#How flattering for wild

[linkeduniverse]

[asiatic-apple]

UM HELLO?! I just saw someone on tiktok recommend my colonel caleb fic to everyone and I am like why do I feel famous rn 🤭

Lmaoo idk if that lovely tiktoker will see this, but thank you SO much for recommending my work! I wanted to reply on tiktok but didn't want to doxx myself bc I'm obviously using my personal account there LOLL

Just know that I appreciate you and all the ppl who commented on your video saying they liked the fic ❤️

[totally-not-peter-parker]

YOU GUYS DIDN'T-

[mari-lair]

RAHHH ur honesty so cul like o ‘em geeeee how can someone be this cul, ur writing is FIRE🔥🔥🔥🔥 it’s so crunchy I could eat it all day.

and ur ur ur art o ‘em geeee it’s so crunchy and munchy every time I see it I eat it and ARGHHH I would stare at it all day (especially the Akane ones……I lub Akane….)

RAHHH UR JUST SO CUL AND NICE RAHHHH you make my online father insane in a good way btw they ranted abt you for like 10 mins

anyways i lub Akane and you bye baiiiii :3

ggYUGYgughyuguygyu thank you so much, I am happy you enjoy what I create!

Since I am still on a high of getting out of art block, and this was such a nice ask to get, you can have this Nursery Akane!

[thatsparrow]

I’ve just read your AO3 story “rules of the game” and fuuuuccckkk, it’s so damn good - best I’ve read about Negan on the whole platform! The way you’ve written him is so believable, it could be canon, the OC is likable and authentic, the whole writing style is top notch! 10/10!

I know it’s a while ago since you’ve last updated but is there any chance of you continuing the story? I’d really love to see how it all plays out.

Anyways: Thanks a lot for giving me a really good time reading it! :)

oh, I'm so flattered, thank you so much!!

in terms of continuing it, the short answer is that, yes! I would still like to (in fact, just between us, there's like 12k more written in my docs, with probably a few thousand more words-worth of editing/notes/outlining as well)

the longer answer is, I decided a while ago that I didn't want to post any further updates until the rest of the story was finished (and until I've had a chance to go back and rework what's already been posted—not in terms of making any edits to the plot, but to build out aspects I wasn't necessarily considering when initially writing and posting chapter-by-chapter.) all is to say, I don't have any sort of timeline on when new updates are coming, but despite the—jeez—almost eight-year-long hiatus, it's still very much in my folder of active wips!

(also I want you to know, this comment is directly responsible for motivating me to do some canon review I'd been putting off, and to start working on my outline again, so thank you!)

[ohnomytummy]

I went on vacation recently and helped myself to a buffet breakfast before going out to the theme park. My tummy is super skinny so when i eat a lot like i did that day i look embarrassingly pregnant. Like seriously it’s bad. Since it was so hot i had no choice but to wear a crop top and shorts so everytime i walked to and from the buffet station I’d suck in my gut or hide it with the plate of food 😵‍💫

After about 4 trips I was stuffed and had to head out to the park with my stomach being an overfilled and bloated mess. Basically I spent the next 2 hours sucking it all in and letting out desperate farts while I walked around and took advantage of bathroom trips to let my gut hang out freely and try to calm it down.

I was wondering what you’d do if you were there with me? Maybe stuff my poor tummy even more throughout the day and make it more obvious that I’d been pigging out so much, not to much how much gassier I’d get later on and the damage I’d do to a toliet..

Theme park? With a belly full of free hotel breakfast?

How do you like greasy park food?

I’d parade you around to all the stands, ordering something heavy and delicious from each one. Find a picnic table somewhere secluded where we could return to feed you, like a bloated animal on a gluttonous hunt for more, quickly shoving fried everything into your belly, feeling your shirt ride up and the crumbs fall down your chest. I’d encourage you the entire time, rub your bare lower belly softly while you dine.

When you finish I let you rest for a minute before smiling and gently pulling you back towards the park. Aiming for one thing: the spinning teacups. When you realize, your face goes pale and your belly gurgles knowingly, sickly, pushing up a burp and a moan from deep within. You protest quietly while we walk, one hand soothing your tight sides, the other entwined in my own. I kiss your cheek and tell you how much I want to see you spin around, how much I want to feel you try to hold everything down desperately while the rides in motion, not wanting to be the disgusting talk of the park. So embarrassing…so full…

We wait in the line of families and other couples. Your belly is so loud, your cheeks are turning a light, sick green. We get to the front and the ride operator takes a long look at you, absorbing your gluttonous, sick state then giving me a knowing wink and small smile. I hear him whisper, “good luck” as we pass to claim our pastel painted teacup. You’re gonna need it, too. We sit down and your shirt immediately bunches up high on your stomach as your belly bloats against the turning table in front of us. You burp and groan softly then move my hand over your gut. We lock eyes as the ride chugs to a start and I remove my hand from you to begin turning the ride.

Faster, faster, faster. I never stop watching you. Your eyes are clenched as shit as your lips, your cheeks puffed out like a cartoon. The motion makes you look like you’re growing, and even over the wind I can hear the sound of your overstuffed guts desperately try to figure out why it’s going in circles.

We spin for what feels like an hour. You can’t even wait for the ride to stop before groaning “oh god I need to get off…” and scrambling off the ride. Hands clutching your grossly swollen abdomen, you make a dash for the exit. But then, you trip. Your knees hit the ground and you retch. Hard. Your greasy, sugary, delicious feast is now coming up onto the grass uncontrollably. Everyone else is shamefully looking away or twisting their faces at the sight and sound of you. “What a pig,” they must be thinking. But I make my way towards you, taking in your state, knowing this is only the beginning for you and your troubles.

I reach your heaving body and wrap my arms around your back, squeezing your belly, forcing up the oldest piles of food from you. Then, quietly, so low no one but you can hear, I whisper “let’s go home and clean you up. You deserve a reward for giving everyone such a show.”

[teaboot]

On of the less intuitive things about love, I've found, of any kind, is the importance of needing things.

I didn't realize it until recently, but I've always seen love as something requiring sacrifice, selflessness, patience, and generosity- to ask for nothing is to be the best person I can be, small and quiet and never in the way, always happy and helpful, self-sufficient and present when desired.

It's only as an adult, now, that I'm beginning to see the selfishness of wanting nothing.

I cut my friend's hair in my kitchen the other day. They wanted a trim and I had the skills, so I offered, and was genuinely excited when they stopped hesitating over "bothering me" and took me up on it. It was a peaceful afternoon, and we had tea and chatted for an hour or more.

My brother and I shared popcorn at the movies a while ago. When I came time to pay, I pulled my card out like a wild western sheriff and slapped it on the machine before he could fight me for it first. The satisfaction was delightful.

Someone called me crying on the phone the other day. Kept apologizing for disturbing me at work, talking about how they were bothering me on my lunch break. I was telling the truth when I told them that really, I was flattered and honored and relieved, knowing that if they were hurting I would know, that I didn't have to worry in silence. It felt good to hear them slowly come down, and to know that they knew it would be better soon, and to hear them laugh wetly on the other end. We're getting together for a visit next week.

It's hard to need things, if you've trained yourself not to. It's hard to want things, when you don't know how to want anymore. Trusting people is difficult, and so is relying on them, but I don't know where I'd be without the people who rely on me.

I've heard a lot of people say, "Nobody will love you unless you love yourself". I've had a lot of thoughts about it. It's not right, but it's not wrong, either, I think.

"Nobody will love you unless you love yourself"... I've always taken that to mean, "You will not be lovable until you develop a positive view of yourself as a person".

Now, I think it's sort of inside-out.

"Nobody will love you unless you love yourself"... because nobody can show their love to you in a way that you can accept until you treat yourself kindly, and learn what you need, and what you want, and how to ask for it, and then give that vulnerability away.

Love, for me, is someone I ask for a ride to the airport. Whether they end up doing this or not is irrelevant.

It's not needy, or selfish, or taking up energy. It's giving the gift of being wanted, and needed, and thought of. It's giving someone the security of being part of someone's life.

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [THINGS THEY SAY DURING 'IT'] ¡! ❞ @ - Part 1.

TW: MDNI - NSFW, sexual themes obviously lol

SUMMARY: Title :)

CHARACTERS: Aether Albedo Al-Haitham Ayato Baizhu Capitano Childe Cyno Dainsleif Diluc Dottore Freminet & Gorou x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.044

A/N: idk just a random new idea, watch me get more and more unserious with every character you pass

Aether

❝Agh-...shit...❞ - he holds back his sounds as he moans and curses into his hand

❝ Mh-no, like that, yeah...move like that...good❞ - he bites his lip as his lust drowned eyes stare up at you, holding your thighs tight for stability

❝Slower?...okay❞ - speeds up with a slight laugh, stopping seconds later to slow down again

Albedo

❝This spot? Yeah?...knew it...❞ - it's rare for you to see him smug, but that smirk he will give you when he finds out his guess was right is something else

❝Hold still for me...yes?❞ - he pushes your thighs apart, settling down comfortably between them as he dives in

❝Some interesting sounds you make...❞ - and he will carve them into his mind. When you're away he will remember them, will miss them, miss you and everything about you

Al-Haitham

❝Keep quite...❞ - there's no harshness in his words, just slight desperation as he breaths those words in your ear as he fucks you on the couch in his shared house with Kaveh, while he is asleep in his room

❝Tell me what you want...come on, you can do it. Speak up.❞ - sometimes the way he talks to you is infuriating, like he's talking to a stupid child. It not only embarrasses you when he speaks so teasingly, it makes you angry, frustrated, and maybe a bit turned on

❝If you can't watch your hands i won't watch my teeth.❞ - you tugged on his precious hair, so he can't help but tease you even more as he eats you out

Ayato

❝Mmm...yeah...❞ - he's rather quite, Ayato hums more, right in your ear with such a disgusting smirk because he knows any sound he does will drive you wild

❝Don't overestimate yourself, hm?❞ - he always says the same as you sink down on him. He knows exactly that his tip just puts too much pressure on your cervix. He might tease you, but he doesn't want to hurt you

❝I got you...don't worry, i got you...❞ - while you come down from your high...did he came himself? No, but it's okay. You're his number 1 priority

Baizhu

❝So...warm...❞ - no matter how many times you two have sex, your warmth will always overwhelm him

❝Shh...you don't know who might come in.❞ - he doesn't take many risks but god he can't hold himself back when you help him out in Bubu Pharmacy

❝I'll take care of it...don't worry.❞ - look, he's a doctor, a people pleaser and helper, ofc he only takes care of you and not of himself

Capitano

❝Take it slow, theres no rush.❞ - says the big guy with the prettiest cock and he doesn't even know it

❝Do you need a break? No?...heh...alright then...❞ - proceeds to rearrange your guts

❝What did i tell you?❞ - he means please, tell him please, ask nicely with manners like he taught you

Childe

❝Naww, someones needy huh? It went riiight in, with no problem.❞ - I bet you can practically hear and see the smug look on this abominations face

❝Look baby i don't wanna hurt you, yeah? You need to tell me when i go too hard.❞ - just a little nice check in for him. He wants to make sure you know you are always free to tell him off, he doesn't want to force himself on and in you

❝Good? Hah-ah-...yeah...thought so...❞ - sometimes the smugness will flatter, especially once he's close...you don't know who enjoys it more, him or you

Cyno

❝You hear that?...Thats you...❞ - he pumps his fingers in and out of you, slow and fast, changing pace. But no matter how fast or slow, he absolutely loves when you're as wet as you can get

❝Are you certain that you really want th-! Ouch why'd you slap me-❞ - he always asks the same, over and over again, it's nice that he keeps asking for your consent but at this point it annoys you like...bro you already been between my legs for like 30mins I had enough time thinking about it

❝Where?...ah-quick tell me-❞ - whenever he doesn't wear a condom and realistically...I don't think condoms exist in genshin lol

Dainsleif

❝So desperate...it's almost cute.❞ - he knows it's basically a long distance relationship considering he's almost never there. That's what makes it even "better" for him when you two see each other. He can't help but tease

❝Calm down, we're not in a rush.❞ - basically the first, same vibe, call me lazy lol

❝Still...gh-taking it so well...❞ - uhhh yeah we have a theme here

Diluc

❝You look cold...i could warm you up...❞ - sometimes him being smooth works, sometimes not, and sometimes he just sounds like a cheaper version of himself (Batman)...or sometimes he does what Kaeya says-

❝Where's the 'please'?❞ - he's so well mannered it's scary, so he expects the same for you too. Say please and thank you

❝Maybe if you would've behaved like I told you to, we wouldn't be here right now.❞ - he says it so calm as he fucks you against the cold stone wall behind Angels share in the middle of the night where any drunken idiot could see...or the patrols...that are very much sober (hopefully???)

Dottore

❝Hm? This? Oh, thats just for documentation.❞ - he records your voice...he literally studies your reactions and change in voice.

