#don’t use sympathy to get yourself off the hook

[pitconfirm]

idk if im overreacting, but bianca posting a video of her autistic brother to mitigate blame for liking an ableist tweet really rubs me the wrong way…

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Taking the Wheel

—

Time Written-10:47 p.m

Dick Grayson/fem!reader smut

—

Clink, clack, clink, clack. The sounds of heels faintly echoed across the long since faded parking lot, carelessly crossing through thin spaces in between cars and trucks to throw the irritating bastard off your back.

Since you didn’t had arrive with friends, and the main reason you arrived to the packed Lounge, especially on weekends, quickly failed, you were left to walk a long ways across the vehicular maze to get towards your car.

A long, irritating walk on eroded asphalt, in obnoxiously irritating footwear.

Honestly? You could’ve cared less for the foot ache, attempting to push your pace to get towards your destination, your club mood spoiled over by a new desire of getting in your warm, vacant bed at home. Your attempt at distracting your endlessly rattled mind by going towards one of the hottest clubs in the city proved to be a complete failure.

This was Gotham. You knew better than to believe you were going to enjoy a night out for clubbing, completely ignorant to the possibility of the last man you ever expected to arrive, clad in his goddamn uniform, on the search for you.

The only way you learned it was him throughout all the blaring music and strong strobe light ambiance was the roar of patrons crowding around the hottest man of the hour around the dance floor.

What a stupid plan honestly, especially with the overwhelming presence of the obnoxious vigilante following shortly behind you, wondering if you were just doing this to get a reaction out of him.

“You can stop following me now, Grayson.”

It was strangely empty tonight, how he managed to shake off the crowds to go after you alone was a question you could’ve cared less to understand or answer.

"You're walking at night? Alone? You realize you live in Gotham, right?”

You only continued walking, holding yourself with your clutch purse tucked under your shirt, your heels scraping along stray parking lot gravel.

"Aren’t you cold?" Dick asks, trying to hide his worry about you being in that dress in this sixty five degree night.

He was right, watching your head shake no, despite how you carried yourself.

"Oh, come on." Dick says in assuming defeat, only to surprise you via cutting off your path by hopping up on the nearest challenger hood, abruptly jumping in front of your path.

“You can't just walk off like nothing just happened between us." Dick asserts, meeting your aggravated stare.

“Get out of my way—“

"Look, I'm tired of giving you space. Call me clingy, I don’t care. We need to talk about what happened, right now." The words sound more desperate than he intended, other than stern and demanding.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” You mutter, attempting to continue your walk before he holds a hand out in front of you, preventing you from squeezing past him.

"There’s always something to say,” Dick says, hoping you’d try to look back at him.

You’re clearly hurting more than you’re letting on. He can’t really blame you.

You’re no party girl, but you are a girl he hurt. Throwing yourself back out into the dating pool was a typical response, even he’s done it, but he can’t let that happen this time. Not with you.

"Let's... let's talk about this somewhere safe, okay?" He asks, looking down at you. You shift your head a bit, giving him an annoyed glare.

“I wanna go home, okay?” You nearly spat back to him, insisting to yourself that you had no patience to deal with him.

Dick doesn't immediately move in response, gazing down at you with sympathy instead of irritation, such a heart throb in his pretty eyes.

He probably practiced this often every morning in the mirror ever since you broke up, keeping you hooked like a mouse with cheese, or a pretty boy who always knew what to say.

“… Okay.”

He offers his hand out, awaiting your keys in his open palm.

“At least let me drive you home.” He offers, remaining stagnant until he received the only answer he expected. It’ll make him feel a whole lot better knowing you weren’t in the worst place in Gotham right now.

You could only huff through your nose before rummaging through your purse, pulling out your keys.

“Fine,” you mutter, dropping the item into his quickly closing hand. “Just home. That’s it.”

“That’s it,” Dick confirms with a hand raised before stepping off to the side, allowing you to walk ahead of him. “Promise.”

The car was warm, the heater constantly blowing warm air against your exposed back, nearly bumping back against your leather steering wheel.

The driver’s seat had long since been reclined, the material lightly squeaking in response to your sweaty bodies shuffling against each other. Lips battling in between teeth and tongue for dominance he willingly gave you, giving you the impression of control.

His body completely hidden by the suit, while you were still in your backless, black sequin party dress.

Sure, the car was private and warm, the alley was dark, the only light coming from the tiny radio screen, faintly reflecting off the various tiny black sequins of your dress, now pulled down from your torso, decorating your waist like a belt of dying stars.

You remembered the way his gloved hands impatiently unclipped the seatbelt so he could pull you across to his lap after an unprecedented, filthy make-out. The way he had purposely massaged the insides of your thighs caused electricity to shoot through you, needing you as close as physically possible, your short dress riding up precariously over your thighs.

"I should have done this sooner," Dick grunts against your painted lips while pinching your nipples in his thumbs, your nails rasping down the smooth material of his Nightwing suit, pulling it off his shoulders.

“D’you think someone will see us like this…?”

"No one's gonna be looking," Dick gasps out, his tone confident while dripping with cocky arrogance. "And if they do... who the hell cares."

Dick could barely focus on what was happening outside the car as it was.

For some reason, that thought made this all the more exciting. Not that the thought of being seen with a beautiful woman in Nightwing’s lap ever seemed like a bad thing.

“You looked amazing in this dress..." he runs a hand along the curve of your hip.

"But you look a lot better without it."

You’d physically cringe if you weren’t so damn aroused. Only someone like him could pull off cheesy one liners about eighty six percent of the time.

"So do something about it,” you whisper, nipping his bottom lip in your teeth, nearly contemplating on drawing blood once he chuckled.

"With pleasure, Princess.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he lifted you slightly with such ease, allowing him to pull his hard cock from the torturous material that suffocated him.

It would’ve been a much quicker process to undress if he randomly decided to arrive in that god awful disco suit, but it was far too late to complain now.

Prep was limited to the pleasant view of Dick stuffing three fingers into your warm hole, smirking at your hiss before raising them to his mouth, making a show of gathering his own spit while tasting you, before giving the tip of his red, angry cock a few quick strokes.

His fingers hooked your thin, messy panties to the side, hiding his mused smile from your gaze upon hearing your terribly hidden whimper as you felt the soft, blunt tip poking at your opening. A large gasp of air quickly invaded and evaded your lungs as you pushed down on him, feeling him splitting you open inch by torturously thick inch.

His own lust begged the rest of his consciousness to push further into you, aching to stuff the rest of himself inside your wet, greedy cunt. Luckily, you listened to your own thoughts, sinking yourself the rest of the way until you were properly seated, your bare thighs resounding against his with limited time to adjust.

"Holy-" He finds himself whining out, nearly crumbling apart from your silky, sweet cunt gripping him like a damn vice. Incidentally, his grip on your thong tightened after an involuntary thrust, forcing the weak band to snap apart.

The man could’ve cared less, carelessly tossing the ruined garment before gripping your hips with both hands, fingers hooking along your dress as an additional anchor to feverishly fuck you, hearing your breathing shift into quick, eager moans.

He wanted to take control so bad, but he was losing it before he even began.

The moans he emitted were heavenly, the muscles in his throat constricting as his head tilts back against the rest. He groans out your name in a delightful sigh, his fingers digging into your plush ass.

Lipstick prints littered his neck, eyes squeeze shut behind his domino mask.

“God, I've missed you,” the vigilante whimpers out, admiring your silvery necklace clink along the valley of your perfect, juicy tits bouncing erratically close to his chest, accompanied by the jingle of your matching bangles as you sunk your nails deep into the muscles along his back.

Dick's heavy lidded eyes gazed at your flushed face, your cheeks tinted pink with heavy, orgasmic blush. Your mascara stained lashes littered with cloudy black tears, bits of dappled glitter in the corners of your eyes, your signature touch, remaining poised along your perfect face. The picture he always looked forward to taking after every successful date night.

"Do you feel how much I've missed you?" Dick grumbles against your shoulder, his voice breathless, despite his best efforts to control his emotions. “Feel how hard, how deep, just fucking into this pussy? That’s all you baby.” The seemingly endless cooes against your neck render endless shivers down your spine, garnering the exact reactions he wanted from you; straining against the tight clench of your eager cunt.

"Oh-God. Fuuuck yes, missed you so much, princess,” Dick whispers, his tone filled with lust and excitement. He teetered on the edge of begging you to bite him again, to mark his neck up however with as many nips as you please, eager to see such raw evidence of your teeth marks in the morning.

“Mph— take it, baby. F-fucking take it all.”

You could only moan in response to his many words against his neck, your painted eyes nearly fluttering closed as you persist on your relentless pace. He was enjoying this a little too much, as much as you were, if not more.

Amidst the mind numbing euphoria of fucking his ex girlfriend in her own car, calloused hands full of black sequins and exposed skin, even he was calling himself an idiot in his own mind as he whimpers a lot louder than he intended within your shared ecstasy.

He was a damn idiot, thinking only about how much he’s hated being in a relationship with anyone except you. How much you’ve grown to become his favorite person; the one woman he needs every damn night. Every second of the damn day.

And if he wants to prove it by having you ride his cock in the seat of a car parked in a secluded alleyway, so be it. He’ll spoil you with a white plush bed caked in rose petals once after you agree to get back together with him.

"Ba-Baby..." Dick croaks through his stutter, his voice cracking slightly as he watches you come to an abrupt halt to his dismay.

A weak, pathetic grunt spews from his lips as you roll your hips, rocking along his lap, his bruised Adam’s apple bobbing after each whimper and whine. "Don’t stop—don’t stop. Shiiit, I’m begging you—“

His words muffle in a quick second as you stuff your ruined, bunched up thong into his mouth, cerulean eyes widening in surprise by boldness.

Many times he’s taken the lead, regardless over where your horny selves ended up. Any recollection of him doing this to you quickly faded once you locked eyes, his brows raised in surprise and submission to your taunt, prideful expression, lipstick smeared lips scowling in annoyance.

Right now, right now you wanted nothing more than to take out your frustrations on him. Even if it was one of the least violent thoughts you had when it came to him, you compensated via heavy scratches and relentless bites on his neck, and now this.

He wouldn’t be whining like such a bastard in a rut without your sweet, creamy pussy downgrading him from an arrogant, cocky, fearless vigilante into a raspy, quivering disciple. Bright, pretty putty in your hands.

Your hands grasped along the back of his head, purposefully frazzling his sweaty, perfect locks of hair as you eagerly chased another kiss. Your hands gripped his hair tighter causing him to take a sharp intake of air in.

You wouldn’t be such a quivering mess without the constant spear of his hard, delicious cock. A victim to this nearly endless cycle of ‘Fuck now, ask questions later.’

‘Or, just fuck some more later.’

You knew this, and you knew he’d give you what you wanted first before you even considered the idea of forgiving him.

“I need you to- fuck, j-just shut up. Shut up a-and keep going, Dick. Keep— Keep going. Just- Just keep fucking me.”

He stares straight ahead at the rich goddess amidst the fogged up windshield in front of him, his hands reinforcing his grasp along your thighs.

Obediently, he picked up the pace, the fat head hitting directly on your sweet spot much rougher and faster with intentions to leave you bruised, hoping you’d allow him to care for you for the rest of the week shortly after.

He moaned much louder against the damp, pheromone laced fabric, swallowing up your sickeningly sweet venom while he pistons his hips, making his soaking wet, twitchy balls constantly smack against your overstretched cunt.

Oh, if only you knew how much you drove Richard Grayson wild, if only you knew.

Hell, what was the argument even about? Neither of you could barely remember anymore.

[3rachaslut]

DOM HYUNJIN X F READER

minors DO NOT INTERACT!!!

cw! ; domhyunjin! subreader, knife play, sir kink, degradation and praise, choking, reader is tied up, a cheeky pussy slap, pet names (slut etc) fluff at the end if you SQUINT

“Oh angel, don’t cry” Hyunjin cooed as he trailed his hands down the entirety of your laying figure underneath him with a devilish smirk on his face. “It’s your fault that you’re in this situation my love. You’re the one who made yourself come whilst I was away and now you will have to deal with the consequences”. Hyunjin’s tormenting words ring in your head and you subconsciously lift your body up towards him.

“I’m sorry!” you huff out, yanking in aggravation at the ropes on either side of you, binding you to the bed. Hyunjin narrows his eyebrows, pouting his lip in faux pity of your pathetic attempt at escaping.

“Thrash all you like my love.” he chuckles. “You.. are not going…” he leans in towards your face, tantalising close, “anywhere”. The whisper of his last word causing goosebumps to form all over your naked body and your breath hitches. As his hand finds your neck, you instinctively let out a moan. Hyunjin slowly applies pressure to either side of your throat, and you roll your eyes back, embracing the feeling that comes along with it; floating. Your head is soon pushed upwards roughly, allowing Hyunjin further access to your exposed neck. He wastes no time to kiss over your most sensitive spot that he is too accustomed to.

