#I used to think I wanted to do that as a career somehow like.. be one of the people that does psychological interviews

[lettersofalover]

-> adore you | paige b

paige x black!fem!college!athlete reader

genre: fluff

authors note: she’s for the girls and yall go together. read bad

from the moment you woke up in your hotel room next to paige until now, about to step on to the espy’s red carpet, you were anxious. you were a famous athlete in your own regard but the spotlight had never quite been on you the way it was now - helping team usa win gold, setting a personal record and a uconn record, all while being in a loving private relationship with paige. everyone knew but nobody told. the athletes at uconn had each others backs and without a doubt, paige had yours. she popped candy into her mouth mindlessly as you got your hair and makeup done in the chair. “when you get on stage, not if but when,” she said matter of factly, “there’s going to be a countdown. don’t pay it any mind. just say what you want. literally, whatever. except curse words, they’ll fine conn for that.”

you couldn’t help having paige’s voice echo through your head, somehow drowning out the noise of the photographers. it was already a sunny day in california and the size of lights made you struggle to keep your eyes open. paige was coming behind you and suddenly all the photographers focus was on the both of you. the speculation had always been there, but there wasn’t any concrete proof. paige shot you a big smile and an awkward thumbs up and you covered your mouth to laugh. the shouts of the photographers were so deafening you couldn’t make out what they were saying until paige approached you and locked her fingers with yours: “they want us to take photos together.” she whispered in your ear before dropping your hand. the moment her hand left yours, the comfort was lost.

“just focus on something in the distance.” she whispered and wrapped an arm around you gingerly. you leaned into her touch, thankful to have her by your side. the contrast of your outfits made for a subtle declaration of your relationship. as the moments passed of you switching between a wide smile and a soft one, paige stopped the photographers for a moment and stood in front of you.

“what?” you mumbled, scared that you had done something wrong. did you look too cozy? was it obvious that you were dating? you were beginning to breath harder as paige reached up to fix your hair.

“wait let me fix your hair.” she mumbled, with her eyes focused on your delicately designed hairstyle. she was taking the job of fixing you so seriously that she had her tongue slightly out of her mouth in the process. “i think i got it,” she said turning away but immediately turned back, “one last thing, hold on.” she smiled and twirled of on the curls around her finger and it immediately came back to life.

“good?” you asked and the flutter of lights and the shutters of cameras began again. paige grasped your forearms and nodded.

“you look stunning.” she said loud and proud before facing the photographers once more.

—

they didn’t sit you with paige and it depleted your spirit. you kept calm conversation with the people surrounding you - a few athletes, an executive board member from uconn and other old men who were keen on getting you to explain your tennis career and why you hadn’t gone professional yet.

“i love uconn, my family is there, my team is there, even my girl- my best friend is there.” you corrected yourself. they all nodded in understanding but one of the more assertive man said, “you know college is always there. you should go while you’re still in your prime. you can get the money and find a nice husband while you do so.” he sipped his champagne with a smile that was confident - as if he gave you the most precious bit of information to skyrocket your career.

“i didn’t come to school to get my mrs. degree.” your voice was laced with snark. men like him wanted nothing but money as their main objective. it was never about the passion. as if she could sense the solemn energy radiating off of you, paige walked to the table and began introducing herself. they fawned over her for a few minutes and you were able to still your beating heart for a few moments. once paige spoke them all, she made it to you and dropped onto the balls of her feet next to your chair.

“you’re up next, yeah?” she said, her glimmering eyes scanning your face. “remember: go at your own pace, don’t let them freak you out.” paige squeezed your hand three times, saying “i love you.” it was a code you two developed when you first started dating. it was a way to express the love you shared subtly.

“you got this.” she said as she rose to her feet and said her goodbyes.

“what a nice young lady.” one of the gentleman said, watching her walk away.

“she’s amazing.” you agreed as the lights dimmed and the first presenter walked to the stage.

—

you couldn’t believe it was you who won national women’s college athlete of the year. you couldn’t move from your seat for a long while, hands covering your face ready to swipe the tears that were pouring down your perfectly made up face. you stood from your seat and held the bottom of your dress, walking slowly and as steady as you could. the yelling behind you was a roar of applause and shouts of your name from your fellow uconn student athletes and the loudest of them - was your girlfriend, paige. you stood at the stairs for a moment, unsure of your balance in the heels that adorned your feet. before you knew it, paige’s hand was in yours, helping you up the steps. she squeezed your hand three times and you smiled at her once you finally made it on stage. she shot you another cheesy thumbs up and the audience laughed.

the microphone was louder than you expected as you loosed a breath. your eyes scoped the audience, looking for that familiar face. everyone was in their seats, except paige. she was recording you and your acceptance speech and it was adorable.

“gosh,” you said looking down at the trophy before back up, “i don’t even know where to begin. i never thought my journey as an athlete would bring me to this moment. i was just a little girl years ago, watching uconn athletes and dreaming to be where they were. to stand alongside the greats and be in the arena where they existed. i never, ever,” you sniffled and wiped at your tears, “expected to be a part of uconn the way that i am now. i never knew love like this existed until uconn became my life. i have a thank you list that’s a mile long - so i’ll spare you all,” you laughed and the audience followed, “there are not enough words to describe the family and love i found while being an athlete at uconn. to my people, i love you and to my girlfriend, i adore you. thank you for believing in me and thank you for all those tough training sessions where you kicked my ass - it got me this trophy!.” you laughed and the crowd erupted in applause once more and you could’ve sworn that your girlfriend paige, was the loudest.

—

paigebueckers: after party with my girl, my national women’s college athlete of the year. she learned it all from me. so proud of her.

kkarnold: she’s really that girl

azzifudd: the dress is stunning just like her

paigefan1: so happy for yall 🥺

paigefan2: my heart, i cannot take it anymore

paigefan3: she’s so in love with her and i love it

[icewindandboringhorror]

Just curious what the average level of personal investment in these sorts of things is. Like, how much do people usually get into silly stuff like this their friends ask of them? etc. etc. Which I know, only surveying a small sample on a very specific website means I'm not getting an exact average idea lol, but.. curious nonetheless .. Maybe reblog for bigger sample size but also this is not very serious at all/not worth a call to action gbhjbhjb

[hostilecityshowdown]

if all you can do with your luchadors is repeatedly unmask them on television, you're already too far gone and need to seriously rethink even agreeing to book these people in the first place.

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

I just went through my ask and, of course, there were a few r*df*ms on my ask and one that swore they were not one of them despite the fact that they spouted the same talking points. Yeah, right.

[theworldgate]

I have to explain what is going on in the UK, because it is absurd.

So, this is Gary Lineker:

He's known for a fair few things over here. He was a very good (association) footballer, playing for England in the 1986 and 1990 World Cups, winning the Golden Boot in 1986, and managing to never get a single yellow card in his playing career. He played for Leicester City, Everton, Barcelona, and Tottenham, before finishing his career in Japan. But if you aren't in your mid 30s, you probably know actually know him him for a couple of other things. The first is the role of spokesman for another Leicester icon, Walkers Crisps (which are sort of equivalent to Lays, but hit different), as pictured above. Despite being a notably clean player, he used to play a cheeky serial crisp thief. I don't think he's done that for well over a decade, but his ads were on the telly a lot when I was a kid and it's a bit like learning that the hamburglar was an incredibly clean (American) football player or something.

The second thing Gary is widely known for is having presented Match of the Day, the big football program on the BBC, the sort-of state broadcaster, since 1999. He is, incidentally, very well paid for this (though with a consensus that he could get even more if he went to one of the non-free-to-view broadcasters because he is very good at the job). He also has a twitter account. And political opinions. So, the UK government has got itself dead set upon doing heinous stuff that will totally somehow work to prevent people who want to come to the UK making the perilous crossing of the Channel (between England and France). By heinous, I mean "openly advertise that they won't attempt to protect victims of modern slavery" stuff. It's very obviously using a legal hammer to victimise a marginalised group of people in order to win votes. And, uh, I should clarify that by "legal" I mean "using the passage of laws" - the policy is, in addition to all the other ways it's awful, probably incompatible with the Human Rights Act and the UK's international law obligations. Gary, top lad that he is, objected to this. On Tuesday 7th March, he made a quote Tweet of a video of the Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, bigging up the policy, he wrote "Good heavens, this is beyond awful.". This got a bunch of backlash from extremely right-wingers, and then he made the tweet that really got him in trouble (with right-wingers): "There is no huge influx. We take far fewer refugees than other major European countries. This is just an immeasurably cruel policy directed at the most vulnerable people in language that is not dissimilar to that used by Germany in the 30s, and I’m out of order?".

Now, I am not actually subjecting myself to watching a video of Suella Braverman bigging up a cruel policy to say whether the specific comparison of the language to 1930s Germany is accurate. But needless to say, Ms Braverman was amongst the many figures on the right of UK politics objecting to Gary's rhetoric. And here's the part where a fact about the BBC comes in: it is nominally neutral and impartial (and so, of course, is routinely accused of bias from all sides but particularly the right-wing), and has something of a code for its contributors to this effect. Now, that code has previously been applied to Gary Lineker, over a comment about whether governing Conservative Party would hand back donations from figures linked to the Russian regime. But it generally hasn't been applied too strongly to people like Gary, whose roles have nothing to do with politics (such as presenting a "here's what happened on the footie today" show), on the basis that, well, their roles have nothing to do with politics. However, when directly asked about whether the BBC should punish Gary Lineker for his tweets, government figures basically went "well, that's a them problem". But a couple of days passed, and it seemed like Gary's approach of "standing his ground because he did nothing wrong" was working and everything would die down. He was set to get 'a talking to' but not much more than that. The Conservative right, after all their fire and fury earlier, had gotten bored and moved onto something else. And then, on Friday 10th March, the BBC announced that he would be suspended from hosting Match of the Day this weekend. But it could still go ahead, because there are, like, other hosts! Except, well, funnily enough, when you take a beloved figure off air, for making a fairly anodyne tweet, no one wants to be the scab who actually takes up the role of replacing him. Gary's two co-hosts, Alan Shearer and Ian Wright, said that they would not appear without him. People who (co-)host Match of the Day on other days followed suit. The net result is that Match of the Day is currently set to air without hosts, BBC commentary, or global feed commentary. And the solidarity shown to Gary Lineker, over what is very flagrantly actual cancel culture and an attack on freedom of speech (the logic implied is that institutional impartiality requires that no one say anything too critical of the government ever), has continued to grow. The BBC has pretty much been unable to run pretty much any live sports content today, and has resorted to raiding the BBC Sounds archive to fill the sports radio channel. And, as of 17:30 on Saturday 11th March, the situation shows no signs of improvement, though some are calling for the Chairman Richard Sharp, who is separately facing corruption allegations, to resign (yes I linked to the BBC itself there, there is nothing, nothing, the BBC loves more than going into great detail about how much the BBC sucks).

[callingmelili]

I'd love to have a boyfriend who would slowly break my will down and gaslight me into his obedient little breeding doll. Like he'd start with little things bc 'of course' he respects how I don't want children and put my career first, he just likes to tell me that he' going to breed me and how good I would look with my tits leaking milk. It's a kink, and we're both mature people who can diferentiate, right?

But then he starts edging me in the mornings to those exact words, and he doesn't let me cum until I come home at night. I tell him I know what he is doing, and it isn’t funny. But he just says he doesn't know what I'm talking about, he's just being attentive bc he loves me, and that it gets my cunt wet anyways. It's still just a kink, I'm on birth control, what could go wrong?

But then the more time passes, the more I feel dumb and confused when I'm out. We didn’t always use condoms but now somehow we are slways out. He sends me out of the house dripping cum everyday and somehow sll I can think about at work is my cunt. He laughs at me every night I come home for making a mess in my panties and tell me he's glad I'm getting with the program when I practically jump him once he walks through the door. I wake up a couple of time to him fucking me late at night, pounding me deep and not even caring that I protest bc I'm leaking around him, and I come so hard I can't fault him.

My performance at work suffers, and he convinces me to cut my hours. It's too much stress, and he earns so much more anyway. The day I do, he takes me the second I get home bending me over and filling my womb twice with his fingers in my mouth so I don’t say anything silly. He fucks me until I'm overstimulated and incoherent and makes me beg him to get me pregnant and I'm so out of my mind and used to the words by now that I do.

The next day, when I go find my brand new birth control, I can’t find it. He tells me plainly that he flushed it down the toilet and that he replaced the last batch with aphrodisiacs. When I try to fight back, he strides over to me and shoves a hand, doen my panties, two fingers sliding into my wet cunt immediately. "But you asked me for it just last night baby. And you cut your hours. Look at how sensitive you are, I can bet you're already knocked up, but we'll make sure of it don't worry." And then he fingers me until my legs are shaking, it doesn’t matter that I'm crying. When he knows Im getting desperate he pushes me to my knees and stuffs my mouth with his cock. "Don’t worry your little head trying to get out of this, no one's going to believe you with the video of us I have from last night. We can watch it later, you look so good begging me to put a baby in you." He fucks my face, harder with every word. "You know maybe you should stop working altogether, our kid is going to need a sibling, and I want you right here doll."

The next day he fucks me while we wait for the little plus sign to show up on the test and makes me ask him to make me a mommy all over again.

[lexirosewrites]

Steddie as rival lawyers who have very different careers.

Steve became a prosecuting attorney after graduating from a top school at his parents’ insistence. It pays well and makes them happy, even if it’s joyless for him to fight for things he doesn’t believe in.

Prosecuting innocent people and fighting for the sake of money without morals.

On the other end of the spectrum is free-spirited Eddie Munson. He’s a defense attorney who shows up in ill-fitting suits that show off his many neck and hand tattoos. Piercings in his ears and hair that’s not tidy or tamed in any way.

He’s a rebel who barely graduated from some lower tier law school with no prestige whatsoever.

Steve naturally assumed their first trial would be a breeze.

But somehow— sheer dumb luck, bad jury selection, or just stupid fate— Eddie wins. And he keeps winning.

Over and over for months.

Steve’s long uninterrupted winning streak becomes a losing one. If Eddie’s in the courtroom too, Steve knows he’s already lost his case.

It’s humbling.

Actually, it’s frankly embarrassing to lose to someone who’s so unprofessional and doesn’t take the law seriously like Steve.

Eddie is respectful of course, but he doesn’t use lawyer-speak unless he’s referencing a precedent of a law. Other than that, he’s overly casual and friendly. Everyone’s favorite lawyer.

He doesn’t lack passion though. No, the guy all but hops up on tables to make speeches about freedom or the American dream during every trial. Utterly ridiculous.

It works though. The juries fall for his bullshit about being down to earth and his clients walk free because of it.

Steve can’t stand it. He can’t stand Eddie and his mockery of his career.

This ultimately culminates in a confrontation in the parking lot one night after a particularly tense trial conclusion.

Once again, Eddie’s guy walked free and Steve knows he’s gonna hear about it from his boss (who also happens to be his dad).

So he might snap a bit when Eddie comes out whistling and looking happier than anything.

“Hey, jackass!”

Eddie looks around like Steve might be referring to some other jackass, despite the otherwise empty parking lot.

He points to himself in question and Steve rolls his eyes in answer.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Eddie finally greets him with a smirk. “Chinese takeout for tonight sound good?”

Steve’s stomach growls at the mere suggestion.

He’d accidentally skipped lunch earlier so he could make changes to his closing argument. Fat load of good that did him.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. You’re not off the hook that easily though. What the hell was that brutal cross examination on my witness, you dickhead?”

Eddie smiles extra sweetly and presses a quick but affectionate kiss to Steve’s forehead first.

“All’s fair in love, war, and court, baby. You can whine about it later when we’re home if you really want to. I happen to know some very nice pillows that would love to muffle your pretty little moans.”

Asshole.

He blushes, glancing around to make sure they’re still alone before he pulls Eddie into an embrace.

They’ve barely spent any time together this week because of the tense trial and he really missed his boyfriend (not to be mistaken for the jackass who argues with him daily in the courtroom).

As much as they can separate their personal and work lives, it’s hard to not be on the same side of things.

“What if I want you to hear me moan, Eddie? I think it’s only fair since you seem to get everyone else off and I’m the one always suffering for it,” he mumbles snarkily into Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie laughs at the pun. He knew that he would.

“Is that why you’re sulking, babylove? You want me to get you off too?” He nods with a pathetic whine. Not getting to cum for a few days can do that to a person. “I think that can be arranged. You’ve been such a good boy for me lately. You’ve earned a treat.”

Steve melts into his boyfriend’s arms, feeling loved.

“I missed you.”

Another kiss to the forehead, but this time Eddie’s lips linger there as he speaks.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. Not sorry for winning, but I am sorry that you lost.”