❝I won't tell you again, hold still.❞ - he isn't scared of tying you up at all so either hold still or be held still

❝...hm...you're too quite...❞ - he literally wants the Tsaritsa to hear like???

Freminet

❝Ngh-h-hey-calm down or else-!❞ - WE LOBE SUB BOYS, I WANNA HEAR YOU SCREAM, WE LOVE SUB BOYS

❝This is...new...yeah...❞ - he's a explorer but he also wants to be explored sksksksksk

❝So-warm-!❞ - uhm...self explanatory. When he enters you it's warm lol

Gorou

❝Wdym I'm in heat AGAIN?!❞ - he can't help but not be horny like?? Have you seen yourself??

❝Agh-...i tried to br gentle but you just-❞ - no self control, smh

❝Right there? See...told you i won't forget.❞ - he's eating you out, and still remembers your most sensitive spots like it's craved in his mind...because it is

[rosemaryhoney27]

Not Old Enough

The gala was in full swing at Wayne Manor, glittering with Gotham’s elite. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the soft strains of a classical quartet played in the background. Danny Fenton, in an ill-fitting tux borrowed from someone much taller, leaned against a column with a flute of something bubbly he wasn't entirely sure was non-alcoholic.

From his vantage point, he had the perfect view of his sister, Jazz, and—unfortunately—Dick Grayson trying, and failing, to flirt with her.

"You're into psychology? That's wild, I'm kind of a master of body language." Dick gave a dazzling grin, eyebrows bouncing like he was in a toothpaste commercial.

Jazz blinked at him, utterly unimpressed. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you read Freud for the articles?”

Danny winced from across the room. “Oof,” he muttered, sipping whatever this was. “She's not even pulling punches tonight.”

Beside him, Tim Drake appeared with a glass of water and a raised eyebrow. “How long’s this been going on?”

“Grayson’s been at it for fifteen minutes,” Danny said. “It's like watching a golden retriever try to seduce a cat. Painful, but kind of impressive in its optimism.”

Dick tried another move, casually flexing as he reached for a canapé. Jazz didn’t even blink.

Danny snorted. “Dude, give it up,” he called out as Dick stepped back for a breath. “She likes older guys.”

Dick turned and pouted. “I am older than her!”

Danny just pointed across the ballroom. “Not old enough.”

There, Jazz was zeroing in on Bruce Wayne himself—billionaire, philanthropist, and, as far as Jazz was concerned, “a prime specimen of rugged fatherhood.”

“She thinks Bruce Wayne is a total DILF,” Danny added, sipping again, eyes never leaving the trainwreck in motion.

Dick stared, mouth slightly open, watching as Jazz approached Bruce with the confidence of a woman who had studied Freud and Jung and decided to psychologically profile this man in real time.

“Oh my god,” Dick whispered. “She’s doing the eyebrow thing.”

“She’s doing the eyebrow thing,” Danny confirmed solemnly. “It’s over. May Bruce rest in peace.”

From across the room, Jazz offered Bruce a dazzling smile and said something that made the corner of his mouth twitch upward—the Wayne smirk, rare and powerful.

Tim blinked. “He’s smirking. She got the smirk. That’s—kind of terrifying.”

“She once convinced the FBI that our ghost dog was a federal asset,” Danny said. “This is light work for her.”

Meanwhile, Dick looked betrayed. “He’s like a thousand years older than her!”

Danny clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Dick, buddy. You’re a gymnast. Bruce is a whole genre.”

Tim coughed, trying not to laugh. “Should we… do something?”

Danny shrugged. “Nah. Let her cook.”

And across the ballroom, Jazz leaned in slightly closer, her smile brilliant, and Bruce Wayne—Batman, scourge of Gotham’s underworld—looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed, flattered, or afraid.

Danny smirked. This gala was way more fun than he thought it’d be.

[shoomlah]

Varwolf is coming to neopets, how do u feel?

Legitimately WILD that this is how I'm finding out this information. Proud, I guess? Surprised?? Very flattered that 2/3 of my April Fools' jokes from twenty years ago have now been christened into full-blown pets. Holdin' out for a Lamort. 🤞🏼

This did make me wonder how I would draw a Varwolf nowadays while still sticking to the spirit of my original design, so here ya go:

[killerplink]

Shameless

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Words: 10k

Plot: You're supposed to head straight home after the bar. You really are. But you're drunk, and needy, and so desperate for him that somehow you're in an alley getting absolutely wrecked against a wall.

The bar is dim and comfortably loud, some old rock song spilling from the jukebox while Jason leans back against the booth, arm draped along the backrest, watching you with a lazy smile. You're already two drinks and some shots deep—which, for you, is a lot—and it shows in the way you're slumped just slightly against his side, giggly and loose, eyes a little glassy under the neon glow.

He knew you needed this. Knew this week had been a fucking nightmare for you. And yeah, maybe getting you tipsy wasn't the most responsible move, but God, you're cute like this, all soft and clingy and running your mouth without a filter.

"Y'know," you slur a little, gesturing wildly with your glass, "that bitch from the subway? The one who kept pushing into me?" Your brows knit together in offended disbelief, like you're personally wounded all over again just thinking about her. "I shoulda knocked her fucking teeth out."

Jason has to bite the inside of his cheek, his grip tightening on his beer bottle as he lifts it to his lips. You're so damn small, and the way you say it, all dramatic and dead serious, makes it even funnier. But you're not joking. You slam your palm against his chest to drive the point home, which, to you, probably feels like a decent smack, but to him, it's barely a tap.

"Right?" you demand, eyes wide and expectant, waiting for him to back you up.

Jason clears his throat, desperately swallowing the grin threatening to break free. "Yeah, baby. Totally. Shoulda knocked her the fuck out."

"Exactly!" you nod so hard your whole body sways, and Jason has to steady you with his free hand to keep you from sliding right off the seat. "No respect. None! Who does that?"

You keep ranting, every slurred complaint punctuated with another dramatic gesture or a wild wave of your drink. Jason just sits there, half listening, half savoring how fucking adorable you are like this, all small and feisty, tipsy and dramatic, tucked into his side like you belong there.

He loves you so much it's fucking stupid. And it's only a matter of time before that sweet mouth of yours gets him into trouble tonight, one way or another.

By the time your third drink arrives, your body feels warm and heavy, head swimming in that sweet, fuzzy way that makes everything feel a little softer, a little funnier, and way hornier than it should.

Jason's sitting there next to you, all broad and solid, wearing that black t-shirt that stretches just right over his chest and arms, showing off all that ink. His thighs, thick and spread wide, are right there next to yours, and you can't help yourself—your free hand starts to wander.

You trace slow circles along the inside of his thigh, your fingers sneaking higher each time until your knuckles almost brush the bulge straining against his jeans. Jason tenses just slightly, the muscle under your palm jumping at the touch, but he doesn't stop you right away.

He's used to your drunk grabby hands by now, and hell, it's flattering how fast you get worked up for him. But his dick? His dick's got no chill, thick and half-hard already, and your teasing fingers aren't helping.

"Baby," he murmurs, his free hand curling around your wrist, stopping you gently. "Behave."

You pout instantly, squirming closer until you're practically in his lap, your big, glossy eyes locked on his like you're about to cry over it.

"Jay," you mumble, voice all soft and slurred, "you're so fucking hot."

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he takes another sip of his beer. "Am I?"

You nod. Hard. Like you're trying to convince him of a life-or-death fact. "Hottest guy I ever been with," you say, and Jason's ears go pink at the blunt praise. "Can't believe you chose me."

Jason's brow arches, that soft smile curving his lips. "What do you mean, pretty girl?"

You just shrug, lifting your drink to your mouth again, and miss it entirely, half your sip spilling down your chin, sticky and sweet. Jason sighs, amused, and reaches out with his thumb, gently swiping the alcohol off your skin.

That's when your grin turns wicked. Before he can pull his hand away, you catch his wrist, pulling his thumb between your lips. Your tongue flicks against the pad before you suck gently, cleaning off the spill like it's the most natural thing in the world. But your mind? Your drunk, horny mind immediately derails into filth.

You wish it was his cock instead. Thick and hot, sliding across your tongue, stretching your lips wide, fucking your throat until you're gagging and drooling and swallowing down every messy drop of his cum.

Your thighs clench under the table, the sudden rush of slick making you squirm, a soft whimper slipping out before you can stop it. Jason's brow furrows, his beer halfway to his mouth.

"Baby," he asks, voice lower now, "you okay?"

You nod too hard again, the world tilting slightly around you as you lean in, your hand landing high on his thigh once more. "Wanna fuck," you whisper, way too loud for how crowded the bar is.

Jason barks out a surprised laugh, shaking his head like he can't believe you. But fuck if it isn't turning him on, how unfiltered and needy you get for him when you're drunk.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, tipping back the rest of his beer in one long swallow before setting the bottle down with a clink. "Okay, pretty girl. Let me pay the tab and we'll go home, yeah?"

You hum happily, already leaning into his side, and Jason's hand settles warm on your thigh, fingers tracing mindless shapes while his other hand fishes his wallet out. You're still thinking about his dick—hot and leaking, sliding into your mouth, fucking your throat open before he bends you over and makes a mess of your pussy. And you've got zero intention of waiting until you're home to get your hands on him.

Before you leave, you decide you need the bathroom, weaving your way through the crowded bar with Jason's hand at the small of your back, his touch warm and steady, guiding you even though you're not exactly steady yourself.

The bathroom is... well, a Gotham bar bathroom—dim, one flickering fluorescent light buzzing overhead, cracked mirror, graffiti covering the stall doors. It smells like vodka, faint piss, and one of those cheap lavender air fresheners, and honestly? You've pissed in worse. You handle your business, wash your hands, and catch your reflection in the smeared mirror.

You look... a little wrecked already. Cheeks flushed, lips glossy and a little swollen from how you've been biting at them all night. Your eyeliner's still holding on, but your hair's a mess from leaning into Jason every time you got touchy, and you always get touchy when you drink. Still, even a little tipsy and sloppy, you grin at yourself, knowing damn well Jason still looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.

You smooth your hands down your skirt, adjust your top, and stumble your way back out, only to immediately see her.

Some too-pretty bitch draping herself all over your man like she doesn't know he's taken, her stupid pink acrylic nails tracing up his arm, leaning way too close into his space like she's got a shot in hell.

And Jason? He looks exactly like you expect—bored out of his fucking mind. He doesn't smile, doesn't lean back, doesn't flirt. His body stays turned toward you, eyes scanning for you even as she talks, and the second you step back into view, his shoulders relax like Thank fuck you're back.

But you? Oh, you're seeing red.

"Excuse me?" you shout, voice cutting through the music and bar chatter like a fucking gunshot. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Jason groans under his breath—"Oh, shit." —but it's too late. You're already stomping toward them, small but furious, your heels clacking hard against the floor like you're about to fight for your goddamn life.

The girl barely gets a chance to blink before you're in her face, finger jabbing at her chest, your other hand pointing wildly at Jason like a woman unhinged.

"That's my man, you thirsty fucking skank. Go throw yourself at someone who doesn't have a girlfriend."

Jason stands immediately, his big hand wrapping around your waist, physically lifting you off the floor because you're already reaching for her hair, fully prepared to drag her across the bar.

"Doll," he says, low and firm, voice edged with both amusement and actual concern. "C'mon, pretty girl, let's go."

"No!" you shout, flailing in his grip like a feral little cat. "She—she touched you! You're mine!"

"I know, baby," Jason says, voice softer now, soothing, his lips brushing your ear as he starts hauling you toward the door. "I'm all yours, always yours, pretty girl, you know that."

The girl stares in shock, but Jason doesn't even glance back at her. His only focus is you. His loud, drunk, ridiculously hot girlfriend who's out here ready to commit assault over him, and damn if that doesn't make him feel a little smug.

Outside, the cool night air hits you, and you're still huffy, arms crossed tight, refusing to look at him. Jason tugs you into the nearest alley, far enough from the entrance that you've got a little privacy, and then he tips your chin up gently, making you meet his eyes.

"Baby," he says, soft and serious, "you know I don't give a fuck about anyone else, right? You're it for me. My perfect girl. Nobody else even exists."

You bite your lip, still pouting, but your heart melts, all fuzzy and warm at the edges. "Promise?"

"Swear on my life," Jason says, hand over his heart, even though you both know his heart's been yours since the day you stumbled into his world.

You sigh dramatically, leaning into him, forehead to his chest. "Okay," you mumble. "But if she looks at you again, I'm breaking her nose."

Jason huffs a laugh, arms wrapping tight around you, hiding his smile in your hair. "I know you will, doll."

Then it hits him. Fuck. He walked you both here. No car, no bike. And now he's got to get your tipsy, horny, fight-happy ass home on foot.