“H- hyune” you breathe out in jagged breaths as he begins to suck red marks on your neck, claiming you as his own. The feeling of his breathing on your skin, so close to your ears, sends shivers down your back.

“What’s wrong pretty girl?” he cocks his head to the side in a condescending manner and it drives you insane. You can only whine in response. Begging for any type of stimulation, you lift yourself off the bed in an attempt to brush his leg against your pussy, albeit failing as he backs away just to torment you even more. Hyunjin lets out a daring huff and you close your eyes to avoid his threatening gaze. He chuckles menacingly.

“Naughty girl” he says playfully, emphasising his last word with a swift slap to your left cheek.“I thought…” You hear the sound of the draw to the nightstand opening next to your head. “I’d trained you to be an obedient girl for me?…” Too scared to look at him, you tilt your head away, scrunching your eyes in anticipation. “But…” You feel something sharp tap underneath your jaw and your breathing halts. “You’re still just a desperate little slut aren’t you? hm?” He whispers in your ear which sends chills down your spine. Hyunjin shakes his head at you and tuts, smiling slyly and uses the tip of the blade to turn your head to face him. “What’s wrong princess?”

Just the sight of the pure fear in your eyes has Hyunjin’s cock throbbing and he grazes the blade along your throat. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding and you dare to look into his eyes. A look of faux sympathy is plastered on his face and your your body betrays you, feeling your pussy slowly getting wet. You whine at his dominant tone and he smirks as he realises he’s got you right where he wants you. “Words, baby girl” He says, but all your mind allows you to do is whine in desperation as he proceeds to run the knife along the length of your body, landing on your thigh.

“Y-yes sir” you huff through jagged breaths and your eyes roll back in your head, causing a smirk to tug at the side of Hyunjin’s mouth. Leaning down towards your marked neck, Hyunjin swiftly hooks the blade underneath the waistband of your panties, ripping through the fabric in one swoop and you gasp in shock, your cunt getting wetter from the act. Hyunjin chuckes down your ear and goes back to marking your neck as he does the same to the other side, your bare pussy now exposed to him. As he lifts himself off of you, his eyes fill with hunger at the site of your now fully bare figure, so submissive underneath him. Taking in all of you, he lets out a sigh in awe of your body.

“You’re so beautiful baby..” he comments, now proceeding to run the knife slowly towards your cunt. “Aren’t you?” his eyes bore into yours.

“Y-es” you reply, your voice wavering. Suddenly, you feel a sharp, piercing pain on your clit that sent jolts of pain through you. “Yes sir!” you corrected yourself quickly and Hyunjin hums in approval. Adjusting his position on top of you, he proceeds to put your thighs over his own and pushes them towards your chest. The blade, once again, finds your throat and your eyes lock onto his right above you.

“Gonna fuck now baby girl” he says softly down your ear and you nod in acceptance and desperation. You have never been more aroused than you are right now. You NEEDED Hyunjin more than you needed air and the threat of the knife against your throat only made the ache in your cunt 100 times worse for him. He slid into you slowly and your head falls back into the pillow, his thrusts slowly speeding up as you wrap tighter around him. The moans you were letting out were only making him rut into you harder and he whimpers in pleasure down your ear all the while telling you how “beautiful” you are and how “good” you’re being for him.

“My gorgeous angel, taking me so- fuck- well. I’m so proud of you baby” Hyunjin praised through huffed breathes and the only thought in your vacant head right now is the only response you can give.

“Yours, yours, yours” you whine out over and over again after each thrust into you. Hyunjin releases the knife from your throat and throws is to the ground at the side of the bed. Quickly, he grabs either side of your face with each of his hands and tilts your head to look into your eyes. Your faces are now only millimetres apart and both you and Hyunjin were suckers for eye contact during sex. His thrusts become more and more erratic and you knew he was close to cumming. You smile at him and that’s all he needed to push him over the edge.

Coming down from his high, he greeted your swollen lips with a longing kiss, delicately and passionately.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin whispers to you with a slightly worried look on his face. “That was amazing” you reply, gasping for breath as your heart rate attempts to return to normal. He smiles in relief and plants a peck on your lips.

“I love you darling”

“I love you too”

[gutterfuuck]

feeding on violence (for lack of a better title)

sinister!mark x reader

cw: dark content! mdni !!, noncon oral/sex (f!receiving + giving), sadism, blood & knifeplay (if u squint) degradation, impact play, corruption, mark likes to hurt reader physically, pain kink (i think), choking, face slapping, hair pulling, etc etc, a little violent so tread carefully!

“don’t be so disrespectful.” he sneered, hand tightening around your throat as he pinned both of your arms down onto the wet grass with his knees. “h-hur..ts-“ you choked out, wiggling around underneath his strong body. mark stayed silent for a moment, pushing more and more of his weight onto your arms, bruises already forming on your skin before…

you gasped, body shooting up as he floated off of you, not sure whether to check your sore upper arms or rub at your neck, his fingerprints leaving dotted dark circles around your windpipe. you coughed, catching your breath as you tried to shuffle away from the ruthless viltrumite conqueror that hovered above you.

you kicked your legs at him as he approached you slowly, fake sympathy plastered onto his face. you stared up into the soulless black goggles that covered his probably soulless black eyes, twisting your face in rage and clenching your teeth, “c’mon, don’t look at me like that… what? tryin’ to hide from me again?” mark chuckled, appearing in front of your face within less than a second and placing his hands under your armpits, hiking you up onto his lap and flying you both up to the building that looked as if it could crumble; settling on the rooftop and throwing you onto the ground.

you let out a little yelp, the unexpected impact giving you no time to save yourself and resulting in grazes on your elbows, bluntly knocking your head on the solid floor. “i would.. i-“ you were cut off, mark’s hand covering your mouth and squeezing your cheeks, “i would i-” he mocked, staring into your orbs with empty goggles, “what’re you saying to me? hurry up.” he finished, loosening his grip on your face before moving to grip your chin in between his fingers.

“i would rather die than spend another second on this invaded earth. kill me you son of a bitch.” you spat at him, closing your eyes as you waited for him to tear you in half, crush your head, rip your heart from your chest… mark licked your spit from the corner of his mouth, smiling smugly to himself. “you die when i allow it.” he growled firmly, venom lacing his words. “you die when i get bored of breaking you, y/n. what’s so hard to understand?” he spoke as if it were a logical situation for anyone to be in.

mark grabbed onto your shirt, tearing it into a million pieces before your eyes, bloody scratches forming on your ribs from where his nails had cut your skin ‘accidentally’. he was always so calculated with his movements, you wouldn’t put it past him that he definitely meant to scratch you while he tore your clothes from your body. your tits bounced free, hands automatically covering your bare chest, eyebrows furrowed together angrily as you looked up at him.

“if only looks could kill, right y/n?” he laughed, fingers hooking around the waistband of your pants and yanking them down along with your underwear, slapping your thigh sharply when you tried to back away from him again, earning a pained gasp from you.

that only made mark harder.

he grabbed your legs, pulling them apart and pushing them almost up to your head, your hands pulling at his hair and small pleas for him to stop going totally unnoticed by mark. he used his thumbs to spread your folds, examining your cunt and dipping his head down to attach his lips to your clit,

“h-hey-! no! st-stop..!” you whined, legs struggling against his vice like grip, pulling at his scalp and slapping him as hard as you could. mark only continued, flicking his hot tongue back and forth against your little sensitive bud while he kept his lips sealed to your clit; relishing in your desperate pleas for him to just get off of you and leave you be, to remove his skilled mouth from your betraying cunt that leaked sweet slick onto his chin.

mark’s tongue pressed flat against your hole, the tip threatening to slip into your- “nh-!” you moaned as he licked a fat, wet stripe all the way up your pussy, spitting on your clit while he panted, “coming off like you don’t want it but you’re making such cute little noises, wife.” you cringed at his little name for you, he knew you hated it. he taunted you with it, you were his wife: the pet.

“m’wife just needed her lil’ pussy eaten to behave right? bet you don’t wanna run away from me now…” mark noted that you had almost stopped struggling against him, any attempt would’ve been futile anyway. “we aren’t married you creep!” you yelled, mustering up all of your confidence, all of your strength, pulling back your thigh so you could connect the sole of your shoe with his face and finally—!

his hand wrapped around your ankle, shaking his head as you cowered, eyes darting to your side to avoid his eyes until- SMACK!

your right ear rang, your hand shooting up to soothe your cheek on instinct with tears brimming in the corner of your eyes. you turned to face the perpetrator who gripped your cheeks together with his hand, forcing you to face him. “can’t believe you just tried to fuckin kick me away like that, you stupid slut.” he was pissed. “think you could take me the fuck down anyway? i’m gettin’ real tired of this bitchy running away act, getting caught, i eventually find you and breaking you in, again and again and again.” mark pointed his index finger and middle finger to your forehead, almost as if he was imitating a gun; “you stupid. dumb. wet. little. fuck-box.” he punctuated each word by poking his fingers into your temple harshly, surely leaving bruises there. you didn’t dare move out of fear of being slapped again, already feeling the swelling of the side of your face.

you sniffled once, twice, before tears trickled down your cheeks. mark only shushed you, drinking in the way you looked when you sobbed at him, an action that told him that you gave up. he wiped your eyes, a smile still lingering on his smug face.

“shh, oh- baby no, please don’t cry…” he spoke softly, pretending to care, “cuz if you keep crying like that y’know i’m just gonna have to give you something to cry about, right?” he finished coldly and it made you shiver. “pl-please m’sorry-“ you cried, still as a statue. a chuckle. “oh, my sweet little wife..” he pulled you into an embrace, kissing where he had hurt you, “you will be.”

*

your knees were surely grazed and bleeding, nails digging into mark’s thighs as he fucked his dick in and out of your throat, being sure to hold you down occasionally to watch you struggle for air, gag around the girth, your jaw aching and your eyes wet with tears. you wondered if this was all a trap; if he had flown you up to the fragile building so he could expose of you here. even if you were to die, at least you still held on to your dignity. or whatever strip of it you would have left after mark was done with you.

“now that’s a good wife, if you even think about touching it with your teeth i’m gonna show you how mad i can get,” the way he spoke was almost becoming hypnotising. he was so soft, so careful with his words; his horrible, degrading words. how could one make a warning sound like a love letter? “i don’t give a fuckkk…” mark hissed as your tongue lolled against one of his thick veins, rolling his hips into your mouth while his hand remained glued to the back of your head, “..i’ll keep you here all day if i have to, break your jaw in. what’re you gonna do when it’s all dislocated n busted cuz you didn’t do a good enough job slobbering on your god, huh?”

more fake sympathy. more tears. mark licked his lips, the fear in your eyes making his head tilt back, mouth open with a groan. you looked so pretty when you cried, so harmless.

mark pulled his cock out of your mouth with a pop! sound, a string of spit linking your lips to his heavy cockhead. “did i fuck your attitude away? you gonna behave f’me now?” you knew that tone. he wasn’t playing with you. you nodded slowly, catching your breath and coughing quietly; you didnt want to tick him off. you leaned into him only to have him push your head away, “we’re not done.”

“can’t believe i fucked that smart little mouth of yours dumb.” mark shook his head, moving your body over to lay flat on the concrete, “shut you up for good.” your mind was hazy, vision blurry with tears. there really was no point in running anymore; no point in hiding away from him. he’d always find you, always.

mark positioned his hips in between yours, angry tip threatening to bully itself into your trembling cunt, trying to wiggle your hips away to try and save yourself just a little more time- “keep fucking doing that. you see what happens.” he threatened, voice sharp like razors. you would rather not find out what he would do to you, so you relaxed as much as you could, hands trying to conceal your pain-y, unsure little noises.

“that’s right— yeah, don’t run from it.. shiiit..-“ he groaned, his cock pushing past your tight little entrance. you felt full and it was only barely just the head. he was going to tear you in half, you just knew it. “don’t ever fuckin’ try to run from it ever again..” he finished, pushing himself further and further into your tight walls. you gasped, your pussy clenching around him involuntarily, clit swollen and begging to be touched.

you felt a cold presence on your chest, eyes flickering down to stare at a little scalpel you were sure he had zipped off to get so fast, it must’ve been just this second because there was not one in sight. “should carve m’name into you, wife.” he grunted as he felt your cunt swallow up his shaft, “make you bleed my name… maybe then you’ll understand.”

a strangled scream left your throat as mark slammed his whole length into you, giving your insides no time to adjust to his spitting size. “theeere we go. nice n snug… this pussy’s made for breeding, ain’t it princess?” you didn’t respond, too fucked out already to even register what he had said to you. oh well. mark pulled his hips back, observing the creamy ring that coated his dick with a triumphant sense of victory, picking up speed within seconds.

call you crazy, maybe you liked it. maybe you were starting to like it. that was all you could think of to reason with your thoughts, your thoughts telling you to sink deeper into depravity, let him leave your insides all cummy and destroyed and filled until he wanted to play with you again… you were just as fucked up.

just as fucked up, if not, worse.

