she’s not in the home they shared alone, staring at the walls, remembering.

“Paps,” she says, turning around, leaning against the car. “There’s something…” she takes a breath. “I wanted to ask you something.”

He makes a gesture for her to continue, but his eyes are on the horizon, and she knows he’s far away, locked somewhere in his mind palace to get through the day.

“Admin is putting a lot of pressure on me to take more hours. Department can’t afford another hire, they need shifts covered, et cetera. And we need the money. But it means I’d have twelve-hour shifts again, and Mark’s rarely home before six. Jo comes home from school at four. That’s two hours I don’t know how to cover.”

He looks at her, uncomprehending. You need to be more clear, she reminds herself. He’s not at his best today. “221A is empty. I thought, maybe…” she trails off, making a ‘you fill in the gaps’ kind of gesture. Then she takes a deep breath and fills in the gaps herself. “I thought you might want to come home?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. He’s watching the horizon with a far away expression. Then he looks at her and gives her a slight smile. “I play the violin at three in the morning. And I sometimes don’t talk for days. Would that bother you?”

“I lived with you for twenty-four years, Paps. I think I’ll be fine,” Rosie says dryly, but she’s biting her cheek to keep the tears in again, because she knows what he’s thinking.

Full circle. 

He nods at her, just once. “I noticed little Watson’s maths needs some polishing,” he says, with a trace of his old self shining through. “And quite frankly, her chess skills are appalling.”

“I expect you to turn her into a grand master by the time she’s twelve,” Rosie says, and discovers that it’s, after all, possible to smile.

They both stand in the sun for a second, letting the small glimmer of joy warm them. 

Then Paps sighs. “It’s time, isn’t it.”

Rosie nods, and this time, she doesn’t check her tears. 

“Should I drive?” Paps asks, gently.

She just gives him a look, and he chuckles. “Fair enough.” He nods at the car, then puts a hand on her shoulder. “Into battle, Watson.”

She nods. Wipes her tears. Takes his hand. “Into battle, Holmes.”

-------

Rosie is quoting a line from Funeral Blues by WH Auden.

I'm not going to apologise for making you sad. I warned you. Remember that before you yell at me in the comments.

May is almost over, you guys. How did that happen?!

Tags under the cut as always, please notfiy me if you want to be taggeed or untagged.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[coleskingdom]

Say it

Switchblade Jay White x f reader

Smut

Minors DNI NSFW

Summary When a discreet relationship wants to be made public, Jay has his ways of getting her to agree

I was waiting in the back for Jay to come through the curtain we had been keeping our relationship discreet. I had just taken my dream job and falling for Jay was not part of the plan it never had been. At times it felt like pure madness our attraction to each other, other times it felt like a fairy tale love story. Will stopped by to chat for a moment, bringing Okada with him. We had just finished talking about how great it was that everyone was in the same company again and that it was going to be a few fun years ahead.

They started walking away just as Jay appeared, “What did they want?” opening the door, letting me enter before slamming it. “Nothing just that they’re excited to be working with you in the same company.” His glare both full of fire and ice at the same time. “If they wanted to drop off a fruit basket and well wishes they should’ve waited for me. I think Will just wanted to talk to you again and used Okada as the reason. He’s been after you since the days in chaos” his hand brushing my face, a thumb tracing my jaw. His mood matching what had just happened in the ring, he was in control and not amused.

"I'm going to make something very clear right now, sweetheart . Teach you something you won't forget..."

"You are mine." He ripped off my clothes, aggressively attacking my breasts, biting and sucking on my nipples until I was crying out, my moans filling the room. “These are mine. Your pussy is mine. Your lips are mine." He made his way down my body, licking and sucking over every inch of me, eating into my core, his tongue passing lazily through my folds.

"Say it," he ordered, sucking hard on my clit while he scissored his fingers inside me until I was about to come. Then he stopped, the desperate sound that fell from my lips.