Steve knew the defendant was innocent. There wasn’t much of a case to be made anyway. It still stings though.

“Yeah... I’ve been thinking about that and it might be time to quit my dad’s firm. I’d much rather be on the same side as you,” Steve confesses.

Eddie pauses.

“Does that mean…”

Steve looks up smiling and confirms, “Yes. I’ll accept the job offer if it’s still on the table.”

The rival lawyer had offered him a job months ago, before they even got together.

By accepting the position, it means they’d finally be allowed to be a couple publicly and they’d be sitting on the same side of the court for once.

It would also free Steve from his dad’s control and disappointment.

“Stevie, I’d love nothing more than to have you as my partner. In both the court and life. I love you, sweetheart.”

He can’t resist.

“I love you too… jackass.”

Eddie makes good on his promise to get Steve off that night. He even brings out the handcuffs for accuracy sake.

[wildseababe]

It is literally impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don’t think you’re good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong. 

You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas. You’re supposed to love being a mother, but don’t talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman, but also always be looking out for other people. You have to answer for men’s bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you’re accused of complaining. You’re supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you’re supposed to be a part of the sisterhood. But always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged. So find a way to acknowledge that but also always be grateful. You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.

I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing women, then I don’t even know

-Gloria’s monologue from the Barbie movie

[dotster001]

Househusband Au HC'S

Summary:Crewel/Crowley/Vil/Rook/Malleus/Idia x gn!reader

Requested by @stygianoir

A/N: my tag list is still packed so hopefully you guys find this 😂

CW:sus gardener Rook, discussions of Idia's depression and fear of death, but I think that's it

Part Two. Part Three

Most well dressed parent at the PTA meeting. Puts everyone to shame, and makes all the other parents and teachers jealous.

Cooks five star meals exclusively , and makes sure you get your proper intake of nutrients. He can't have his favorite pup lacking in proper nutrition!

One hundred percent coordinates your outfits for you everyday. You're the best dressed worker, all because your husband hand sews you outfits designed to blow the competition out of the water.

Pretends he's not snuggly, until nighttime, then he gets pouty. He'll be aggressively folding laundry, and not speaking to you until you come to bed and let him hold you.

You own twelve dogs. Each dog has an individual diet it is on, that is hand made by him everyday. He knows exactly what every dog needs, and makes sure to memorize what each dog needs.

If you want kids, you will adopt/birth at least three. He likes a full house. Majored in alchemy before he settled down as your househusband, and is more than happy to tutor not just your kids, but also their friends, in alchemy.

Sings like Roger from 101 dalmatians because I said so. Also he plays the piano like him. Because I said so. I'm weak okay!

They say he had an illustrious career as a model, then he met you. That's only half true though. He was planning on retiring anyway, and just happened to meet you around that time. He likes to let the tabloids believe it was all your fault. It makes him laugh. Vil Schoenheit bows to no one! Now drink your smoothie!

Healthy meals constantly. He somehow managed to make them all taste good though. It's a little suspicious honestly…what does he put in that smoothie? You never liked smoothies for breakfast before…

He likes to do your nightly routine for you. It's his love language. At 7 pm sharp, he clears his throat, and gestures for you to sit down. Then he brushes out your hair, does your skin care routine, dresses you in pajamas, and tucks you in, making sure to give you a kiss on the forehead before he joins you.

If you aren't home in time for your nightly routine, he goes to bed early, turned away from your side of the bed. He will not speak to you, even though you know full well he is awake. He knows deep down it's not your fault, but he has simmering rage and no one else to take it out on.

That said, when you do fight (which you do a lot) he'll storm out before he can be particularly nasty. But you'll wake up to a single rose on the pillow next to you, and a new pair of shoes to wear to work.

You have one fluffy white cat, or one child. It's one or the other in Vil's pristine house. This isn't a barn, for seven's sake.

Cooks, cleans, gardens…. he's made for this life. You don't even know where he gets the time for it.

Rook prides himself on having the best garden in the neighborhood. Your neighbors asked him what fertilizer he used, and he wrapped an arm around you and giggled about how it was "the most organic around". Considering the last time you had to do laundry there were red stains on his clothes, you choose not to ask questions.

If you have kids, there are three of them, each two years apart. He makes the perfect paper bag lunches for them everyday, with little french notes in them (raising bilingual kids in this family). As he drops them off at school he kisses each one on the top of the head, and jovially waves them off.

You have two dogs that he takes hunting with him on his solo weekends (they aren't often, because he can barely stand to part from you!) But you also have a rabbit. He gave it your name, and likes to tease you by saying how he "caught his lapin" and never saying whether he's referring to you or the rabbit.

Another one who makes sure you look your best at work. But his favorite thing is when you forget your lunch, and he "has" to bring it to work for you. This is when he is at his most dressed up, and your outfits compliment eachother the most. He loves the gazes of envy that come his way as he kisses you and hands you your lunch.

When he's not doing chores at break neck speed, he wants you to either be in his arms, or him in yours. He doesn't care which! Please, his poor heart needs you!

Trust fund baby. Born rich, then married you. Tried to convince you not to work, but you wanted to, for whatever reason, so he "allows" it. (Who is he kidding? He could never deny you anything, what a simp) he sulks all day though, moping like a lovesick teen until you come home. Heaven forbid you forget something and have to come back in before you actually left, because he has your boss on speed dial, and will call you in sick. Oh, you just left your wallet? Too late, he assumed you had fallen ill and had chosen to stay home with him! 

He's a little clueless on cooking and household chores (Lilia is no help) but he tries! Boy does he try! And it's not half bad. Not stellar, but not bad. You've only gotten food poisoning once, and he's only ever burnt a hole in two of your shirts with an iron.

Loves to serenade you with his violin on special occasions. You know the evening is going to be wonderful when he pulls it out. Oftentimes, it's a song he wrote for you, and sometimes he even sings along.  His deep timbre will often have you so relaxed that you start to drift off. He's fine with that! More time to cuddle!

Speaking of, he starts the night out by laying on his side of the bed, and by the end of the night he is wrapped around you like a koala. He also gets very hot at night. You often don't need a blanket. You asked him about it once, and he said something about "draconic internal temperature regulation", whatever the fuck that means.

You had to put him on a budget because he buys you every shiny thing he sees. He always goes over budget, and always insists it's the last time and it will never happen again. This, friends, is what we call a lie.

He's only a househusband in name, really. He still has an income/job in the form of streaming and YouTube videos. But he stays at home, and likes it when you call him your househusband. He gets all blushy and smiley. He likes the idea of being the one you look forward to coming home to.

Ortho lives with you both, obviously. And he does all the cooking and cleaning. But he and Idia have an unspoken agreement that if you ask, he helped too.

Calls you at work at least once a day. It's always during your lunch break though, so that you can "eat lunch together" You know his mental health difficulties are acting up if he calls you more than once though.You don't have to come home, he'll be alright, he just needs to hear your voice.

His stream only knows you as player 2. When you get back from work, he'll say "Oh player 2 just got home!" And get so excited. He'll run off stream to give you a kiss, and won't come back until you remind him he's streaming. His followers have been there through the whole progression of your relationship, and despite not knowing what you look like, and only hearing your voice off screen every once in a while, they adore Gloomy Samurai and Player 2.

You always have two cats at a time, usually the ones at the shelter or humane society that are bonded or siblings. He doesn't want to separate a family, and also gets nervous about the inevitability of death. So you always have two cats. That way if something happens you always have one.

Yes. You get him to start telehealth therapy, and medication. Why do you ask?

He tries, bless his heart. His cooking is not bad, but his cleaning skills are subpar. To be honest, he's not cut out for the househusband life, but you've heard horror stories about how he handled his previous jobs. So for the sake of the world, you do your best to ensure he stays here.

"He's so generous" 🙄 Any time he goes a little bit above what you expected from him, he drops that line. A particularly good dessert? How generous. He actually folded laundry today? So magnanimous. But it hurts his pride if you don't agree, and you married him for some reason, right?

He has an allowance, and usually spends all of it. Sometimes it's gifts for you, but a lot of times it's for him. Which, it's his allowance, so that's fine. But he buys the weirdest stuff and doesn't use it. It just sits around your home.

If you have to work on something on the home computer, good luck to you. Home is for loving him, not working! He'll slip into your lap, give you a sexy pout, and start caressing your cheek, and tracing shapes into your neck. Then he'll start talking about how you're neglecting him, just put the work away and come cuddle with him. 

Where he shines though, is if you guys end up with kids. He's a surprisingly good father, making sure they all are clean, safe, and well fed. He helps with homework, and is surprisingly good at it, he's good at seeing what their needs are, he knows immediately when one of the kids is sick, and is at the doctor right away… you don't know where these skills came from. But the second the kids are in bed, he's back to being your needy husband.

[ystrike1]

MY SWEET BUNNY CAGE - By Uruu akua (8.5/10)

I think more popular ASMR CD's should get comic releases. Specifically high quality comic releases. Sometimes yandere comics aren't worth buying, and that's the awful truth. Awkward art styles. Bad endings. The genre is still full of "passable" content. This is the whole package. A good CD and a good comic with great art. Very worth collecting.

Our heroine is a spunky brat. A petite woman that doesn't get taken seriously at work. Everybody dotes on her, because she looks so young. She's frustrated by it. She hates it. She's a fully grown adult with a good career. She thinks her kindly coworkers are very annoying.

They tell her she shouldn't walk alone at night, because she's an obvious target for pervs.

She doesn't listen.

She argues with a weird guy that seems drunk, or even mentally ill, confidently.

She can take care of herself.

She wakes up in a degrading, frilly outfit. Her room looks like a castle fit for a princess. Her hair has been expertly done and her handcuffs are frilly lace bands.

The weirdo from before has kidnapped her.

She doesn't know him.

He's not secretly her childhood friend.

He's nuts.

She protests pretty hard. Crazy guy is rude, presumptuous, handsome....and unbothered. He seems to think he's above the law. Possibly because he's rich. Custom BDSM gear is expensive. The crystal chandeliers everywhere are a dead giveaway too.

He's not crazy and stupid.

He has a plan.

He tries to explain. She looks like his old pet. That's why he took her. He totally didn't plan ahead. Ignore the tailored outfits. He's totally not using the rabbit thing as an excuse to take her specifically. He totally didn't wait until she was alone at night. He doesn’t exactly hide it. The rabbit excuse is full of creepy layers. In his twisted head it somehow justifies his stalking and the kidnapping, and his overall ownership of her.

Her catty attitude makes him fall even further. It kind of saves her, I think. Before he wasn't interested in her real name. He was just going to give her his rabbits name. When she lashes out at him he asks for her real name, which could indicate that he started following her purely because she is his type looks wise.

She continues to resist, so he cuts up her cards. He takes her phone. He destroys her things in front of her. He doesn’t care if she's bored. He wants his new pet to wait for him. To like his company....because life is boring and theres nothing else to do.

Gags, ropes, chains, threats. Kesedo isn't gentle all the time. Rabbit is convinced that he will kill her if she doesn't cooperate.

He just wants affection though. Really bad. He tries to buy her love with sweetness just as often. His logic is very twisted, but again I like his arrogance. He behaves as if winning is natural for him, and Rabbit is just throwing a tantrum because she's hungry.

She attacks.

He likes that too.

His character design is fun as well. This is in a modern setting. His frilly sense of style actually indicates he's a fan of Lolita fashion and cute things. It's not JUST a standard prince outfit. It's a preference.

Also, this story is getting an extension, and I trust it will get better.

[saerins]

─── & 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 4k | content: slight angst, established relationship, friends/exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, breakup, mentions of jealousy, implied adults here

notes: DISCLAIMER I HAVENT WRITTEN PROPERLY IN A WHILE so it’s probably quite shitty but i missed him ok !!! T_T sobs i hope you guys like this one <3

summary: sae’s still learning the ropes on being in a relationship, and sometimes you think you can’t wait any longer. but this is itoshi sae, maybe you can.

sae hates this sickly tension in the air.

your brows are furrowed and you’re biting your lower lip; it’s the look of confusion that he’s not very used to, but is most aware of anyway. it’s the look you always carry when you’re upset and conflicted and you’re trying not to say any more than you already have on the off chance that you’d cry after you do.

it’s not your fault for getting jealous—sae knows that. all it is is an unfortunate byproduct of him not being around as much as you need him to. but in his head, his mind tells him one thing only: how can you expect him to when that’s what his career entails?

didn’t you know that before agreeing to be his girlfriend?

maybe you’re painfully aware of how it’s neither of your faults, and maybe that’s why you’re really confused. because there’s no one to blame. sae wasn’t to blame for having to show up at an event with some famous actress. he was doing his job. he had told you not to go, but somehow oliver had taken it upon himself to invite you anyway.

“i’m at every event with a different girl, the tabloids wouldn’t suspect a thing about her being your girlfriend, right?”

famous last words because sae’s going to have to kill him one day for that.

beside you on the couch, sae’s head falls to his hands, elbows propped on his knees. it’s not your fault either, he realises, for not being able to take it when you experience firsthand how people gush over him and saiko, the actress. you aren’t used to this life. maybe you shouldn’t have to.

“i don’t know what to do anymore, sae.”

after an entire hour of arguing how he should at least talk to you about these things instead of throwing them under the rug, after an entire hour of how sae tried to defend himself by saying he couldn’t possibly read your mind—you’re both exhausted.

“well i don’t fucking know neither,” he confesses, half snaps, and his head is still in his hands. he knows you’re looking at him, wanting to search his expression for answers that he can’t give verbally. but sae doesn’t want you to see him like this, unsure and conflicted, almost as much as you.

through your eyes, you’ve never felt more rejected than you do when you look at your entire world and see it refuse to let you in. his hair is a mess now, from running after you in the rain, his expression is unreadable and his clothes soaking through his body. sae is always like this when there’s a fight—always avoiding the hard conversations.

and maybe you would’ve let it slide if you’re sure of his feelings for you, but you’re not. you’ve been friends with sae for three years, been together with him for six months. but in all this time, he’s never actually told you how he feels for you. not a small utterance of his love, or any indication of his feelings through text.

no matter how strong or optimistic you are, you aren’t sure if you can last any longer like this.

“sae, can you answer me honestly?”

he doesn’t say a thing, but you know he’s listening. he always does. which is why it hurts even more when he doesn’t do anything whenever you argue. because you know that out of everyone, itoshi sae best knows what you need.

but he won’t do it.

“do you still want this?”

a suffocating silence blankets the room, and after an agonising two minutes, you get your answer in his silence.

slowly, you get up off the couch, and you can almost laugh at why your impending departure is the only thing that can make him look at you.

“i’m sorry, sae, i can’t do this anymore,” you tell him, smiling even though you’re crying, and for a moment, the way he widens his beautiful teal eyes and how he instinctively reaches out to grab your wrist almost breaks you. but you’ve decided, and it’s too late now. “i’ll find an apartment and move out as soon as i can.”

when sae watches you retreat to your shared bedroom and lock the door, he realises by the plunging of his heart that he’s not okay with this. that he’s not okay with letting you leave. it’s stupid why he can’t even find the fucking words to say because he does, he does want this.

that’s why he rushes to the door, knocks rapidly in succession only to hear silence in return. and now he knows exactly how you feel. you’ve always been the vocal one, always been there—armed with your assurances that you never realised he needed, coupled with your smile that drives every negativity in his head away.

“y/n, open the door,” sae tries, but you don’t respond. he hears the tap switching on and he’s cursing himself in his head. his forehead presses against the white wooden surface, unable to bring himself away. “y/n, talk to me.”

for the first time since he met you, you don’t listen.

the next morning is even more torturous than the night sae spent not sleeping.

when you finally come out of the room, you feel like a stranger. your hair’s done up, your makeup fresh, the smile on your face is still gone.

“morning.”

your eyes flick up to meet his as you walk to the kitchen, but they don’t light up like they used to. he can see you swallowing the lump in your throat before you choke out a good morning in return, though it’s strained.

have you been crying all night?

“listen, can we talk about last night?” sae asks, but it’s futile.

the way you close the fridge door carelessly sits uncomfortably with him, only because he feels like he recognises you even less. the way you smile after that is so forced he would rather you didn’t.

“oh right, about that, good news,” you try to sound chirpy, but it settles awkwardly between the both of you. “i managed to find some listings, so i’m gonna go check them out. fingers crossed i’ll be out of your hair soon!”

you’re prancing around the kitchen like a madwoman, humming tunes he doesn’t know and playing the part of not you all too well.