[loaksky]

tw : ptsd

hi I love love love your work, may I make a request: abby comforting reader with ptsd after a nightmare/episode 🧸 only if you’re comfy with that of course angel!!

— 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒆 | 𝒂. 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏

roommate!abby x fem roommate!reader, fluff / mild angst, wc: 2.3k

synopsis: oftentimes when you’re lost in the darkness, abby’s your light.

content warnings: language, sprinkled mentions trauma and implied ptsd ! talks of death, brief mentions of canon-compliant violence. this is set in the tlou2 universe, but is canon-divergent (did i use that term right lmaooo ??), abby & reader get off to a rocky start, but they’re so fucking cute & i wanna write more of them ????

author’s note: sugar !! you don’t even know how excited i was to see you in my inbox bae ! ilysm thank you so much for requesting ! hope i did this justice <3 ALSO this is my first time writing in the tlou universe ?? usually i write modern!aus so i'm like pissing myself lowkey ansjkdnfjasf

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

YOUR PRESENCE ON BASE SENDS a ripple of whispers from wall to wall. The circumstances pertaining to your arrival hadn’t been uncommon, but they were brutal, had people eyeing you with equal parts sympathy and disdain.

Truthfully, you don’t remember much of it, had blacked out after the first death, but the murmurs speculate that your entire family had been ambushed, turned and then picked off in a raid.

You don’t know how true that is.

Abby doesn’t really pay you much mind at first, isn’t all that thrilled when she finds out that you’re taking the spare side of the spacious room she occupies, but she keeps her mouth shut when she sees how fragile you are.

And it’s not like she sees you much, not even in the evenings when most people are turning in for the night. Your bed’s always made, your side of the room in pristine condition. The only indication that you lodge with Abby is the beat up backpack that hangs on the hook by your desk.

On occasion she’ll wake up in the wee hours of the night to find you tucked under the blankets, still as a statue, but come morning, you’re gone.

For a while, she appreciates the distance, but when she sees you only a handful of times in the nearly two months you’ve sought refuge at the stadium, she begins to grow curious.

First it starts as asking passive questions to those patrolling, then she starts briefly combing any areas she enters, but you’re like a fleeting wisp of smoke, gone with a gust of wind.

She happens upon you by chance one night, right as the sun is setting. She’s on her way to the weight room when she notices you. The library is relatively quiet around this time, everyone usually in the dining hall or working on their evening duties.

But there you are, going through a carton of what looks like newly arrived books from the most recent raid.

Abby acts against her own better judgment, door whooshing as she presses her weight against the pushbar.

You’re looking up from your sorting, eyebags still prominent, but the color has returned to your face and you look like you’ve been taking care of yourself.

“This where you disappear to everyday?” Abby asks, pulling an early 2000’s almanac from the shelf to distract herself from the sear of you gaze.

She glances back at you when you don’t respond, finds that you’ve returned to shuffling through the box instead of humoring her question.

She clears her throat, takes another step closer, and you’re looking up at her again.

“Any good titles?” she tries. “I’m kinda in a slump right now, think I—”

“You don’t have to pity me,” you say flatly, voice a lot different than Abby’d expected.

She’s floored, regardless. Doesn’t know what would compel you to say such a thing when she’s barely spoken a dozen words to you since your arrival.

“I’m not following,” Abby admits.

You’re small in comparison, but the look you level her with is mighty, makes her cheeks bloom red because a woman’s never looked at her in such a way. She feels like she’s in trouble, but maybe she likes it.

“I hear what you all say about me,” you say firmly. “That I’m probably batshit crazy, that the patrolling team should’ve just left me to die with the rest of my family, that I’m useless.”

Abby flinches, brows drawing together and lips parting incredulously.

You don’t expect her reaction.

“I’m lost?” she says in confusion, then adds, tone stony, “who’s been saying that shit?”

Frankly, you don’t really look convinced, but your shoulders are relaxing a fraction. Perhaps you won’t admit it, but Abby’s quiet outrage provides some semblance of comfort.

You shrug.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say quietly. “But you don’t have to go out of your way to be nice to me. I’m fine on my own.”

And Abby doesn’t know whose neck she has to wring, or how many for that matter, but despite initially being lukewarm towards you, she wants to squash every single person who’s made you feel like you can’t find a place among them.

“That’s bullshit,” she replies frankly, and you’re looking at her sharply. “People are bored, like to run their mouths. There’s a place here for everyone, you included.”

Such simple words shouldn’t make you feel warm, but you’re pausing, frozen like a hurt pup experiencing affection for the first time. You’re glancing up at her, lips pressed in a thin line.

Abby’s fidgeting because fuck, did she overstep a boundary with this interaction? Should she have left you alone instead? She wasn’t necessarily mad at the distance between you two, but the establishment of having a roommate makes her feel like she’s been living with a ghost recently.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

Abby’s shoulders deflate in relief, chest hitching as she takes in a shaky sigh.

“Have you...have you had dinner yet?”

Abby learns that regardless of breaking the ice, you’re still reserved. It’s quiet breaths of laughter when she cracks a joke, learning how to settle for the silence when the two of you are spending prolonged periods of time together (which is a lot more frequent that Abby had expected), and being the buffer between you and most things you find uncertainty with.

Not only that, but you’re a nocturnal creature of habit that she usually finds cooped up in the library.

It’s half past one in the morning some weeks later when she wakes up and groggily squints over the railing that divides the room to find that your bed is empty.

She’s pulling on a hoodie, slipping on a pair of sneakers and brushing her hair from her face as she slinks out into the hallway. And, of course, you’re in the first place she thinks to look, curled up against the cushions of an oversized chair with your eyes drooping over a children’s picture book.

She enters almost silently, only catching your attention when she’s a few paces away.

“Hey, A–” A yawn pulls from your chest. “Hey, Abby.”

She smiles softly.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She leans against the armrest of the chair, peers down at you as you flip lazily through the pages before she’s pulling the book from your grasp.

You let out a sound of disapproval.

“M’not done,” you tell her.

“You look like you’re about to knock out,” Abby observes. “Why don’t we get you to bed.”

You yawn again, then sigh deeply.

“I won’t be able to fall asleep anyways,” you admit quietly.

Abby shifts and you look up at her. She notices the glimmer of vulnerability that glosses over your sleepy eyes.

“Is it because...” she trails off, swallows down the rest of her question because she doesn’t want to seem insensitive, but you seem to get the gist anyways.

“Among other things,” you admit.

“Oh,” Abby whispers. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug tiredly.

“Can’t be helped, really.”

And Abby’s learned to really like you these past few weeks, has felt for you and your journey here. It makes something tug hard at her heartstrings, especially when she sees little slivers of peace dawn you for a few moments at a time, only to be weighed down by the gravity of it all.

“Why don’t we go back and you can at least lay down?” she asks softly. “You need to rest.”

And you want to argue, tell her that it really is no use, especially when the darkness can be one of your sensitive triggers. But the look that Abby is giving you is pleading, like she can’t bear the thought of another one of your sleepless nights, so you nod carefully and let her guide you out of the seat.

“I know it’s touchy,” she says after a few silent moments down the hall. “But, you can...you can talk to me if you ever, y’know, need to get anything off your chest.”

You don’t mean to, you’re just caught up in the moment and Abby has a way of making you feel safe, but you’re grabbing gently at her fingertips as the two of you walk down the corridor.

“Thanks, Abby,” you swallow.

If Abby looks hard enough out the window, she can see the beginnings of the sun as it starts its ascent. She’d spent the latter half of the late evening murmuring to you in the dark, hoping that maybe the sound of her voice would lull you to sleep.

And it does, miraculously, she thinks to herself, when she hears the light puff of your steady breathing. She stays still for moments that bleed into several minutes, monitoring the tandem of your breaths. She doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until the sky begins to ooze from midnight to burnt swathes of orange.

She hadn’t slept a wink, too busy wanting to make sure that you’re snoozing well enough in the short period of time since you’d laid your head down. So she decides to get dressed in the dark, is in the middle of sliding her belt through the loops when she hears it.

It’s most imperceptible, the murmur that slips from your lips, but Abby’s been hyperaware recently. She thinks that maybe she’d been a little too loud, jeans rustling a little too hard, belt buckle clanging too much. But even as she stills in the dark, she hears the whimper that echos against the exposed rafters.

“Please...” Abby freezes, lump lodged deep in her throat.

Your body jerks, mattress squeaking under the sudden movement as your sheets rustle once, then twice.

“No.” Your breath catches so hard in your chest, Abby’s worried you won’t take another.

She’s crossing the room quickly, pawing around your nearby desk for the small lamp. The dim bulb casts a yellow glow over the surroundings and Abby finds you damp with a sheen of sweat.

“No, no, don’t—”

When her hands find you, you’re shooting up, shoving her away with so much force, she’s knocked to her ass. Before she even blinks, you’re straddling her, dagger she hadn’t even known you had on you, drawn.

“Hey,” she whispers shakily. “It’s me.”

Your eyes are wild, cheeks streaked with tears as you take in your surroundings. You touch base with your senses to ground you; the sound of your ragged breathing, the smell of Abby’s pine-scented soap, the taste of blood on your tongue, the feel of Abby’s shirt bunched in your fist, and the sight of her rigid frame clearing from the fog.

“Fuck,” you choke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You’re dropping the dagger, fist loosening as you scramble to climb off of her. But her fingers are closing around your wrist to stop you, mooring you to place.

“It’s okay,” she says breathlessly. “It’s fine. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Her hands slowly come up to brush over the sides of your arms comfortingly, and when you don’t flinch away, she’s reaching up to smooth the hair from your face.

The softness of her touch makes you melt, makes you wrap your arms around her shoulders and fall into her as her arms wind around your waist.

“I’m here,” she assures you quietly. “You’re safe.”

And when she feels your body shake against hers, her chest is squeezing, feels all those tamped down emotions from a loss that feels like such a distant memory resurface with every quiet sob that wracks your body.

She feels like she’d processed her grief well enough over the past few years after losing her dad, was buoyed in a consistent state of anger that manifested in a deep-seated need for vengeance as of late. But this makes her sad. Makes her want to take away everything that’s ever made you feel hurt in the world.

She’s squeezing you so tight, nose nestling into your hair as she rocks you gently.

Abby still doesn’t know how much time passes, but your heaving breaths turn into spaced hiccups as you sink further into her hold. She doesn’t realize that the exhaustion has crept over you until one of your hiccups fades to a sigh, until she’s pulling away to see that your cheek is pressed against her shoulder and your wet lashes brush the apples of your cheeks.

For once, it seems like one of those slivers of peace has found you in a moment of sleep and Abby wants to preserve it.

She’s shifting your weight, arms banding tight around your waist so that she can slowly stand. And when you stir, she cringes in defeat. But your breath puffs against the column of her throat, and while your proximity makes her cheeks burn, she can only focus on settling you back into bed.

“Abby,” you whisper groggily, as she sits on the edge of your bed to kick her shoes off. “Don’t leave, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assures you softly, leaning back against your pillows and taking you with her. “I’ll be right here.”

True to her word, when you wake up, she is, one arm propped underneath her head, the other splayed between your shoulder blades.

The sun sits high in the sky, analog clock reading well into the morning and nearing the afternoon.

“Oh, fuck!” You’re leaning up abruptly, jostling Abby from her slumber and she’s gazing up at you with bleary eyes.

“Shit, are you okay?” Abby asks, voice thick with sleep.

“They’re probably looking for you,” you say frantically. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I—”

The hand on your back hasn’t left yet, rubbing slow circles there, the other mapping across your shoulders to pull you into her chest.

“S’okay,” she reassures you. “They won’t miss me for a day.”

“Abby—”

“Shhh,” she mutters. “M’sleeping.”

And you want to cry. Equal parts because of embarrassment and equal parts because Abby’s showed you the most kindness you can remember anyone ever showing you and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“Abby?”

“Yes, ________?” she grumbles.

“Thank you.”

She squeezes you tighter.

neng © 2023

[wambsgansshoelaces]

prompt number 4 with shivvy please 😇

Honey

Prompt: “C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.”

Siobhan Roy x Reader

summary: cuddles, baked goods, and insecurity

okay so a few things… this is my favorite fic I’ve ever written. I’m sorry that it’s so much shorter than everything else, but I’m sooo proud of it I love it so much it’s my little baby

I wrote way beyond the prompt, so I hope you don’t mind xx I was just making myself feel better haah xx

anon, thank you so much for requesting <3 I love you and I hope you love it xxx

tw for weight and eating talk. you’re beautiful, I love you, and you deserve the world, reader <3

Word Count: 1.628k

“Come on, babe, just give me another half hour.”

You’re perched on your girlfriend’s desk as she works. Shiv’s been here, at the Waystar office, since six in the morning. It’s now eleven P.M.