"Oh, this is gonna be a long walk," Jason mutters, but even with the impending chaos, all he feels is love.

Wild, messy, absolutely fucking insane love for his feral little girlfriend who'd burn the world down for him if he asked. Jason's big hand reaches for yours, callused fingers curling gently around your smaller ones, and you let him intertwine them, your palm snug against his, so much bigger, so warm, so him.

You look up at him, eyes still wide and pouty, lip poked out just a little, and Jason can't help it. He leans down, catching your mouth with his in a kiss that's meant to be sweet, but fuck, you're drunk and needy and soft under him, and it goes from gentle to hot and sloppy real fast.

You moan against his mouth, pressing up on your toes to get closer, tongue sweeping into his mouth, tasting beer and Jason and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke. Your free hand slides between you, fingers tracing down the front of his jeans until you find his dick, thick and warm, already stirring to life the second your palm cups him.

"Jesus Christ," Jason mutters against your lips, breaking the kiss with a panting breath. "Baby, you're insatiable."

"Yeah," you giggle, voice all breathy and fucked out already. "I want you so bad, Jay."

He takes a deep breath, trying to get his pulse under control, even though his cock is already hardening under your touch.

"C'mon, baby, let's get going. We'll be home in no time, yeah?"

You shake your head so violently you nearly knock yourself over, and Jason's quick, both hands grabbing your waist to steady you, brows raised in that exasperated, fond way that makes you feel like the most spoiled little brat in the world.

"No?" he asks, amusement curling in his voice. "What do you want, then?"

You pout, full-on drunk girl tantrum loading, tugging at his shirt like a needy little gremlin. "I want your dick, baby."

Jason laughs, head tipping back, the sound echoing off the brick alley walls. "I know, baby. And you'll get it." He cups your face, thumb dragging across your lower lip, eyes warm and full of affection. "Home. I'm not fuckin' you against a dumpster in Crime Alley."

You whine, actually whine, stomping your foot once for good measure. "But I'm so wet, Jay," you mumble, words all slurred and pouty. "My pussy hurts."

"Baby," Jason groans, running a hand down his face like he's in actual physical pain from trying to be a good man right now. "You are killin' me."

"So fuck me," you say, all wide-eyed, like you've cracked the fucking code.

Jason breathes deep through his nose, hands settling firm on your hips, holding you just far enough away from his dick so you can't start rubbing all over him again.

"Baby. Baby. Listen to me."

"No," you cut in, dramatically folding your arms under your tits, cleavage spilling in your too-tight top. "You listen to me. You always wanna fuck me. Why not now?"

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about needing fucking therapy, before he cups your cheeks again, squishing them until your lips pucker.

"Pretty girl, I do always wanna fuck you. But if I fuck you here, in this nasty-ass alley, I will never forgive myself. And you, my sweet, drunk little menace, will complain the whole way home about how your knees hurt or your back hurts or how you got gum in your hair from leanin' against this filthy fuckin' wall."

You blink at him, brain working overtime to process all that, and then you sniff. "Fine."

"Thank fuck," Jason sighs.

"But I'm walking all sexy so you stare at my ass the whole way."

"Baby," Jason groans, sliding a hand down to smack your ass once, hard enough to make you squeal and giggle. "You're a fuckin' nightmare."

"A sexy nightmare," you correct, wagging a finger in his face before you twirl dramatically toward the sidewalk, hips swinging like you're on a runway.

Jason follows, shaking his head, but fuck if he isn't staring at your ass just like you wanted. Even under the dim streetlights, the sway of your hips is hypnotic, that short skirt barely covering you, and all he can think about is getting you home, spreading you out, and ruining you properly.

But first? He's gotta get you both back alive.

His hand settles on the small of your back again, eyes scanning every shadow, every rooftop, every alley you pass, because it's Gotham. And drunk, horny, dramatic as you are, you're still his most precious thing. The only thing he'd throw himself in front of a bullet for without a second thought.

"Stay close, baby," he murmurs, fingers curling in your waistband, keeping you just a little closer as you both make your way down the sidewalk. "Don't need you wanderin' off."

You hum, leaning into him for a second before dancing away, spinning in a circle because you're drunk and happy and feeling yourself, and Jason knows—knows—that if you weren't so fucking adorable, he'd have lost his mind years ago.

His hand stays wrapped around yours, big and warm and strong, fingers interlocked so tight it feels like he's afraid you'll slip away if he lets go. You're not even thinking about the way his grip has a slight edge to it, the way his shoulders stay tense, scanning every shadow you pass, every figure leaning against a wall or sitting on a curb. To you, it's just Jason holding your hand like he always does, but to him, it's the only way to stop himself from grabbing the nearest asshole staring at your tits and slamming their face into a brick wall.

Because yeah, you're loud. Laughing too hard at your own jokes, voice bouncing off every building as you tell him how much you love his biceps, actually grabbing his arm with both hands and smooshing your cheek against it like it's the only pillow you ever want again.

"Baby, I swear to God, I think your arm is bigger than my whole head," you giggle, fingers barely stretching around the thickness of his bicep.

Your cheek stays pressed against him, your lips practically kissing the fabric of his jacket, and Jason just grunts, biting back a smile.

He's trying so fucking hard to stay focused. You're walking through downtown Gotham, and even though you're getting closer to Bristol, you're still technically in territory where he knows half the guys on the sidewalk have at least one weapon on them.

But you? You're bouncing beside him in your cute little skirt, tits pushed up perfectly, heels clicking on the pavement, and every time you laugh, your nipples press against the thin fabric like a filthy little tease.

Jason glances down just once, and fuck, you're not wearing a bra. His jaw clenches so tight his teeth might crack.

"Jay, Jay—hey," you tug at his arm, nearly tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. He catches you before you fall, one strong hand on your hip, the other still holding your hand tight. "I'm okay!" you announce, way too loud, grinning up at him.

"Yeah, I see that," he mutters, tugging you closer so you're practically walking under his arm now. "Maybe let me steer, baby, before you snap one of those pretty ankles."

You just hum, leaning into his side, your arm wrapping around his waist, your cheek back against his ribs this time, and you barely reach his shoulder like this, even with the height boost from your heels.

It's obscene, really, how small you are compared to him, and Jason feels it everywhere. In the way your soft hand barely wraps around his fingers, the way your arm can't even get all the way around his torso, the way your chin tilts up so far just to meet his eyes.

It's making his dick throb again, especially with the way you keep pressing against him like you can't get close enough, your tits practically plastered to his side. And when your hand slips lower, over his hip, fingers skimming his belt? Yeah, his dick definitely stirs again, already half-hard in his jeans.

But Jason grits his teeth, eyes flicking down a side street where a couple of guys lean against a car, watching you both pass with a little too much interest.

He could end them. Real easy. But that means letting go of you for even a second, and in a place like this, that's too much time.

So instead, he focuses on getting you both to Bristol. Once you're there, it's different. Still Gotham, sure, but way less grime, way fewer threats.

"Baby, your biceps," you murmur dreamily, still snuggled into his side. "I wanna live here. Make me a bicep hammock. I could just... take a nap right here."

"Jesus Christ," Jason huffs, half-laughing, half-suffering.

His hand squeezes your hip hard enough to make you gasp softly, and your thighs press together instinctively, slick panties clinging to your skin.

And you know it's bad—for him, for you—because you can already feel how wet you are, panties soaked just from the feel of his hand and the size of his arm and the fact that Jason fucking Todd is all yours.

Every broad inch of him belongs to you, and you want him so badly your nipples ache, hard and sensitive, the cool night air brushing them through your top with every step.

Jason feels it too, the way your body stays glued to his, warm and soft and sweet, all that restless, needy energy radiating off you like heat. And even though his jaw stays tight, his eyes sharp and scanning for trouble, his dick is already thinking about the safety of your shared apartment, where he can fuck you in peace.

But finally, you make it into Bristol, and Jason feels like he can breathe again. Shoulders easing just slightly, the tension that's been coiled in his spine since you left the bar loosens a fraction, though he's still hyper-aware of every footstep behind you, every flickering streetlight, every passing car.

Gotham's quieter here, but it's still Gotham. And no sane person drives a cab through this shithole, especially not after dark, which is exactly why you're stuck walking home. Buses aren't much better. Either they're not running at all, or they're full of people Jason would rather not share air with, let alone a seat.

But you? You're not thinking about cabs or buses or safety at all. You're too busy scanning the sidewalks like you're searching for treasure, except the treasure you want is a dark, secluded little alley where your man can fuck you until you're crying.

And you find one.

You stop so suddenly he nearly stumbles into you, and you gasp like you just discovered the lost city of gold.

"What now, doll?" he sighs, already bracing for whatever chaos is about to spill from your pretty mouth.

Your grin is downright wicked, that playful, tipsy sparkle in your eyes as you grab his arm with both hands and start walking backwards toward the alley entrance. It's tucked behind some trendy little wine bar, barely lit, and Jason's already shaking his head, planting his feet like a stubborn brick wall.

"Baby," he warns, voice low, but you're having none of it.

"Jay," you pout, stepping back into the shadows, fingers curling around his belt to tug him with you. "Please. Pleasepleaseplease. I can't wait. I'm so fucking wet, I swear it's dripping down my thighs."

"Jesus," he mutters, but his resolve is crumbling fast, especially when you grab his wrist and guide his hand under your skirt, between your thighs, pressing his fingers against the damp lace of your panties.

Jason hisses between his teeth, jaw clenched tight as his fingertips press into the soaked fabric, feeling just how messy you already are. "Fuck, baby," he groans, fingers stroking you through the lace until you're trembling. "You really are dripping."

You nod so hard it's almost comical, hips rocking into his touch, and he curses again, pulling his hand back before he loses whatever sliver of restraint he has left.

"C'mon, Jay," you murmur, voice all sweet and syrupy as you press your body against him. "No one's here. I need you so bad."

He's so fucking weak for you. He always has been. With a low, rumbling sigh, he grabs your hips and lifts you slightly off the ground, keeping your heels from clicking against the damp pavement, his strength so effortless it makes you dizzy.

Your arms loop around his neck, lips grazing his jaw, and you whisper, "Knew you couldn't resist me."

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, but there's already a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he carries you further into the alley.

And to both your surprise, it's not that bad. No reeking garbage, no questionable puddles, just a slightly damp brick wall and enough privacy to make this work.

Jason pins you to the wall gently, broad hands spreading your thighs, fingers curling under the hem of your skirt to bunch it up around your hips, and the cool air against your soaked panties makes you shiver.

"We're doing this fast," he murmurs, voice dark and low as he towers over you, his body heat sinking into your skin. "Then I'm carrying your ass home and fucking you proper, got it?"

You just nod, biting your lip as your hips wiggle, trying to press against him. Before you can fully grind up against him, Jason pulls you off the wall like you weigh nothing, his big hand splayed across your back, holding you up effortlessly with just one arm.

"Hold still, baby," he murmurs, though there's a flicker of fond amusement in his voice.

You cling to him, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, legs dangling slightly until he sets you down just long enough to shrug out of his leather jacket. Then he drapes it over your shoulders, the worn leather heavy and warm from his body heat, swallowing you whole.

"Don't want you all scratched up," he says, fingers brushing your cheek before he lifts you up and pins you back to the wall, his body following, pressing tight against yours.

The kiss that follows is messy, almost desperate, like neither of you has any patience left, his mouth slanting over yours, tongue licking deep between your parted lips. You taste like alcohol and sweetness, like the cocktails you couldn't stop sipping, and Jason tastes like beer and heat and him.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against your mouth, and he rolls his hips into you, grinding his thick cock against your sopping cunt through your panties, the rough denim dragging against the soaked lace until you whimper into his mouth.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, forehead pressed to yours. "You're so fuckin' wet. I can feel it through my jeans."

"Then stop teasing," you pout, hips canting against him again, your thighs trembling from the sheer ache of needing him inside you.

"Oh, baby," Jason grins, all teeth, his hand sliding between you to push your panties aside, fingers dipping low to swipe through your slick folds, making you jerk. "Teasing's my favorite part."

"Jay," you whine, voice high and thin, your hips trying to chase his fingers as they stroke along your slit, purposefully avoiding your clit. "Please. Don't—don't tease, I'm so wet, I need you, please."

"Yeah?" He drags his fingers lower, tracing around your entrance, gathering up your slick, rubbing it slow over your throbbing clit until your whole body jerks again. "You need me that bad, baby?"

"Yes," you cry, voice pitchy and desperate, hands fisting in his shirt. "Need your dick, need you to fuck me, pleasepleaseplease—"

Jason hums low in his throat, eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he watches you come undone right in front of him. "Greedy little thing," he teases, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your clit until you're trembling against him. "So fuckin' needy."

"Because you made me like this," you snap, drunk enough that you barely have a filter, every single thought spilling from your lips. "You and your stupid big dick and your stupid perfect hands and your stupid hot face—"

Jason barks a laugh, cutting you off by sinking two fingers deep into your cunt with a filthy squelch that echoes through the alley, your protests melting into a soft, helpless moan.