He stood up stripped out of his gear, picked me up wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. I bucked underneath him, trying to slide his dick into me, because I couldn't stand it. I'd never felt this reckless, so out of control. I needed him more than I needed to breathe. He marched us into the shower, my back up against the cold tile, he moved one hand around my throat lightly squeezing my breath catching in anticipation. "If I want to tell every fucking person on this planet about you and I, and what you mean to me, I'm going to do it. Nod your head that you understand." I glared up at him, but I was also a very, very desperate girl. So I nodded.His smugness only fueled my desire .

"Good girl," he murmured, finally slipping the tip of his dick into my core. He still didn't press in though, refusing to give me his long, hard length.”Please," I whimpered.

He laughed almost evilly, before his voice turned soothing and patroniz-ing. "Then say it, Sweetheart . I'll make you come harder than you ever have before.Just say it."

"I'm yours, Jay," I finally murmured, staring up into his gaze.

"And you're going to let me tell everyone about us? You know that I'll take care of you, keep you safe...Right?" I tried to close my eyes and not answer that one, but suddenly he pushed all the way to the hilt, until I felt so full I was sure he was pushing into the entrance of my womb. I shook my head. "Yes, I'm going to trust you," I growled through gritted teeth.

"I'm going to tell everyone," he pressed, rearing back and slamming forward again.

"Yes," I whispered, not caring about anything anymore other than him letting me orgasm.

"Such a good fucking girl," he growled as he thrust into me sharply, setting off an orgasm so intense, the world blacked out for a moment.

When I came back to consciousness, he was still fucking in and out of me, his face determined, his eyes hungry and obsessed.

"I love you," he said as he pumped into me desperately. He removed his hand from my throat then his hand came between us and pressed on my clit, and I immediately spiraled over the edge again as he spilled into me, filling me with so much cum, it seeped down my legs.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he panted as he fucked me through the pleasure.

He refused to pull out when we were done, gathering me close, letting our juices drip between us. He stared into my eyes, and not for the first time, I wondered if this madness between us was okay. If it was possible for either of us to survive it. Or would it take us over and destroy us. I’d worry about that later as Jay put me down, turning on the water, “Let me take care of you.” as he began to wash my body, before moving me under the water, as he reached for the shampoo washing my hair as he whispered and praised me.

[fuck-customers]

Hi there, I wrote in this ask:

https://www.tumblr.com/fuck-customers/754579244210946048/why-the-hell-are-customers-so-adamant-about?source=share

Just wanted to follow up on that. Unfortunately no, we can't change names in the system ourselves, only managers can do that. I think a big part of the reason I disliked giving out my name so much is because I'm trans and when I started this job wasn't out at work. So when customers asked for my name I had a 'aw fuck not this shit, I don't wanna say THAT name but I can't out myself' moment every time. Realised later I don't give a fuck abt potential douchebags anymore and am now out at work. My name has since been changed to my preferred one in the system thanks to one of the lovely managers taking it upon himself to change it 🥰

As for reporting incidents, there's no point. Sadly, I work for a big corporate club that could give less of a fuck about its staff so long as they make money at our expense. We've had incidents with stalkers, someone publically mastrubating in front of a staff member (when I found out my work did nothing about that one I was fucking livid), hell one of the bosses harasses employees outside of work (nothing explicit, he pushes the boundaries of what he can get away with, and get away with it he does). All of this happens, is reported, and my work does nothing. The Facebook stalker is actually a regular that's been creeping on people for YEARS now. I've worked here for 4 years, and he's been doing it longer then that. Staff have quit because of him, reported his shit behaviour. My work just shrugs and puts up with it because 'oh well he's giving us money'. I think I've personally dealt with these people more then my work has (I've threatened one guy that was trying to solicit my very much underage coworker with taking him out into the carpark and kicking his ass myself if he didn't fuck off after ringing managers multiple times and reporting his continued advances only to be told they couldn't kick him out because he 'hadn't actually done anything' 🙄, I warn the female staff and keep them away from Facebook stalker creep because I refuse to make them put up with him; shit like that). It sucks and it's an awful system, but it's unfortunately how my work functions. I only stay because I can get away with doing the bare minimum and no other jobs available right now would be any better.