“You’ve been here for way too long,” you point out. She doesn’t say anything, absorbed in whatever it is she’s working on on her computer. “I wanna go home.” You pout at her, trying to earn some sympathy.

She heaves a sigh, going to type something. “Then go home.” Her voice comes out harsh, and you wince. She’s been overworking herself for weeks. You know she doesn’t mean to be snappy- it just happens to her. She gets overwhelmed, she gets frustrated, and she’s still working on being able to regulate her emotions when they’re negative. You frown at her from your spot on the corner of her desk. She stops herself, taking a short breath. “I’m sorry. I just really need to finish this stuff.” She rolls her chair closer to you and leans up, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss before going back to work.

“Love, what’re you even working on?” you ask softly, moving to hook your fingers around hers. She smiles, but keeps her eyes trained on her laptop.

“Just some campaign things. They need to be done before tomorrow afternoon, and I have meetings all morning…” She fiddles with one of the rings on your pointer finger.

“Look, do you know you really can’t wrap up now?”

“No, really, babe, I have to get this done-”

She’s interrupted by the noise you make sliding off her desk. “I’m sorry, it’s just- I’ve been here all day, Shiv. You have, too, and if you’re not going to come home with me…”

“What? You’re going? No, No.” She looks up at you, brow furrowed. “C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.”

“Siobh-”

“Come on.”

With a sigh and dumb smile on your face, you go over and deposit yourself into her lap. She strokes up and down your thigh with one hand, reaching around you with the other. She sets her head on your shoulder and she continues to peer at whatever it is she’s doing.

You lean back into her, strangely content. You turn your head far enough to be able to kiss the side of her temple. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” she murmurs into your shirtsleeve. “You know, I like this.” Her hand shifts from your thigh to the side of your neck, her fingers hunting for a strand of hair to play with. She twists a soft lock around her fingers, pressing a lazy kiss into your shoulder.

"So, how's Weston doing?" you ask with a smirk on your face. You'd met him at one of her work parties, and she swore up and down that she had nothing to do with him. You believe her, obviously. You know she's only interested in you. But you know Weston's into her, and she's oblivious.

"He's been acting... strange lately. I think you scared him," she says, lips brushing over your neck. You laugh. You enjoy teasing her like this. You know she doesn't take it personally. She's just happy she gets to spend time with you, see you laughing, see your face split into that radiant fucking smile of yours.

"Ha! Good." You nuzzle into her, using your hips to burrow further into her lap. You can feel the heat rush through her body, her hand clamping down on your side. It's only a matter of seconds before her attention is off of you, to your dismay. "Shiv," you whine. "Enough work for the night. Please? For me?"

She lets out an airy sigh, pressing a kiss onto the back of your head, into your hair. “I’m sorry. Let’s go home.”

You take her chin and guide her mouth to yours.

She makes a satisfied noise against your lips. She tastes like honey. Honey crafted by Dionysus for one of his wines. She groans deeply when you shift in her lap, unintentionally grinding against her.

You get to your feet, Shiv following after packing up her things. Her computer bag slung over her shoulder and her hand in yours, she drags you through the parking garage. “Do you really have to go to work tomorrow?”

“What kind of question is that?” She pauses to toss her stuff into the back seat of your car while you climb into the driver’s seat. “But no. I’ll stay home. I know you have the day off.” She gives you a peck before you start driving.

God, you love staying home with her. Your life became infinitely better when you moved in with her. You were both so madly in love with one another. Life was in color when you were with you, in black and white when you weren’t.

Before she disappears into the bathroom to begin her nightly routine, she kisses you deeply. You’re sure you can get drunk off of the way she tastes alone. She tastes like pure sunlight. Like liquid gold.

She’s stressed, she has so much on her mind, so much to do. It’s getting late, but you want to do something for her. If you hurry, you think you can have your plan neatly executed before she’s inclined to go to sleep. As fast as you can, you find the spare dough from the last time you did this for her. You quickly roll everything out, shaping the cinnamon buns, and have a glaze and frosting made. You pour honey over the dough so that when you bite into the buns, the honey oozes out, warm and sweet. You dip them in the glaze and you have them in the oven under the half hour.

Shiv strolls out from the bathroom, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. God, her eyes. You can never look away from her eyes. Her silk pajamas leave most of her skin exposed- her supple thighs, her plush arms. Her hips fill out her shorts in a way that makes you embarrassingly hot and bothered. She's a goddess walking on earth unworthy of her. You want to drop everything you're doing in your life to just do whatever the fuck she asks of you. To spend the rest of your days with her. She's so fucking beautiful and you can't believe she's committed herself to you. You just love her so much. You feel so fucking lucky.

“What’s baking?” she asks, cuddling up to you on the couch. “It smells nice.” She takes your arm and puts it around her. Her cheek presses into your shoulder. She’s blinking back sleep, but she’s holding on. Anything to spend more time with you.

“Your favorite,” you murmur back.

“Are you sure? It’s late,” she says unconvincingly, looking up at you with a dreamy look on her face.

“You should treat yourself, Shivvy,” you tell her. Your expression is one loaded with affection. You hope you two never have to separate.

She kisses you quickly. “I love you.” Soon enough, your timer rings, and you get up to get the honey cinnamon buns out of the oven. She hovers over you as you set the tray on the counter. The steam swirls through the air, twirling between the two of you. Her arms wind around your waist, her head leaning into your neck. “I mean it. You’re the best human being on the planet.”

You kiss the top of her head. “You’re my girl. I’d do anything for you.”

She plants a warm kiss into the crook of your neck before grabbing a plate from the silverware cabinet. “Let’s share one!”

“Oh, uh, you can have it all,” you say quickly.

“No, you too. I can’t eat this all by myself.” She cuts the bun in half, settling both sides on the same plate so you could share. Like you always do.

“Um, I really shouldn’t be having any sugar,” you say meekly. “I’ve been gaining.” You look away, ashamed.

You’ve had issues with your body, with eating, for as long as you can remember. It was embarrassing to admit, but they started and childhood, and no matter how hard you fucking tried, they never went away. Especially as of recently.

Going to the gym, eating healthy. You did it all- or at least you thought it did. But you suppose not, because you were worse off than you started.

“Baby,” Shiv says incredulously. “Gaining? Where? If anything, it’s muscle.” She nudges you with her hip. She can tell when things run deep. This is one of them. “Come on. You can’t actually think you need to lose weight.” When you don’t say anything, she presses on. “Is this a self confidence thing? You’re literally the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life. You’re hips are the sexiest thing-”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, let’s just eat?”

“No, no, I’m solving this issue,” she insists. “I don’t care if you’re a little chubby- which you’re not -because that doesn’t mean anything. You’re healthy, you’re a smoke show, so what’s it fucking matter?”

She drops the knife she was waving around while she spoke, instead coming over to smooth her hands over your jaw and give you a nice, long kiss. She pulls away and presses a fat kiss to the spot just above your belly button.

The two of you eat together, you albeit hesitantly, but she urges you on. You’re glad you have her. She’s everything to you, and you’re everything to her.

When you kiss her the last time for the night, she tastes of what you imagine the rest of your life with her is going to look like.

Honey, pure sunlight, liquid fucking gold.

[nhlclover]

enchanted | cole caufield

summary: an enchanting night with your brother's teammate changes the way you feel about dating

request: yes / no

warnings: NOT proof read, drinking, kissing

a/n: based on ‘enchanted’ by taylor swift. whoo mama she's a long one! also sorry if this lowkey sucks i combined two different fics into one, regretted my decision, but perservered

word count: 2.57k

You pause the episode of Survivor, tuning into the muffled conversation you could hear from the kitchen. It was Nick and Caitlin, although their raised volume indicated that they were arguing, which was bizarre. It had been a bit over 6 months since you’d lived with your brother and his girlfriend and not once had you heard them argue, let alone get in a serious disagreement.

Their voices approached your room accompanied by footsteps.  The room is brightened by the hall light as they appear in the doorway, dressed to go out.

“What?” You ask in a monotone voice.

“We’re going to Kirby’s house for a party.” He tells you.

“Okay? Have fun.” You say, wondering why he felt the need to tell you.

“No I mean we as in all of us. You’re coming too.” He says.

You roll your eyes, pulling the comforter over your torso. “I’m not really in the mood for partying with your teammates, Nick.”

“Don’t care. You’re coming with us, y/n.” Nick said, turning on the bedside lamp. “It’s getting a little sad, all of this moping. I mean I’m pretty sure it’s been a week since you’ve seen sunlight.”

“Nick, she just got broken up with, cut her some slack.” Caitlin says from the doorway. 

“Thank you, Caitlin. See this is why I like her better than you, she shows me compassion.” You say.

“To hell with compassion.” Nick rolls his eyes. “You guys dated for less than two months, he didn’t even know your middle name.”

“Can’t you just let me be sad?” You ask. “I don’t know why you want me to come with you guys.” 

“Because if mom knew that you were just lying in bed, eating chips and binging Survivor, she wouldn’t be happy with either of us.” Nick pointed out your depressing habits. He yanked the comforter off you, taking your laptop and putting it on the desk. “Now get dressed we leave in 15 minutes.”

You groan, watching him walk out of the room with Caitlin shooting you a look of sympathy before she walks out too. Not that he deserves the credit, but Nick was partially right. You had only been dating for two months, so your moping about this one guy was a little extreme, but he was the third guy that you had gone out with only to get dumped less than two months later. It was getting frustrating as you started to wonder if something about you was turning all these guys away.

Another thing he was right about was that you hadn’t left the apartment in over a week. Even you were starting to get a little disappointed in yourself. 

You forced yourself out of bed and into your closet to pick out an outfit. You pick out a black miniskirt and a black corset top, finding an oversized leather jacket in the closet to wear over. You got some block-heeled boots to finish off the look. 

You have enough energy to get out of bed and get dressed, but not enough to put any effort into makeup or hair. You took my hair out of its braid, tousling it a bit, while putting on a bit of mascara on your eyelashes.

You grab your purse, heading to the living room where Caitlin and Nick are waiting. Nick eyes your outfit, then shakes his head.

“No, that skirt’s way too short, go change.” Nick says. You go to protest but Caitlin speaks before you can. 

“Get off her ass, Nick. She looks good.” She says. She hooks her arm with yours as you head out. You get in Nick’s car, the short drive getting you guys to Kirby’s house in a few minutes

Immediately you regret your decision. You thought was going to be just Nick’s teammates but it became apparent that you were wrong as there had to be 100 people in the room. This is the exact opposite environment you wanted to be in at the moment, with sweaty bodies on either side of you as soon as you stepped into the room.

“Nick!” A voice shouts.

Kirby swoops in out of nowhere, scooping up Nick in his arms, giving his captain a hug.

“Hey, Kirbs.” Nick chuckles as he’s put back down.

You quickly zone out of their conversation, looking around the room at the different guests of Kirby’s party. You sport various Habs players and their significant others around the room, but mostly people you don’t know.

It was somewhere in the middle of another unamusing joke that you were prepared to exhibit some forced laughter when you spotted him across the room. His familiar face grinned as he downed the last couple drops of his drink, then began to make his way over to you. 

“Hey, boys.” Cole says as he approaches. “Hey, Caitlin.”

“Cole, wassup bud,” Nick says, dapping him up. 

Cole turned to you. “Hey, y/n.” He said, a smile tugging on his lips.

The first time you’d met Cole was two years ago during the Stanley Cup Finals when Montreal played Tampa. It was Cole’s first year in the league, and you had just wrapped up your sophomore year at Western.

At the time, you’d developed a small crush on your brother’s teammate. It was nothing huge, truly just a passing crush, like the ones you’d had on the boys you’d see once in your lectures.

Then you transferred to McGill and moved in with Nick. Cole became a frequent presence in your life, being a good friend of your brothers. Your once ‘small crush’ bloomed into something stronger. But Nick had already made it clear long ago that he didn’t want you crushing on any of his teammates. Ever.

So, you moved on. You let your crush on Cole get shoved down deep as you moved on to other guys.

“Nick!” Someone shouted from within the house.

Suddenly Chris Wideman is pushing through people, barreling towards your brother and engulfing him in a hug.

“C’mon man, you’ve gotta see Slaf right now.” He says.

Within seconds, Kirby, Nick, and Caitlin are out of the room, leaving just you and Cole. He looks over at you but you avoid eye contact.

“Did Nick drag you here?” Cole asks, making you finally look at him.

Oh, his eyes.

“How’d you know?” You ask.

“I’ve seen you smile, like a real smile, and the entire time Kirby was talking and cracking jokes and you were smiling? That was not a real smile.” He says.

He notices my smile?

“Um, yeah. Nick forced me here. Pulled the brother card.” You say, making Cole laugh. “I would genuinely rather be anywhere else, parties aren’t really my thing.”

Cole looks around, then back to you.

“Listen, I’ll go back in there, nab a bottle of something and bring it back.” Cole says. “We can find somewhere to sit and take a break from them. Because if I’m being truthful, I can’t stand most of the people here.”