"There we go," he murmurs, voice low and rough as his fingers pump in and out, stretching you open, slick dripping down to coat his knuckles. "Gotta open you up, baby. You know you can't take me if I don't stretch this sweet little pussy first."

You just whimper, hips rocking down onto his hand, your fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, your drunk little brain so overwhelmed by how good his fingers feel, how deep they reach, already curling to press against that soft, spongy spot inside you.

"Always so fuckin' tight," Jason mutters, thumb circling your clit as his fingers fuck into you, slow and deliberate.

You nod frantically, too far gone to do anything else, all your focus narrowed down to the way his fingers stretch and fill you, the slick sound of it obscene in the quiet alley.

"Think you can behave if I fuck you right here?" he asks, lips brushing your ear, fingers never slowing. "Or are you gonna be a noisy little brat and get us caught?"

Jason's fingers work your cunt like it's his job, those thick digits scissoring inside you, spreading you wide, your walls clenching down hard every time he drags them out only to push them back in knuckle-deep.

You're soaked, dripping all over his hand, slick and messy and obscene, and he fucking loves it. Loves the way you always need a little stretching, loves how no matter how many times he's fucked this pussy, you still go all tight and greedy on him like you're brand new every single time.

His thumb circles your clit, slow and deliberate, just enough to keep you right on the edge of frustration, never quite enough to let you fall over, and you whine, a long, high-pitched sound that makes him smirk.

"Jay," you slur, lips dragging over his jaw, sticky and soft, your fingers clawing at his back through his shirt, hips squirming helplessly against his hand. "Want your dick, baby, please."

"Shhh," Jason hums against your mouth, voice rough, fingers still fucking into you, that relentless rhythm making your thighs shake. "I've got you, baby. Let me make you cum first, yeah? Can't have you all tight and needy like this. You'll hurt yourself tryin' to take me."

"Don't care," you pout, sucking a mark into his neck, messy and wet, your tongue flicking over the spot before you nip at it, making him grunt softly. "Wanna be full, Jay, wanna feel you stretch me out, wanna feel you fuck me so deep, baby, please—"

"Jesus," Jason mutters, but there's no heat to it, just low, throaty amusement, like he can't believe how fucking desperate you get when you're drunk and horny like this.

He shifts his hand, fingers crooking inside you just right, dragging over that spot that makes you jolt, and you whimper, thighs clenching around his waist.

"Look at you," he breathes, eyes dark and hooded as he watches your face twist in pleasure, mouth all pouty and glossy, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to your temples from how hot you've gotten. "So fucking pretty when you're like this, baby. All fucked out and desperate for me."

"Because I love you," you slur, fingers fisting in his hair, tugging him down into a kiss that's all tongue and teeth, messy and clumsy and so fucking hot he groans into it. "Love your dick, love your hands, love your stupid face—"

Jason swallows your rambling with another kiss, his fingers never stopping, his thumb rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit until you're trembling, back arching, your whole body pressing into his like you're trying to crawl inside his skin.

"C'mon, baby," he whispers against your lips, voice low and dark and sweet like sin. "Cum for me. Make a mess all over my fingers, show me how bad you want me."

You sob—a high, helpless sound—as your cunt clenches down hard, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking freight train, your hips stuttering against his hand, slick gushing over his fingers and dripping down to his wrist.

"Good girl," Jason praises, kissing you through it, swallowing every little moan and whimper as his fingers keep pumping, working you through the aftershocks until you're twitching, trying to squirm away from the overstimulation.

"Too much," you mumble, slurring against his mouth, but he just hums, grinning against your lips.

"Fuck," Jason mutters, pulling his fingers from your spent pussy, shiny and dripping, your slick coating his knuckles and glistening under the dim alley light. He holds his hand up, spreading his fingers just to watch the strings of your arousal stretch between them, his lip curling into a dark little smirk. "Look at this messy little pussy, baby. You really are my perfect fuckin' girl, aren't you?"

You whimper, squirming against the wall, thighs trembling where they wrap around his waist, and Jason's grin only widens. "Can't get enough of me, can you? Drippin' just from my fingers. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna ruin you."

"Please," you mumble, words all breathless and slurred, your glossy eyes locked on his mouth like you're starving for him. "Kiss me, Jay."

He doesn't need to be told twice. His mouth crashes into yours, hot and hungry, all tongue and teeth and filthy little moans that make your head spin. You taste like your cocktails and him, and you drink down his groans like they're your favorite liquor, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging hard just to feel him grunt against your tongue.

His kiss is messy, wet, his teeth catching your bottom lip, tugging until you whine before soothing the sting with his tongue. His hand stays firm on your ass, keeping you pinned, while his other works at his belt with practiced ease, the jingle making your pussy clench down hard around nothing. Your thighs squeeze his waist, your needy body rocking against him like you're trying to catch his dick the second it's free.

"Desperate," Jason teases, voice thick with amusement, but his own breath stutters when his jeans finally slide down just enough to let his dick spring free, hot and heavy, the flushed tip already smeared with precum.

He grunts softly as he fists himself, dragging his slick thumb over the head before he ruts against your messy cunt, grinding his cock between your folds until his length is coated in your slick, sliding so easily against your soaked, swollen clit.

"Baby," you moan, head lolling back against the brick, your eyes going half-lidded, all glassy and drunk on him. "Want you so bad. Please, Jay."

"Fuck, you're so needy," he groans, angling his hips just right so the thick head of his cock notches at your entrance, pushing in just a little, stretching you open slow. "Always so tight for me, baby. So fuckin' perfect."

You whimper, hands scrabbling at his shoulders, his back, his neck, anywhere you can hold onto as he starts to push deeper, the stretch making your mouth drop open, your eyes going wide as your cunt struggles to take him, even as slick as you are.

"Every time," Jason mutters, almost to himself, watching your face, your body, your perfect pussy swallowing him inch by inch. "Every fuckin' time this pussy fights me at first. Like you forget how big my dick is until I'm stuffin' you full again."

He doesn't even bother bottoming out at first, just fucking into you shallow and rough, enough to make your body bounce against the wall, enough to make you cry out soft and sweet with every thrust.

"Jay—" you whimper, too loud, but he slaps a big hand over your mouth, muffling you, his own jaw tight as he glares down at you.

"We're still in public, baby," he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust, finally bottoming out in one stroke that makes your eyes roll back. "Behave. I don't wanna spend the night in jail 'cause my girl couldn't keep her pretty mouth shut."

You whimper against his palm, nodding hard, eyes still wide and glassy, and he kisses your forehead like you're not split open on his dick in the middle of a fucking alley.

"That's my good girl," he purrs, letting his hand slide down to grip your waist, both hands anchoring you now as he starts to move.

And fuck, he moves, lifting you up like you weigh nothing, only to slam you back down onto his cock, impaling you over and over, your messy little cunt squelching loud and obscene every time he bottoms out. Your slick coats his dick, smearing down his thighs, dripping onto the pavement, and he's fucking feral for it, teeth gritted, sweat beading at his temples from how tight you are.

"Fuck, baby, this pussy's made for me," he groans, his grip bruising at your hips, his cock grinding so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. "So fuckin' tight—so wet for me. Look at you, baby, takin' me so good. My perfect little slut."

"Yours," you slur, hands scrabbling at his shoulders, your head dropping back against the wall, throat exposed and begging for his mouth. "Love your dick, Jay. Love you. Love you so much."

"Love you too, baby," he grunts, barely coherent as your walls flutter around him, your cunt sucking him in so tight he can barely pull back without you chasing him. "Love this messy little pussy. Gonna fuck you stupid right here, doll. Gonna make you cum on my dick, and then I'm gonna stuff you full of cum. Even if it gets me arrested."

The words shoot straight to your core, making your pussy clamp down around him so sweet and snug that Jason has to grit his teeth, his hips stuttering just for a second as heat flashes down his spine.

"Fuck—just like that, baby," he breathes, voice low, vibrating against your neck. "Keep squeezin' me like that, doll, you're gonna milk me dry."

The sound of your cunt taking him is fucking obscene, a slick, messy squelch every time he pulls out, followed by a wet, filthy slap as he fucks back in, balls-deep. It echoes off the brick walls, mixing with his ragged grunts and your soft, breathless moans, and it's so fucking dirty it makes his cock twitch inside you.

His hands cup your ass, those big, strong hands lifting and spreading you, kneading your soft flesh as he works you up and down his cock like you're weightless, his fingers sinking deep enough to leave bruises tomorrow.

The sweet scent of your arousal fills his nose, thick and heady in the cool night air, and Jason can't help himself. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling deep like he's getting high off the smell of your pussy.

"Always so fuckin' sweet for me," he murmurs against your skin.

His tongue flicks out to taste the sweat beading there before he sucks at your neck, hard and messy, leaving dark bruises like a brand. He soothes the sting with his tongue, a lazy, possessive stroke that makes you whimper and tighten your grip in his hair, tugging at the strands like you're trying to keep him exactly where he is.

He doesn't give a fuck if you pull every single strand out, doesn't give a shit if you ruin his scalp, because all that matters is the way your pussy feels. So fucking soft, so hot, clenching around him like you were made to take his dick. His thighs burn from the angle, his back sticky under his shirt, but none of it registers because all he can think about is how fucking good you feel, how perfectly you fit around him.

Jason knows, deep down, that this is fucking insane. He's not supposed to be fucking you in an alley in Bristol. Usually, he's the one talking you down when you're drunk and horny, steering you home with that cocky little grin, promising to fuck you into the mattress the second you walk through the door. But tonight, reason flew out the window the second you dragged him into the shadows, panties already soaked, begging for his dick like a needy little slut.

And fuck, how's he supposed to resist you when you look at him like that? When you sound like this? All soft, breathless little moans, spilling past your kiss-swollen lips as you clutch at him like you'll die if he stops? When your body trembles in his hands, your slick running down his balls, every ragged little breath carrying his name?

"Jason," you whisper, so soft and sweet it fucking kills him, your voice all wrecked from the way he's been fucking you open. "So big, baby. Feels so good."

"Yeah?" His voice drops, rough and husky, fingers digging into your ass just a little harder as he fucks you deeper, cock grinding against that soft spot inside you that makes you tremble all over. "This dick's yours, doll. Made to stretch this sweet little pussy. You're perfect, baby—fuck, you're perfect for me."

Your nails rake down his back, short little scrapes through his shirt that make his abs flex, and Jason growls low in his throat, biting at your neck, at your shoulder, anywhere he can sink his teeth into.

"So good, doll. So fuckin' tight. My messy little slut, all drunk and desperate for my dick. Gonna fuck you until you can't even stand, baby."

Your walls pulse around him like you're already close, your breath hitching in soft, uneven moans, and Jason groans against your skin, fucking you harder, faster, losing any semblance of control. His hips slap against yours, your slick painting his skin, his cock so soaked it glides into you with filthy ease.

"C'mon, doll," he whispers against your ear, voice dark and sweet, dripping filth like honey. "Be my good girl and cum for me, yeah? Let me feel you soak my dick. Let me ruin this pretty little pussy."

Jason's grip shifts, just slightly, and the angle hits different—deeper, somehow rougher, but the real kicker is how his hips grind up against your clit every time he bottoms out, his skin rubbing over that swollen little bundle of nerves.

It's not even intentional at first, just the natural press of his body against yours in this position, but once he hears the choked little moan you make, he fucking locks onto it like a bloodhound, making sure to grind against you every time his cock stretches you open.

Your head falls back, clunking lightly against the brick, legs tightening around his waist, pulling him in closer, deeper. "Gonna cum," you gasp, voice thin, whiny and so fucking needy Jason feels his cock twitch inside you. "Jay—gonna cum, baby, please—"

"Yeah, you are," he rasps, kissing you quick and filthy, all tongue and teeth, biting at your lower lip before pulling back to look at you, all fucked-out and perfect. "Cum on my dick, baby. Make a mess all over me."

His thrusts turn deep and shallow, grinding against your clit with every stroke, the fat head of his cock dragging over that sweet little spot inside you until your legs start to shake. Your whole body tenses, back arching off the wall as your cunt pulses around him, gushing so hard it drips down his cock, slicking up his thighs and the inside of yours, messy and obscene and so fucking good.

"OhmyfuckingGod," you gasp, the words running together into a high-pitched moan, your body trembling in his hands.

You're loud—too loud—and Jason clamps his hand over your mouth again, shushing you in that low, dangerous tone that always makes your cunt clench.

"Shhh, doll. You wanna get us caught?" he murmurs, right against your ear. "I'll stop. I fuckin' will. I'll pull out and leave you drippin', you keep bein' so fuckin' loud."