“y/n, i don’t want you to—”

“stop, sae,” you cut him off, heart broken and head buried in the cupboard.

he saunters to your side, not daring to get too close to you, afraid you’d just retreat further away. “tell me what i can do.” a part of him wants you to ask him that question again, so that he can answer now. so that he can tell you how he really feels.

but it doesn’t come. you’re just staring blankly at the wall.

when his gaze falls to your neck, he realises that necklace he gave you isn’t there like it used to be everyday. his heart sinks even further. “you’re not wearing it anymore?”

it’s stupid of him to expect you to. as of last night, you both were as good as broken up, after all.

“y/n, can we talk? i really—”

“sae, enough,” you utter through gritted teeth. “i don’t want to hear it anymore.”

—love you. that’s what he wants to say. but you’re past caring, it seems.

sae’s lips are sewn tightly shut after that, both of you eating breakfast in silence. you’re eating what you cooked, some sausages and a sunny egg and toast while sae’s stuck with cereal because you usually do all the cooking.

you don’t look at him, and he doesn’t look at you. the hands on the analog clock are all either of you hear aside from your own chewing.

“at least let me drive you,” sae says as you head for the door, slipping into your sneakers.

your hand hovers over the doorknob, as though you’re considering it, and for a minute sae is hopeful, but then the next minute, you pour water over his fire.

“it’s fine, i can manage fine on my own.”

for some reason, sae feels like you’re telling him that for much more than just today.

days pass and you’ve barely spoken two words to each other. sae finds himself taking the chance to look at you much more than he has before; you still look tired. maybe it’s from all the house visiting, or maybe it’s the outcome of being with him. he’s still not okay with you moving, with you not being in his life, but sae’s stuck at a loss of what to do.

you’d been spearheading this relationship all this time that now, sae has no idea what to do. any attempt at a conversation is thwarted by you, and any time he comes near you, you relegate to the room and lock yourself in there.

sae’s taken his necessities and moved to the guest bedroom, and he thinks it’s so stupid to think that sleeping in a different room is better than being at a different apartment altogether.

but how long until you find a suitable apartment and move out? how long until sae has zero chance at being able to see you again?

“that sounds like a you problem though.”

as sae sits across the booth and deadpans at his younger brother, he thinks maybe the most useless thing you’ve ever done is repairing their relationship. especially with rin mumbling useless shit like that.

“yeah, thanks for the help,” sae rolls his eyes, watching as rin pops a nugget into his mouth.

“why didn’t you answer her then?” rin surveys his older brother’s movements; uncomfortable, awkward, reserved. he’s amazed that anyone can get sae like this, if he’s honest. he doesn’t usually give a shit about anything that doesn’t concern himself.

sae sighs. if he knew, he wouldn’t be here. he’d be with you, trying to explain how fucked up he is and why he didn’t say shit when he should’ve. but now, you won’t even give him the chance to talk without shutting yourself away.

rin groans, thoroughly annoyed because unbeknownst to his brother, you’d already filled rin in on everything. besides, you’re kind of already like a sister to him anyway. and you’re better at being an older sibling than sae is, granted.

“do you still want her though?” rin asks. it’s kind of tiring, being in the middle, being told by both parties to not say a thing to the other. he’s also tired of sae and his cryptic messages when he wants advice but is too proud to outright ask for it. and also of you whining in his messages about how if sae keeps this up you can’t keep being strong about this anymore.

“yeah.”

sae’s answer is surprisingly simple, and rin is entirely unamused.

“yeah maybe i see why she left you.”

“excuse me?”

rin meets his brother’s gaze, unrelenting. “you still want her yet you’re here telling me about it instead of her. i think you’d win best boyfriend of the millenia award.”

rin is dripping with sarcasm and maybe if he wasn’t his brother sae would’ve already punched him. but by the end of the night, sae can only come to one conclusion; it’s his fault for not talking it out when he could. so he could either let you go, or try, just like you did before.

he’d have to do it tonight, unless he wants to wait another month after his match next week in the states. but if he does, you’d be gone by then, he knows it. so he has to make it tonight.

and he’s hopeful, because he’ll make it fucking work no matter what he has to do. he’s not going to back down that easily, not anymore. and he knows it’s late and it’s 11pm and you’re probably asleep but fuck, you’re just going to have to wake up when he pounds hard on the bedroom door.

which is exactly what he plans to do—wake you up, talk to you, and tell him how fucking stupid he is and that he’s sorry and he fucked up.

it probably won’t make up for all the times he failed to speak when he should’ve, but sae thinks it’s a start.

so he unlocks the front door and walks straight to your bedroom door, but when he reaches up to knock it, he realises it isn’t even locked. when he slowly opens the door, you aren’t even there.

sae knows what to expect, but he still opens the closet anyway. and all the drawers. and inspects the bathroom. but every trace of you is gone. even the photos in the living room that had been all framed up. it’s no longer there. you probably threw them somewhere.

fuck.

he’d chase you if he could, but you’re already long gone. his calls aren’t even going through—did you block him already? not even a goodbye note, nothing.

it’s useless, but he opens your chat thread anyway.

y/n, come back. i still want this.

but it reads undelivered.

it’s a long shot. a very, very, slim chance.

sae tries to take it anyway.

a month later, the moment he touches down and puts his luggage back at home, he grabs his car keys and makes a break for your favourite hangout; a cosy family cafe at the edge of the city, near your workplace. he’s taken you there many times before on your request, and if there’s anywhere he’ll find you, he bets it’s there.

after a whole agonising month of trying and failing to talk to you, sae’s still going to try. fuck it if you reject him after that—at least he gets to say he tried.

he sits at the cafe from noon till evening, five hours of occupying the spot at the corner—your favourite one because you say it shades from the sun and it’s easy to wave the waiter over.

sae’s beginning to think that you’re not coming today, but then he sees a familiar figure strolling into the cafe. it’s not you, but it’s your best friend, suzuki, if he remembers correctly. suzuki, the one with the black hair and sharp blue eyes because the moment she walks in, she spots him in the corner, a knowing smirk on her face.

“what’re you doing here?” she asks, without a greeting first, because you probably told her what happened and she’s probably not very happy with him.

sae sighs, feeling stupid sitting here for five hours. although at least, she’s confirmation that you’ll be here soon.

“eating.” weak excuse, but whatever.

suzuki cocks a brow, “sure you’re not just a pathetic loverboy waiting for my best friend?”

is this embarrassment even worth it anymore?

before suzuki can say any more, sae hears a very familiar voice speaking his name, and there it is again—all the negativity seeped out of him in an instant.

“y/n, hey,” he greets, as though you haven’t been avoiding him this whole time.

on your part, you acknowledge him, which is way better than what he expected (you storming out and running away from him).

“what’re you doing here?”

sae wants to talk to you, but with suzuki’s eyes glued onto him, it kind of ruins the mood. still, this is the most you’ve spoken in two months and he’s not about to pass that up.

“i wanted to talk to you,” he says, keeping his voice down. “meet me after dinner?”

there is hesitance in your eyes, but your gazes meet again and for the first time since that night, sae is greeted with your genuine smile—“yeah, sure.”

just like that he’s taken back to three years ago when he first met you, when he first saw you smile at him and instantly knew that he had to have you, somehow. sae’s stupid to have hurt you however he did, he knows that now.

but now, selfish as it is, he can only hope that you haven’t moved on yet.

sae puts your new address into his phone as you get into the car, fortunately agreeing to let sae drive you home.

“so, how’ve you been?”

it’s a stupid question to start with, and he hates himself for not getting to the point, but sue him; he’s still somehow afraid you’d shut him out straightaway if you knew what he really wanted to talk about.

your fingers rest awkwardly on your lap. sae can’t help but remember how they used to crawl over to the driver’s seat, resting on his thighs or teasingly curling his hair.

“i’m okay, finally left that job of mine.”

the one with the overbearing boss who micromanages way too much—yeah, sae remembers. he really wishes he’d treasured the little things more when he had them, like your small updates on your job and your family, or even the way you’d routinely text him everyday after work to see what he wanted for dinner.

“found a new one yet?”

you look out the window where you’d usually look at him. guess this is still awkward for you. “nope, but i’m working on it. i have a couple of interviews scheduled next week.”

“that’s nice,” sae responds, albeit half-heartedly because he’s never been good at conversations like these.

(on your end, you can’t help but realise how slow he’s driving even when there’s no other car in front of him. a part of your heart warms at the fact that maybe itoshi sae wants more time with you after all.)

“how about you? how was the match in london? heard you guys won by a huge margin.” (that’s a lie. you didn’t hear anything, you watched the match, stayed up late and all. nothing that sae needs to know.)

sae can tell you’re lying though, because you have that little habit where your ears twitch ever so slightly when you speak, and he chuckles softly. “it’s not a crime to watch my match, you know?”

your cheeks heat up—you really shouldn’t have asked anything at all. you whip your head towards him, sulking, “i didn’t watch it, okay?”

“sure, whatever you say,” sae tells you, feeling the tension lift off, feeling the normal you come back again. “how’s the new house?”

“it’s… okay. my roommate’s a little bit annoying but i can live with it.”

sae thought he could endure the small talk a little longer, but he can’t. not really. because the words just slip out of his mouth.

“then move back in with me.”

the car comes to a stop at a red light, and neither of you can look at each other. sae wonders if you’re just going to be impulsive and run out the door.

you don’t.

“it’ll be a little awkward living with an ex, don’t you think?”

“then all you have to do is get back with me,” sae answers, witty as you always remembered.

a moving car isn’t the best place to have this conversation, but if he doesn’t take the chance now, what if he loses it forever?

“i was stupid, okay? i don’t know why i didn’t say anything back then but the answer is yes, yes i do still want this- you.”

and it takes you aback slightly, because he’s never been one to be so vocal about his emotions. it kind of scares you a little too, how easily you fold when it comes to sae. it took everything in you to block his number that day, and everywhere else, and you’ve been hard at work trying to forget him, to the extent you’d agreed to room with some male even though you knew it was a bad idea.

but the moment you saw sae in that cafe, everything goes back to square one. and you’re kind of sick of lying to yourself—that the way you left didn’t leave a gaping hole in your heart, that the way you blocked him didn’t leave you chock full of regrets.

“maybe you should’ve said that before i left, then.” but you’re also stubborn, so there’s that.

sae pulls up outside of your new apartment complex right as the words leave your mouth, but his hand reaches out to grip your wrist after you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“i know i probably wasn’t a good boyfriend—” sae can’t bring himself to look at you as he speaks the words he thought would never leave his mouth— “but i promise i’ll work on it, ‘kay? just- don’t leave.”

again.

maybe in another life, you’re stronger than this. in that other life, maybe sae’s better at being expressive, better at reassuring you.

your eyes flick across the car to meet his, and he’s looking right at you, a sort of gaze that you’ve never really quite seen before—a mixture of both faith and fear. his grip on your wrist is firm, as if he’s afraid you didn’t believe him when he uttered those words.

“you make it very hard to stay broken up, you know that?” you’re pouting, hard, if only to try to keep yourself from smiling.

and the second you respond, the second he realises you didn’t reject him, his expression levels with that of a—how would you describe it, a golden retriever? as though he’s wagging his tail.

“so- you’re willing to give this a shot?”

you chew your inner cheek, “not so fast, hot shot. i’m not taking you back that easily.”

sae pulls back, cocking a brow, but he knows by the tone of your voice that his chance is at least granted. “what do you mean?”

you grin, “maybe i want you to chase me again, itoshi sae. can’t have you thinking i’m that easy to get, you know?”

your future boyfriend smirks, shaking his head. “you’re impossible, y/n l/n.” you hear nothing but fondness in his voice.

and just like the good boyfriend he envisions himself to be in the future, he walks you up to your doorstep, complete with giving a peck on your forehead when you arrive.

“how am i doing so far?”

“sae, it’s only been an entire elevator ride!” you laugh, sae pecking even more kisses onto your face. what makes this entirely more amusing is how he’s so straight-faced while doing it. “okay okay, i’ll rate you a six so far. you’re gonna have to do better on those dates you’ll ask me out on.”

he thinks you’re such a tease, but hey, he wouldn’t have you any other way.

when you open the door, you turn around to look at him, pressing your lips into a firm line before placing a quick kiss on his lips, making his heart skip two beats because he didn’t think you’d be so kind.

“see you soon, itoshi sae?”

sae nods, “yeah tomorrow.”

“someone’s eager,” you chuckle, though you agree to it. “see you tomorrow.”

bonus: the next day

“itoshi sae, you’re too much.”

you’re lugging your suitcase behind you, sae carrying one of the heavier boxes. he keeps quiet, a sullen expression on his face.

“we could’ve at least waited for the movers to be available, you know?” you sigh as you get into the lift, sae pressing the topmost floor—back to the apartment you shared after a mere month of living on your own.

sae’s expression is now tilted towards you, and you don’t need him to speak to know what he’s thinking.

“do i really deserve the silent treatment for this?”

you’re not really arguing, but having a little disagreement. a small part of you is happy you get to do this with sae again, and not anyone else. that just means you two are that much closer, still.

“as if i’m gonna let you continue living there.”

you scoff, “what are you talking about? that apartment was completely fine!”

sae raises a brow, completely aware that you’re not actually back together but not being able to help himself nonetheless. because like hell is he ever allowing you to live there ever again.

“don’t fucking care, you’re not living with that michael fucking kaiser ever again.”

[repulsiveliquidation]

Hope, Coffee, and Poetry.

cw : smut, angst, mentions of cheating. 18+ DNI.

a/n I hope this lives up to your expectations. I cried when I wrote the last line, I have no idea why. Enjoy. realized I forgot to include the Frida Kahlo quote I used!

“You deserve a lover who takes away the lies and brings you hope, coffee, and poetry.”

Hope.

“Bebita, please!”

“Don’t want to hear it, Alexia,” you tell her, storming out of the restaurant with her trailing behind.

“Baby, wait!”

You turn around quickly, anger seething behind your eyes. She cowers a little, taking a step back from you just as you both stepped out of the restaurant.

“Don’t you dare try to justify what you’ve been doing behind my back, Alexia. I’ve been so stupid to think that you wouldn’t break my heart like that when you promised me you wouldn’t ever do that. You know the pain and turmoil my father did to my mother and you SWORE to me you would never cheat on me and you fucking did!”

“Amor, I’m sorry. I tried to tell you but-”

“But what, Alexia? ‘Oh sorry I couldn’t join you for dinner babe, I’ve got my mistress to fuck at 8 pm tonight, and I can’t reschedule?!’”

You step up to her, most of the girls now joining you two outside. María, Ingrid, Lucy, and Frido look extremely upset with Alexia while Ona, Jana, Pina, and Aitana are by your side rubbing your back and arms.

“You ruined us, Alexia. Don’t ever forget that.”

You wipe your tears off your face, give the girls a curt nod, and walk off towards your car. Opening the door, you hear María yelling her head off at Alexia, fluently cursing at her in Spanish. Alexia has her head hung low when you drive past, sobbing into her hands.

“How could you do something like that to her, Alexia? She was the best thing that ever happened to you and you throw her away for some gold digger you picked up at a bar?!” María lays into her after Alexia desperately tries to explain herself.

“She is not a gold digger!” Alexia yells suddenly, looking straight at María with red eyes and an angry look.

“Did you just defend her? The whore you’ve been sleeping with behind your fucking wife's back?”

Alexia looks at her best friend in shock. The words just came out of her mouth, she wasn’t thinking.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Your wife has been there for you when you were THIS close to giving up football. When your ACL tore, she almost gave her career up to be there for you full-time. When your father died, she was the first one you called; she was as heartbroken as you were, he was the best father figure she had. The two of you were thick as thieves, inseparable since you were children. You knew the kind of shit her father put her and her mother through with him sleeping around and you go and do the one thing she hoped the person she loved wouldn’t do to her!”

Alexia was sobbing hard, shoulders shaking hard with her cries. No one comforted her, somehow that hurt her more than the truths María was yelling at her.

“I am so fucking disappointed in you, I can’t even LOOK at you right now!” María yelled one last time, shoving Ingrid’s hand off her shoulder and walking back into the restaurant.

Ingrid nods at the other girls to go back inside and finish their lunch, wanting a minute with the captain. She pulls Alexia into a tight hug, letting her cry into her neck. She’s shaking, mumbling a million apologies to no one. Ingrid shushes her, cradling her face in her hands.

“What you did was unacceptable. María said some hurtful things but she was not wrong. You’ve made the bed, now you have to lie in it. The girls are going to need some time to forgive you but I think you need to make amends with your wife first.”

Alexia nods her head, thanking Ingrid before rushing off to her car. Her hands shake as she starts the car, thoughts running through her head a million miles an hour. She wonders how she could have been so stupid, so desperate for love that she went out to find it when it was right in front of her the whole time.