You laugh, watching Cole enter the kitchen. He returns a minute later, an unopened bottle of Malibu in his hand

“Jackpot.” He says, holding it up.

The pair of you walk through the hall to the back door, exiting the stuffy kitchen. You guys head for the pool, sitting down at the edge, removing your shoes and sticking your feet in the crystal water. Cole unscrews the cap, takes a sip, and pulls a face as he swallows.

“I forgot I hate coconut.” He says. You laugh, taking the bottle from him and taking a swig. 

Conversation soon finds you naturally, not running out of things to say, topics flowing from one to the other. Hours passed by as you guys sat at the edge of the pool simply talking your way through the bottle of rum. 

“Who do you love?” Cole asks suddenly.

You choke on the rum you’d just sipped, laughing as a blush forms on Cole’s cheeks as he tries to backtrack.

“What…what I meant was are you… are you dating someone?” Coke says, eventually falling into laughter himself. “Fuck that was so weird of me, I’m sorry.”

Once your laughter subsides, you take a swig from the bottle. “Um, no one at the moment.” You say. 

“Really?” Cole says, a shocked look on his face.

“Yeah.” You nod. “I haven’t exactly had the best luck in dating these past few months.”

“That’s surprising.” Cole says.

“Why’s that surprising?” You ask.

“Well... you’re so… I mean…” Cole stumbles over his words. “Y’know you’re being a bottle hog.”

Cole grabs the bottle, taking a large swig himself. You allowed the moment to change but his question lingered in your mind.

It was somewhere around 2 AM when you finally checked your phone. Several text messages and phone calls from Nick and Caitlin appeared in your notifications.

“Shit.” You say, clicking on his contact and calling Nick back.

“Where are you?” Nick asks, a hint of anger and fear in his voice.

“I’m just in the backyard.” You tell him.

“Why the hell are you in the backyard?” Nick asks, then relaying the message to someone, no doubt Caitlin.

“I needed fresh air.” You say.

Nick continues to scold you, telling you how worried he was when he couldn’t find you or get a hold of you. He tells you that they’re leaving now and to hurry up. You stand up, grabbing your shoes in one hand. Cole follows close behind as you make your way to the front of the house.

“Wait, hold on.” Cole says, grabbing your hand and pulling you back slightly. “I can’t go around front. If Nick sees me with you, both of us wasted on Malibu, I don’t think he’d be too happy with me.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “Thank you, for tonight. I haven’t had this much fun in a while.” You say.

Cole smiles and agrees. The pair of you stand there, caught. Part of you doesn’t want to leave him just yet, feeling too much was left unsaid. You don’t know how long to two of you are standing there staring, but you’re yanked out of it as Cole pulls you into him, your lips crashing together.

His stubble lightly scratches your chin, goosebumps prickling down your spine. His hands find your hips,  and needing to close in the space, he pulls your body into his. You break apart, left a little shocked by what Cole had just done. 

“I uh… Nick’s waiting.” Is all you can say.

You spin on your heel, walking towards the driveway, leaving Cole there. You regret it as soon as you’re around the corner, spotting Nick in front of the house standing next to his car. You nearly turn around to go back to Cole, but Nick spots you, chastising you for taking so much time. You shove yourself into the back seat, looking out the window.

The kiss plays on repeat in your head the whole way home, your cheeks heating up as you remember his hands on your hips, gripping onto your jacket in an attempt to pull you closer.

You get home, beelining for your room, afraid that Nick or Caitlin would try to ask questions about your demeanour or why you were in the backyard. The kiss and the conversations keep you up, wanting to replay them over and over in order to not forget them. Eventually, you fall asleep, the feeling of Cole’s lips never leaving your mind.

You wake up in the late morning, the sun beaming in making the room a little too bright for your sensitive eyes. You trudge out into the kitchen, noticing the silent house. On the counter was a note from Nick and Caitlin, saying they’d gone to run errands and that they wouldn’t be back till later.

You took the opportunity to bask in the quiet apartment, making yourself breakfast. A few minutes later there’s a knock on the door. You open the door to Cole. His hands shoved in his pockets, a backwards hat on his head. Upon seeing you, a soft smile spreads on his lips.

“Oh, hey Cole.” You say. “Um, Nick’s not home right now.”

“Oh…I’m not here for Nick.” Cole says. “Can I come in?”

You step aside, letting Cole step in, shutting the door behind him. You’re suddenly painfully aware of your outfit, wearing an old McGill shirt and a pair of men's boxers that had been repurposed as sleep shorts. Your hair was pulled back in a messy braid, strands of hair having fallen out during the night.

“I think it might’ve been a mistake. Me kissing you last night.” Cole says.

“W-why?” You ask.

Cole’s brows furrow. “Well after I kissed you, you just said ‘Nick’s waiting’. Didn’t exactly seem like the reaction of someone who enjoyed the kiss.”

“Well, how else are you supposed to react when the guy you like kisses you out of nowhere? It kind of catches you off guard a bit don’t you think?” You blurt out. You clamp your mouth shut, but a small smile appears on Cole’s lips.

“What? Do you like me?” Cole asks. He steps towards you as you offer him no response.

Part of you, the rational part of you, is screaming at you to step back. Not only were you just in multiple failed relationships, but Cole was your brother’s teammate and friend. He was part of the one group of people you knew Nick would never approve of.

But the other part of you wants him to kiss you again. You want to feel that rush you got when he put his hands on your body, the chills that went up your spine when his stubble scratched your chin. 

“Do you or do you not like me?” Cole asks, taking another few steps towards you.

He’s right there. Right in your face. And you can’t help but kiss him.

Your hands go up to the sides of his face, pressing your lips to his. Cole doesn’t hesitate to put his hands on your waist, instead tugging on your shirt to draw you in. The same chill-inducing rush comes back, Cole pushing his tongue past your lips. 

You’re about to let him carry you to the couch and take control when you hear keys jingling in the door. You jump back, nearly pushing Cole away. Nick and Caitlin come through the door, grocery bags in hand. When they spot Cole, looks of confusion paint their faces.

“Cole?” Nick asks. “What’re you doing here?’

“I uh… wanted to see if you wanted to work out with me today. Maybe play a bit of tennis too?” Cole asks.

“You couldn’t text me? Or call?” Nick laughed.

“I left my phone at Kirby’s last night.” Cole says. 

You know Cole’s lying but Nick doesn’t and seems to buy his lie. “Uh yeah let’s do it.” Nick says. “Just let me put away the groceries and I’ll be good to go.”

Nick and Caitlin begin to put the groceries away. When they aren’t looking, you shoot Cole a look which he reads as ‘what the hell did you get yourself into?’. 

Cole quietly steps over, leaning over. “Looks like I’m going to the gym.” He whispers. “I’ll text you later.”

You shoot him a smile, walking to your room, replaying the events of last night and a few minutes ago in your head.

[beneathstarryskies]

PLZZZ Fwb #18 with Reno. That just seems so much like him

Warnings: mild sexual content, angst, longing, happy eneding

18. “We promised each other we would stop this the moment either of us caught feelings, so why didn’t you tell me and let it get this bad?” “Because I knew this was the only way I could have you, even if it meant nothing more than just an arrangement to you.”

Reno had texted you on his way from the office, telling you to be ready for him when he got to your place. Truth be told he never really stopped to consider what else you had going on in your life. When he needed you, he didn’t want to wait. He had to have you. Nor did he really consider why it was you’d drop everything for him at the drop of a hat or why you always seemed to make up excuses for him to hang around long after you’d both had your release. 

All he knew was that when he got to your apartment, you were laying on the bed with lit candles while wearing his favorite red lace lingerie. That’s all he wanted to know and the only thing he wanted to think about. 

A few minutes later, he has you pressed underneath his body. He’s nuzzling into you as he drives his cock into you at that perfect angle that made your toes curl in delight. Your hands were buried in his hair, and your moans were filling his ears. He could tell you were getting close. The way you were babbling praises about how good he made you feel was pure music to his ears. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” you whined as he made you cum on his cock. 

It took him a few seconds to comprehend what you said. While hearing the words immediately made his cock twitch inside you, he still forced himself to stop mid-stroke. His eyes, previously heavy with lust, were now wide with shock. He could see the same surprise mirrored in your gaze, but it was too late now. You’d said it. Those words were floating between you like a dense fog. 

“W-what?” he managed to stutter out as he reached for the bedsheets to cover himself. 

Instead of answering him, you crawled off the bed to grab your robe off the hook by the bed. Your back was turned to him as you tied it closed, so he couldn’t see the tears stinging your eyes or the tightness of your jaw. 

“Nothing, forget it,” you said. 

“No, that’s not going to work.” 

“It’s just stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything,” you tried to insist. “It just slipped out in the moment.” 

“That’s even worse,” he sighed. “You understand how that’s worse, right?” 

“No, what’s worse is you making a big deal out of it!” 

You go to the bathroom, leaving Reno alone with his thoughts. He realized if you could let those words slip off your tongue so easily, so naturally, as though you’d said them many times before, then it was something on the forefront of your thoughts. He wondered how many times you’d stopped yourself from letting it slip before. 

When you come out of the bathroom, he’s in the middle of pulling on his pants. He erection is poorly concealed under his slacks. 

He looked at you with a mix of sympathy and fear that made your skin crawl. 

“We promised each other we would stop this the moment either of us caught feelings, so why didn’t you tell me and let it get this bad?” He asked. 

You don’t want to answer. Deep down you don’t even feel like you owed him answers. He comes here night after night, fucks you until your legs are jelly then makes you laugh afterwards like you’ve never laughed before. Every time he comes over he lights up the place with an exuberance that leaves with him.

“Because I knew this was the only way I could have you, even if it meant nothing more than just an arrangement to you.”

He feels like he’s been punched in the chest, but he definitely deserved it. He sits back down on the bed. 

“I love you too,” he said, looking down at his hands as they splay out over his knees. 

“Don’t pity me, Reno. Please don’t…” 

“I’m not,” he reaches out for you but then stops himself. “I swear I’m not. I love you too.” 

You sniffle back your tears before finally getting up the courage to meet his eyes, “Really?” 

“Yeah, baby,” he stands up and cups your cheeks. “I love you.”

[ikkosu]

CRAZY CHICKS

(pharma x gn.reader)

oh my god, Tumblr won't let me save the thing and I deleted the entire post my accident 😭😭😭 thank God I already uploaded the fic to my AO3. anywhoo!! I adore the song omg it's got a new spot on my playlist <333

THIS is fine.

Oh, this is totally fine. What more could a few hours do? You've toiled through haggard days of insomnia, wrought yourself off from your dry, unmade bed that’s likely rotting in that basement (Pharma doesn’t seem to understand the prospect of human comfort “I’ve slept on metal. You’ll fare well, darling.” ) and inhaled cold breakfast that’s rooked from a can.

Surely, this proposition isn’t all bad?

The devil — he who sits before you now — has his servos in a delicately intertwined lattice. A chesire grin, glimmering white rooks clear on his face, with blue optics that creased into a half-moon.

Disconcertingly enough, he’s got the mien of a charming salesman and the only difference between those two is that at least one of them doesn’t have unethical usage of medical malpractice written all over.

"You see, darling I'm not exactly holding you hostage, here." A digit taps the datapad.

The screen flares brightly and a myriad of texts warbled into view. They’re Cybertronian and much to your un-surprise, through the quick minutes of skimming, it's a contract.

He forged your signature?

"What I'm doing, to be succinctly accurate, is providing you an opportunity a human like you is not often so offered with." He drawls. Then, catching your gaze, placating servos shoots up with feiged sympathy. "In a rather un-delicate manner, of course. Apologies."

You blink slowly. "Unethical labor." Was all you said.

"Ethical. Doesn't have to be labor, either. We're both surgeons."

"I'm a nurse."

His lips keeled over his teeth and the latticed fist clocks the desk with a vexed thump. A   polite miffed look eased over his face, that very well meant displeasure.

“Nonetheless, you're fully able to grasp Cybertronian medical procedures, no?” He hooked up a brow.

“I guess. I— what does this have to do with me strapped to the chair, though?” He leans over, almost boredly, to peer at your gesture around the ropes curled over your flesh, taut and tight, docking you to the chair.

“Ah, I figured you’d be more convinced if I had handled you this way.”

You look to the ground. Up. Down. Then, up. “I’m not getting out of this aren’t I?”

“No. You’re not.” He smiled. Politely.

“And, if I run you’re still going to catch me?”

“Without a doubt, darling.”

“And if you catch me you’re going to kill me?”

He hummed. “That much, I can agree on.”

Wonderful. First, you’re stalked by your boss, now captured by your boss, now threatened by your boss. Can this day get any more absurd? Who are you kidding. Absurdity lies at an abstract form when comes to Pharma.