You shake your head wildly, wide, desperate eyes looking up at him, your hands clutching at his shoulders like your life depends on it. You can't stop now, you need his cum, need him to fuck it into you so deep it sticks, so deep you feel him for days.

Jason knows. Of course he knows. Knows how much you love it when he pumps you full, knows how fucked-out and blissed you get when you feel him leak out of you, warm and thick and messy.

He's just about to give you what you want when—

The flash of red and blue lights paints the alley in sharp neon. You both freeze.

Jason's heart fucking stops, then kicks up so hard he can feel it in his teeth, every muscle in his body going taut like a wire ready to snap. Your eyes go wide, mouth opening in a silent gasp, fingers digging into his back hard enough to leave crescent marks through his shirt.

"Shhh, baby," he whispers again, this time more soothing than stern, his hand smoothing over your hip like that's gonna calm either of you down. "If you're quiet, they're not even gonna know we're here."

You nod fast, lip caught between your teeth, eyes darting to the mouth of the alley where the cop car slows, brake lights flaring red through the shadows.

Jason's heart pounds, his cock still buried balls-deep in your cunt, and this might actually be the stupidest, most reckless shit he's ever done—which is really saying something, considering his track record.

The car idles there for a beat too long, and you start to panic for real, breath coming too fast, your fingers clutching at him, but Jason dips down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice low and calm.

"Hey. It's okay, baby. They're just bored. Ain't got shit to do out here. They'll move."

And they do, after what feels like a fucking lifetime, the car finally rolls past the alley, the glow of the lights fading into the night.

"See, baby? Told you. We're good."

He grins, kissing you again, slow and sweet at first, until you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him deeper, the kiss turning sloppy and filthy all over again. Tongues sliding together, your moans humming right into his mouth, his cock twitching inside you.

"Now," Jason mutters between kisses, "where the fuck were we?"

He starts moving again, lifting you in his arms like you weigh nothing, slamming you back down onto his cock, the force of it making your whole body bounce, your slick cunt taking him so easy now after you came all over him.

Jason fucks you hard, not fast, not hurried, but with deep, brutal strokes, splitting you open every time, grinding against your clit at the end of each thrust until your breath stutters and your eyes flutter shut, head lolling back against the wall.

"Fuck, baby," Jason groans, forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged, hands locked around your waist, holding you tight like you might slip through his fingers. "You're so fuckin' tight. You feel that, doll? Feel how perfect this little pussy fits around my dick?"

You moan, soft and breathless, nails raking down his back, and Jason fucking loves it. Loves how wild you get for him, how no matter how many times he's fucked you, you're still so damn tight around him.

"Love this pussy, baby," he mutters, voice thick and low, "love ruinin' you. My messy little slut, all drunk and dripping for me. Fuckin' perfect."

He can't stop kissing you, can't stop tasting your lips, your tongue, the little whimpers you feed him between kisses, his hips never slowing, driving into you over and over, fucking you so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat.

He knows you need to get the fuck out of here before the cops come back, before some nosey old lady comes out of that wine bar and catches you. But your pussy's too good, too sweet and snug, and if he doesn't cum soon, he might actually lose his mind.

Jason's pace shifts—rougher now, driven by that primal need to fill you up, to mark you inside and out, to make sure no one could even think about touching you after this. His thrusts slam into you with brutal precision, the thick length of his cock dragging along every slick, swollen inch of your cunt, stretching you wide around him, splitting you open over and over until your pussy feels raw and tender and so fucking full it's like you can't take a breath without feeling him buried deep inside you.

He knows you can feel every vein, every ridge, the blunt head of his cock grinding right against your cervix, and fuck, you're so wet. You're dripping all over him: down his thighs, pooling between you, every thrust making a filthy squelch echo down the alley. If anyone walked past right now, there wouldn't be a doubt what's happening here.

Not with the way your slick coats his cock, makes every thrust slippery and obscene, not with the way your breathy little moans hitch every time he bottoms out, not with the way his hips slap against yours, skin sticky with sweat and arousal.

Your thoughts are a fucking mess, the only things running through your drunk, fucked-out brain are Jason, dick, cum, more. You can't think past the way his cock stretches you, how perfect it feels to be pinned up like this, taken apart by him like you're nothing but a toy, his strong arms the only thing keeping you up. You swear you can feel him everywhere, like he's inside your bones, like the next time you take a step you'll still feel the heavy weight of him between your legs.

He kisses you again, messy and desperate, tongues sliding together, teeth clashing, spit slicking up your chin, but neither of you give a fuck. Your fingers knot in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt into your mouth, and he swears he could cum from just this. From the taste of you, the feel of your cunt pulsing around him, the soft little whimpers you spill into his mouth every time his cock hits that sweet spot.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, forehead pressed to yours, sweat beading at his temple, "this pussy's so fuckin' messy. So fuckin' tight. Can barely move, you're clenching so hard. You gonna cum again for me, doll? Gonna make a mess all over my dick?"

You nod, whining, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes because it's too much—too good, too deep, too full—but you don't want him to stop. "Please, Jay, wanna cum with you, wanna feel you fill me up."

"Yeah?" His thrusts speed up, hips snapping into you hard and fast, dragging you down onto him like a ragdoll. "Wanna feel me cum inside this needy little pussy? Stuff you so full it leaks out of you? You fuckin' love it, don't you?"

You whimper, nails biting into his skin, legs tightening around his waist, and you're so fucking close, right on the edge, your whole body buzzing, heat coiling low in your belly, until one perfect grind of his cock against your clit sends you over, your cunt fluttering around him, sucking him in so deep.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," you chant, head falling back against the wall, eyes rolling back, body shaking in his grip as you gush all over him, slick dripping down his cock, onto the pavement, messy and obscene.

"Fuck—there you go, baby. Fuckin' soak me," Jason groans, his rhythm stuttering, hips jerking, grip bruising around your waist. "That's my good fuckin' girl."

And then he's right behind you, cock throbbing, thick ropes of cum spilling into you, hot and heavy, pumping against your cervix until you can feel it everywhere, until you swear it's gonna leak out of your mouth.

His head drops to your shoulder, mouth open against your skin, breath ragged as his hips keep moving, slow, deep thrusts fucking his cum deeper into you, even though it's already dripping down his dick, slicking up your inner thighs.

But he's not done—not yet.

You barely catch your breath before he starts moving again, overstimulated and tender, but his dick's still hard, still hungry, and he loves you like this. Drunk on him, too dumb to think about anything except the way he fills you up, the way he uses you like his personal fucktoy.

"Jason," you slur, clinging to him, nails digging into his scalp, his back, anywhere you can reach, "too much—too much—"

"You can take it, baby," he purrs, kissing you again, softer now, but still deep, still filthy. "Know you can take it for me. One more, yeah? Be my good girl."

And fuck, of course you're his good girl. Of course you'll give him one more.

He pounds into you harder, faster, sloppy and desperate, the sound of skin on skin mixing with the wet squelch of your cunt, the sweet scent of your arousal thick in the air, his nose buried in your neck, sucking messy bruises into your skin as his fingers grip your ass, kneading and spreading you, watching the way his cock disappears inside you over and over again.

Your thoughts are gone, totally fucked out, only able to focus on the way he fills you, the way his cum squelches out around his cock every time he thrusts back in.

And Jason? Jason's fucking feral, eyes locked on the sight of his cock splitting you open, cunt so swollen and puffy, all slicked up with both of you, and all he can think about is how fucking perfect you are.

"Look at you, baby," he whispers, voice low and reverent, fingers sliding between your bodies to rub your clit, even though you're already so sensitive you're trembling. "My perfect little pussy. Made to take me. Made to get fucked dumb, stuffed full of my cum. My sweet girl."

And that's all it takes, one more twist of his fingers, one more deep thrust, and you're cumming again, body jerking in his hands, cunt milking him for every last drop.

Jason kisses you through it, drinking down your whimpers, your soft little cries, soothing you with his tongue even as his hips finally slow, his cock still thick and heavy inside you, keeping every messy drop right where it belongs.

"Good girl," he breathes against your lips, forehead resting against yours, hands smoothing over your hips, "my perfect, messy girl."

Your body is deadweight in his arms, completely boneless and blissed out, every limb heavy with exhaustion and the sweet, drugged haze of post-fuck bliss. You're still trembling, but not just from the aftershocks. The cool night air prickles at your exposed skin, goosebumps pebbling over your arms, your thighs, the still-damp mess between your legs.

Jason feels it immediately, the way your soft, bare skin shivers against his, and it sends a twist of guilt through his gut—fucking you into a fucking alley like some horny teenager. But truth be told, it was your idea.

But before he can even say anything, your hands cup his face, small fingers curled around the rough edges of his jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and you kiss him. It's slow this time—messy, sure, still tasting like beer and sweat and something sweet that's all you—but it lingers, softer, deeper, your tongue curling into his mouth, tracing along his teeth, savoring him like you need to commit the taste of him to memory.

You're still trembling, but the heat between your bodies eases it just a little, your fingers combing through his damp hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp as you melt into him, the kiss lasting long enough that his dick gives a lazy twitch inside you again, still hard even after he just filled you to the brim.

Finally, you pull back, lips red and swollen, your face glowing with the kind of fucked-out bliss that makes his chest ache with pride.

He smirks down at you, brushing a strand of hair off your face as he mutters, "You're fuckin' insane, pretty girl."

You giggle, that sweet little drunken giggle that makes his cock twitch again, and your head tilts back against the wall. "I thought I was gonna die without your dick, baby."

He groans, shaking his head, but there's no real exasperation there, just affection under the rasp of his voice. "Yeah, like I said. Fuckin' insane."

But you're already nuzzling into his neck, soft lips brushing his skin, your breath warm and sleepy against his throat. You smell like sweat and sex, all wrapped up in that sweet scent that's all you, and his arms tighten around you without thinking.

His lips press to the side of your head, lingering there as he murmurs, "C'mon, we need to get you home, yeah?"

You pout, face still buried in his neck. "Can't move. 'M tired. And cold."

"I know, baby," he soothes, one big hand rubbing slow circles on your back. "I know. I'll carry you."

You scoff weakly, lifting your head just enough to squint up at him. "We're far from home."

"So?" he shrugs, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't act like you weigh a ton of fuckin' bricks."

You giggle again, arms going slack around his neck as you settle more comfortably into his hold, cheek squished against his shoulder. Jason's hands ease under your thighs, holding you up as gently as he can while he slowly pulls out, your slick warmth clinging to his cock, your messy cunt fluttering around nothing as his cum immediately starts to drip down.

You whimper softly at the loss, fingers curling into his shirt, but before you can complain, he's already reaching down, sliding your panties back up over your swollen cunt. Not to keep you modest—no, that ship sailed about four orgasms ago—but just to keep as much of his cum inside you as possible. He watches the way the lace darkens immediately, soaked through from the mess he made of you, and his cock twitches again in the cool air.

He sets you down carefully, but your knees buckle instantly, legs still shaking too hard to hold you up. "Jesus, baby," he chuckles, steadying you with one arm as he tucks his cock back into his jeans, adjusting them like he didn't just ruin you against an alley wall. "Gonna have to work on your stamina."

"Don't be mean," you pout, swaying a little as he smooths your skirt back down over your thighs, not that it covers much, but at least it's an attempt at decency.

Then he grabs his jacket from your shoulders, wrapping it around you properly this time, tugging your arms through the sleeves before zipping it all the way up. It's way too big, swallowing your smaller frame whole, and the sight makes him laugh. Your fucked-out face peeks up at him from inside the oversized jacket, makeup smeared, mascara smudged under your eyes, lips still swollen and shiny with spit and his kisses.

You pout harder at his laugh, but it only makes him grin wider. "Shut up."

"Never," he says, scooping you back into his arms like you weigh nothing at all. You try to protest weakly, but he shushes you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Just let me take care of you, baby. Bet those pretty little feet already hurt in those heels."

And you can't even argue because he's fucking right, and honestly? Being carried sounds pretty nice right now.

Jason's grip adjusts as he walks, arms cradling you tighter to his chest, your body boneless and pliant in his hold. You're so out of it, head resting against his shoulder, lips slightly parted, soft breath warming his skin every few seconds. His jacket drowns you, the sleeves hanging past your hands, and he can feel the damp heat between your thighs seeping into the fabric where you're curled against him.

You're a mess, hair sticking to your forehead, skin sticky with sweat, makeup smudged in every direction, and his cum still leaking slowly down your thigh, leaving shiny streaks against your skin. But fuck if you aren't the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

He carries you easily, years of strength training making your weight feel like nothing. His feet move on autopilot, familiar with the route home, but his mind? That's a fucking mess.

Because Jason Todd doesn't do this. Doesn't fuck his girl drunk in a dirty alley with the risk of cops busting them. He's the one who's usually dragging your ass home before you get yourself into trouble, lecturing you about safety, tucking you into bed with water and painkillers. But tonight?