You were perfect, the woman of her dreams. When her father died, you ran over to her house barefoot when she called to tell you. You ran into her house and pulled her into your arms, cradling her sobbing form as you tried to be strong for her. He was the father you never had, your own cheated on your mother so often she resented men for a long time and you swore you would never be with someone who was the same way.

When you met Alexia at 4 years old, there was an instant connection. The two of you were attached at the hip, one never seen without the other. Barcelona promoted both of you to the first team at the same time. Having just started dating and having the opportunity to go to work every day with your best friend was a dream come true.

Day by day, the two of you made things work. You two functioned like a well-oiled machine, a connection that ran so deep, that you were sure in other lifetimes you were lovers. The night of her 24th birthday, you surprised her with two tickets to the men’s team game that weekend and a little black velvet box. She immediately knew what it was and you argued, with her groaning about being the one who needed to propose cause she ‘wore the pants in the house’. You glared at her, to which she apologized, said yes, put on the ring, and made love to you all night.

The next morning, after yet another passionate round of steamy morning sex, she pulled out a matching velvet box.

“Here, bebita,” she whispered, handing you the box as you settled into her side. You gasped and opened it carefully, a beautiful diamond ring shimmered in your palm.

“My turn,” she grinned, “Will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Coffee.

“Bebita!”

Alexia walks into the house in search of you, hoping you’ve come home and she could catch you before you inevitably leave.

What she doesn’t expect is for you to have company over.

“Aitana?” 

You pull away from Aitana’s arms, looking back towards the door to see Alexia standing there. She’s breathing hard, tears streaks on her cheeks.

You stand, a confused Aitana remains seated on the dark couch both you and Alexia picked out when you first moved in.

“Uh, I’ll just leave-”

“No, stay.”

You walk up to Alexia, arms crossed across your chest. Her shoulders sag and her head hangs low once again.

“Can we talk…please?” she looks up at you, eyes filling with tears. Your heart begs to comfort her but you know better not to. You know you’d give in to her, her tears have always been your greatest weakness.

“I messed up, amor. I know that now, but please, we can fix this. I’ve broken it off with her, we can go for couples counseling, I’ll work harder to communicate, I’ll do anything!”

“Alexia, I love you. I think I always will. But I don’t deserve to be someone’s second choice. I deserve someone who can come to me and tell me they’re not happy. Instead, you found someone else to do that for you. You found someone else to do my job for me. I’m sorry Alexia, but we’re done.”

You step closer to her, kissing the corner of her lips. She’s shaking her head, lips begging for you to stop.

“Sign those papers I gave you, I’d like them as soon as you can please.”   

“No, please! Give me a chance, bebé please!”

“I already did, Alexia. I will not do it again.”

You walk into the bedroom and grab the duffel bag you had packed, storming out to where Aitana stood dumbfounded in the living room before taking her hand and leaving the house.

Alexia feels her heart break into pieces. You did already give her a chance at redemption, how could she forget? She thinks back to that day when you were both 21, away at both your international camps.

“Bebé, hi! I’ve missed you!”

Alexia scrambled to answer her phone, pulling the covers over her naked body. She glances over at the clock and notes that it’s time for your regular phone call. You notice her disheveled hair and wonder what she’s been up to, your head cocked to the side with a curious look on your face. You shake your head and focus back on her, feeling your heart ache to be with her.

“I-I’ve missed you too, Amor! What-what are you doing?”

“I’m done with training for the day, silly. Are you already in bed, was Spanish training that hard?” you tease, grinning at her.

“Sí, it went on for hours today!” she says with a nervous laugh when suddenly there was a ruffle in the sheets. Alexia looks at the moving duvet in the corner of her eye, and you see a foot sticking out of the edge of the screen that’s not Alexia’s. She looks back at you and notices, immediately covering it up.

“Are you kidding me?” you say, voice raised in anger.

“Amor, let me explain!”

“There’s nothing to explain Alexia, we’re done! How could you?!”

“Bebita please, this was a mistake!”

It took a year of counseling for the two of you to mend the trust that was broken. Fast forward 2 years and you were walking down the aisle to marry her on the happiest day of your lives. She had kept her promise and the two of you couldn’t have been closer.

Until she broke that promise again.

Poetry.

Aitana was beautiful. She loved you in a way so different from Alexia. In the days after the divorce and the court hearings, Aitana was by your side the entire time. She was gentle and she was kind. She knew you were guarding your heart with an impenetrable fortress, but she tried every day, little by little to gain access to the sweet, caring, loving, unapologetic girl she had quietly been pining over since her days at the academy.

Aitana was the textbook definition of sunshine. She always had a big smile on her face, never letting anything get her down. She was like a pocket rocket, able to pull laughs out of you no one else ever did. She made you feel safe, secure, and loved.

Court proceedings were taking a while and in that time, you two managed to build a new life together. You had known each other a long time and turning that friendship into the most excitingly new love was easier than you thought it would be. You moved in with her, drove to training together, cooked together, and made love every way you could. She was easy to love, but a passionate lover that would move mountains for you. A part of you still loved Alexia, you knew you always would but you felt your heart grow to make space for the new best thing in your life.

“Please Aitana, fuck…”

“You like my mouth on you, princesa?”

“Yes, so fucking much…please!”

Aitana pushes your legs back, lips attached to your core as she eats you out hungrily. She groans into your pussy, eyes boring deep into yours that are filled with tears. Your hands pull on her hair, your head thumping back onto the couch you’re fucking on.

She sits up between your legs, two of her fingers pushed deep into your pussy. She kisses up your calf, free hand caressing your ass.

“Getting close, bebita?” she asks in the most innocent voice, a little smirk across her face.

You look up at her, hands holding your legs back like the good girl you’re being for her. She grins, leaning over to crash her lips to yours. You kiss back ferociously, her fingers pushing in a third that makes your eyes go back into your head.

“Aitana!” you cry out, the tips of her fingers roughly pressed up against your sweet spot. She kissed down the expanse of your neck, lips latched onto your breast when she suddenly bit down and your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You shuddered and squirmed, body convulsing hard as her fingers and palm worked you through an orgasm so hard you saw white and passed out for a second.

“You are not what you seem, baby,” you tell her panting, kissing her slowly as she cradles you in the bath after fucking you into the couch twice more.

“For you, mi amor, I’ll be anything you want.”

Alexia stood outside the courthouse with a soft smile on her face. You walked out behind her, the final hearing of your divorce was now over. You both parted on good terms, leaving nothing but good memories behind. Aitana remained by your side and you spoke to Alexia, knowing that there was nothing but love for each other that would never change.

“She makes you happy. I’m so glad she can give you what I couldn’t,” Alexia started, her expression a little sad and longing.

You lean in and kiss the corner of her lips again, lingering just a few seconds longer than you should.

“I will always love you, Ale. Never, ever forget that.”

“I won’t bebita, you’re very special to me.”

“I’ll see you on Monday at training?”

“Sí,” she waves you two off, smiling wide before saying one last thing but it’s not directed at you.

“Tana?” she calls, Aitana turns around and looks at her captain.

“Sí, capi?”

"Cuida de ella por mí, ¿quieres? Es una buena".

[lightwing-s]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐯 ; 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: you're pregnant. somehow, your baby daddy has to find out about it.

word count: 5,6k warnings: pregnancy, mentions of abortion.

a/n: i wrote and rewrote this a lot, and I don't think this is the best I could come up with, but here it is. a lot more angst that previous episodes and I do recommend reading it while listening to The Flame by Valerie Deniz and also Give me Love by Ed Sheeran because I love how emotional that song usually makes me feel. Hope you all enjoy it ♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

With a deep sigh, you tried to settle down your nerves. Your hands were sore. Sweaty. Tired of trying. The heaviness still lingered on your chest. The feeling of incoming doom. The air all around was thicker than you’d remembered it for, nearly making it impossible for you to breathe. And you swore to your reflection in the mirror, you were gonna make it through.

It had been three nights since the result. Two days of pain. And one single thought looming in your mind. Pregnant. You’re pregnant. You didn’t know what to do, nor what to think. Sinking into a pit of terror and despair. The idea frightened you, tore you apart. And just thinking of your future, of what was to come from now on, made your head spin.

Today, you forced yourself to forget. Pretend your life was normal, like it used to be. Not Much had changed since you had taken the test three days ago, but to you it felt like everything was different. 

You had skipped the gym the last couple of days, the first time doing it since you could remember, scared to face anybody and them finding out, but also too anxiety stricken to even leave your bed. You felt cramps, but also your stomach turning. You felt nauseous, but you weren’t sure if it was due to your newfound condition, or if it was the anxiety acting out.

Nessie had called, and you gave her some excuse that your boss needed you elsewhere. Another city. A quick work trip, you’d be back soon. At work, you told them you had caught some contagious disease you found on google, and they let you off for the entire week. Thankful for a relatively full pantry, you survived for two days on your own, but you sure couldn’t manage to eat much anyway.

You’ve never lived worst days. You were sure of that. Fear fills you to the brim. Sadness eats you up from the inside. And because of that, you felt even worse. There are so many people who dreamed of being where you were now, of getting a positive. So many have struggled for this. And here you were, ungrateful for yours. But you never wanted it in the first place. Not now, not like this. It didn’t follow your plan. It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t long ago that you were graduating college. And as of this moment, you were a mere assistant, not even a proper writer or a journalist yet like you’ve dreamed since you were little. An assistant. The bottom of the food chain, with still a lot to grow and harvest in your career. You neither had the finances, the stability, nor the time and mental capacity to be raising a baby on your own.

Because you would be raising it on your own, wouldn’t you? Your baby daddy would just disappear, like many others you’ve heard about. He would pack his things and disappear. He would live his life, continue with being young, having fun, while you were left to fend for yourself and your kid. All alone. 

Would you even tell him? Should you even tell him?

Three nights. Three nights of torture. Of overthinking the future and sulking in your bed, your pillow drenched with your tears. You knew you’d go crazy if you kept that going for too long. So, finding some bit of courage, some tiny little ounce of determination, you left your bed that morning ready to forget. Ready to clear your mind, to make it think straight. And then, you wished, you would know what to do.

You showered, ate, did your skincare and put on makeup, and went for a walk around the park. But you just had to step out of your apartment to find someone who made you think instantly of him. Running back inside and leaving your raven haired neighbor staring confused at you, you made a beeline to the bathroom, dropping your entire breakfast in the toilet. 

You had to tell him, hadn’t you? You had to tell Jason. It was the right thing to do, right?

So, here you were. Back at the gym you’d quit a month ago in favor of another. All because of your last encounter. You thought it was the best to be done, remove him entirely from your life so you could be free again. If only you had known then where you’d be a month later, you’d have laughed at the irony the world was throwing at you. You still remembered the times he’d come, praying he didn’t have them changed for some reason. Maybe he wanted to avoid you too. Maybe he had quit. Please, God. Be on my side, only for today.

It had been, perhaps, a full hour since you arrived. Roy had greeted you with a large smile, asking if you were back for good. You couldn’t match his enthusiasm, offering him a poor excuse of your own smile instead. All this time, you couldn’t complete a full set, never mind finish an entire exercise. Your body trembled, not answering you. Too exhausted. The heaviness on your chest helped in weighing you down and making every effort insufficient.

The weights you had tried to use now stood on your feet. Crooked, disordered, unorganized. Then, you found yourself looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were red and swollen. Your lips were dry and exposed some nervous bite marks you’d been taking off them. There were a few pimples on your forehead, and you had bags under your eyes. In the corner of the mirror, too stood the reflection of the one you’d been looking for.

He chatted with another man. It wasn’t Roy, by the darker hair color and shorter size. Yet it was a face you recognized, but failed to name. Jason looked happy, smiling as he spoke excitedly about something you did not know about. Were you really ready to tell him? Were you okay with ceasing his happiness?

Your eyes lingered on him for longer, and eventually, his eyes found yours. His smile was quickly replaced by a frown. An air of disgust and anger. His tongue poked his cheek, and he rolled his eyes at you. Turning around, he decided that facing the other direction was much better than facing you. Now, his broad back was all you were left to stare at.

You felt the nausea return. Leaving your things behind, you rushed to the restroom. He hated you. He hated you and he was fucking right for it. And what were you thinking? Telling him he was going to be a father, to your baby above all, at the fucking gym?

After dumping your stomach in the toilet once more, you wanted to get out of there. Collecting your things and shoving them inside your bag, you headed out. However, in good old fashion, you felt a body stop as it came in contact with someone else’s. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Eyeing you from above, Jason started to apologize before he could recognize who you were, proceeding to roll his eyes again. You excused yourself, still looking away from him, and his demeanor changed from anger to worry.

“Yn, are you alright?” he inquired, reaching for your arm. You felt your eyes start to burn, the tears finding their way back, and the nausea only got worse. Running past him, all you managed to say was a quick “I’m fine,” before disappearing.

You arrived at his building straight away, using the faint memory of the directions that remained in your brain from the night he brought you here. You were still clad in your gym clothes, not caring to stop at home first, nor remembering to actually do it. But it was fine, because you didn’t sweat anyways. You couldn’t even finish one full exercise in the hour or so you were there. 

So you waited. You waited on the opposite sidewalk, thinking back to the first time you came here. It was almost two months ago, or maybe more, you don’t remember exactly. It seemed longer, though. It all seemed longer. Longer than two months. Longer than three days. It all seemed like an eternity.

The sun waved goodbye on the horizon, hiding between Gotham’s skyline. The weather started to shift, as the warmth of summer slowly gave place to the strong winds and the coolness of the autumn days. The breeze made you wish you had brought a coat or something to keep you warm, the thin gym clothes you wore doing nothing to help you. And so, your body shivered.

Shivered from the cold. Shivered from the fear. The agony you’d so desperately tried to keep away returning back to you. If you went up. If you knocked on his door. If you talked to him, there was no pretending anymore. There was no hiding facts you so wished you could. There was no fighting reality.

A lump formed in your throat, and you tried to swallow it away, to no avail. Your breath, your hands, your legs, your all trembled. Fighting to keep yourself up when all you wanted was to fall down, to curl up under your covers and hide from the world. From the truth.

You thought back to the days when things were easier. To your days at the park, playing around with your friends, the hem of your jeans always dirty from mud, dust or paint. You remembered the days all you had to do was study, your chores, and your drawings. Reading books from sunrise to sundown, or for the entire night. Of when responsibilities didn’t follow you everywhere, and the perspective of the future didn’t break you down.

You thought of your parents. Of how mad they would get. There was always a path to them, a way to follow. A way to live your entire life. Just like they had done theirs. Any step out of that line often led you to trouble. ‘You have to get married to a good and respectful husband. One that will care and provide for you. And then, when the time is right, God will give you children to raise, just like he did to me and your father,’ your mother would tell you. ‘There’s nothing more shameful than a single mother’, were once the words of your father. And the thought of what they’d do to you once they found out had your tears rolling down faster than you could hold them in.

An old lady passed by you, asked if you were okay. You lied, like you’d been doing for the past few days. You weren’t one for lying, never was, and suddenly it was all you did. “Oh dear,” she cooed, and embraced you in an unexpected hug, before her tiny pomsky pulled her away.

Grey took over your surroundings, like one of those movie filters that left everything somber. A single headlight of a motorcycle let you know he was finally here. That the time of truth was upon you. You watched him park his motorcycle like a creep. Hidden in a dark corner, away from his sight. He had showered at the gym, and now wore a different outfit. Sweatpants and a hoodie. 

He looked comfortable. You clearly weren’t. He looked happy. Opposite to you. Were you ready to take all that away from him? To curse him to the same pain and anxiety you were feeling now? 

But you couldn’t do it alone. You couldn’t. You needed him. You needed him. You needed him by your side. You need someone, something. Something to tell you everything would be okay. Gathering up all your courage, every bit you could find within yourself, you took one step out of the sidewalk.

A deep breath taken before entering the building, you walked in without ceasing to cry. Each step you took up the stairs was heavy. Heavier than when you were drunk, and heavier than the day you left. Each step was a gulp. Each gulp was a scream inside your brain telling you to turn around. About two or three times along the way you stopped to look down, and wondered what would be of you if you’d just ran away. 

In your mind, you counted each and every step. An attempt to clear it of thought. It obviously didn’t work. Your legs shook and your breathing faltered with the last steps you took to reach the sixth floor. The tears had dried, leaving your skin cold to the touch. You moved on automatic. Everything else you did a blank stain in your memory. 

It was the feeling of the hardwood under your knuckles that brought you back to reality. The hollow sound it made woke you up, showing you’d made it to his door. Your breath got stuck in your throat, and you felt like you could vomit.