But you can say this, though : he’s not all bad of a fighter, and a protector is what you needed after meddling with a few of his rather unruly patients. And, so you relent— not without an amused grin which is something you should’ve clocked yourself in the skull for.

“Something funny, darling? Do indulge me in your amusement.” He leans over, the smile is now taut. almost forced. “I’d love to know the source of your pleasure.”

Don’t say it like that that, you grimace but towed on, anyways. “Nothing, you just reminded me of something.”

His wings flare up. The smile, brighter, child-like. Ah, his ego. You forgot. He lavishes himself in praises like they were gold. “Oh?”

You’re not sure if you should continue, given he’d probably keel over and die the moment you’ll concede, but he seemed so eager it was infectious.

And, strangely (you’re going to kill your self for this) you found it adorable. You could use that to an advantage. Like, getting yourself out of this poorly undisguised bondage kink, for example.

“….A song, preferably.” You said.“Can you loosen the straps? It’s kind of hurting.”

“Not a poem— but a song? Oh, I’m incredibly flattered.” He prods you on, almost giddily, with a servo. “Not often do I have the pleasure of pleasing you. Do continue. This is getting rather interesting.”

You cringed. “….Its a pop….song?”

The grin falters, but the benign, persistent streak teetered on. “I see. What’s the, ah,” He gestures vaguely, like he’s convincing himself that whatever you said meant something important. “…Name of this song, you’re willing to divulge?”

You wince. Oh, god. Should you lie? Are you kidding, he’ll dig you a grave deeper than the Himalayas can go. He’s a master manipulator, a concierge to deception, deception at his hands handled with care , and white as they were — it’s never pure. You licked your lips. Your throat is dry.

Here goes nothing.

“Crazy Chicks.”

A slow blink. The optics fizzles out. Dim for a moment, then bright. The smile thinned. “Crazy Chicks.”

“You heard me, right.” You said nervously. “It’s a banger.”

“I am not a banger, or whatever you call it in your human, fleshie terms.” He seethes, cutting off your surprised stammer at his sudden aggressiveness. “How utterly insulting. Are you seriously diagnosing me, with this— this— unearthly, poorly fledged ailment, whoever the pitiful doctor is, inclusive of the features of a poultry?”

“It’s slang for women.” Should you say often offensive? No, he’ll gut you for that— oh god his chainsaw is sheathing. (It’s not, you’re just seeing things.)

“Why would they—“ And, he halts, staring at you for a moment before closing his optics. He kneads his face then sighs, figuring that maybe it wasn’t worth an explanation for. He leans back, a lethargic look on his face. “I appreciate the sentiment darling but I don’t see how this would remind you of me. I’m far from an organic, and I’m far from an unbridled, unculturally deranged Cybertronian.”

So you say. Was your inner deadpan. “The context does.” And, a little squeak of : “Maybe you should try listening to it?”

He seemed offended at the prospect and leans forward, staring you down with his unusually baffled optics. You’re about to call it off , even offering to grovel, when — whether it was the strange flattery that he’s, to you, reminiscent of an object to your liking, or another reason entirely — relents with a grimace.

“Fine. If you’re so insistent.” He mutters. “The least I can do as a compensation for your cooperation.”

A quick tap of his digit to his helm, you can hear the thrum of the familiar tune against his audio processors.

Oh, dear.

Where should you start. At first, the digit tapped along. ‘How typical’, he mutters before, you think he’s finally got the gist of the lyrics, rooked on the most abstruse look you’ve ever seen him don.

Worst three minutes of your life.

You’re here, strapped to this rickety wooden chair Pharma probably pulled out of someone’s ass, sweating, andrenaline pulsing at your throat. All the while your boss is left listening to your inner turmoil poorly disguised through a song, blatantly disparaging his very much unique disposition.

Pharma leans against his chair. The song is done. You’re too eager on the prospect of sudden death to look up. A vent eases out.

“Thats certainly something new. I never thought I'd be addressed this way, more so by a human, of all kinds. Ah, though it’s hard to admit…” His voice was strangely seductive, bordering on a purr, and a wide grin curled the corner of his mouth.

“That's something I can get around with.”

[slicznymartwy]

hiiiii i have something really short (i can’t remember if i already posted this tbh since i wrote it a few weeks ago ..)

billy x sorority reader

no actual billy in this one. only implied billy. the notion of billy.

You love your sorority sisters, you love being in a sorority, you love sharing a house with them - all things you have to remind yourself when come home to the sound of sobbing in the living room.

Hesitating by the front door, you glance at the stairs and wonder if it’s possible to get away without being noticed.

Unfortunately, you make the mistake of looking back at the girls and see Clare’s pleading eyes. You sigh, condemned to acting like you don’t know what this is all about.

“What‘s wrong?” you ask, anxiously eyeing the crying girl on the couch.

It was Kathy, if the shrill wailing was any indication; she was in the same year as you, but you were never close to each other. Not that you minded, based on how she was blubbering into Clare’s ear.

“She lost her new camera,” Clare says through a sympathetic pout by Kathy’s side, rubbing her back.

“I didn’t lose it!” Kathy snaps at Clare, before putting her face back into her hands. Glancing at Barb on the other couch, who was shamelessly ignoring the theatrics, you pray to get out of this unscathed.

“Should we look for it?” you offer, despite the fact that you would rather tear your face off than search for the camera. You don’t know how long you can act like you don’t know where it is.

“We already searched the entire house,” Clare says with a little sigh. “The only place we haven’t looked is the attic, but we’re sure no one would take it up there.”

“Definitely not the attic,” you say, as convincingly as you can manage. You’ve never been a great actor, but Kathy and Clare both nod in agreement.

Suddenly, Kathy lets out a frustrated groan, hitting her hands against her thighs. You hadn’t noticed it before when she looked at Clare, but now you can see how her mascara was smudged and running down her cheeks.

You almost feel bad, but only almost. Kathy had a funny way of sapping due sympathy whenever she opened her mouth.

“My parents are going to kill me! Don’t you have any idea how much that thing costs?” Kathy cries. From the couch, Barb sighs and finishes her drink.

“Then you shouldn’t have lost it,” she mumbles, getting up and beelining to the liquor cabinet.

“I didn’t lose it! I put it on my desk before bed, so I wouldn’t forget to take it with me today, but when I woke up, it was gone! Someone stole it!”

You shift in your boots, the wooden floor creaking underneath you.

“Come on, let’s look in your room again,” Clare says sweetly, hooking her arm through Kathy’s.

“I already did!” she insists, but she lets herself get dragged off the couch and up the stairs anyways.

You still feel a little queasy as you shuffle over to the now vacant couch, falling onto it with a heavy sigh and taking up the length of it with your legs. Cracking open an eye, you see Barb take the same position on the opposite couch, careful to keep her glass upright.

“I don’t know why she lets herself get so worked up. It’s just a camera, no need to get hysterical,” Barb complains to the ceiling.

Closing your eyes again, you nuzzle your head into the pillow and nonchalantly say, “You don’t think someone actually stole it, do you?”

Barb scoffs, and you can hear her ice cubes rattle as she sips her drink.

“No way. If losing things were an Olympic sport, she’d be a gold-medalist,” Barb says, unknowingly calming your racing heart. “Seriously, she lost a record player two weeks ago. A record player. Who does that?”

“No way, really?” Laughing, you feel the last of your tension leave your body. Barb hums a mhm, and you decide there’s no harm in letting Billy keep the camera. From the sound of it, she’d probably lose it one way or another.

Now, if only you can grab the rest of her film from her desk. It’s not like she’ll get any use out of them, and Billy’s almost out.

[wyattjohnston]

out of ten - tyson jost

note: this is reader insert and was written in ~6 hours inspired by that ^ gif.

word count: 1,015

You don’t spend much time on Tumblr anymore, definitely not as much as you used to, but sometimes you head on in to catch up on discourse from your favourite shows or to reblog every piece of content you can find of the most recent show you’ve binged.

Once upon a time it had been your go to place to talk about hockey and hockey players—that became less relevant when you met Tyson Jost.

It wasn’t a conscious decision to stop participating in conversations about players, it just became slightly weird to see people talking about how cute they thought Tyson was when you’d woken up in his bed that same morning.

It’s almost a surprise when you see gif sets of him on your dash and you can't help but laugh at the tale of him being caught in Vegas with a fake ID. You save the source link, vaguely remembering him having done the interview and continue scrolling through posts until the browser slows and you’re forced to refresh.

Tyson’s face appears again, and you smile in expectation of another funny tale—that’s not what comes.

Your smile falters at the text on the gif—the host has asked Tyson to rate his love life on a scale of one to ten and Tyson’s answer: Three.

Three and a hearty laugh.

It rips through you worse than you ever could have imagined and you close your laptop to get away from it, only to make the effort to navigate to it on your phone so you can send it to Tyson in a text with no comments accompanying it.

He’s with his trainer, so he won’t see it for a couple more hours, and you know that because he has plans to come over when he’s finished. For dinner, not just a hook-up which should amount to more than a three, you think.

You know it’s been a weird few months since you met—the season ending, Tyson heading north to see his family and even when he returned to Minnesota it had been for summer hockey and off-season training. You’ve been around, though, seeing him multiple times a week since he came back and even being at some Da Beauty League games because he’d asked you to.

But, no, definitely worth a three.

You send the same post to a friend, and you don’t know what you want to get back but you do know that the offer to hide Tyson’s body feels pretty appropriate. It comes right before a FaceTime call comes through and what little amusement you got out of it disappears and is replaced by a blubbered greeting.

Next thing you know, you’re saying, “I couldn’t even get a five” and getting more upset by the second.

Your friend does their best to calm you down, switching between jokes and sympathy and distractions with lightning-fast speed. Despite all the effort they’re going to, you still see the number 3 in every part of your vision like a neon sign.

“I think a three is more insulting than a one,” you mumble into your chest. “A one is a clear sign that he doesn’t actually want me, a three feels like he’s stringing me along.”

“I don’t think he thought that hard about it,” your friend says.

Your chin drives further into your chest as you lower your head and curl even more into yourself. It doesn’t matter how hard he thought about it. As you think more about it, you realise that you wouldn’t have been happy with a number less than seven but would have accepted that you hadn’t even had a conversation about exclusivity. A five.

After listening to your ramblings, and what you think each number means, your friend tries to be kind as they say, “I think you’re thinking too hard about it.”

It does come off a little patronising and you can’t blame them.

You’re startled by the knock at your front door, and, when you minimise the FaceTime, you realise that you’ve missed a few texts from Tyson telling you he was on his way over—apparently your number-by-number run-through had taken longer than you thought.

It’s with a nervous laugh you say goodbye to your friend, a laugh that you try to supress as you open the door because you’re really not happy with it and you don’t want to risk giving that impression. Tyson doesn’t seem to have that worry, because he’s genuinely happy to see you and doesn’t look like anything has happened at all. He even leans in for a kiss and makes a hurt noise when you turn your head.

“How was training?” you ask coldly, stepping aside to let him in. You don’t really want to but you do want to have some sort of conversation about it.

“It was fine?” he says back, entirely uncertain. He stands awkward in the middle of the room, realising that everything is tense. “Is this about what you sent me?”

“A three, Tyson? A three.”

“What else was I supposed to say?” His nervousness manifests in him swinging his arms by his side and you watch them move so that you have something to focus on that isn’t Tyson’s face. “They were throwing things at me; it was supposed to be funny.”

“Funny,” you say sarcastically. “It makes me feel like I’m nothing but an easy fuck, Tyson.”

Your name falls from his lips, so softly you almost don’t hear it. It’s just loud enough that you finally make eye contact and see that he’s pouting.

“You know it’s not just that.”

“Do I? How could I possibly know it’s anything more?”

He covers the ground between you in only a few steps, raising his hands to your cheeks. His thumb brushes under your eye as he says, firmly, “You know.”

“I never want to be called a three ever again.”

His kiss isn’t unexpected, given that your faces are so close, and you let yourself melt into it.

Earnestly, he says, “Tens for the rest of your life.”

[mochii-writes]

Brain rot of just wanting to be taken advantage of while under the influence so this was the result of it.

a/n: Please be safe under the influence! I don’t condone to this, just pure fantasy based

TWs: cnc, mention of drug use, under the influence, shiggy degrading you yet praising you, this is all just self-indulged writing sorry not sorry

Just imagine being so dazed and horny with Shigiraki right by your side. He’s sober for sure, a smug smirk plastered on his pale, dry face. He’ll sit in front of you, criss-crossed, making sure you’re keeping your head up and not falling asleep. He’ll move aside the large, pink bong, making sure to keep an eye on you. Once he was sitting still in front of you again, he’ll just stare at your dazed out, foggy eyes. And he’ll use this to his advantage. He’ll extend his arm out towards you, but lowers it so his fingers graze right over your exposed underwear. You’ll shudder at his soft touch, unaware of the giddy smile that’ll form on your face.

“You liked that?” He’ll ask, already knowing the answer. You’ll nod, or at least you think you do. But you’re not completely sure. All you knew was that you were needy.