So yeah, shit sucks. Overall takeaway: customers, just leave staff the fuck alone. We aren't here to be your friends, we just get paid to put up with you. Don't ask for personal info, stop trauma dumping on us. You're one of hundreds of faces we see every day and I can guarantee with almost certainty you're nothing but the occasional 'that one customer who did X' stories to us. If you wanna make friends, go to a bar, or a meet up. Don't go to your local grocery store and insist yourself upon the employees. (Again, like I said in my first post, this isn't directed at everyone, and there definitely are customers at my work I love seeing and talking to, but that's a total different thing to these types of customers). Sorry this ended up being so long, have a good one :)

Sorry about the name thing.

It would be a shame if facebook guys name got mentioned on the r/creepypm subreddit. BUT ABSOLUTELY DON'T DO THIS! Just saying it would be a shame if it did happen.

-Rodney

[palmtreesx3]

Prologue

SexShop!Steve x Reader : SexShop!Robin x OC

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Steve and Robin have about had it with Hawkins, so on Robin's 25th birthday, the pair decides that there's nothing holding them there anymore and they start packing their bags. The friends move to Chicago and quickly find an apartment to call their own. As luck would have it, Robin stumbles on a no-strings-attached job offer for both of them - what could be better?! Now just to break the news to Steve…. This multi part story will both explore their platonic relationship and their chaotic experience working at the sex shop together as well as their own paths of self discovery as they plant their roots in their new city and finally deal with the invisible baggage they drug along with them when they moved. 

Warnings: no warnings...this time. Some non cannon relationships in this AU but cannon themes and Easter eggs a-plenty.

Chicago: Summer of 1993

It's only his 5th trip up and down the steps in the last hour, and Steve has about had it. Being left to haul a car full of Robin's personal belongings and boxes up the three flights of spiraling staircases to their brand new apartment building while she goes off in search of dinner and some help wanted signs seemed like a good idea at the time. It wasn't until he opened the hatch and saw how MUCH she actually packed did he immediately regret his choice to stay behind. He stood there regretting his current situation in an unfamiliar, bustling and loud city while sweat beaded on his hairline and flush spread across his cheeks in the humid June air.

Muttering to himself as he passes a redheaded teen girl carrying a skateboard who refuses to get out of his way on the staircase, he finally pushes his way through their doorway and he's thankful to feel the window unit he threw in first thing after they arrived starting to rev up and cool down the space. Steve repositions the particularly heavy box full of Robin's things on his hip while he reaches over for his cup of iced water setting on the counter and pooling condensation. Desperate for the reprieve, Steve gulps down an extra large sip and attempts to swallow but all sense of relief washes away as something slams into his whole left side. The glass he is holding ricochets down to the ground while Robin's box of nostalgic memorabilia topples over and spills out too. Hawkins High all over the floor. 

 "Jesus Christ, Robbie, what the hell!?" 

Bending over to start collecting all of Robin's teenage memories, the last threads holding her down to a town that didn't love her as much as she loved it - Steve doesn't hear anything she says when she first lifts her fists over her head and into the air in celebration - barely registering that she body checked the boy as she threw open the door. 

"Rob. Robbie, what the fuck are you saying? You're doing the thing… " he waves his hand in her general direction. 

"Oh fuck, sorry." Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath to regroup, realizing now that she came in making a whole lot of noise and saying not a damn thing at all.

She takes a deep breath and with a gleam behind her eye proclaims "I landed us a job, Dingus!" Both fists jolting upwards into the air again, he now sees the job applications crumpled up in her fists and yielded like torches. 

"Dude, gimmie that." Steve says. "You're gonna ruin it before I can even fill it out. We can't start a new job being that unprofessional. Christ… . What are we doing anyway? Gotta be better than that restaurant gig we both bombed before we left Indiana."