He took his time to answer the door. And you wondered if it was a sign to turn around. To leave. But your feet wouldn’t move, even if you screamed at them to do so. The ruffling inside the apartment made your heart jump, beating hard in its place. Your breathing halted, trapped in your larynx, as the tears started rapidly falling down again.

When he opened the door, it was like time had stopped. He assessed you through narrow eyes, still angry at you. You didn’t blame him, not at all.

“They run from you twice and still come right back,” he hissed. His voice was hoarse and monotone, and his eyes found yours in a blank stare. The corners of your mouth fell. Your chin trembled. And had to avert your eyes from him otherwise you’d start sobbing all over again. “Yn,” he called, and his voice didn’t show the hate or disgust anymore. It was worried. It felt pain. Softer and watchfull. “What happened?”

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the tears. Trying so hard to keep them in, but the drops that fell beside your sneakers on the floor were a testament of how your body had stopped responding to you a long time ago. Your shoulders shook, and Jason went from worried to desperate. He didn’t know what was going on. But seeing you like this made him freak out.

And suddenly he wasn’t mad at you anymore. In retrospect, maybe he never truly was. But whatever anger, or frustration he had disappeared from his body. You felt his touch on your shoulder, and you imagined he had just put one hand there as a sign of support. You’d be thankful for just that. But then, you felt his arms drawing you close, wrapping around you, until you felt the soft cotton of his hoodie through your cheek.

The tears ran down faster, soaking a spot on the thick fabric. Your loud sobs only made Jason pull you closer, not knowing how, but still trying to call you down. Whatever happened was too bad that you’d run to him of all people, and he felt obligated to help you in any way he could. 

By this point, he was holding you up himself. Your body giving in to the tears. Jason tucked his nose in your hair, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo. He caressed your back, kissed you temple, spread warmth through your body with his own hands rubbing at your arms. However, your tears ceased to stop, making the stain under your eyes enlarge, second after second.

“Yn,” he whispered right into your ear. The air he let out hitting against your skin.

You pressed your eyes shut. The tears that still lingered there being forced out. You tightened your hold on him. He called you again, and forced his neck to get a glimpse of your puffy red eyes.

You didn’t want to let go, but forced yourself to push him away just so you could finally face him. You felt your throat dry, a weak cough trying to fix it up. Jason couldn’t help the quick thought of how pretty you looked when you cried, but he felt so much pain in his chest at the same time that he wished he would never see you like that again.

The first time you opened your mouth, nothing came out of it. Jason’s fingers drew figures on your back, both a distraction and an encouragement. You can do it, you can do it. With another deep, long breath, you slowly opened your eyes to meet his.

“I-I’m…” you started, breathless. A single tear late to fall from your eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Jason’s mind went blank. His body was suddenly weightless. The moments past your announcement, a mere stain in his memory. You now sat beside him on his sofa, your hands covering your face as he heard continuous sobs coming out of you. Your knees tight against your chest, and it didn’t bother him you had your shoes on the sofa. Nothing bothered him. Nothing was on his mind. 

Your body quivered, nonstop. His own unresponsive. What the hell did he do?

Pregnant. Eight letters that had the power to change everything. Pregnant. You were pregnant. With his baby.

Jason felt his chest tighten, and breathing suddenly was harder. He tried swallowing the knot in his throat away, but it wouldn’t bulge. Resting his back on the sofa, a hand threading through his hair, he allowed a couple of tears out, rubbing his eyes off any others that dared to hang around.

“Are you sure?” he asked, breaking the prolonged silence with a raspy voice. Moving your head from it’s place buried on your knees, your eyes looked at him with a pain he’d have thought he’d put a knife on your back. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he told you softly. “I just want to be sure.”

Straightening beside him, you stared at the cat worriedly looking up at the two humans occupying the sofa. You fiddled with your fingers, pulling at the fabric of your leggings.

“I took a test,” you started to explain. “Three nights ago. And my period was late, and it’s never late. And it’s not like we were careful when we…”

“Not at all.” Jason shook his head. You weren’t careful at all.

The room fell into silence again, the only sounds coming from the cat, now playing between his legs, unaware of the turmoil you’d just caused in his life.

“I’m sorry,” you said, resuming your sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” Jason kept saying. He turned on the sofa, sitting in a position he could easily wrap his arms around you once again. “No, Yn. Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he soothed.

“Jason,” you called him, your voice broken. “How there’s not? I’m fucking pregnant!”

Jason held you tighter. But the truth was, he might’ve been just as scared as you were. A baby meant a new life, responsibilities. And he was still getting used to being an adult and the responsibilities that came with that. It was all going to change. And he had plans…

The two of you stood there until your sobs had quieted down. You didn’t know how long, but you were grateful he was quiet for the entire time. You were thankful he was quiet instead of  telling you any of the things you’d thought he would. And you were also thankful he didn’t close his door on your face.

“Have you thought…” Jason tried to speak, but his voice kept on breaking. “Have you thought… of all possibilities?”

He hoped you understood what he meant, because he couldn’t bring himself to say it. It was a hard thing to ask, but he had to. He didn’t want you to think he was pushing you to it, but he needed to know if it was a possibility too. Jason remembered hearing some friends saying they had their girlfriends do it, that they basically forced them. But Jason would never.

He felt you moving on his chest, pushing yourself away from his body, and his breath halted. “It’s your call,” he whispered. “I’ll be there for any of them.”

You had sat back up, hands tugging at your leggings again while you thought. It took you long to answer. Too long for his liking. But he understood your pace, everything was happening way too fast. You needed to think things through. For some reason, his stomach took turns, making him feel sick as he waited.

“I don’t think I could do it,” you stated, staring blankly at your legs. “I don’t think I could end it.” Jason let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A lightness on his chest he could not name. He nodded, as words didn’t make it out of his lips.

Leaning back on the sofa, you felt his shoulders hit yours. He let out another breath, it was long and you found it hard to read his emotions through it. He was silent beside you, making it even harder for you to guess what was going through his mind.

That’s it, he’s gonna tell you he can’t do it either. He’s gonna leave you alone.

“You just took one test?” he asked after a while. You just nodded. “We should go to the hospital,” he suggested, head turned to watch you. “Get a proper test, just to make sure.”

His suggestion made you hurt. The fact that he doubted you, the fact he thought you’d go to him if you weren’t a hundred percent sure, caused you a pain you did not expect. However, on the other hand, you knew he was right. You had to be certain. False positives happen, right? You could be wrong.

 “Okay,” you agreed weakly, turning to face him after all. “I’ll do it.”

It might have been the uncomfortable chairs or the freezing air conditioning, but the time didn’t seem to pass. It was well over an hour since you’d arrived at the hospital, and you’d stopped counting how much you’ve waited for your test results to come out. They said between thirty minutes to an hour, but you were sure it had been longer than that.

While you remained seated for most of your wait, Jason was restless. He stood up and sat down more times than you remember, and he was seriously starting to piss you off with his pacing. Stopping in front of a snack machine, he put some dollar bills in it and took something with him before walking back to you.

Stretching his arm in front of you, he offered both a granola and a Snickers bar. In no mood to be healthy, even though your possible new condition sort of demanded that from you, you took the chocolate gladly.

Jason dropped down on a chair beside you with a huff, and took a bite of the granola bar with a certain annoyance. You were both tired of waiting, that was for sure. The agony you’d felt earlier had simmered down, but you too now sat restless, one of your legs shaking incessantly.

It was involuntary, but Jason’s hand on your knee made it stop. It lingered there for a while, fingertips gracing over the thin fabric and tugging at it just like you had been doing before. You saw his head move, and so did yours, catching his eyes. 

Your expressions had been everywhere tonight. The whirlwind of emotions you had gone through justifying each and everyone of them. But this time, his eyes bore into yours much softer, sweeter than they’d been before.

“Yn,” he called your name as if you hadn’t been staring down at him for what seemed like forever. “Whatever happens. Whatever the results say. I’ll be here, alright? I won’t leave you.”

The sincerity in his tone made your eyes tearful once more, but this time you managed to hold them in. You gave him a soft smile, and you were really glad he was here with you now. Putting a hand on top of his, he flipped it over so you could interlace your fingers, caressing its back with your thumb just like he was doing to you.

It was then that your name was called, both of your heads snapping in the reception desk’s direction. Jason stood up and walked over, grabbing a single piece of paper before walking back to you with even taking a glance at it.

When he sat back, he offered you his opened hand. You intertwined your fingers, and held his with both your hands, taking it closer to your heart this time. You couldn’t deny the tiny bit of hope lingering inside you that, just perhaps, you were actually wrong. You weren’t pregnant. But, over the hours, you’d also grown accustomed to the idea. He opened the results with between his thumb and pointer finger, and both your eyes fell on the big letters found on top of it. 

Positive. Again. It was positive. You were truly pregnant. 

You let out a sigh, closing your eyes to stop the tears from returning. Jason’s hold on you tightened, and you could sense the tension on him returning. He buffed some air out through his mouth, taking another deep breath before doing the same thing again.

“That’s it,” his voice was shaky. “You’re really pregnant.” He forced himself to smile, and you tried to do the same. To no avail. His eyebrows furrowed. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly. “I just wanna go home. It’s been a long night.”

“Okay,” he said softly, standing up and walking with you hand in hand till you left the hospital.

The parking lot was almost empty, and you found Jason’s car sitting isolated far ahead. The silver Toyota Supra shone under the faint light of a lamp post, and you remembered how surprised you were to find him driving it. It finally occurred to you that other than his name and his gym membership, you knew nothing about the man you were about to have a baby with.

He didn’t know you either. Gosh, you didn’t know a thing at this point. About him, about pregnancy, about babies and having children. He asked you ‘what now?’ and you didn’t even have an answer. How the hell were you going to do it?

When he felt your fingers leaving his, Jason immediately turned to face you. Frozen in place and flooded eyes.

“I don’t think I can do it,” you said breathlessly. “Jason, I don't think I can do it. I never wanted kids. I mean, I’ve never really thought about it. I didn’t want it now. I wanted to do it all right. This is not it.” You cried once again, rambling the words that left your mouth. Jason had walked over to you, trying to calm you down and wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t know anything about babies. I’ve only babysat before, but they were much older. And even my nephew, I didn’t meet him until he was, like, six months old. And I don’t know shit about pregnancies. I hated biology. I slept a lot during classes.”

“How can we do it? I barely know you. Gosh I don’t even know your surname, Jason. You’re what, Jason fucking Linetti? How can we have a baby together without knowing each other? We’re supposed to build a family together. A family. My family… I-I never had a family. Not really. I didn’t want a family, Jason. Not now. I don’t think I can do it.”

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, stopping your rambling. He cupped your cheeks with both his hands, holding your face. His forehead rested on yours, forcing you to stare him in the eyes. “I also don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do. For fucks sake, Yn. But we have time. The baby is not gonna come tomorrow. We’ll figure things out. Together.  We have each other, alright? You have me. I’ll be here, with you, all along. You don’t have to worry. We’ll learn how to do this together, and with time. Okay?”

Jason’s dark eyes passed you enough confidence to have you thinking that, maybe, possibly, he was right. You could actually do it. The baby isn’t coming tomorrow, you have time. You’ll figure things out. With Jason. Together.

Slowly, you nodded. You could do it, right?

Jason sighed, relieved you actually believed him, because as of right now, he himself was struggling to do so. Giving your head a long kiss, he pulled you into a hug before pulling away to open his car door to you to enter. Dropping on the driver seat beside you, you desperately waited to get back home.

“I’m Jason Peter Todd. I’m 22 years old. A leo. I work as an exercise physiologist, but I want to be a doctor someday. So I’m working on getting into med school soon. I love motorcycles, they are fucking cool and driving them makes me feel free. I have probably over twenty tattoos and my favorite book is probably Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.”

“What was that for?” You gave him an amused smile.

“You said you didn’t know me or my surname. Now you do, and you can say you know a little. If you want my social security number too, it’s 108…”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, softly, for the first time in three days. “I guess knowing your surname is fine for now.”

He gave you a smile, but raised one eyebrow at you. Confused, you frowned, trying to understand what he meant until he pointed at you with his head, leading you to do the same as he did.

“Okay,” you started. “I’m Yn Sn. I work at Runaway Magazine as Sandra’s assistant, but I really want to be a journalist. I don’t have any tattoos because I’m afraid of needles, and I can’t choose a favorite book because I like too many.”

“Nice to meet you Yn Sn,” he greeted, extending his hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Jason Todd. Now can you please take me home. I’m exhausted.”

“Alright,” he gave you a smirk. “Do you remember the address this time?”

He insisted on walking you to your door, wanting to make sure you actually got home safe. You didn’t know where he thought you could disappear to between the sidewalk and your apartment door, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to enjoy his company. 

The elevator ride was silent, and neither of you spoke as you tried to unlock your front door.

“Thank god,” you said. Relief spread through you as the door opened and you got into your home. Immediately taking off your sneakers, you placed them by the door so they could keep it open for you. Looking back at Jason, who still didn’t dare step inside your apartment, you managed to give him a thankful smile. “And thank you too, Jason.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s not even the least I can do, it’s my responsibility now.”

“But still, thank you. There were many ways out for you, and you took none,” you explained, resting your shoulder on the door frame.

“Yn, you didn’t make this baby alone” he began. “I saw your state when you knocked on my door, and I also made you a promise. I don’t usually break them.”

For a brief minute, you two stood in silence again. Eyes lingering over each other. A recognizable tension in the air. You averted your eyes from him, as warmth engulfed your cheeks, the painted nails on your toes suddenly a lot more interesting to you.

“I’ll be going then. Call me if you need anything, alright?” he said, already halfway to the elevator.

“Jason,” you called and he turned back. Hopeful. “Do you even have my number?”

He stopped to think, and a dumb smile appeared on his face upon realizing he had never asked you for your number, nor did he ever give you his. Taking his phone out of his sweatpants pockets, he handed it to you. “If you don’t mind. I think I really should have your number.” He combed a hand through his hair.

You typed in your phone number, trying to think of what to write your name as, but concluding your name would be just fine. You gave yourself a call so you could save his too later, and returned him his cellphone.

He awkwardly waved you goodbye, and called the elevator that opened up instantly, not having left your floor since you had gotten home. You watched him as the door began to close, head hanging low and a tired demeanor. 

“Jason?” you called again, and he put his hand on the door just as it was about to fully close. It opened again, and he placed his hands on each side of the door frame. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“Stop thanking me,” he laughed and now allowed the door to close.

You stood there, dumbfoundedly watching the closed door as you swiftly repeated the entire night in your head. Every moment of pain, despair and torture morphing into nervous expectation of the future that was about to come.

You didn’t allow yourself to think too much about it. An entire day was already enough, you needed rest.

A rumbling beside you grabbed your attention, and your head turned to your friend’s door. Nessie poked her head out, clearly surprised to see you there.

“Weren’t you on a trip?” she asked, and you shook your head, leaving her a lot more confused.

“There’s so much we need to talk,” you sighed, allowing your weight to fall on her as you engulfed her in a tight hug.

.

.

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @erochuu ; @gone-batty-fics ; @jasontoddslover ; @jkvolgs ; @just-lost-inbetween-worlds ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @loonymoonystuff ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @strawberryforks ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday ; @vissavin @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo ; @wordsfromshona

[facefullofsadness]

psychopathic but it's okay

band!au (lsfm girlies but in a band and y/n is the 6th member)

guitarist!yunjin x bassist!y/n

prompt - you and yunjin are always arguing and after one argument, the latter has had it with you

content - smut (choking, degradation, overstimulation, slapping, handcuffs, cunnilingus, fingering, tribbing, multiple orgasms, jen kinda forces you into it), angst (harsh language, toxic, arguments, yelling), fluff if you squint hard

wc - 4405

author's note at the end :)

how many times just in this week have we argued already? I can't remember.

to say yunjin and I were toxic would be an understatement. it could be something wildly insignificant, but it wouldn't matter, we would be at each other's throats.

like last week when she told me to get the receipt for the takeout I ordered with kazuha and I forgot it. more like zuha did, but obviously, it was my fault because yunjin said it was.

and throughout this entire week we had been shouting at each other. any small inconvenience or misunderstanding, you name it, we argued about it. misplacing a hairbrush, accidentally eating someone's share, taking the wrong person's keys, showing up late to a meeting or practice. it was exhausting.

I can't even recall the last peaceful moment I had with this girl. it's been months of this dreadful and perpetual conflict that seemed to emerge out of nowhere, but it made me resent her in a way that I hated her guts.

I absolutely despise the way she thinks, her cocky attitude, her nonchalant responses, her dismissive demeanor, she drives me fucking insane.

which leads me to this moment, yelling at each other because she's playing ahead of the band.