So, he’ll hook his fingers around your underwear, flipping them to the side of your cunt. He didn’t wait for your consent, he didn’t need it. He knew you’d always give him what he wanted. And he was right, of course.

“You’re so wet already,” he’ll scoff at you, his finger tips applying a gentle pressure to your cunt. It made your stomach flip and the room spin. “Such a needy slut.”

Every little touch he’ll make over the softness of your underwear made you shaky and heated. Your body felt like it was set ablaze, your face turning a flushed pink.

And before you know it, his fingers would be thrusting into your dripping cunt. His thumb rubbing circles over your reddened clit, his dirty words swirling in your mind. You’d feel like you were on cloud nine as he fucked you with three fingers. You’ll be leaning so far back that it’d began to hurt. Your head facing the ceiling and hands supporting your shaky body.

“Your cunt’s just begging for me to fuck it. You want my cock, right, princess?” He’d ask with fake sympathy, his words dripping with eagerness. But your mind will be so fuzzy and empty that you’d stay quiet. But we know Shigaraki. We know he’d grow annoyed to your silence, and so, he’ll push you on your back roughly with a heavy sigh and a “answer me, bitch.”

Without hesitation and much thought you’ll quickly nod at the white haired man while he leaned over you, his fingers sneakily finding their way back inside your sloppy cunt. You’ll feel a sudden nip of cold air that’ll cling to your body. And so you’ll peak down at yourself. ‘Since when was my shirt off?’ you’ll marvel at your bare chest, and glance around to see where your large hoodie could be at.

“I won’t fuck you until you answer me, whore.” Shigaraki will mumble right before slipping your hardened nipple into his mouth. You’ll moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling around the hard nub that’ll make your hands dig into his messy hair, bringing him closer to your breast. All his touches felt like an electric shock that you just couldn’t get enough of.

“Don’t you wanna feel your best friends cock, y/n? I’ll take good care of a needy bitch like you. That’s why I’m your best friend, right?” He’ll coax you with sweet but degrading words. But, no matter how many times he nipped, licked and sucked on your breast, you wouldn’t be able form words. You’d feel like your brain wasn’t moving fast enough for you to respond back.

And you’ll lay there, breaths shallow and shaky, wondering if you should continue to stay quiet, just so you could continue to listen to your best friend degrade you. Telling you how much of a greedy whore you were. How you constantly teased him a daily basis, cursing at your moaning form.

“Come on, princess. I know you can use your words.” He’ll coo at you, his thrusting slowing down and his rough kisses becoming more and more gentle. “I’ll be more gentle, how about that?” He thought maybe if he was gentle with his close friend, you’ll feel more at ease. You’ll fall into his little trap and he’ll have you wrapped around his fingers.

Slowly you’ll nod, mind still hazed. The smell of weed and his cologne driving you even crazier. You wondered how this happened so fast. Was it moving this fast? Or where you moving slowly?

You will hope it was moving slowly. Because the kisses your best friend would give you felt blissful. You never wanted him to stop. You wanted to forever feel his tongue swirling over your nipples as his finger slowly thrusted in and out of you soaking cunt. You wanted this to never end.

“Please don’t stop.”

The first words you’ll let slip out to him.

“It feels so good, ‘raki.”

Hearing those words would drive Shigaraki crazy. He wanted to be rough with you. He wanted to pin you down and make you scream in pleasure. But he knew he had to play it slow, he couldn’t mess this up.

“Don’t worry, princess, I won’t.”

[i-love-oliverwood]

ENOUGH FOR YOU || DRACO MALFOY

NOT MY GIF!

inspired by enough for you by oliva rodrigo!

warnings- toxic relationships, cursing, mentions of sex, and i think that’s it!

summary- draco and reader have been dating until she figures out he’s cheating.

𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞.

You picked at your nails anxiously, your heart aching and feeling almost sick to your stomach. You were sprawled out on your boyfriends bed, longing for him to walk through the door of his dorm. This has been happening almost every night, Draco coming to his dorm way too late when he knows your waiting for him.

You two have been dating for almost two years, you just wish you were good enough to make him the happiest boy at Hogwarts. But you don’t seem to be. And you’re not sure you ever will be.

Tears filled your eyes making your vision blurry. You’re not stupid, you’ve seen other woman around him. He can't contain himself. You let him treat you like this because you love him so much. But it’s gotten out of hand. I can't keep breaking my own heart like this by staying.

Draco came back to his dorm after hours of you waiting. You were fast asleep, so you didn't hear him come in. He changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed next to you. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, making you groan as your eyes fluttered open.

"Hi, baby." He whispered, placing his lips on your cheek.

You pushed him away and sat up, "Where were you?"

He sat up, giving you a confused look, "I told you, I've had detention every night."

"Really? You expect me to believe that." You scoffed, "Draco, I know what's going on, so just be a man and tell me."

"Y/n, I don't know what you're going on about." He awkwardly chuckled, "Let's get back to bed. Okay?"

"No." You shook your head, "I love you but I know you're out with other girls. I know you are, Draco. Please just be honest with me."

He stayed silent, avoiding eye contact with you. I was right. Hot tears streamed down your face, I was hoping somehow I was wrong and he really was at detention but I was right.

"Okay, maybe I'm not as interesting as the girls you're hooking up with. But godric, you couldn't care less about someone who loved you more." You explained while standing up.

"No, Y/n. I'm sorry, I love you. I really do." He stood up, begging you to stay.

"Don't tell me you're sorry, Draco. Feel sorry for yourself."

"I don't love those girls. It's always been you, I love you. I just felt like you were never satisfied with me, you always seem mad at me."

"That's because I knew you were out there, fucking other girls while we're still dating! You say I'm not satisfied but that's not me, it's you!"

"I'm so so sorry." He grabbed your arms, "I never wanted to hurt you, baby."

You shoved his arms off of you, "No, you don't get to do that. I really don't want your sympathy. I just want myself back." Your voice cracked at the last words, a few more tears fell down your cheeks. "Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded! You left me alone in YOUR dorm crying and wondering what I did wrong. But it's not me, it's you."

He stayed silent, staring at the floor. He gulped, "No, remember, how much I love you? I know how you take your coffee, and your favorite songs by heart. I even read all your self help books, so you'd think I was smart." He softly chuckled through tears.

"That's not enough when you're out breaking my heart. I knew from the start this is exactly how you'd leave. Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me. I should of listened to Hermione, you would never change for me. I ruined all my friendships for you. And yet, I'm not enough for you." You stormed over to the door of his dorm, "And all I ever wanted was to be enough for you." You sighed, looking at him one last time and walked out of his dorm.

Years went by, you hadn’t seen Draco since you graduated from Hogwarts. And haven't even spoke to him since the night you broke up. You have a new boyfriend now. Fred Weasley. And he treats you like the only girl in the world. It's all you ever wanted, to be enough for someone.

You work at the joke shop with Fred and George. Nothing special, pretty much just a cashier but you couldn't be happier. You finally have someone who loves you as much as you love him.

The bell on the door rang, hinting someone had just walked in. You looked over from curiosity and it's someone you hadn’t seen in ages. Draco fucking Malfoy. He was with his friend Theo. He stopped dead in his tracks when he laid eyes on you. Your lips curled into a small smile and you waved. Fred and George were in the back, otherwise Fred would've probably kick him out.

"Hey." Draco stood in front of the counter. "It's been awhile." He smiled.

"Yeah, it has." You let out a chuckle, "How are you?"

"Decent." He nodded, "How about you?"

"I'm pretty good."

"That's good to hear." He grinned before his face turned serious, "Listen, Y/n. I'm really sorry about how things ended between us. I was a stupid kid and didn't realize I had a bloody brilliant girl. I hope you can forgive me."

You sighed, "You were an idiot." Then you laughed, "But that's in the past, Draco. I forgive you."

"I hope you're everything to somebody else." He let out a shaky breath, "It's the way I should of treated you when you were mine."

You nodded and smiled, "Yeah, been dating Fred for a while now. He's thinks that I am so exciting. Which is great, because all I ever wanted was to be enough."

"It's good to hear that, Y/n." He returned your smile, "I wish you and Fred the best. I know that I didn't just break your heart, I broke so much more than that. And there wasn't a day that went by, where I didn't wish you nothing but happiness. Again, I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Malfoy." You sighed, "I hope you'll find someone that makes you as happy as Fred makes me. And I know you can make some girl, really happy."

He chuckled, "It was good seeing you."

"Likewise." You nodded and he walked away with Theo and out of the shop. I wonder if the only reason he came in here was to see me. But you felt like you both needed that closure and I truly hope he finds happiness one day.

"Hello, love." Fred came out from the back, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Because I know I found mine.

[stargazersmut]

A Trade | Pt. 2 Fresh Start (18+)

Joel X Reader (First Person) 18+

Includes: Smut, threats of violence, dubious consent, teasing, verbal humiliation, manhandling, mild violence, weapons

Check out my Ao3 profile for more! StargazerSmut

As the stranger (Joel) leads you around your property, forcing you to give up your weapons and supplies, you think quickly to protect yourself. After some tense negotiating, you may have found a way to stay useful and stay alive, for now.

“Pull that shit again…” he warns. He doesn’t finish the sentence, only gives a stern nod towards the snow-covered pasture in the distance, and I get his drift.

He’s already dragged me through the house, ransacking as we went. I attempted to make a break for it when he briefly loosened his grip to stuff his pack with food. It was a sloppy effort and all I have to show for it will be a massive bruise on my ribs in the morning.

I nod back dejectedly. I’m past thinking I can fight my way out of this situation, so I might as well cooperate until I can get my head on straight and come up with a plan.

I find it telling that he hasn’t killed me yet. He could find what he’s looking for without my help, it would just take a little longer. The fact that he’s kept me alive this long tells me he might let me go if I manage to play my cards right.

I study the light gray hairs peppering the back of his head as we trudge through icy frost of the back yard. The snow has gotten even worse over night, and a thick blanket covers the entire property, lighting up the ground.

“So.” I brace myself. “It’s just you, huh?”

No answer.

I shake my head. Any hope I had of invoking sympathy or humanizing myself to him are quickly disappearing.

I see my utility shed in the distance. It’s where I keep old camping equipment. I gesture that way and we beeline towards the small shack.

I wait at the edge of the door while he rummages around, picking up the odd piece of junk and stuffing it in his pack. I have no idea what he’s finding in here that could be of any use, but he’s kept occupied and I’m thankful for a moment to breathe and think.

Something catches my eye. I see the worn blue rubber handle of my old utility knife. It’s lying on the edge of a workbench across from me. I try to remain expressionless as I watch him rummage through a box just a few feet away. Dare I?

I inch towards the table. If I can just manage to back against the table I think I can grab it. But there’s no way to do it discreetly.

I hold my breathe. If I fuck this up, I really don’t think he’ll hesitate to actually kill me this time. I can tell his patience with me is wearing thin. I take a deep breathe and use my shoulder to knock a paint can on one of the shelves onto the floor. The crash is loud, and the paint splatters across the floor. He turns and looks at me with annoyance and kicks the can away, shouting a few choice words. But that’s all I need.

I back against the table and I feel the rubber grip of the knife in my hand. I inch away and back towards the door, saying a quick prayer. I crouch a bit, and manage to drop the knife behind me into the shaft of my boot. It catches on the lip and my heart almost leaps out of my chest before I’m able to nudge it in with my other foot.

I glance over at him. He’s wiping paint off his arm and jeans. I don’t think he even realizes I was the one who knocked the paint can over. I breathe a deep sigh of relief.

“Inside.”

I obey. We trudge back through the snowy field and towards the house once again. From the outside, I study all the windows and imagine what he must have seen the last few days watching me. Seeing it from this perspective fills me with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability . So many small cracks to peak through. Windows with lights glowing. Im embarrassed I wasn’t more careful. No wonder he was able to find me so easily.

Once we’re inside, he leads me to the bathroom. I give him a wary look.

“I need a shower.” He grabs my used towel off the hook and tosses it over the curtain rod. “And we both know you’ve got a habit of doing dumb shit, so you’re staying here.”

He unbuckles his belt and slides it through the loops of his filthy jeans. In the light of the bathroom I can see him clearly for the first time. He’s grimy. And mean looking. Not entirely unhandsome, but incredibly imposing. His eyes are dark and creased with stress.

He spins me around and slips his belt through the laces around my wrists and buckles them around the towel rack attached to the wall. He gives me a look that says he’s over my shit, and I believe him.

He says nothing as he begins to undress, and I avert my eyes. I hear the shifting of fabric and zippers, and then the whoosh of the shower curtain.

The water starts up and I lift my gaze. From where I’m standing I can see the reflection of the shower in the mirror. Steam is rising out the top. Occasionally I see a glimpse of his hand over the top of the shower.