Tonight you begged so sweetly, moaned so filthy, kissed him so needy that all his common sense evaporated. And now he's here, hauling your wrecked body home, knowing you're gonna be sore as hell tomorrow—all his fault. And he can't even bring himself to regret it.

The door creaks softly when he shoulders it open, the apartment dim and quiet, and by the time he crosses the threshold, you're completely asleep against him. Your breath is soft and steady, face smushed into his neck, lips still a little wet from those sloppy kisses you couldn't stop giving him.

He sighs, kissing the top of your head before carrying you straight to the bathroom, flicking the light on with his elbow. The bright light makes you stir, a soft whimper leaving your throat, but you don't wake until he starts peppering little kisses across your face. Your nose first, then your forehead, then your cheeks, until your lashes flutter, and you blink up at him, all confused and sleepy and perfect.

"We're home, baby," he murmurs, voice soft.

You look around, eyes squinting at the light, brow furrowing as you take in the bathroom. "Huh?"

It's so adorably confused, so genuine, that Jason can't help but laugh.

"Yeah, doll," he grins, setting you down on wobbly feet. "We made it."

You sway a little, legs still weak, and he steadies you with one hand while the other shrugs his jacket off your shoulders, tossing it over the counter. Then he sinks to his knees, big hands cupping your ankles as he carefully unbuckles your heels, sliding them off one by one.

His palms rub over your skin, easing the ache, and he leans in to press a kiss to your calf before standing again. "Feet hurt?"

You nod sleepily, arms looping lazily around his neck, and he smiles. "Told you."

He gets the water running, warm but not too hot, and undresses you like you're made of glass, peeling the sweat-damp top and skirt from your skin, sliding your panties down those shaky legs, until you're bare and glowing under the bright bathroom light.

His own clothes come off fast, jeans and t-shirt kicked into the corner, and then he's guiding you under the spray, his big body crowding in behind you, keeping you steady.

You whine, soft and pitiful, as the water hits your oversensitive skin. "So tired," you mumble, cheek pressed to his chest.

"I know, baby," he soothes, hands moving quickly—gentle but efficient, washing away your makeup, the sweat and cum and alley grime, fingers gliding between your legs, over your thighs, along your back.

Every protest, every sleepy complaint, gets kissed away—a kiss to your shoulder, your temple, your lips. By the time he's rinsed you off, you're barely awake, your body slumping against him as he wraps you in a towel and carries you straight to bed.

You hit the mattress face-first, towel half hanging off, and you're out like a light in under five seconds.

Jason watches you for a second, shaking his head with a fond smile. "Hopeless."

He tries—he really does—to dress you at least in one of his shirts, but you don't even budge, and honestly? If you wanna sleep naked, who the fuck is he to stop you? Less work for him in the morning. He tosses the towels back into the bathroom, pulls on a pair of boxers, and slides into bed beside you.

The second his body heat hits you, you roll into him, face pressed to his chest, soft thigh hitching over his hip like you can't stand to have any space between you. His arm curls around your waist automatically, palm sliding up the curve of your ass, along your back, tracing lazy patterns across your bare skin.

He's still thinking about you, about tonight, about how the fuck you've got him wrapped around your little finger so tightly that one pout can ruin every ounce of self-control he's got. And it should piss him off. Should make him wanna teach you a lesson. But instead, it just makes him want to ruin you again, until you forget your own fucking name.

"Insane," he mutters into your hair, mouth curling into a grin.

But you're his insane, and that's all that fucking matters.

[assassiowl]

Thank you for the birthday wishes!

My dear friend who has always inspired me in so many ways, here's to the day and to even greater years ahead!

I think heading to fill my tummy with good food is the plan (classic).

Happy Birthday to my most wonderful friend and incredible artist - @assassiowl ! Thank you so much for not only sharing your Outer Wilds journey with me, but the start of our important journeys into young adulthood together also - you are one of my most treasured friends.

Hope you have an incredible birthday! <3

[girlrotterr]

— "𝘚𝛨𝛦 𝛭𝐼𝐺𝛨𝑇 𝛮𐒆𝑇 𝐿𐒆𐒆𝛫 𝐿𝐼𝛫𝛦 𝘚𝛨𝛦 𝐺𝛦𝑇𝘚 𝛣𝐼𝑇𝐶𝛨𝛦𝘚."

𝑃𝛢𝐼𝑅𝐼𝛮𝐺: ellie williams x reader

𝘚𝑌𝛮𐒆𝑃𝘚𝐼𝘚: streamer!ellie headcanons

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose bad posture is only made worse by the massive gaming headset permanently denting her hair. By the end of each stream, there’s a wild, flattened patch on her head. Chat’s constantly telling her to take a break, but she just grins, shaking her head with a stubborn “This is the look, trust.” ignoring the fact that her neck is basically molded to fit the headset

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose mic is almost as old as her setup, hanging off a stand with a few screws loose. It crackles with static if she yells too loudly, but she refuses to upgrade.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose webcam glitches, freezing her mid-sentence in the least flattering positions, like mid-eye roll or tongue out. She’ll smack the side of her screen, muttering. “Oh, fucking come on!” 

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose desk is a mess of clutter: tangled cords, stray stickers, and half-finished doodles scattered across the surface. Chat is obsessed with trying to guess what all the random junk is, especially when something odd slips into frame—like an old action figure with a missing arm or an unopened can of Spam.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who leans back in her chair, stretching out her arms with a carefree sigh, her hair falling messily over her face. When suddenly, the camera catches a glimpse of her strap-on, casually hanging out in the corner of the screen. 

"IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?!?!

"DAWG NO WAYYY"

"NO WAY BRO GETS ANY TYPE OF PLAY!!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose chat’s favorite pastime is mocking her everytime she gets cocky. She’ll brag like, “Watch this fucking clutch.” only to immediately fumble, staring straight into her webcam, deadpaned. The chat spamming with messages like: 

"JUST UNINSTALL BRO"

"HOW TF IS SHE THIS BAD?!?!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose quick to pick up on any kid’s attitude in the game. The second she hears a high-pitched “You’re trash!” she instantly counters, “YOUR DADS STROKE GAME IS TRASH!” She’ll sit there grinning, hyping herself up as the kids try to come back with more insults. Chat’s losing it, spamming, "BRO HE'S 12?!?!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whenever in the heat of a game, her brows furrow, her jaw sets, and the chat braces for impact. When she misses a shot, her frustrated yell reverberates, echoing through thin walls that neighbors are definitely complaining about. “I’m never playing this shit again!” Spolier: She always plays it again.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whenever she’s roped into playing with Abby, her chat lights up with anticipation. Abby always manages to take her down, which only amps up her muttered curses and exaggerated sighs. “I WAS FUCKING LAGGING” she yells, while her chat’s ablaze with "IM CRYINGGGFF" and "ELLIES ACUTAL FUCKING CHEEKS BRO" Abby barely has to try; one word and Ellie’s thrown off, dropping all her ammo in the wrong place.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie when you show up in her game lobby, she clears her throat, trying to play it smooth. She lowers her voice a full octave, attempting some kind of “cool” introduction. But the chat? They’re absolutely losing it.

"DID ELLIE JUST TURN INTO A FUCKING MAN?!"

"I CANNOTTFF!!"

"PLEASE ELLIE UR EMBARRASSING"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie always tries to play it smooth by making some bold promise, like, “Stick with me, and we’ll clutch this.” But then she immediately gets taken out. Chat explodes, throwing in every possible roast, like, "BRO ELLIE PACK IT THE FUCK UP" and "THE HOES ARE RUNNING"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who, by the end of the stream, knows you’re still there in chat. So a quick, stumbling sentence slips out, “Uh, if you...you know, ever wanna game or whatever, just hit me up.”

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie when you send over your Instagram, she freezes, her in-game character getting KO’d. But she’s too hyped to care. She jumps out of her chair, nearly flipping it backward, screaming into her mic, “BRO, BRO, BRO, NO WAY—LETS GOOOO!!” She starts pacing, muttering, “CHAT, ARE WE SEEING THIS!?.”

The Chat’s blowing up like: 

"WWWWW!!!!"

"OKAY ELLIE WE SEEE YOUUU!!"

"THERE'S ABSOLUETLY NO WAYYY"

"BROOO!??!?!"

and she’s just laughing, all out of breath. 

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who’s bouncing in her seat, half-yelling at her monitor, “FUCKK ” She’s pointing at your handle in her chat, looking dazed, like she’s still trying to process it. Her hands are shaking, and she’s practically yelling over her poor-quality mic, “I FUCKING DID THAT CHAT!”  Chat’s spamming, "PLEASEEE SHE'S DOING CHAIRTY WORK ELLIE" and "NAHH THATS DEFINITELY AI"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who’s too hyped to even hear the first few bangs on her door. But then, it’s like her soul leaves her body. “dude, what was that?” She leans closer to the mic, whispering like her neighbors can’t still hear her, “um… chat…?” Chat’s flooding with "NUHHH UHHH" and "AWWWW SHITTT" and she’s just grinning, trying to stifle a laugh. “Alright, hold on, lemme go check”

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie where a moment later, she comes back into frame holding a piece of paper up to the webcam: an eviction notice. She stares at the camera, lips pressed into a thin line as chat explodes, crying.

"NO WAYYYYY!!!!?!??!?!"

"SENDING YOU JOB APPLICATIONS"

"IM FUCKING CRYINGFFFF"

"UR GONNA HAVE TO SELL THAT STRAP"

[c0ffeejelly1]

No Nut November

Multiple character headcannons

Authors note: this is the only November post y’all r getting so hahahahahhaahah. I rushed this just today so say thank you. Bye bye. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warning: kinda suggestive but like y’all don’t do anything.

“You know what time of month it is, right baby?”

You asked your boyfriend, all while adjusting your makeup in mirror a cheeky smile on your face taking a quick glance at him sitting down on your bed watching you intensely.

“…it’s not our anniversary, is it?” He asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“What? No, I’m talking about it being November…y’know? No Nut November?”

He visibly shifts in his seat. He knew what you were going to ask him.

“you think you can last the month? Im willing to bet on it.”

The type to not even last a day

“Man that’s light work! I could easily last a month if I wanted to—"

He failed.

“Okay but it’s not my fault. Y-you decided to wear that out, not me!”

“You say it like I purposely did it to make you lose..”

“Because you did!”

He’s not accepting the fact that he lost on the day you challenged him.

Do you know how embarrassing that is?

Imagine how badly he’s gonna get teased by all his mates if they ever find out he couldn’t help but bust one on you!

“You better keep this between just us..”

Should he really be saying that when he’s the one who started tearing off your clothes and tossing them aside?

Should he really be saying that when he’s the one who pleaded for just a few minutes to enjoy you?

Should he really be saying that when—

“Why’re you looking at me like that!”

You were looking at him like he was an idiot. You really couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Was it really that bad he didn’t last that long?

I mean it’s sort of flattering to you, seeing that your boyfriend could get so turned on from just you wearing a nice outfit.

“Because you just sound stupid why can’t you admit you lost and call it a day?” You huff.

“Because it doesn’t count!”

He pouts, crossing his arms in annoyance, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he turns away from you on the bed where you both lay bare, slick with each other’s essences from your prior…activities.

“And it’s stupid. This whole no nut November nonsense is stupid! I mean who would even come up with that kind of torture? why would someone want to restrict themselves from such a bliss that-"

You spend the rest of that evening listening to the poor guy complaining about how November is a stupid month.

Characters: REIGEN, Tenegn, Eren, Reiner, Hinata, Oikawa, BOKUTO, MAMMON, Leviathan, ASMODEUS, ITTO, kaeya, RAFAYEL (any character you like)

The type to last a week

“You sure you wanna bet on that? Y’know before we started dating I wasn’t the kind of guy who needed Intimacy in their life…"

He totally regrets saying those things because now they’re just gnawing at him.

This is all your fault, you hear him?

You- you did something to him okay?

Never in his life has he felt so…so…

Vulnerable?

Jesus, this was suppose to be a walk in the park so why do you suddenly look so...sexy?

You were just watching TV, but the way you curled up on the couch made your thighs press together in a way that was hard to ignore.

And that shirt of yours?

It was barely hanging on your shoulder, giving him a peek at your bra strap, while your hand rested on your stomach, revealing just enough skin.

Damn, even the way you bit your lips without realizing it was driving him wild—he couldn’t handle a whole month of this!

He was so caught up in you that he didn’t even notice how his body was inching closer.

It wasn’t until you turned to him, your noses almost touching, that he realized it.

Did you eyes always look so beautiful?

And your lips…they never looked this soft before.

“..you’re so gorgeous baby, is this some kind of punishment?..”

He gently cups your cheek, his lips almost brushing against yours when suddenly—

“What are you doing?”

This snaps him out of his trance before a deep blush spread across his face.

“I-I..I dunno? You just- well I thought…”

Yeah he sure as hell was thinking.