"jen, play slower. you're fucking 2 seconds ahead of everyone else," I grumble, frustrated.

"oh whatever y/n, you try playing this shit. all you do is play the same bass line for 3 minutes straight," yunjin rolls her eyes back at me.

I close my eyes and bite my tongue, not wanting it to escalate, especially with the members around, "just play slower."

somehow, we moved on and all continued to practice. but this asshole never fixed her timing issue.

"yunjin, play slower!" I interrupt our practice again to yell at the girl.

she snaps her head at me, "fuck you y/n! I'm literally trying."

"but you're not though? because how are you still fucking off beat when we've been practicing this shit for weeks?!"

"oh my god, give me a break. you're so stuck up, sorry if I don't practice till the break of dawn everyday like you do. unlike you, I actually have a life, I don't have time to be a bratty perfectionist like you."

out of the corner of my eye, I see our youngest eunchae start to wanna speak up, but our leader chaewon stopping her from trying. with that, all the girls leave the room quietly as my blood boils at the words the raven-haired girl is throwing at me.

"I'm fucking stuck up? imagine having a career, THE dream job, and not even trying. you act like I don't have a goddamn life either jen, it's not my fault that I'm not lazy like you are."

the taller girl slings the guitar off her shoulder and aggressively puts it down before stomping up to me.

"I don't wanna hear your bossy mouth utter another word about my work ethic bitch. you're only so fussy about this because you don't have anything else in your life to look forward to."

"your sorry excuses are no use anymore yunjin. stop acting like you're the best when you're no better than an amateur, you're literally only here because there was no one else."

"did you want that to sting? sorry princess but that only works if it's the truth, we both know you all need me here. without me, you're nothing."

I clutch the strap of my bass and swing it off my body, immediately grabbing the collar of yunjin's shirt and pushing her back into the keyboard piano, making the stand shake.

"listen to me and listen fucking well. I can make you leave the band and you can act like it doesn't matter to you but I know you'll be devastated. I know you're just a scared little girl, too intimidated by the outside world to actually quit. you may not be scared of me which is why you don't try, but I'm exhausted of you trying to have power over me when you're just a weak sorry bitch who your parents are ashamed to care for anymore."

I struck it where it hurts because not only did I not care about if she would loathe me for my words, but I wanted it to.

suddenly, I'm being manhandled until my back falls against the couch in our practice room, yunjin's weight pressing me down. my hands struggle to push her off and break free, but her stronger grip grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head against the arm rest of the sofa.

"fuck off of me jen!" I yell at her, body wriggling under her own.

her free hand suddenly takes hold of my neck and squeezes, forcing my throat to let out a struggled squeak and breath.

"shut the fuck up whore! I'm so tired of your yapping!" the girl above me growls and tightens her hold on both my wrists and neck.

I look up at her with fear growing in my eyes, and I can see the pure rage on her face. I'm incapable of moving my arms and hands free of her iron grip, and it steadily gets harder to breathe as I feel her nails, though short, dig into my skin.

"you're insufferable. you think I'm a weak sorry bitch with no power over you, huh? let me remind you otherwise since you're too braindead to remember how strong I am."

yunjin's gaze is wild. the fire in her eyes has no sign of calming and the clench in her jaw as she lowers her face towards mine doesn't release any tension. but as she nears herself and comes unfathomably close, there's no denying the lust that clouds her dilated pupils.

as my breathing becomes impossible and I get lightheaded, my senses increase and I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears. I can also hear her shaky breath and feel it reach my face. her knee in between my thighs presses against my core and I release a choked whimper.

"I'm gonna treat you like my own sex toy and you're gonna want me to fuck your brains out after I lay waste to your body. you are gonna be my fuck doll and you're gonna love every second of it, you hear me? dirty little slut."

I'm simultaneously terrified of the intensity and escalation of the situation, but I'm also unbelievably horny at this point. the ache in between my legs grows hot and I feel it start to throb with the way her knee digs deeper into my core.

"I can't..." I manage to choke out, pleading with the darting of my eyes focusing on her face and between her intense glare.

yunjin eventually releases tension on my throat, and I can breathe again, oxygen slowly enabling itself to run through my lungs again. the lustful stare never wavers, however, and both of our gazes are fixed on each other's eyes.

"I don't care if you can't take it, I'm gonna make you."

with that, she moves her hand, once choking my neck, and grasps around it, fingers clutching my nape, her head diving in to begin leaving sloppy kisses trailing my jaw downwards. the pressure on my airways is gone, but my breath still stops in my throat as her mouth kisses, sucks, and bites harshly at my neck.

"w-wait... don't do t-that..." I stutter, telling her to slow down or stop.

"shut the fuck up." she growls aggressively against my ear, "I'm gonna have you however I want."

there's no room for protest as I feel the hand on my neck trail down my collarbone and between my breasts, her finger circling around my right boob and going inwards, finally pinching the nipple at the middle.

"nghh.." the noise in my throat releases on its own.

"my little slut, so easy to use. why else wouldn't you wear a bra under such a mesh shirt? you wanted this so bad, didn't you?"

the treatment of my boobs and nipples harshens as she's suddenly slapping her hand against them, watching as they jiggle under my thin shirt. I yelp out in pain, still feeling my core rush with wetness.

"you're wearing too much," yunjin scoffs.

her hand pops open all the buttons of my shirt and fingers return to harassing my hard buds. my body struggles under her again as her tongue drags along my neck and across my collarbone, the sharp bites of her teeth occasionally making me tug at the harsh grip at my wrists again.

the noises of her mouth on my skin are so wet, I can even hear her heavy breathing and small moans escape, intensifying the pleasure building in my lower stomach. I can't help but release a deep groan at one of my abused nipples being enveloped by her needy mouth.

"f-fuck.. no, s-stop- ahhhh..." I try to get out.

my words are drowned out by the sounds of my whimpers growing louder and the slurping of my tit in her mouth. my eyes struggle to keep open, watching her tongue flick around my bud, yunjin switching to my other boob, repeating everything all the same.

"can you stop moving? god, I'm doing something here and your flailing is infuriating." she let's out a frustrated huff before detaching completely from my body, reaching for something underneath the couch.

my hands are free for a second before I feel cold steel capture my wrists, cuffing them together and securing them on a pipe against the wall.

"so much better." she states satisfied before bringing both her hands to slap both of the sides of my boobs.

I let out an unstable shout at the stinging pain that followed, and it only continued as she grasped at my chest with both hands and kneads at them needily.

"jen... please, ahhh.." I whimper out.

"huh? what was that y/n? you need to speak up for me." she continues her abuse on my tits as my eyes water.

"it hurts..." I manage.

"oh is that so? too bad I don't really care. after all, if I were weak, it wouldn't hurt so much right?" yunjin says in a mocking tone.

her hands become aggressive, dragging themselves down my body and grasping hard at my waist, squeezing my thighs, before landing a harsh slap on my ass, one side, then the next.

"yunjin ah! please! fuck, it hurts..."

"a powerless little girl like me shouldn't be able to harm you, right y/n-ie?"

fuck you huh yunjin.

my eyes are still squeezed shut as I feel her start to unbuckle my pants and zip them down, taking my jeans off of me. my core is absolutely throbbing with desire, panties soaked.

she places a finger at the hem of my underwear, dragging the digit down, trailing my mound, to my aching clit, through my leaking entrance, then pinching the material and letting it snap back into place, warranting a shiver down my spine at the feeling.

"I should've known a whore like you would be drenched after all that. you kick and whine about how much it hurts but look at how much you fucking love it."

it's hard to argue with her when the anticipation to feel her relieve my desire grows stronger the more she messes with me.

"don't worry darling, I'll ruin you perfectly."

I feel my panties get pushed to the side before a hot and wet muscle is felt at the base of my entrance trailing up slowly, until there's a hard suck at my bundle of nerves.

"fuckkkkk ahhhh!!!" I let out an involuntary scream at the feeling.

god it feels so good, my eyes squeezed shut as her onslaught of eating me out continues, hard and fast. she bends my knees and forces my legs apart, holding my thighs so she has free reign of my pussy.

"mmm, it's in the way," I hear her mumble before a loud tear is heard, assumedly from my panties.

I could care less when she sucks hard with her mouth over both my clit and hole, tongue darting between circling my bundle of nerves and digging into my pussy. I tug hard at my restraints, wanting so badly to grasp her luscious dark hair and push her into me.

my hips move on their own, trying to grind against her mouth, but they fail when yunjin's hands push my thighs apart again and she wraps her arms around them, hands on my waist. I force my eyes open and look down at her, what a sight.

her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful. so unlike the rapid and desperate licking, sucking, and moaning coming out of her sinful mouth. the grip on my waist is firm but so gentle, her thumbs rubbing softly against my skin. she only takes a hand off of my waist to run fingers through her hair, pushing it back to have all the room she needs to indulge in my waterfall. yunjin definitely craved this more than me.

moans continued to slip out of my mouth, fueling her on.

"you're so delicious, this pussy is mine," I feel her mumble against my lips though still audible.

"fuck me jen, more more more, ahhh, yes, keep going just like that, oh my god!!!"

I was about to shut my eyes again until she looked up at me. through half lidded eyes, it almost looked like they were completely black, pupils so blown it was hard to tell if she was human. the desire was so fiery in her eyes and looking up at me only drew her in further, digging her face into my pussy.

her tongue dug impossibly deep into my hole, flicking wildly inside of me, making me arch my back in immense pleasure. her nose rubbing against my hot clit contributed to the build up of my impending climax.

the hold on my waist tightened, securing my hips down to the sofa, her eyes closed again as I shut my own as well, the noises coming from a mixture of my leaking pussy and her lewd slurping were indescribably orgasmic, the desperate moaning slipping from both of our mouths were borderline embarrassing if it weren't for our soundproof walls covering the sounds of sin.

"jennifer oh my god fuck fuck please, shit. b-baby... I'm, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum sosososo hard..." I rambled.

I heard as I continued to incoherently mumble anything that came to mind as I felt her grip on my waist start to hurt, nails digging into my skin, making my lower half impossible to move.

"give me your cum now, let me drink you," yunjin says with the sexiest most raspy voice I've heard from her.

a low moan from deep in her throat against my pussy vibrates against my clit, her tongue thrusting into my hole repeatedly at insane speeds. it was so overwhelming and more than enough to launch me over the edge.

my vision disappeared, my body shook viscerally, my mouth fell open and loud screaming came out of it as I orgasmed with so much pleasure. I felt my pussy gush cum into yunjin's expectant mouth, her tongue continuing to flail in me. I struggle hard against the restraints still, feeling my wrists sting with every tug. I can't think straight, my body shaking with every wave of pleasure that runs through me.

I fall limp, my head shaking left to right and mumbles coming out of my mouth. yunjin calms her pace and gives kitten licks up and down my slit, lapping up any other juices I released that she missed. her grip on my waist loosens, and they caress my sides carefully. she makes her way up to meet my face, planting abnormally soft kisses in her wake, her hands softly caressing my red skin. all the slap markings, all the bites, all the hickies, all the nail marks, spots red, spots bloody, her touch eases the pain.

"y/n..." she whispers against my ear, making me shiver.

I can't even open my eyes as the exhaustion hits me hard. I hear her mess with the pipe and cuffs around my wrists before I feel my hands fall against the arm rest again, freeing my arms finally. yunjin picks both of them up and places gentle pecks all around both wrists, slowly spreading her comfort across my entire body.

"jen..." a croak somehow comes out of my mouth.

"baby..." her voice, gentle...

"are you okay angel?" she whispers loud enough for me to hear.

my heart stops beating but resumes at the speed of sound after a moment.

I can't respond, and so she comes closer to my face and cups my cheek with a careful hand, intently observing my expression and condition. I feel her thumb softly caress my bottom lip and her stare fall onto my slightly open mouth.

"I.. I'm..." I can't form another word as the exhaustion catches up and my eyes fall shut.

every other sense of mine is alert, I'm still fully conscious, but my eyes refuse to open, they simply can't. I feel yunjin come closer to me then suddenly small kisses tracing my jaw, lips against my ear.

"you can rest y/n-ie, I'll do the rest."

wait, what?

her hand that was once on my face trails down my body, tracing over all the marks again, before her slender fingers slip between my folds, causing my entire body to jolt.

"jen?!" I shriek out, my hands flying to grip her arms.

"shhh, just relax. I told you already, you're just my little sex toy, I need to get my usage out of you."

fuck, I should've known she was feigning generosity.

I had no time to respond as after gathering enough of my cum from my last orgasm, yunjin swiftly slips two fingers into my tired cunt.

"FUCK!" I scream out.

my body reacts on its own, shaking against her warm body leaning against me.

"you've got another one in you, don't you?"

her pace picks up quickly, my pussy burning at the speed. suddenly, her thumb rubs harshly against my overstimulated clit, causing me to cry out.

"t-too much! please!" I sob into her shoulder.

yunjin's body hovers over mine, holding me close. one of my hands gripping her arm pumping in and out of me, the other clutching the back of her shirt, my face wet with tears flowing in her shoulder, melting into her neck.

"you should've thought about that before you talked shit huh?"

"I- I can't!"

"I already told you I don't fucking care y/n, how many times do I have to say it?"

I feel my own tears stain the taller girl's shirt as her fingers ram into my abused hole over and over again, pulling out all the way just to slam back into me again. I scream intensely when a third finger is added, immediately hitting that euphoric spot inside.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant between every pump of her swift fingers.

"you truly make the perfect little cum slut don't you?"

"jen, ah, ah, ah, please, fuck..."

"what is it baby? feel it coming again?"

I moan out an incomprehensible 'yes' in response, to which I feel yunjin smile against my forehead, planting a sweet peck.

"beg me angel, beg me to keep fucking you until you cum."

my eyes roll back into my head, tears still spilling out and hands gripping for dear life. even if I wanted to beg, I don't think I'm physically capable.

her fingers still inside of me, stopping her movement on my pussy entirely, even on my clit. I whine loudly in response, legs shaking and grip tightening on her.

"no no please yunjin, I- I need you, I need you to keep fucking me. I need to finish, I need your fingers, I'm so close jinny, please please, god please let me cum. I can't, I can't take it, it hurts, it hurts so bad, jen oh god please, don't fucking stop. I need you to keep going, please don't stop now, please please jen-"

my rambling is interrupted by her fingers pounding into my cunt once again, with impossible speed, making my throat strain with another uncontrollable scream of pleasure.

"let it go, give it to me y/n. I want to feel it gush around me again, I need to feel your body fall apart."

and just as quickly as it started, it ended. an explosion of euphoria ripples through me again, I feel goosebumps form on my skin as I moan deafeningly, my fingers sinking into yunjin's body and holding on for dear life. her fingers continue to get sucked into me, clenching hard onto her long digits as she rubs my clit still.

"yes, that's my girl, give it all to me."

my body is shaking, with every subtle touch yunjin does to me, it reacts. my mouth stays open as I can feel the saliva drool out, my eyes barely open but it's no use, it's not like I can see anything clearly.

"your body is just meant for this y/n, I was right. my perfect little angel, the best fuck doll for me."

her fingers slip out of me and I grunt at the loss of fullness. out of the very small field of view I have, I watch as she sucks the juices off her fingers, closing her eyes and savoring the flavor, licking up each of them one by one.

"you're doing so well, but baby..." she leans in and mumbles against my lips, "give me one more."

there's no room for resistance as she moves to get into position. what a menace huh yunjin is. she already knows I'm fucked out of my mind that I'm physically incapable of doing anything. I've always been really sensitive and she's using that weakness against me ten fold.

I try my best to pay attention to what she's doing, watching as she slides her shorts and panties down her legs, the two articles of clothing absolutely soaked. she gets on top of me again and lifts one of my legs up, wrapping it around her waist, her straddling my pussy with her own, interlocking our legs.

"it's finally my turn. fuckkk..."

she moans out as she starts to grind her pussy against mine. every thrust makes my body jolt with overstimulation, I don't know how to take it anymore.

however, watching huh yunjin roll her hips against me, her hands placing my own on her waist, watching as she throws her head back and sweat drips down her long neck, my pleasure grows again. the woman looks ethereal riding me, using my body to get off, it's unreal how delectable watching her fuck me is.

"f-faster, h-harder, jen..." both of us look surprised when I manage to speak.

a sinister smirk crawls and spreads across the aforementioned woman's face, hands on my thighs tapping in approval, "of course darling, who am I to deny?"

and so she fucks me harder, so much harder. so much fucking faster. I immediately see stars and the squelching lewd noises of our sopping cunts fill my ears, accompanied by the pornographic moans from both of us. I feel the rhythmic pattern of yunjin's hips rolling against me with my hands on her waist.