"Ok so, yeah, yeah this has the potential to be better than that. Definitely better than Family Video. For sure. And there's no stupid costume like Scoops. God. That sucked. We should pretty much know how to do a lot of it already and the manager seems like he's kinda chill. I told him I don't really know much about the ... uh...topic…but uh…that I'm a fast learner and he said we start on Monday and to bring the paperwork with us." She rambles, motioning to the pages Steve now holds in his hand. 

"O-oh kay Robin. Details please. You know them in your head but I don't yet. You-you gotta share." 

"Ha! Yeah! Sorry about that, I mean…." while she trails off and starts to fidget, Steve immediately knows there's more to the story.

"Robbie. What are you not telling me? " 

"It's called The Hideout. It's on Clark St, just a few streets over. 20 minutes walking - tops."

"20 minutes is doable." he says, and then quips back "Man, don't tell me it's a restaurant. I really didn't want to eat shit at that job all over again. I guess I'll take what I can get so we can at least get on our feet… "

" It'snotarestaurantit'sasexshop!" Robin blurts out in one rushed garble of words. 

"I'm sorry, WHAT did you say?" Steve stands with his hands on his hips, looking at her incredulously. "Did you say SEX SHOP?" 

Steve is freaking out. He's immediately embarrassed for something he hasn't even done yet. He can feel the tips of his ears going hot and shades of red staining his face and neck in splotches. Are those hives? She's giving me hives, he thinks to himself.

"What am I supposed to tell people when they ask what I do?! What are we supposed to tell the kids back home when they start to call non-stop? What am I supposed to say to my DAD, Robin?" He can feel her mere existance giving him heart palpitations while she looks on at him sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders. All he can do is focus on his breathing so he doesn't blow a gasket on his friend. 

Among the myriad of other things this move has going for the pair, Robin sees moving to Chicago as her opportunity to live who she is out loud and finally be free of the confines a small town puts on someone who looks a little different, thinks a little different and loves a little different. Steve, just happy for the fresh start and the chance to maybe do things for himself for once, was not really thinking this is how it would all start out, but looking at the excitement on Robin’s face made him soften just a little. 

Now pacing back and forth across the entryway to dispel her nervous energy, she looks on at her exasperated friend and he gives her an almost indistinguishable nod of the head in agreement. She smiles softly at him and says, "Anyway, I distinctly remember you once encouraging me to talk about boobies with you, Steve. Lighten up and get ready for tits, dicks…all of it! I'm ready and this city is my sexual awakening!" 

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @livsters

[melanieph321]

Dominik Szoboszlai x Black Reader - First Sight Part 2/8

The corner shop challenge

This story is about the night reader met her boyfriend Dominik and the series of crazy events that led up to the beginning of their love story.

Enjoy!

The conversation between you never died out. It's not like you fought to keep it alive as the two of you were walking side by side, it just refused to die.

"Okay, let me ask you a question." Dominik said, walking beside you, warming his hands in his pocket.

"Shoot."

"It's a hypothetical one."

"Yes, ask away."

"Alright, but the rule is that you must answer truthfully."

"Rules to answer a simple question? How intriguing." You smiled.

"Yes, but it's like a game. You can ask me anything afterwards, I promise to give you my sincere answer."

"Got it, just get on with it." You said, a bit excited to hear the question.

"Okay so, would you rather fuck a goat without anyone finding out, or would you rather have people believe you fucked a goat even though you didn't actually do it?"

Your steps altered, your eyes batting clueless at him. "Um...come again?"

"Like, would you rather have sex with a...."

You held up a silencing hand. "I heard what you said, I just...just why?"

He grinned. "I told you that it was a hypothetical question. It's mostly for me to get to know you better."

"Right, because asking 'Hi, what do you like to do with your life', doesn't cut it anymore?"

"It doesn't though." He chuckled. "People don't dig deep to answer those kind of questions, therefore they aren't sincere. I'm asking you to be sincere with me Y/N."

There it was again, that stupid spark. During your short walk to the corner shop you noticed that whenever your name escaped his lips your heart simply jolted. It was an amazing feeling and an annoying one at the same time.