Thinking of all the ways he could have you!

He lets out a small whine, his brows knitting together in frustration.

“Can we just…not do this challenge anymore…please?”

I mean if he’s talking to you like that, who are you to say no?

Besides you could always just…edge him a lil right?

Characters: REIGEN (again), SERIZAWA, Rengoku, Armin, Jean, BOKUTO (again), CHOSO, Beelzebub, DIAVOLO, ITTO (again), Thoma, LAIOS (any character you like)

The type to barely last the whole month

“Why would you want to do that? We both know you’re not gonna make it."

“Well the challenge is for you! Not me!”

“...but my point still stands.”

His point sure as hell did stand and it hurt you to admit that he was right!

Already 17 days in and he hadn’t budged an inch.

How was this man still going??

You even tried to sabotage him, sitting on his lap only for him to laugh and gently push you off.

Kissing up his neck with your arms around his waist while he made dinner only for him to ask you to grab some spices.

Even you making crude dirty jokes, only for him to blush slightly and brush you off!

This was just getting ridiculous and now you were looking like the needy one!

“For someone who wanted me to take on this challenge, it seems like you’re the one feeling it the most.”

You shoot him a glare.

You were annoyed he was right.

Annoyed that he could still tease you, fully damn aware of what you wanted!

“You can hold out for another 13 days can’t you, sweetheart? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

What you didn’t realize was that these last few days were weighing on your boyfriend too.

He was doing a great job of hiding it when you were around, but when he was alone—

“Shit…”

He slammed his fist against the bathroom wall at work a growing tightness forming in his pants.

You just loved to tease, didn’t you?

Couldn’t you see this was driving him crazy too?

And to think you could send him such…things while he’s at work!

“Damn this…”

He was going to get his revenge; mark his words. Once this month wraps up, he was going to have his way with you.

And so he did yippee!! 😈

Characters: Giyuu, Kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, kuroo, IWAIZUMI, Akaashi, Ushijima, SUNA, Osamu, Geto, NANAMI, Lucifer, Satan, SOLOMON, Ayato, DILUC, Neuvillette, Writhoesley, ZHONGLI, Sylus, Zayne (any character you like)

The type to say they lasted the whole month (he jerked off)

“Babe come on, we both know I have some self restraint when it comes to you.”

“Do we?”

He shoots you a sharp look.

“Yes. We do. And I find it quite offensive you don’t believe I can last a simple 30 days without sex-"

You had to break it to him he couldn’t touch himself.

“I-I can’t?!”

Sure it was a lil surprising to him to hear that he couldn’t flick his tip and buss one little nut, but hey!

That wasn’t going to stop him!

I mean how would you ever find out he touched himself if you weren’t there, huh?

Simple as that!

“You’re...strangely happy today...something good happen?”

A few days had gone by since the challenge started, and November was finally winding down, which felt like a relief after those tough days.

The main reason for the struggle was your boyfriend’s constant whining about how his “body craved some kind of touch—anything!”

Now all of a sudden he’s happy days and roses.

You were suspicious.

“Who wouldn’t be? 30 days of war are finally over! Told you I could last.”

You give him a weird look.

It was almost too obvious that he had done something. That smirk was unmistakable—the same one he wore when he knew he’d crossed a line!

The same one he flashed when he’s trying to keep his secrets under wraps!

“You failed didn’t you.”

“W-what! Where’d ya get that idea?”

He finally admits to you after a while of back and forth he failed a few days after the night you challenged him.

At least he lasted a week in?

Characters: Dimple, Sanemi, TENGEN, Connie, Nishinoya, Ukai, Tendou, ATSUMU, GOJO, Toji, MAMMON (again), Belphagor, CHILDE, kaeya (again), CHILCHUCK, Rafayel (again) (any character you like)

[crinkly-spinkly]

MY ART HAS BREACHED CONTAINMENT ALFHZNJFXNJF

@crinkly-spinkly this is why scotsman is so mad lmao

[jikookncity]

Brother’s Best Friend Jaehyun x Reader (Smut)

WC: 4k, smut, dirty talk, oral sex, unprotected sex, shower sex, etc.

Jaehyun hasn't seen his best friend's little sister in 2 years and a lot has changed.

It started the day Jaehyun walked back into her life.

Two years away. Two years without his lazy smirks, his low voice, his teasing comments that always seemed to toe the line between playful and absolutely filthy. But when he strolled into his and Johnny’s kitchen—sun-kissed, hair blond and messy, tattoo just barely peeking from under his sleeve—Y/N swore her knees nearly gave out.

And Jaehyun noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“Look who grew up,” he murmured, eyeing her up and down shamelessly. “You always this pretty, or is it just fucking with my head today?”

Y/N flushed scarlet. She hadn’t her brothers best friend in two years and that’s the first thing out of his mouth? Moving back in with her brother and Jae was gonna be tough.

“You’re one to talk,” she mumbled, trying to look away.

But he stepped closer, eyes locked on hers, smirk playing on his lips. “Say that again, angel. I liked how that sounded.”

She scurried off, cheeks burning.

It only got worse after that.

Every time they crossed paths—Jaehyun alone in the hallway, shirtless in the kitchen, sprawled on the couch with that stupid smug smile—he’d say something.

“You know your skirt’s riding up, right?”

“Careful looking at me like that, baby. Someone might think you want something.”

“You keep biting your lip like that and I’m gonna start wondering what else that mouth’s good for.”

Each time, her throat dried, her heart raced, and her body responded way too fast.

But Jaehyun never touched her. Never crossed the line. He'd crowd her into a wall, whisper things into her ear, and back off with a lazy wink—just enough to ruin her for the rest of the day.

And she kept letting him. Kept loving it.

The Party

She wasn’t even supposed to be going. Johnny had said it was mostly older friends, college guys, exes—“boring,” he’d told her.

But when she heard Jaehyun would be there, Y/N made a choice.

A tight black dress. Strapless. Short. Paired with heels and gloss and a teasing perfume she hoped he’d notice. The moment she walked into the apartment, she saw the way heads turned—and more importantly, she felt his eyes on her.

Jaehyun was leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, laughing with someone. But the second he saw her, his jaw went slack. His gaze dragged over her—slow, dark, deliberate.

And he didn’t look away.

He didn’t approach her all night. He didn’t say anything. But she felt him everywhere—watching, pacing like a predator, drinking her in from across the room.

And finally, when she slipped into the kitchen for air, he followed.

“You wore that dress for me.”

Y/N spun around. Jaehyun stood in the doorway, shirt open at the collar, hair wild like he’d run his hand through it too many times. His voice was low, rough, already half-wrecked with frustration.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she whispered, clutching her cup.

He stalked closer. “You knew I’d be here. You knew what that dress would do to me.”

“I didn’t think you’d even notice.”

“Bullshit.” His eyes dragged down her body again. “You wanted me to notice. You want me to look at you and forget all the reasons I shouldn’t bend you over this counter right now.”

She swallowed, heart hammering. “We’re not doing this.”

His jaw ticked. “You think I want to want you?” He stepped closer. “You think this is easy for me? Knowing every inch of you is off-limits? Knowing I can’t fucking touch you because your brother would bury me alive?”

Y/N gasped as his hand flattened on the counter beside her hip, boxing her in without touching.

“You walk around like you don’t know what you’re doing,” Jaehyun growled. “Like you don’t see how I stare at your legs. Your lips. How I can’t stop thinking about the sounds you’d make if I had my mouth between your thighs.”

“Stop,” she whispered.

“Why?” His face was inches from hers now, voice ragged. “Because if I say one more filthy thing, you’re gonna let me pull that dress up and show you exactly how long I’ve been waiting to fuck you?”

“Jaehyun—”

“You want me to stop?” he asked, chest rising and falling fast. “Say it. Say you don’t think about it too. Say you haven’t imagined me fucking you so hard you forget your own name.”

She couldn’t speak. Her body was shaking.

But then she whispered, “We can’t…”

His forehead touched hers for a second, hot and desperate.

“I know we can’t,” he breathed. “But don’t lie to me, baby. Don’t lie to yourself.”

A pause. Their lips almost brushed. So close it hurt.

“I want you,” she admitted, barely audible. “So fucking bad.”

He let out a rough, broken sound—half a groan, half a curse—and stepped back like it physically hurt to leave her.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Me too.”

Another beat of silence. Then he looked her over one last time, hunger still sharp in his eyes.

“This tension’s gonna kill us.”

She nodded. “I know.”

They didn’t kiss. They didn’t touch.

They just stood there, burning alive, trying not to destroy everything.

Later that night...

Jaehyun hadn’t moved in twenty minutes.

He leaned back in a chair on the balcony, nursing the same drink while the rest of the guys hollered over some drinking game inside. His jaw was tight. His eyes tracked every shadow that passed near the kitchen—her. He hadn’t seen Y/N since she slipped out, cheeks flushed and lips parted like she wanted him to ruin her right there.

And fuck, he wanted to.

But he couldn’t.

“Bro,” one of the guys nudged him. “You good?”

“Hm?” Jaehyun looked up.

“You haven’t flirted with anyone all night. Usually by now you’re halfway into someone’s pants.”

Jaehyun gave a lazy smirk. “Guess I’m just not in the mood.”

But his voice lacked its usual cocky bite. His mind was still in that kitchen—her body inches from his, breath catching when he told her how much he wanted her.

“Not like you,” the guy muttered, squinting at him. “You’re not sulking over a girl, are you?”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes. “Relax.”

But the guy didn’t drop it. “Wait... are you—”

A sudden commotion cut him off.

Shouting. From the front lawn.

Voices raised, sharp. A girl’s voice.

Jaehyun was already standing before the others processed what was happening. He recognized it immediately—her voice. Her angry voice.

By the time he pushed through the door and onto the porch, a small crowd had already formed near the edge of the lawn.

There she was—Y/N, flushed and furious, backing away from some drunk asshole with slick hair and a cocky stance.

“I said no,” she snapped, voice shaking. “Don’t touch me.”

“Come on,” the guy slurred. “You’ve been giving me looks all night.”

Jaehyun didn’t hesitate.

He was down the steps in two strides, pushing through the crowd, voice sharp and deadly.

“She said no. Back the fuck off.”

The guy blinked at him, confused. “Who the hell are you?”

Jaehyun stepped between them, towering over him now. “The last person you want to piss off tonight.”

The guy scoffed, tried to square up—drunk and dumb.

And Jaehyun didn’t give him the chance.

He punched him—clean, hard, right in the face.

The guy hit the ground like a sack of bricks, groaning, hands clutching his nose.

The crowd gasped. Someone laughed. Someone cheered. And Jaehyun just stood there, chest heaving, teeth clenched, fists still curled like he wanted to throw another.

Y/N stared at him, breathless. Eyes wide. Lips parted. She grabbed his hand and he unclenched his fists and gave her a soft look.

Johnny came out seconds later, saw the scene, and rushed over, both of them quickly letting go.

“What the hell happened?”

Jaehyun didn’t even look at him. “Your sister was dealing with some creep who didn’t know what no meant.”

Johnny looked between the guy on the ground and Y/N—who was visibly shaken—and then back at Jaehyun.

His expression softened.

“Thanks for stepping in, man,” Johnny said, clapping a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Seriously.”

Jaehyun nodded once, barely. “Anytime.”

But he wasn’t thinking about the fight anymore.

He was thinking about the way Y/N looked at him just now—like she wanted to fall into his arms and never come out.

Later That Night – Jaehyun’s Room

It was quiet.

The party had died down. Most people had left. Johnny was still out back finishing drinks with a few stragglers.

Jaehyun lay on his bed, shirt off, muscles tense, replaying that moment over and over. Her voice. The way her eyes had found his. The heat still thrumming in his chest.

Then a soft knock.

He sat up fast. “Yeah?”

The door cracked open. Y/N slipped in.

Short shorts. A thin tank top. No bra. Hair down. Barefoot.

Every nerve in Jaehyun’s body snapped awake.

“I… just wanted to thank you,” she whispered, stepping in and closing the door behind her. “For earlier.”

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his eyes on hers. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

“I was handling it,” she said, a smile playing on her lips.

“Not fast enough.”

They both laughed softly. The air between them buzzed.

Then she walked closer.

So close.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and she stopped in front of him. Her fingers brushed his knuckles—light, unsure. Then her other hand cupped his cheek, gently, tenderly.

Her lips pressed against his cheek. A soft kiss. A thank-you.

But then she lingered. Just a second too long.

And when she pulled back, their lips brushed.

Soft. Barely-there. But real.

Jaehyun didn’t move.

Neither did she.

Her breath trembled. “Jae…”

Then—

SLAM.

The front door opened. Johnny’s voice echoed through the house.

“Yo! Anyone still awake?”

They froze.

Y/N stepped back quickly, cheeks flushed, heart pounding.

Jaehyun stood too, tension radiating off him in waves.