I pull her forward against me, thrusting my own hips up into her, gaining leverage and screaming out in pleasure as our clits bump repeatedly because of this.

"fuck y/n! you're so good at this, don't... don't you dare give out on me right now, you feel too fucking incredible."

the girl above me has her head down facing my own, eyes screwed shut, face scrunched up looking focused, mouth hanging open. one of my hands feel up her body, trailing up her covered front and grazing her nipples, eliciting a groan to come from her throat. my hand cups her cheek and pulls her closer to my face, making her open her eyes and make eye contact with me.

we stare straight into each others' eyes, observing the expressions on our faces, memorizing the view forever. I hate this girl so much, I hate her with my entire being, but she's beautiful, she's goddess-like, and she's absolutely perfect in my trembling hands, looking into my eyes like I'm the only one in her world.

yunjin leans in to finally kiss me, plump and soft lips roughly clashing against my own. I desperately chase to reciprocate the passion she pushes into my mouth, forcing my tongue into her and ramming it down her throat, making her moan out. her mouth feels like heaven on earth as I melt into her delicious strawberry flavored lips, tongue and her saliva tasting like all the cum she sucked out of my cunt just moments prior.

her thrusts become sloppy and I feel my hole start to clench around nothing as we moan into each others' mouth.

"cum with me love, cum with me, please baby, I need you." her voice shaky and sounding vulnerable.

I open my eyes one last time to look up at her, eyes getting watery too. I take her bottom lip into my mouth and pull away with my teeth, letting it go with a pop.

"I'm cumming love, I'm cumming..." I warn her.

I pull her into me and hug her, embracing her tightly as she painfully grips my thighs, stilling her hips and feeling her warmth leak all over my pussy. I moan along with her, screaming out in blinding pleasure, my heat flooding both of our thighs and running down my legs, onto the couch under.

she collapses on top of me, her entire body weight covering me completely. I snuggle my face into her neck, placing soft kisses around every area I could reach.

"are you okay?" I ask softly into her ear.

I'm met with no response but soft breathing near my ear. I peer over to look at her face and she's out cold.

I giggle softly at the gorgeous woman sprawled out on top of me, legs intertwined, cum running down our legs, her lips bruised and red.

"I think I won this argument jennifer."

a/n - i'm just realizing that this barely had any actual band dynamics or anything and that makes me sad bc i love that shit so much. sob, oh well maybe another time (part???). my first idea for this concept was slow down by chase atlantic but then i switched it bc i feel like i could write a better plot for the lyric i orginally chose so stay tuned mayhaps in the future. anyways, hiiiii first post pls don't bully me tumblr is foreign land to me but writing is not though I haven't written in months 😙 enjoy first fic w my actual gf (like actually fr fr huh yunjin is my gf she proofread this-)

[moondirti]

animalic (4)

← chapter three // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.5k summary: things don't go according to plan warnings: enemies to lovers, light bondage, sexual tension, arousal, choking, canon-typical violence, dub-con elements, paralysis, suicidal ideation, self-hatred, angst, miguel o'hara is not nice, no use of y/n notes: y'all. i promise we are getting somewhere. i promise. lmk what you think tho cuz i thrive off comments

“Lyla?”

While you’re – regrettably – unable to make good on your promise to phase through the floor, you catch yourself hoping it splits to swallow you whole instead. It certainly would be a better alternative to the purgatory you currently face. 

“Lyla? Come in, Lyla.” 

Feeble rays of light filter in through the weathered windows, their reach slowly growing as night surrenders to the wakings of dawn. Variegated motes bob lazily, suspended upon the streams of sun, quivering back and forth between a range of countless colours. Paralysed and splayed atop the frigid, hard ground of the empty store-lot, you try counting them all for lack of anything else to do. Pink, green, orange, gold. You wonder what force chooses the order, whether it’s sequenced to fit some plan of high design. 

“¡Ay, coño–”

Slowly, you let yourself scrutinise other things, too. The scent of neglect that permeates the stale air, particularly pungent around the entryway. You trace the yellow-brown mass that runs along the door’s hinge edge, and attribute the vaguely muddy smell to rot. Then, it’s the glint of shattered glass, winking at you from lost corner’s of the room. They look narrow, far too inconvenient to clean out with a standard broom. You revel in the understanding that whoever had been in charge of scouring the wreckage appears to share your habit of quick quitting.

It’s only when your vision begins to water do you divert your attention to the situation at hand. Last you needed to blink, it took half a minute for the command to register, and even longer for the motor neurons in your eyelids to act. By the time you eventually got them closed, you’d already started contemplating whether his venom would be the death of you. 

(Lame end to a lame life.)

It didn’t take a genius to figure out, though. You know that, if he wanted to, he could’ve kept imbuing you with the substance until your body was no longer able to perform the basic mechanisms necessary to sustain life. He could have kept his fangs lodged deep into your neck – encroached upon your stuttering veins, bathing in the ichor that flowed – until he felt you go limp, concentrated with his poison. It would have been a denouement to his problems – right there, easy, sandwiched between him and the wall – but it wasn’t. Because he didn’t. 

Just like he didn’t let you plummet to your death that day at the quarry, or strangle you while you were unconscious back at HQ. 

So, no. It doesn’t take a genius to acknowledge that Miguel O’Hara doesn’t want you dead. As he fiddles with his malfunctioning watch, you endeavour to come up with a divisive list as to why that is. 

One: you’ve charmed him. The notion is almost funny enough to elicit a snort, given that you weren’t cast in an immovable anathema.

Two: he’s a good guy. Somehow, this option seems less viable to you than the first. 

You find your third prospect slinging from the threads of a fraying memory. 

You’d been a student, before – attending college at a reputable institute close to home. It’s easy to forget what it was like most nights: cramped in that two hundred square foot dorm, borderline losing it as you tried to validate your claims on matter-antimatter rockets and their potential contribution to interstellar travel. There were concerns of total annihilation, and sourcing, and an array of other limitations – that which you’d dedicated your academic career to drawing up proposals for. It’s laughable now; the stress and theories blurring together to form a vague picture of your long-lost ambition. 

You have a hard time conjuring what exact future you were so hopeful for, but the lamp by your roommate’s bed remains clear in your mind’s eye. Warm-white, comforting. For as long as you were awake, tapping away at a never-ending thesis, she’d work through the latest volume of her beloved murder mystery anthology. 

It was the night before your start at an internship with Alchemax that the series came to a close. Her aggravated screams still ring fresh behind the clouded pane of time. You had thrown your pillow at her in a belligerent plea.

(You wanna elaborate?

The suspect behind every case was shot!

So? Isn’t that a good thing?

No, dumbass. It means the detectives fucking lost! They’ll never be able to prove how right they were.)

Admittedly, you know very little about Miguel, but you have an idea of what matters most to him. It’s entirely possible, then, that he refuses to kill you for what your death would do to negate his efforts thus far. 

“Oye,” 

Your mental traipse is reeled in when the devil himself snaps at you. Steadily, your pupils roll up to look at him. 

“I need your day pass.” 

You continue to stare. His jaw clenches. 

“Because of your little headbutt outside, my watch is busted. My only hope of fixing it is by using the parts of your day pass.” 

Is he asking? Does he expect you to respond? 

You can’t fool yourself into believing he’s that ignorant. 

But Miguel stays on standby, scanning your lax form. He takes in the webs that wrap around your waist, branching out to your thighs and shoulders, restraining your arms behind your back. When his eyes meet yours again, the reluctant question you see glaze over them pushes the recognition to the forefront of your mind. 

He is asking. 

Or, notifying – making sure you’re aware of what he’s about to do. 

God, you wish you could speak. You’ve never come up with so much to say without promptly blurting it out before. Irritation and amusement rip at one another within you, locked in a brutal dogfight fated to have no real winner. How hypocritical of him to pick and choose when your treatment takes priority over his mission; you’re littered in marks that all point to his prior negligence of such subtle humanity. Four stabs above your wrist, a pounding migraine at your temple. If it weren’t for your paralysed stomach, you’re certain you would have regurgitated your innards as consequence to the concussion he’s given you.  

But, oh. 

How funny would it be if you agreed. To let him discover the harrowing truth for himself. 

Deliberately, you muster an affirming blink.

Miguel's weariness escapes him in a heavy sigh, the weight of it etched upon his expression. Thick brows furrow, evidence to his age creasing between them, before he sinks down with a purposeful grace and carefully flips you over. Despite the resentment that festers in your gut, you can’t help but hiss a mental sigh of relief at the service it does to your elbows, which had begun throbbing in response to the pressure that the hardwood floor exerted.

From that point onward, it becomes a guessing game of sorts; you can’t see him, nor are you able to tilt your head and confirm your assumptions as to what he’s doing. Deprived of your most reliable sense, the others strain to fill the gaps in your knowledge, drawing upon every available cue; the sound of his miniscule grunts, the warmth of his skin – that which penetrates through his gloves. You’re alarmed into attempted action when the characteristic rip of his claws equipping pierces the strained air – your body powerless in addressing the adrenaline it secretes – until the spider-man touches his forefinger to your palm.

“Relax.” He all but commands. “I’m just cutting the webs off.” 

You’ve no reason to trust him, of course, but you can’t exactly pitch a complaint right now. 

(Perhaps it’s in your best interests to ignore how easy he’d been able to read you.)

A few moments of jostling ensue, before he withdraws with a curse. Your arms remain ensnared in the tight restraints, the ache that smarts your skin all too real for the continued predicament to be illusory. An assortment of jokes occur to you. 

Can’t get it up? 

In your peripheral, you catch him weighing his options. The pause is laden with a sticky indecision – this change in placement, you realise, exacerbates the already difficult task of breathing for you. 

While you fixate on that fact, he seems to come to a conclusion. With one swift manoeuvre, he positions himself astride your thighs, straddling the deadened extremities, and reaches forward to push your wrists apart. You’re quick to catch on to his intention, how the arrangement gives him better leverage, yet–

His groyne presses into the swell of your ass, worsening with every bid to sever the webbing. It’s impossible not to notice, especially not when the seam of your jeans start to shift in tandem, smoothing over your clothed core.  It’s not exactly ecstasy, far from it — no rainbow blooms, tingling gold from your toes to your nose – but it’s been ages since you were last roused like this. Enough for it to feel brand new, a wrapped curse in a prim little bow, eager for all that you shouldn’t be. 

And… Christ– 

And then he unfastens the lines around your arms, and runs his hands up your skin. It’s not gentle, nor is it brutish, but you can feel his desperation escalating. His touches grow progressively antagonistic, kneading your palms up to your shoulders, patting down to the shallow pockets of your pants. You’re searched like you hold the key to his success – you suppose that, in some oddly comical way, you do. And it should be upsetting, blasphemous. 

But you’re no sacred thing. You’d laid down that possibility a long time ago. 

No. You’re foul, questionable at your best, and erupt into goosebumps over the ruthless grip of a man who hates your very soul. You’re a deeply detestable spirit, truly, but a detestable spirit who has just managed to get one up on Miguel O’Hara. 

He throws you back around, wrapping his hands around your throat. His snarl is primal, maturated in acrid anger. 

“Where is it?” 

You’re sure that, in some alternate reality, your face is stretched in a shit-eating grin. 

“Where’s the fucking day pass?” 

Your satisfaction is short-lived. 

You’ve never been one to notably detest humiliation. It’s productive – healthy, even – in smaller doses; a fitting consequence for those who you deem deserve it. Yet, as you find yourself unceremoniously hoisted over Miguel’s shoulder, forced into a meandering parade through the streets of New York, you breach into uncharted territory – a threshold where your tolerance encounters its breaking point. 

He makes no effort to soften his strides, unmoved by the idea of providing even a shred of respite for your susceptible self. If anything, it feels as though he deliberately seeks out the harshest terrain, silently chastising your earlier defiance in the most passive aggressive manner known to man. He’d reinforced your constraints before marching out on this fruitless venture, and now you bobble uselessly, backside pointed upward, anchored solely by the meaty arm around your knees. 

At least you’ve regained control of your mouth. 

“D’stroyed it. Gone. Dearly d’parted–” 

“If you’re going to run that little mouth, then make it helpful.” 

“M’bein’ helpfoo,” you start, straining your weakened vocal cords in an effort to mock him. The grip of paralysis may have slackened its hold, but neurotransmission remains at an all time, sluggish low. In all actuality, it astounds you that he can even begin to decipher your words from the tangled murmurs they become. 

“You had it on at the convenience, and a little bit afterward. You can’t expect me to believe that you dealt with it while running for your life.”

Running for your life. Sure. 

Displeasure sparks at the confidence he imbues in his assumption.

“Escoos m– hnngh–” A sudden jump of stress robs you of breath, your stomach plummeting alongside the rapidly distancing ground. As Miguel propels himself above the city skyline, effortlessly evading the crowded streets via a web he’d grappled to an adjacent building, you’re confronted with a stark reality – that this is the very first time you have ever, and likely will ever, experience what it’s like to swing. 

It’s exhilarating and nauseating all at once, gravity relinquishing its command as you transcend the confines of the physical, soaring through some reality where law loses significance. If it had been you, your arms and skill and jurisdiction, you’d never come down. But maybe that’s why it isn’t; maybe your life was meant to lead up to this, and only ever this. 

(Not antimatter technologies or heroic conquest. Yeah, this feels more fitting.) 

Your skin prickles. You phase through the sturdy frame that’s held you up so far, and plummet from its grasp.

Slicing through the boundless sky, you’re accompanied by a profound tranquillity. It isn’t absolute – fear still gnaws at your core, its presence undeniable. But, amidst the churning horror, your instincts are fainter than they ought to be. They whisper in a subdued tone, overshadowed by conflicting conceptions. One, being the inference you’d drawn earlier about how – whether you like it or not – Miguel would not let you die. 

Another, quieter suspicion hints toward the full reality of your… relief.

Though, of course, you’re right about the former. Tree-trunk biceps wrap around your waist, pulling you close as he slingshots off to a nearby rooftop. You flop into him, a ragdoll to the overwhelming force of his agitation, and squeeze your eyes shut at the hints of patchouli permeating from under his mask. 

You don’t have to face the gospel just yet.

“¿Qué mierda? Eh?” He shouts, propping you up against a ledge. “What the fuck was that?” 

You don’t have an answer for him. Your heart lurches, catching up to the urgency at hand, striking on the hollow bars of your ribcage to some reckless tune. It’s only amplified by the torrent of blood distending through your system, throbbing at your temple, rushing by your ears. 

What the fuck, indeed. 

He damns you, it seems, with a fervour that breaches the heavens, as if willing God Himself to commit his plea to eternal memory. Or not; truthfully, you can’t tell. With the roar of your own snowballing thrill, it becomes impossible to discern the sequence of interrogations that explode from him. The world around you fades to the background, your preoccupancy consumed by the disquietude it leaves in its wake. 

Your sense is only validated a minute later when, two blocks away, an ear-piercing shriek ruptures your dissociation. 

Miguel stiffens, slowly turning to face its source.

𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘊𝘏𝘕𝘖-𝘏𝘜𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘖𝘐𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘓𝘠-𝘔𝘜𝘓𝘛𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘚𝘌 𝘋𝘈𝘛𝘈𝘉𝘈𝘚𝘌:

Earth-15 – analysed, marked as closed. 

Spider-totem – The Spider: soon after being bit by his radioactive spider, convicted felon Peter Parker merged with Earth-15’s variation of the carnage Symbiote.

Notes – do not engage, at any cost. 

chapter five →

follow @moondirti-archive and turn on post notifs to be alerted of future updates!

[eyesxxyou]

Cybersex

★‧₊˚ 💋⋅ hobie brown x camgirl!reader

rating. m

word count. 4k

synopsis. after a scandal, hobie decides he needs a change in his career. that's where you come in, a camgirl he plans to make a sextape with.

🍓・．❕warnings. mentions of cocaine usage, recording sex, p in v sex, protected sex heavily advised, oral (f & m receiving), doggy style, hair pulling, spitting, dirty talking, ass slapping, ass grabbing, degrading praise, condom taken off

Hobie really fucked up according to his manager. If you asked him, he did nothing wrong. It was perfectly normal for a rockstar to be doing coke in the bathroom of a venue in his opinion but for some reason it had caused a lot of controversy. It’s not like he was addicted or anything, that time being only the second time he’s ever done it but his manager put out a statement that he would be taking a break from his tour in order to attend rehab. Which he did and it sucked. He was in for 2 months, “working on himself” supposedly.

“Why’d ya do it?” His manager asked him as they sat side by side in the back of his car, his driver taking him home from rehab after 2 of the longest months of his life. “I mean– you have all anyone could ever want. So why?”