"Fine." You sighed, allowing yourself to ponder the question.

You emerged in front of the corner shop, the question not yet answered as you stepped inside. However Dominik was patient with you, letting you take your time. Perhaps he really did want to know how your mind worked?

"I'd let people think I fucked the goat." You nodded. "How traumatizing it would be for both me and the goat if we actually did it."

Dominik nodded, just taking in your answer, not really judging you for it.

"What would you do?" You asked.

"Ah ah." He shook his head. "You can't ask me the same question I asked you."

"Why not?" You frowned.

"It's the rules of the game."

What a silly game, you thought.

"Ask me something else."

"Okay, okay."

You took a walk around the shop, thinking of interesting questions to ask. The bell above the door rang as people were coming in and out. Dominik looked conflicted of what kind of six-pack beer to choose from the many brands. Now and then his gaze lifted, glancing over to you, chuckling when he saw that you were already staring back at him. "Got a question for me yet?" He teased.

"Okay I got it." You said, leaving your aisle and joining his. "But it's more so a challenge then a question." You cleared your throat. "If that's allowed?"

"To challenge me?" Dominik's stance changed, his eyebrow twitching with his curiosity. He went from respectfully flirting with his eyes, to now leaning against the beer shelves, with a look that said, if you challenge me to go down on you, I will.

"Yes." You nodded, with your hands behind your back as not to give away your trembling hands. "I challenge you to strip naked, pop a can of beer and chug it down right here in this aisle."

"What?" He blurred out. More so surprised by the question itself then appalled by it. He was still smiling. "You want me to do what?"

"You heard me." You said, hands on your hips. You regained some of your cool following his quite hilarious reaction. "But if you're not up for the challenge Dommy, I won't force you to do anything."

"Please don't call me that." He said, kicking off his shoes.

"What? Dommy?" You tried to ignore the fact  that he was doing exactly what you asked him to do, stripping down, right there in the beer aisle of a corner shop somwhere in Liverpool.

"Yes, that." He sighed.

You chuckled. "What, you don't like my new nickname for you?"

"No, so stop calling me that before it catches on."

"I bet Trent would like it." You said, but quickly held a gasp from escaping your mouth as Dominik's hands gripped the hemn of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Your eyes widened at the sight of his hairless skin and outlined abs. He had tattoos on his arms and across his chest, one tatto running up his sleeve, the other cutting of just below his elbow. And whatever the ink on his chest meant you were here for it.

"Like what you see?" He smirked, catching you staring as his hands went to the strap of his belt. "One thing you should know about me Y/N..." He said,  removing his belt with a violent jerk. ".....I never say no to a challenge."

The air in your lungs disappeared, your heart beating fast as Dominik stripped himself of his pants, along with his underwear, leaving you to stare blankly at his dangling dick.

"Hand me that beer can will you?" He arched his back, standing proudly in the nude. He gestured for you to hand him one of the cans of beers behind your back. You did so with your eyes squeezed shut.

"What's the matter Y/N, you didn't think I'd do it, did you?"

Along with his teasing you heard the sizzling of the can of beer as he opened it. You heard him tilt it's content upside down and chug it down his throat. Although a loud burp let you know that he was finished, you refused to open your eyes until you knew that he had gotten dressed again.

"Hey, you there! Stop that!"

Your eyes flung open, only to see Dominik with panic in his eyes.

"What are you doing in my shop?"

Turning your head, you saw that an older man was charging down the aisle with a field hockey stick in his hands, looking more than keen to bash your heads in with it.

You looked to Dominik and he looked to you. "Run!" You said simultaneously. But as Dominik took off in one direction, butt naked by the way, you dropped to the floor, gathering his clothes. You then ran for your life, out of the corner shop and onto the lit streets. You and Dominik got separated as he ran out before you, but then you saw a pale figure shivering behind the nearest dumpster. It was Dominik, crouch down, covering his dick with his hands.