He takes a long time. It’s probably been a while, judging from the filth caked on his clothing and the thick layer of grime I saw on his arms. I find myself, exhausted and exasperated, staring into the mirror at the shower, in a trance as I lose myself in thought. “What am I going to do? This can’t end well. Why has he not just gone and killed me?”

I barely register the loud screech of the rusty shower rings against the metal rod, and suddenly the shower is open. I feel something electric bolt through my stomach as I see him fully naked, stepping out of the tub. I let out an embarrassing and involuntary cough, and quickly look away.

He, again, says nothing, acts like I’m not even there. I turn my head from his direction and shut my eyes tightly. That was an eyeful. My cheeks are burning. Im not a prude, but it’s been months since I’ve had human interaction and I suddenly feel like a little kid again, ashamed and shocked by another persons nudity.

I hear him dressing but don’t open my eyes again until I feel him undoing the belt and freeing my arms.

He doesn’t lead me this time, but simply walks out the door and toward the living room, doing up his belt as he goes. I follow him and begin to ask him a question, but he interrupts me.

“Sit.” He points to the couch.

I listen, and slowly lower myself onto the couch in front of him. My heart is racing. I picture him pulling the gun he keeps at his side and pressing it against my forehead. I need to stall.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” I blurt out. It’s not exactly tactful, but he seems like a man who appreciates straightforwardness.

“I need some information.” He doesn’t elaborate.

“And what do I get?” My voice shakes as I ask.

“I don’t know. Depends how helpful you are.” He scowling now. Somehow, this feels like a shootout.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“North.” Again, no elaboration.

I can’t help it, I let out a laugh. A big one. He’s going North. The only way North is through the settlement. He’ll get shot a mile away, before he even sees the gates. As much as I appreciate my tenuous relationship with them, they’re not exactly friendly to people they don’t know. Especially lone men with weapons.

His face darkens. “Something funny?”

“Hilarious actually.” I smile for the first time tonight. “Best of luck.”

He looks unphased as he grips my face in his large hand and forced my gaze up at him. I fight against his grip, but he’s strong and I can’t. He delivers a sharp slap to my face and my cheek instantly burns. I feel a read sliding down. His voice raises this time. “Something useful. Before I decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

Despite my face feeling like it’s on fire, I’m relieved I finally have some leverage. “You want to go North, you’re not going to make it through without someone to vouch for you. You will not make it.”

I can tell he’s trying to hide it, but doubt flashes across his face for just a moment. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s passage up north, but the only way through is across the bridge. There’s a settlement there. They know me.”

He stares me down for what feels like minutes, practically burning a hole into me with his eyes, and then begins pacing.

“I could take you there,” I say, attempting to soften my voice. “They’ll let you pass if you’re with me.” I stare unflinching, willing him to take me up on the offer. It’s all I have to negotiate with.

He clicks his tongue at me with impatience. “Yeah? And you’re just gonna do this out of the kindness of your heart I suppose?” His voice drips with sarcasm and frustration.

I swallow. I’m not going to die tonight after all. “I need supplies. It’s cold and I’m not great at the outdoor stuff. I’m fine in here, but…we’ll obviously you know what you’re doing if you’ve been out there. If I can just get there safely to restock and wait out the worst of the winter…” I can feel myself over explaining and decide to stop there.

His face hardens again. I feel him trying to read me. to see if I’m just feeding him more bullshit. My cheeks begin to burn and I have to fight the urge to look away.

Suddenly I’m yanked up, yet again. He begins untying the laces around my wrists. As they fall apart, I shake my shoulders and rub the pink skin where the leather rubbed raw.

“We leave tomorrow night.”

[seokjinsonlyone]

i don’t really get the latest fic because people who chase after men in relationships then get treated as irredeemable are only getting what they deserve like 😭😭 that’s karma, it’s one thing if they lie to you but if you continue to flirt with them then act as if you’re the victim when they flirt back KNOWING they’re in a relationship is stupid, why should homewreckers get treated with kindness??? like i get that it’s a story i do! im not attacking you 🙏🏽 it’s just the character of the reader has me twisted like no mama… you did that to yourself

sooooo glad you left this message bc now i can delve a little into oc’s villain origin story that didn’t make the cut 🤪

so the first couple times the whole ~cheating~ thing happened she didn’t know. like she actually was a victim in the situations they came onto her and she responded in kind and then later on down the line found out they was with someone else too but word got around and the story got changed she got painted as the bad guy ‘the other woman’ and after a while of being ostracized bc of it she just developed the attitude of like ‘if everyone thinks i’m this way i might as well be” BUT she does have like a don’t ask don’t tell policy so she can be SUSPICIOUS of someone having a partner nd if no one says anything explicitly it’s fair game 🤷‍♀️ she likes having plausible deniability but she won’t actually get with anyone she KNOWS is in a relationship all this to say she was never actually gonna sleep with hobi her friend just pissed her off

anyway idk where this story came from at all or why 💀 but it did nd idk i just like the idea the theme i kinda kept of doing bad things but not being a bad person bc tbh i just love villains like if i’m watching something 9/10 imma like the villain more than the good guy nd i think it’s easy to label people as one way or another but in all actuality humans are very three dimensional creatures like in this case oc may have been in the habit of hooking up with people in relationships but that wasn’t like her main MO it was more like if it happened it happened type of thing but even so it doesn’t change the fact that she’s kind, supportive, a loyal friend and prone to giving people the benefit of the doubt she has a sense of morality albeit a bit skewed nd just like she ain’t the antagonist she was made out to be ya know?

SORRY I USED UR ASK TO GO DOWN A RABBIT HOLE BUT I WAS JUST WAITING FOR THE OPPORTUNITY LOL bc tbh irl i would have NO sympathy like i do not tolerate cheating at all but this is why we have fanfiction <333 where even heathens are deserving of hobi’s affection

[wwinterwitch]

For tomorrow to come - pattinson!batman

okay so I’ve been obsessed with the new batman film and after watching it for the third time i just had to write something about bruce. i don’t think i’ve ever written anything about him before so i hope i got this right

maaaaybe i’ll post something about the riddler as well??? idk, let’s see how my hyperfixiation with this move goes lmao anyway enjoy

summary: out of all your victims, gotham city's vigilante has to be your favorite

pairing: pattinson!bruce wayne x villain!fem!reader

word count: 1.5K

warnings: tension, kinda angsty(?, bruce has a soft spot for you, sexual relationship (implied), low key soft!bruce and sub!bruce, praising(?, making out

a reblog is always appreaciated!

my masterlist

The moment you were being roughly pushed against the car you knew a little too well, you knew you ran out of options to escape. The Batman held you down against the cold and wet metal of his car. One hand was around your neck, the other holding your hip to keep your body in place.

Despite knowing it wasn't going to help at all, you tried to free yourself from his grip but failed. He was much too strong for you to be able to get him off of you. At that moment, being entirely at his will, you couldn't help but laugh. That gesture made the man on top of you frown, not liking your reaction to this situation.

"Are you going to hand me over again?" you asked teasingly, fake pouting. "You know I can't go back to that place. Arkham is so not my style."

"Why would I waste my time?" he asked bitterly. "All your little friends would run to save you."

You smirked slightly at the insinuation, reaching to caress his face in a joking manner. He moved his face away almost immediately, making your smirk grow wider. "Hmm, is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"

He was quiet for far too long, confirming your suspicions. The Bat has always made it clear how much he despises your army of admires trailing behind you, willing to do everything you ordered them to do. It wasn't just because you are incredibly beautiful and charming, but because you have...let's say, a way to convince everyone to do anything you want.

He has always tried to convince you to use your abilities for good, yet you seem too comfortable using them for all the wrong reasons. This isn't the first time he has caught you doing something you shouldn't be doing.

First two times he sent you right to Arkham, a horrible place you unfortunately got to meet. Lucky for you, it was easy to break out of that place thanks to your abilities. After realizing it was pointless to lock you up, The Batman decided to just mess up your plans to commit any crime, forcing you to go into hiding for a few days or weeks until you decide it's time to commit yet another crime.

It was a matter of time before the two of you got closer. He couldn't deny you were indeed very attractive and, despite wanting to hide it, he has become almost obsessed with you. Why else would he prefer to chase after you every now and then rather than try to get your ass to stay inside Arkham? It was a silly excuse to get to see you as frequently as he could.

Without him knowing it, he slowly became one of your many admires. Now, he's unable to escape from this desire to be around you.

Of course you would soon notice the soft spot The Batman has developed for you , so you always used that to your advantage. It was very useful to get on the tough and scary Vigilante's good side. But despite it all started as a game, you can deny you've started to feel sympathy for him. Maybe it's the fact that you've got to know him on a personal level or the way he treats you that has make you like him too. Maybe not it the way he would like, but at least you care. It's not in your nature to care about other people.

Ever since you met each other, the two of you had formed a very complicated relationship. If someone were to ask you, you'd probably say he's just a guy you occasionally hook up with and, in a weird way, kinda care for.

If someone asked him, he'd definitely think something different. Despite you liked and cared for him, you weren't planning on ever pursuing something serious with him. Bruce, however, did want to get closer to you. Of course he would never admit such a thing, knowing very well he was just another one of your many admires, wishing to someday be special.

Noticing he wasn't going to speak, you moved your hand up his arm, his eyes never leaving yours as you did so. "You know they mean nothing, right?" you muttered in a sweet voice. "Only you can touch me. Only you can have me like this, completely under your control to do whatever it is you want to do to me. Do you remember? When we were like this just a few nights ago? You on top of me, your hand on my neck–"

"You can't expect me to believe that," he cuts you off. For the first time, he avoided looking at you.

"Baby, look at me," you pleaded. Despite wanting to resist, he complied. "You're the only one, Bruce. The only one I want."

You knew he was completely at your mercy every time you called him by his real name. He had fallen so hard for you that he even revealed who he was behind the mask, but was surprise to see you've kept the secret for so long. You're not that bad after all.

Bruce's grip on your body was barely existent now, his hands barely touching you. Taking that to your advantage, you got rid of his grip on your neck and got back to your feet. He didn't do a thing to stop you, turning to look at you in silence. His eyes were trying to tell you something. A hint of desperation hidden behind them as he did his best not to move closer to you.

"You believe me, don't you?" you asked again. "You are the only one I care about."

He was still silent, but that wasn't something unusual for him. Noticing Bruce wasn't convinced, you move closer to him and wrapped one arm around his neck, forcing him to lean towards you given the height difference. Your other hand went up to his face, caressing the part of his cheek that wasn't hiding behind the mask.

"You're gorgeous, baby," you muttered. "There's no one else that can make me feel the way you do."

Bruce seemed a lot calmer, falling for what you were saying and allowing himself to put his guard down, wrapping his arms around you to gently pull you closer, your bodies fully touching. This only encouraged you further, knowing how much Bruce loved to be praised like this. You look up at his eyes, watching as they shine in contrast with the blackness around them, despite being on the middle of an empty, poorly illuminated alley. He wouldn't dare to move, waiting for you to make the first move.

You were used to people doing whatever it was you commanded, but you had to admit that having the Bruce Wayne and Batman completely under your spell gave you a satisfaction nothing else could ever give you. The thrill of a lover like him was nothing like you had ever experienced.

Finally, you leaned that extra inch closer and connected your lips with his. As soon as Bruce was allowed to kiss you, he completely melted under your touch and leaned closer to you, his grip of your tightening as he kissed you eagerly and passionately. He would be lying if he says he hasn't been hoping to be like this with you again.

You didn't care about the fact that he has once again pushed you against his car, making you rest your back on it as he leaned on top of you to continue to kiss you as needy as he has been the moment you began kissing him. Your legs would eventually wrap around him to make sure he wouldn't move back (not like he would ever want to do that, though) as his hands began trailing all over your body.

Bruce's body betrayed him when you bit his lower lip, failing to hold back the grunt that escaped his lips, making you smile proudly against his lips as he continued to kiss you.

You continued to make out for what felt an eternity, neither of you getting enough of each other. Eventually, he only moved back to whisper, "come back to the Tower with me."

You grinned, trailing a finger down his covered chest. "Can't tonight, baby. Maybe tomorrow." Disappointment was obvious on his features, but you leaned closer once again to give him a quick kiss on the lips before pushing him away from you so you could once again get back to your feet, fixing your outfit and hair. "I'll call you. Or would you prefer me to use that silly bat sign?"

Bruce didn't reply to that. "Stay out of trouble," was all he said.

"I'll try my best. Lucky for me I have my hero to come to the rescue," you replied, noticing he wasn't amused by your comment. "Oh, stop giving me that look. Learn to take a compliment!"

"Doesn't sound like a compliment when you say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you don't actually mean it."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever, let's not ruin the moment we just had, okay? We can continue where we left off tomorrow." With that said, you walked towards him again to lightly kiss his cheek. "Till then, Bruce."

You winked at him before turning around and walk away, quickly disappearing in the shadows, leaving Bruce all alone again. Despite knowing he should probably stay away from you, he couldn't wait for tomorrow to come.