It was such a stupid question that deserved the half-assed answer Hobie gave. He just shrugged and grunted. Why did he do it? To escape this fad of a life. This was never what he wanted, all of this. This expensive car, a designated driver, a manager. This was never what he fucking wanted. Somehow, in his pursuit for success, he lost everything that made him who he was, lost his initial values. He was nothing but a poser now.

He was done being a poser. He’d get back to his original self somehow, some way.

So the moment they got back to his boat, Hobie fired his manager as well as his chauffeur. “Take the car wit’cha.” It was the best decision he could have made for himself, for his dwindling career. He had to get back to his roots, just him making music on his boat with his guitar and his mates.

He needed something to reignite his career, to appeal to the crowd who once supported him for being a voice against authority and establishment. The coke incident had riled people up, weeded out the posers from the real deal. He needed something more.

That’s where you came in.

“So you need my help to get your career back on track…how exactly? By having sex with me?” You sat across from Hobie inside a bar you two agreed to meet at. You were a pretty girl, gorgeous actually, with make up that told him “I put in effort, just not for this” and a pretty, delicate, white dress, black shawl, platform, leather boots, and a long rosary around your neck, though something told him you weren’t catholic. It could be the extensive history of porn you have online.

You were a camgirl. And he was a fan. Turns out, you were a fan of his too.

Hobie bought you a drink and a couple shots for you to share. You teased a cherry between your faded glossed lips and used your tongue to tie the stem into a knot. He liked you, liked you a lot. You were perfect for the job.

“By leakin’ mw own sex tape.” Hobie corrected you. “‘M jus’ tryna stir the pot. Drum up some interest, y’know?” You of all people would know better than the rest. Your entire career was built on this. You were a master at it. He was right to come to you.

“Bu’, Ion wan ya to think ya haf’ to. The offer’s on the table.”

“I know I don’ have to do anything.” He liked your attitude, the twang of your accent in your pretty voice. He understood why you had so many fans, you were borderline perfect, pretty lips, pretty eyes. He’s watched some of your videos, with partners and alone, you’re so captivating. He was an instant fan. “I just want to make sure I understand before I agree to anything.”

You leaned in with your chin resting upon your hand with your elbow on the splintering wood of the bar counter. “I’ll do it, just ‘cause I think you’re pretty.” You stood up, even while sitting down, his abnormally tall body towered over your. “I’ve got rules though, strict rules, not even a pretty boy like you can pass them.” Your hands were on his thighs as you looked up at him. He could kiss you now if he wanted to, but he waited to hear these rules of yours.

“You have to use a condom.”

“Done, already got one.” Hobie assured you. He always carried one with him just in case.

You chuckled a bit, “Good for you. We also have to do it at a hotel, you pay. I don’t wanna be at your place and I don’t want you at mine.” Hobie also liked how serious you were, how you didn’t play about your business. He appreciated it, found it a little hot too. How in the world was he supposed to keep his hands off of you until then? “FIne by me.”

“FInally, no catching feelings.”

Hobie began to laugh, a snarky grin growing across his full, pierced lips. “Confident, are ya? You don’ haf’ta worry about nothin’ like tha’, luv. I’m just attracted to you.” He reached out and pushed some of your hair back behind your ear. He leaned in close, his breath fanning your lips until he touched his lips with yours and kissed you softly. You didn’t kiss him back.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, Brown but I’m not with it. Text me the details when you get them.” You pulled away from him with a scoff and tapped his cheek softly with your hand before grabbing a shot, tossing it back down your throat before walking off to take your leave.

Hobie set everything up for the following week, a nice hotel where the two of you could hook up for the night and leave it at that. It didn’t have to be anything more. Hobie was out to jumpstart his career while you were in it for the followers you would gain from all of this. It didn’t have to be anything more than just this.

“Hobie, open the damn door, I’m not waiting out here all night!” Your fist met the door for the third time since you’ve been standing here. You were just about ready to leave when the door finally swung open and Hobie was standing there without the slightest look of apology on his face. “Sorry, luv. Come on in.”

You waltzed in past him, wearing a black dress, black, distressed stockings that clipped onto a garter around your thighs, thick, mary jane shoes, and a leopard print, fur jacket that all fit together with your locs tied into a ponytail with hair clips that matched your coat. Your lips were full and glossy, eyes framed in dark makeup that made your gaze all the more mysterious. You were adorned in hanging necklaces and large rings, the prettiest person he’s ever seen. “Nice setup. We just recording on your phone?” There was no camera but you supposed that it wouldn’t be that believable of a leaked sex tape if it was on a professional camera. You two weren’t exactly Kim K and Ray J.

“Unless you brought a camera.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You waved your hand and set down your bag before beginning to remove your jewelry and set them down on the bedside table with a small ‘clack’. “Pretty ingenious idea you got here. How’d you come up with it?” You began to remove your necklaces one by one and placed them beside your rings, glancing over at Hobie who sat on the bed beside you.

“I was horny and tired, luv. Le’s cut the small talk ‘n get on wit’ i’, yeah?” Hobie reached out for you, pulling you in between his legs while holding the slope of your waist, stroking and caressing until his hands slid down your thighs then by up under your dress. There was nothing but your panties, small and lacy.

Your lips curled into a smirk. “I thought you’d never ask.” You climbed into his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs as you pressed your lips to his. It was a curt matter, a nicety you offered him. There was passion but nothing behind it except lust, feverish, violent, tearing lust that had you rolling your body against his and your pussy pressed against the growing bulge in his pants.

Hobie placed his hands on the underside of your thighs and lifted you up, your legs automatically coming around his narrow waist. He held you with a surprising amount of strength for someone so lean. He pushed you up against the wall, your hands pulling at each other's clothes in a fervorous attempt to get the other naked. He tore your stockings while you pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the side. He helped you remove your shoes between kisses and you helped him remove his.

Hobie licked down your body, the warm, smooth skin of your naval all the way down to the waistband of your thong where he kissed and licked, his hands grabbing at his pockets to find his phone before handing it off to you so you could record.

You gazed at him through the camera, moaning softly as he pulled down your underwear and you stepped out of them. You lifted one leg over his shoulder, soon followed by the other, your entire weight supported against the wall, your pussy on display for him to devour with his eyes and soon, his tongue.

You were already wet, your lips nice and slick, your pretty cunt slightly gaping and ready to be filled. Hobie licked his lips and looked up at you, nodding to signal you to start recording. You kept a firm grip on his phone with one hand while your other grasped at the hair closest to his scalp. You pulled him in, forced his lips to kiss your cunt, to praise and worship.

You tasted like fruits and berries as he dipped his tongue between the gates of heaven and teased at your cunt with the warmth of his tongue teasing at the underside of your clit. His fingers played in your creamy juices, coating them before he eased a single digit into your aching hole.

“Ah~ fuck– Hobie. Mmh.” You ground your hips against his face, the friction of his hot tongue and long finger drove you crazy. You bit your lip, made sure the camera was on him, and pulled him in further. “Add another finger.” It was a plea for kindness, you needed another finger or you’d go crazy. His tongue worked you in a way you had never experience before, it was fluid yet stiff and so precise against your swollen bud. His lips latched and suckled and his tongue swirled.

Hobie eased another finger into your cunt inch by inch, curling in search of the soft ridge that would send you into ecstasy. He spat on your pussy, ate it with the eagerness of a starved dog while looking up at the camera with those pretty, deep-set eyes of his.

You cried out for him,“God, Hobie– pl–ease.” He slid his tongue into your cunt with his fingers, stretching you just a little further while the bulb of his nose nudged your clit. You would have collapsed then and there if not for the fact he was the only thing holding you up, on his knees with his face in your pussy, devouring.

“Ya gonna cum fa me, luv?” Hobie spoke against your core, making you thrash and moan his name in something of a pornographic sound of pleasure. You reacted to every flick of his tongue, your back arching from the wall and your pussy aching, pulsing, squeezing around his fingers that have finally found your sweet stop and is now playing it like a fiddle.

Your grasp on the phone became shaky as your orgasm threatened to grasp you and hold you in a grip so tight you’d cease to breathe. Never before have you come upon your climax so quickly. Hobie was skilled at this. He’s made more people come with just his mouth and fingers than he can count on said fingers. He left them bleary-eyed and pleading for more, all of them dreaming of just another chance with him.

“Hobie, Hobie, Hobiehobiehobie.” His name was on your lips like a prayer to a god who did not exist in this room. Hobie had the face of angel but the mouth of a demon and how much you praised whatever high power above for it.

He chuckled against your pussy as you gasped, all your muscles tensing then relaxing at once, an orgasm seizing your body like a demonic possession. You held his face against your core and let him taste the product of his work. You worked hard to make sure you tasted good for your partners and Hobie appreciated it, adored it.

He slipped his fingers from your cunt and lapped at the creamy juices you excreted in the midst of your orgasm. Hobie moaned at the taste of you on his tongue, licked you clean until the taste of you stained his tongue. He smiled up at the camera with his wet lips and grabbed it from you, pausing the video before helping you down from his shoulders.

His hands were on your waist again, pulling you into his body before kissing you again. He forced his tongue against yours, sliding and lapping, caressing every portion of yoru mouth he could reach. You could taste yourself in him, your cum still wet on his tongue. You liked it, you liked the taste of his mouth and you intermingled.

Your hands soothed over the sides of his face, one sliding behind his neck to pull him closer while his large, slender hands grasped handfuls of your ass. He was so much bigger than you, so much taller, he was so easily able to toss you onto the bed. You landed on your stomach, looking back at him as he removed the rest of his clothing and remained just as naked as you were.

God, his cock was so fucking beautiful. It was perfectly fitting, nice and long with a good amount of girth but not two much and a few veins here and there. The tip weeped with precum, begging to sink into a nice, tight, warm hole, preferably yours. Your pussy fluttered at the sight of it, at the way he came over and forced you face down ass up with him kneeling behind you.

Hobie rubbed his length against your ass, his precum smearing against your pussy every time his tip teased against your entrance.

"Condom." You reminded him firmly, pulling away from him until he complied. You'd get up and leave right now if he didn't abide by your rules.

Hobie got up and searched through his discarded pants for his the condom he made sure to bring with him. Once he found it, he tore it open and placed it against the tip, rolling it down the length of his dick until he reached the base of his cock.

He took up his phone and began to record again as you whined and pushed your hips back, begging for him to fill you up and finish you out. You spread your legs wider, arched your back, anything to entice him to fuck you the way you needed.

"Aww, the pretty slut wan's my cock." Hobie brought his free hand back and spanked your ass with a sharp swing of his hand as it met the flesh of your behind. He ran a soothing hand against the burning mark he left. "Go 'head 'n beg fo i' then."

Your pride wouldn't let you, your lips remained sealed but they parted with another slap to your ass. You gasped again and whimpered out something pathetic as your ass ached in pain and your back arched. "Please."

"Say i' louda fo tha' camera, luv."

"Please fuck me, Hobie."

He scoffed and chuckled behind you, lining up his tip and easing it into your wonton cunt. "I knew you wan'ed me to slut ya pretty pussy out." You let out something of a squeal as he sunk into your hole, his cock stretching out your walls unused for months now. You were tight, your pussy lips parted to accommodate his size. Hobie let out a hiss then a moan of pleasure, his hand grasped at your hip and ass almost to assure himself you were real. "Fuck, doll. Oh my– shit."

He wished he could feel you, just skin to skin, flesh to flesh, your silky, wet walls against his bare cock. He might have came right then and there if not for the condom as a slight barrier keeping his from absolute euphoria.

Hobie fucked you like it was the end of the world, pounding, borderline abusing your poor pussy all while you squealed and moaned and choked beneath him. Yours hands grasps at the sheets, neatly made by maids who had no clue what their hard work would later be used for.

Hobie recorded it, the way his cock dove into your pussy like he'd die if he didn't fuck you with everything he had. His dick touched places you weren't even sure existed within you, caressed parts that haven't been touched in many, many years. It's been a long time since you've had a good, thorough dicking down and you had forgotten how good it felt.

"Right there! Please…Hobie, please!" You moaned into the pillow beneath you. Cohesive sentences evaded you, all you could think about was how his cock was stirring your guts and how you didn't mind at all.

Clapping filled the room, the sticking of skin to skin from sweat and slick made it hard to distinguish where you ended and he began. It ran down your thighs, your arousal, the way he pushed it out of you and smeared it along your inner thighs and the base of his cock.

Hobie was obsessed with the way your ass jiggled against his hips, the way your back arched, how you seemed to be fucking him back with each other this thrusts, meeting him in the middle. Your makeup was smeared against the pillow, messy against your eyes and lips as you turned your head to the side to look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

Now he understood why you had that last rule. A pussy like this could make him catch feelings. It was so tight and creamy and good god, the way you moved was so perfect. He was losing breath, losing sanity.

Hobie grabbed you by the hair and pulled you up to hear your moans better, your neck craned back. He leaned over and pressed his body into yours. "Say hi, dove." He put the camera in your face, only to see you all fucked out and drooling. You could only whimper, your gaze meeting the camera with teary eyes before closing. "Fuuuck." You cried you as he sat back up, his hand readjusting his grip on your hair, and fucked you harder.

"Yah makin' me lose it, luv." Hobie let out a huff. His hand grabbing the round of your ass and squeezing the meat there before sliding up to the small of your waist where his hand settled so he could pull you back on his cock. “Go ‘head ‘n take wha’ ya wan’, pretty slut.” He paused his hips, let you do all the fucking since you were such a pro. “Put on a good show.” He adjusted his hold on his phone camera and watched through the screen as your spread your legs a little further and pushed yourself back onto his length.

You started with just the tip first, just playing with that before taking the whole of his length. You were a professional at this. Looking back, biting your lip, working his cock like it was your last night alive. His mouth fell open with a moan, pussy so tight Hobie was scared the condom was gonna come off.

Hobie shuddered with the beginnings of an orgasm. “Jus’ like tha’, doll. ‘M so close.” He let out in a breathless moan. He watched your greedy cunt take him fully, down to the hilt, the grip of your walls sending him overboard.

"Take off the condom, cum on my ass. It'll look good for the camera." You were a pro at this. You knew what got the most clicks and a cumshot on the ass was only second best to a creampie. Hobie held no objections as he pulled off the condom quickly and wrapped his hand around his member to jerk himself off.

It didn't take much. Hobie muttered incoherently under his breath profanities and obscenities as he came hard. His balls tightened as he came against the round of your ass. "Fuck!" He barked and squeezed out all he had to give, coating your plush flesh in white, dripping in wet globs down your trembling thighs.

You rocked back and forth against his cock, milking him for everything he was worth, another ribbon came and dribbled down the slope of your back. There was just so much, nice and creamy, all over you. The fans would eat this up.

You stretched out much like a cat, even purred a little as you groaned and looked back at him, a little dazed, completely starstruck. He stopped the recording and put down his phone in the middle of the bed. His hands grasped your waist as he bent over you and began to kiss down the slope of your back, his gorgeous lips peppering butterfly kisses against your shoulder blades.

"What did I tell you, Hobie? No feelings."

"Nothin' felt, jus' needed to appreciate ya a little. Lemme clean ya up." Hobie gave you one more firm slap to your ass. He went to go grab one of the fancy, white washcloths hanging in the bathroom to clean you up with. He wet it, wrung it out, and came back to run it down your back in long, gentle strokes, folded it over, then got the rest of your behind.

“I guess I should return the favor, huh?” You said, getting up, sitting down before his kneeling figure. His cock was still half hard and dripping wet with the remnants of your juices and his cum. You look up at him with those eyes that could make a person fall in love, biting your lip to hide a smirk as you wrapped a hand around him to guide his cock into your mouth.

You wrapped your lips around him and lavish your tongue across the expanse of his member. He was so sensitive, shivering as your tongue passed over the salty tip. “Fuck, doll. You’re a masta’piece.” He stroked the side of your jaw with the tips of his fingers before reaching for his phone to record a little more.

He recorded you lazily sucking him off, the outline of his cock inside your cheek. The sink there was so soft, so wet, so good. “Look a’ the camera, luv.” He lightly slapped your cheek when you averted your gaze. You looked up at the camera, sloppily sucking before hollowing out your cheek and letting him go. It was a bit of a power play.

“Nice and clean, no?”

“You’re such a tease.”

You watched the video back when Hobie posted it a few days later, smiling as you bit your nails and watched the shaky, unprofessional camera work. It looked pretty authentic, just two people fucking and the video getting purposely "leaked" by him. It worked perfectly. Hobie was slowly returning back to his controversial, anti-establishment roots and your account was swarming with new followers.

As you watched, Hobie's contact popped up as a drop down notification at the top of your screen.

Wanna do it again?