"Oh my god, Dominik!"

You rushed towards him, handing over his clothes, helping him get dressed.

"Fuck me." He muttered, still shivering to the point of his teeth rattling.

Suffering from terrible guilt, you did the only reasonable thing by pulling him towards you, wrapping your arms around him tightly. "I'm so sorry Dominik, so fucking sorry."

His chest vibrated when he chuckled. "Don't regret a challenge well done Y/N."

How could he be laughing and making jokes, you thought. Dominik was basically on the verge of getting pneumonia because of you.

"Shit, your still so cold." You said, feeling it rub off on you. You were still hugging him tightly, no plans of letting go until his body stopped trembling against yours.

"Don't worry, I'll warm up." He spoke against your temple, assuring you that the cold wasn't that bad. Still, you refused to let him go, at some point becoming one with his heartbeat slowly pulsating against your ear. His hand went to stroke your curls, the soothing sensation indescribable.  "You know..." He whispered. "If you wanted to see me naked you could have just said so before we left the apartment. Hey, I would've joined you for a quick shower in Sami's bathroom if you had...."

"Fucking dickhead."

Dominik couldn't help but to laughed as you pushed him off of you, breaking up the hug. The tender moment between you lasted briefly, his body having stopped shivering. He was back to himself.

"So were to next?" He asked as the two of you left the back of the corner shop.

"Well we still haven't bought any beer." You said. "Not that I'll ever recover from the sight of you chugging one down naked."

"Oh come on, don't lie." He smiled. "You loved seeing me complete your challenge. I'm surprisingly impressed how your mind works Y/N."

You lowered your head, hiding your smile.

"I say we head downtown, I know a guy that can hook us up."

"Fine." You muttered, trying not to make it obvious that you were happy that your night with Dominik wasn't over just yet. Little did you know that it was only the beginning.

[wilbiegxlibi]

My cccc doods [VCR] story summed up :3

Its called vcr because im silly and I like it :3

In their little narrative Remus [mind] was made first and has been in charge the longest with Vinny (heart) and Cynical {soul} giving their opinions at the council. It's not working out the best because Remus is too anxious to handle that much by themselves and never asks for help but they're coping and pretending enough that the other two don't really notice or care.

Vinny and Remus are constantly arguing, Cynical just wants a "normal fucking family" for once, no one listens to Cynical because he's the sucky bastard middle child. He gets really depressed, they all hate each other but they're living considerably all right.

That is until external stimuli (quarantine) sends all of them into panic mode. shits goin insane, everyone's going insane. Vinny and Remus are arguing about EVERYTHING and Cynical and Vinny shit talk him and Cynical convinces Vinny that Remus is a bitch and needs to be knocked out of power because he's not good for Whole etc etc. Vinny agrees cause Remus is an asshole, but when they go to make him step down Cynical takes out alllll of his insecurities and lack of power or control on Remus and tries to KILL him. ((NOT PART OF THE PLAN!!!)) so Cynical beats the shit out of Remus and stabs him and shit [Dubbed the viewfinder incident because he's cutting him out of view.] and ends up bleeding and shit cause no duh he's injured. But Vinny and Cynical have never seen him injured before, because they thought he was invincible and all high and mighty! and because Vinny gets scared and doesn't help Cynical he's only able to wound Remus super bad and as extra measure he throws him into the PIT. Cynical is a bit pissed that Vinny didn't help him MURDER HIS OLDER BROTHER but whatever. Vinny's like holy shit dude you just fucking holy shit holy shit Cynical's in charge now. He parties and has a great fucking time while Vinny's freaking out because he just wanted to shift the dynamics a little bit and now Remus is GONE and "(oh gee whilickers this is bad)" Cynical tells him to lighten the fuck up, and whole starts getting REALLLLLLY UNHEALTHY. Cynical is not good at running the show, he's incompetent, and refuses to acknowledge any of it/doesn't realize how bad he is at it and genuinely thinks he's the best for them. he overindulges, and even though Vinny's supposed to be assisting him he just shoves him off and does everything himself. Vinny realizes there is a problem, and goes to find Remus for advice/assistance since Remus is his older brother and he looks up to him for what to do since he's always been in charge. he gets to the PIT and Remus is still FUCKKKKKEDDD UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP. Vinny is freaking the fuck out again because he's never seen Remus injured like this before and is losing his shit that he hasn't somehow healed super quickly or something because he literally views him as superhuman. Remus finally fucking admits that he's not okay and that he's not perfect and that he needs help, and Vinny helps him. They get Remus all patched up, and taken care of and Vinny sits with Remus for a bit and comforts him and they talk until-