“We shouldn’t…”

“No,” he agreed, voice tight. “We shouldn’t.”

But their eyes said everything else.

She slipped out of the room a second later, heartbeat still in her throat.

And Jaehyun sat back down, fists clenched in his lap, jaw tight, cursing every goddamn reason he couldn’t have her.

The Next Day

The backyard smelled like grilled meat, sunscreen, and summer sweat. The gang was loud—music playing, beers clinking, people laughing too hard at nothing. Y/N sat on a bench under the umbrella, trying to pretend she was listening to Johnny talk about some dumb lawn game.

But she couldn’t focus. Not with him there.

Jaehyun.

Laid back in a white tank top that clung to his chest, golden skin glowing under the sun, hair pushed back lazily as he nursed a beer. He looked like sin in human form. And every time he glanced at her—every slow drag of his eyes—her thighs pressed tighter together under the table.

He hadn’t said a word to her all afternoon.

Not a single filthy whisper. Not a single cocky smirk.

Which made her want it more.

And he knew it.

Later, she slipped inside to grab napkins from the kitchen—and the second the screen door shut behind her, she felt it.

His presence.

She turned, startled, just as Jaehyun’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her down the hallway.

“Jae—what are you—”

“Shhh,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. No one noticed.

And then they were in the narrow hallway, alone, hidden from the windows.

He backed her into the wall—crowding her in. One hand on the wall beside her head, the other gripping her chin, thumb grazing her lower lip.

“Wearing those little shorts again,” he murmured, voice low and deadly. “Trying to make me lose my mind in front of all our friends?”

Y/N couldn’t breathe.

“You haven’t even looked at me all day,” she whispered.

His eyes darkened. “Because if I looked at you too long, I’d drag you inside and make you scream my name.”

Her knees buckled.

“You want that, don’t you?” he murmured, leaning closer—his breath hot on her ear. “You want me to take you right here. Up against this wall. My hand over your mouth so they don’t hear you moan.”

Y/N whimpered.

Jaehyun groaned, deep in his throat. “You’d be so fucking loud for me.”

Before she could stop herself, her hands slid up his chest. Her thighs pressed together. And then she ground herself on his leg—slow, needy, shameless.

“Fuck, baby…” he hissed, thigh flexing under her. “You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?”

Her fingers gripped his shirt. Her hips kept moving, grinding up the length of his thigh like she couldn’t help herself.

His forehead touched hers. Their lips brushed.

Barely.

She let out a breathy, desperate moan straight into his mouth.

And Jaehyun snapped.

Not all the way.

But enough to shove his hand over her mouth, breathing hard as he held her there, both of them trembling.

“Stop,” he panted. “Y/N, stop—fuck—”

She slowed.

But she didn’t back away. Her eyes were glassy. Her cheeks flushed. Her body buzzed with the tension still thick between them.

He leaned in, whispering against her ear again, voice wrecked. “You do that again and I won’t stop next time.”

A beat passed. Her thighs clenched.

Then—voices.

“Where’s Y/N?” “Didn’t she go inside?” “Yo, Jae! You seen her?”

They froze.

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, composed himself. Dropped his hand from her mouth. Straightened his shirt. Ran a hand through his hair.

Y/N looked equally wrecked.

They took a breath.

And then they walked out together—calm, casual, like nothing had happened.

“Oh,” Jaehyun said easily, slinging an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “She spilled juice in the kitchen. We were cleaning it up.”

Johnny blinked. “You cleaned a spill?”

Jaehyun smiled lazily. “What can I say? I’m helpful.”

Y/N laughed—too high-pitched. “So helpful.”

And no one questioned it.

But under the table, Jaehyun’s hand brushed her thigh. Just once.

A silent promise.

When they had a moment alone later Jaehyun thought it over. They can't keep going like this. He was too attracted to her and it wouldn't end well. Even a little bit isn't enough. He had to cut her off.

"We can't be friends." Jae said guiltily when they were alone.

"What?" Y/n looked in shock.

"I can't be your friend. Because I'll never think of you or see you as my friend. And every time we have a normal interaction I'm just thinking about everything I wanna do to you and how your brother would kill me if he found out."

Y/n scoffed offended. "You don't even wanna be friends? That's a lame excuse Jae, even from you. But fine. You got it, we're no longer friends."

Over the next few days tensions grew with their constant bickering and y/n wearing more revealing clothing around the house.

It started with another fight.

Jaehyun had been moody all day—gruff responses, tense jaw, barely speaking to anyone. Y/N finally snapped after he gave her yet another cold stare when she passed him in the hallway.

“What the hell is your problem?” she hissed, arms crossed tight.

“You,” he bit out. “You’re my fucking problem.”

Her heart stuttered.

“You don’t want me. You don’t want to be friends. So what do you want from me, Jaehyun? We both live in this house so suck it up.”

“I want to stop thinking about you every time you breathe in the same damn room!” His voice cracked. “I can’t—fuck—I can’t pretend this is normal. I can’t act like I’m not dying to touch you every second.”

Y/N stared at him, chest heaving. Her cheeks burned with anger and something else. “Fine,” she snapped, voice cold. “You don’t want to deal with me? Then don’t.”

That night, she went on a date with someone else.

Later That Night

The restaurant was awful. The guy was worse. He talked over her, laughed at nothing, stared at her chest the entire time.

And when he leaned in, trying to kiss her outside by her Uber, she shoved him away and ran.

Tears burned in her eyes as she called the only person she knew would come.

“Jae…” she whispered when he answered. “Can you… can you pick me up?”

He didn’t hesitate. He picked her up and drove her back to their place, the car ride thick with silence. 

It was pouring.

The sky cracked open above them, rain spilling like it had been waiting for this moment—just like them.

Y/N got out of the car and stood at the edge of the driveway, soaked and seething, arms crossed under her chest as thunder rolled in the distance. Her white tank clung to her breasts like second skin, completely see-through, nipples clearly visible. Her tiny denim skirt was soaked and hitched up high, the hot pink waistband of her panties teasing just above the fabric.

And Jaehyun—black shirt plastered to his chest, cargo pants hugging his hips, tattoos glistening in the storm—stood there with his jaw clenched, looking like he was on the verge of tearing something apart.

He was.

“What the hell are you doing calling me?” he snapped, stepping into the rain. “Didn’t you run off to your perfect little date?”

She spun around, drenched hair whipping over her shoulder. “Don’t start.”

“Don’t fucking start?” His laugh was humorless. “You go out, dressed like that, trying to pretend I don’t exist, then cry for me to come save you like I’m still the good guy?”

“I called you because it's your fucking fault I went on that date in the first place. I didn’t know who else to—!”

“No,” he growled, stepping closer, “you called me because even when you’re pissed at me, you still want me.”

Her breath caught.

Jaehyun's eyes dragged down her body, tongue darting out over his bottom lip. “You really think I didn’t notice that tiny little skirt, that wet tank, those bright fucking panties begging to be pulled down?”

Her eyes widened, but he wasn’t done.

“You walk around dripping wet, tits out, skirt barely covering your ass—and I’m supposed to keep pretending I don’t want to bend you over every surface I see?”

Y/N’s lips parted in shock.

“You think I haven’t pictured it?” he hissed. “Your legs spread in my backseat, you wrapped around me while my tongue is down your throat? Or your mouth gagged on my cock, crying while I throat fuck every thought of every other guy out of your head?”

Her knees buckled slightly. He saw it—and grinned. Dark. Filthy.

She shoved at his chest. “You're such a—”

But he grabbed her.

Fisted her skirt and panties, yanking her flush against him. Her gasp was swallowed by the sound of rain, her breath catching when she felt how hard he was through his pants.

“I’ve had enough of pretending,” he rasped. His lips brushed hers. “I’m fucking done.”

Then his voice dropped, hot and filthy against her mouth:

“Fuck it.”

And then he took her mouth.

It was wild. Open. Tongues colliding. His lips crushed hers, tongue shoving into her mouth like he was claiming it—like he’d been waiting years to taste her. His hand stayed tight on her panties, holding her body against his while he devoured her, spit and rain mixing between them.

Y/N moaned into it—helplessly—gripping his shirt like she needed something to hang on to.

Jaehyun groaned, deep and rough, sucking on her tongue before biting her bottom lip just to hear her whimper.

“You feel that?” he growled between kisses, grinding into her soaked skirt. “That’s what you fucking do to me.”

She was panting, dazed, lips swollen.

And he wasn’t done.

“I swear to god, if Johnny wasn’t your brother—” he shoved her back against the wall of the house, kissing her again, even harder this time— “I’d have fucked you right here. In the rain. With your panties still on.”

When they finally broke apart, both wrecked and breathless, her voice trembled.

“I want you.”

He wiped the rain from her cheek, staring at her like she was his breaking point and salvation at once.

“You’ve got me,” he whispered. “Now I’m done hiding it.”

The kiss didn’t stop.

Even as Jaehyun dragged her back into the house, their mouths stayed fused—wet, frantic, tongues tangling while their soaked bodies bumped into walls and doorframes. His hand stayed tight on her waist, the other sliding up under her clingy, dripping tank, fingers kneading over bare, slick skin.

He kicked his bedroom door shut and slammed her against it, lips pressing into her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. He groaned when he felt the heat of her body through the thin fabric, both of them soaked to the bone and breathless.

“Clothes,” he growled against her mouth, tugging hard at the hem of her top. “Off. Now.”

She whimpered as he peeled the wet fabric off her—tank top first, tossed somewhere on the floor. Her skirt followed with a harsh tug, panties bunched with it. His black shirt clung to his abs, tattoos snaking over soaked muscle as he pulled it off over his head.

She barely had a second to breathe before his lips were on her again—hot, hungry, starved—pushing her backward until her thighs hit the edge of his shower.

Jaehyun spun the handle.

Steam rushed out as hot water poured down from above.

He walked her straight into it, fully naked, his mouth still locked on hers. Their bodies collided under the stream, her back hitting the tile wall with a wet slap.

He didn’t let up.

His hands roamed—fisting her ass, dragging her against his thick length, sliding over her hips and ribs and chest, palms rough and greedy. His mouth dipped to her neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks, biting just below her jaw before kissing her again—deep and messy, with his tongue shoved so far into her mouth she could barely breathe.

“You feel that?” he growled, grinding into her under the water. “That’s what I’ve been hiding. Every night. Every time you walked past me looking like a fucking dream.”

“Jae—” she gasped, nails digging into his back.

“You don’t even know what you’ve done to me,” he snarled, grabbing her thighs. “But I’m about to show you.”

Then he lifted her.

Y/N yelped, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he pinned her back to the wall, her legs hooked around his waist. His cock pressed hot and hard between them, and then—with one deep thrust—he was inside her.

She cried out, head snapping back.

Jaehyun moaned—a filthy, guttural sound—his forehead resting against hers as he started to move, slow at first, then harder, faster, relentless.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, biting her bottom lip. “So fucking perfect. You were made for this. For me.”

Water rushed around them. Their skin slapped wetly with every thrust. She clung to him, moaning into his mouth, and he kissed her through all of it—tongue tangled with hers, hand gripping her ass as he pounded into her.

“You wanted this too,” he panted against her lips. “You’ve been teasing me, dressing like that, looking at me like you needed me to ruin you.”

And god, he was ruining her—completely.

When they came, they came together—loud, messy, full-body shudders against the tile wall, mouths fused as they moaned into each other’s throats.

But Jaehyun wasn’t done.

Still breathing heavy, he set her down gently, kissing her temple as her legs shook. She barely had time to process the comedown before he dropped to his knees.

“Jae—” she gasped, wide-eyed.

“Don’t stop me,” he said darkly, voice hoarse with want. “You think I’m done tasting you?”

Then he spread her thighs, still trembling, and buried his face between them.

Y/N nearly screamed—clamping her own hand over her mouth just in time.

His tongue was ruthless. Flicking, sucking, dragging through her slick folds like he couldn’t get enough. The water poured down around them, hot and pounding, but all she could feel was his mouth—his filthy, expert mouth—and the way he groaned like he was addicted to the taste of her.

“Keep that hand there,” he muttered against her, tongue dragging up again. “You don’t want Johnny hearing how much you love this.”

And she couldn’t even reply.

Because her body was already shaking again—under the water, on the wall, around Jaehyun’s mouth.

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Sneak peak below of what comes next:

Johnny wandered in, sipping coffee, squinting at him.

Jaehyun raised a brow. “What?”

Johnny gestured at his chest. “You’ve got scratches. Everywhere.”

Jae froze mid-bite. “Huh?”

“And hickeys,” Johnny added casually. “Neck. Collarbone. Even your ribs, bro. Who the hell were you with last night?”

Jaehyun choked—literally—on the toast.

Coughing violently, he reached for his water. “I—uh—just… a girl. From the party. I don’t… remember her name.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “Huh. Funny.”