UNTIL Cynical notices he's gone. *ominous drone* oh shit moment CYNICAL IS FREAKKKING THE FUCKKKK OUT he looks for Vinny everywhere and he's been neglecting him this whole time and oh shit little brother gone little brother gone. he checks the pit and Vinny's there with Remus. Now he's not worried anymore, he's PISSSEDDDD. He views this as a betrayal, and as Vinny not being there when HE needed him, and {{WHY ARE YOU EVEN HELPING HIM, HE DOESNT WANT/NEED YOUR HELP. HE'S ALWAYS BEEN BETTER THAN US AND HE CAN TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF. I NEEDED YOU MORE THAN HE DID AND YOU WEREN'T THERE}} yada yada yada

Vinny's like "woa dude I care about both of you" cynical tries to make him CHOOSE. Remus steps in he's like "hey dude it's not that big of a deal he was just helping me-". Cynical tells him to shut the fuck up, and starts trying to beat him up again cause he's mad, Vinny protects Remus. cynical turns on Vinny instead. This is when the thing dubbed the PURBLIND occurs.

Cynical goes into a fit of rage and ends up gouging Vinny's eye out, and throws him down and leaves him in the PIT as well. He feels slightly bad after it but he's honestly too caught up into his bs now to do anything about it. Remus fucking hates him now because he doesn't care too much about himself but Cynical hurt Vinny and that was the last straw for him.

While they're in the PIT together Remus takes care of Vinny cause holy shit Cynical just poked his eye out. They're getting along after a long time and finally bridge the older younger brother gap and form a tight bond with one another. Vinny's too scared to go back and they sit in the pit together for a while and comfort one another.

MEANWHILE CYNICAL'S GOING FUCKING MAD THINGS ARE NOTTTTT GOOD WHOLE IS PLUNGED INTO DEPRESSION AND CYNICISM {wow wow suprise surprise} AND MAAAAAAAAAAAAAYBE A LITTLE BIT OF UNHEALTHY LISTERINE DRINKING AND A LOT OF SUICIDAL TENDANCIES....

CYNICAL FUCKING SUCKSS AT DOING THIS ALONE AND HE'S TOOO DAMN FAR IN TO ADMIT OR CARE AT THIS POINT HE'S HELLBENT ON EITHER FUCKING AROUND AND FINDING OUT, OR CRASHING THE CAR AND TAKING EVERRRYONE DOWN WITH HIM

Vinny and Remus form a plan, and decide that they need to get cynical away from whole and talk him down, they decide to go for him together and with a combined effort they end up restraining him, locking him up in a cage, and they give him HIS turn in the pit.

Cynical has a whole "oh damn" arc while he watches Vinny and Remus recover, and whole start to heal. He's no longer under the pressure of being in charge and realizes that maybe it isn't good for him to have that much power.

At the same time Remus asks for help from Vinny and even those two can't seem to handle all of it by themselves, and they start to really miss cynical and get really sad about it.

So after like a year of all of them sitting and Cynical cooling down, they go and get him, everyone apologizes, everyone makes up, Vinny makes tea, Remus draws drawings, and they start trying to get along again and it works!!

:D they have more of an inside out control method now and it's a good system and they check and balance each other and woohoo!

They all sing welcome to tally hall (can I get a c) and hold hands and dance around in a circle or square or triangle or whatever.

And that is the end for now :3