#i cut some of the dialogue down for this it was messy

[luna-azzurra]

What to Give a Sh*t About While Editing Your Book

↳ Emotional Impact

Ask yourself: Do I actually feel something here? If a scene is technically “well-written” but emotionally flat, it’s dead weight. Your readers won’t remember your clever metaphors, but they’ll remember the way a quiet line of dialogue made their stomach drop. So yeah—give a sh*t about that.

↳ Character Motivation That Actually Makes Sense

If your characters are making decisions just because the plot needs them to… we’ve got a problem. In edits, zoom in on their choices. Are they acting like real, flawed, complex humans? Or puppets? Edit until their actions make you nod and go, “Yep. That’s exactly what that little disaster would do.”

↳ Cutting the “Almost Good” Stuff

This hurts, but it’s necessary. Some lines are nice. Pretty. Kind of smart. But if they’re not serving the story, they’ve got to go. Save them in a “kill darlings” file. Grieve if needed. But don’t let “kinda good” block the greatness trying to come through.

↳ Scene Purpose

Every scene needs to earn its place like it’s paying rent. Does it move the plot? Deepen character? Build tension? Ideally, two out of three. If the answer is “it’s vibes,” that might work for a paragraph—but not for 3,000 words. Cut. Condense. Clarify. Your future reader will thank you.

↳ Pacing That Doesn’t Bore People to Death

Look, I love a moody slow burn too. But if your story crawls for 50 pages without conflict, tension, or curiosity—your reader will ghost you. Read your scenes out loud. If you’re zoning out? So will they. Tighten that sh*t up.

↳ Dialogue That Sounds Like Real People (and Not AI)

If your characters sound like they're reading from a very polite script, it’s time to rewrite. Interruptions, unfinished thoughts, weird little phrases—those are gold. Make it messy. Make it sound like how people actually talk when they’re nervous, angry, or halfway in love and lying about it.

↳ Themes You Accidentally Nailed (and Can Now Strengthen)

Themes tend to sneak in while you’re drafting. During edits? Time to spotlight them. Don’t slap it on with a neon sign—but do lean into the emotional throughline you already created. It’s probably smarter and more beautiful than you gave yourself credit for.

↳ Your Voice

Don’t edit your weird out. Editing is for clarity, not sanding down your style until it sounds like generic internet writing. Keep the voicey bits. The odd metaphors. The lines that sound exactly like you. That’s what readers fall in love with—not perfection.

↳ Trusting That You’ll Need Multiple Rounds

This isn’t one-and-done. Your second draft will suck differently than your first. Your third might suck less, but still suck. That’s fine. It’s part of the process. What matters is that each time, it gets sharper, truer, and more you.

↳ Not Quitting Halfway Through Just Because It’s Hard

Editing is hard. But you’ve already done the impossible: you wrote a damn book. That’s massive. Now you’re just sculpting it. Don’t give up because it’s messy. Don’t panic because it’s not “there” yet. Keep showing up. Even if it’s just one scene at a time. Even if you’re crying into your tea. Especially then.

[11keu]

NEEDY | S.JY

SYNOPSIS. Waking up in the middle of night at the height of your fertility cycle leaves in you desperate need of some relief only your boyfriend can provide.

PAIRING. Sim Jaeyun x Fem! Reader

GENRE. Smut, fluff. Established relationship. Short, self-indulgent drabble. Soft and sleepy. Reader calls him ‘Jae’.

WORD COUNT. 1.3K

WARNING. Smut under cut, minors do not interact.

CONTENT. Profanity, almost no foreplay, unprotected sex (wrap it up), very lazy sex, the opposite of dialogue-heavy, nipple play, fingering, spitting / saliva, mutual masturbation.

How perfect he looked, knocked out and completely unaware of the animal in heat possessing you right now.

Your eyes raked over Jake’s peaceful features, taking in his messy hair and the way he would swallow, slightly lift his head and then drop it back down onto his pillow, before nuzzling the side of his face against it to get comfortable again. Not to mention, his bare torso and arms. You were practically drooling at the sight of his muscles tensing with every movement. He was so unbelievably sexy to you right now. It pissed you off that he could be sleeping right through your aching need, as clueless as could be.

You tossed and turned, trying to cool off both physically and emotionally. With your face buried in the pillow, you groaned softly in defeat.

Your eyes flickered back over Jake’s features, silently willing him to wake up. But you didn’t have time to wait on wishes to come true, so you shifted closer. His arm reached out for you, a foolproof tactic of yours. The hold he had on you was heavy, strong, as he pulled you flush against his chest — your head tucked under his chin, his fingers trailing half-assed lines up and down your back beneath your t-shirt.

A soft hum left your lips, and you hoped it was loud enough to at least stir him a little bit. His heavy eyelids lifted slightly, one eye squinted as he looked at the time on the digital clock across from him. It wasn’t even five in the morning.

‘What’s up?’ He sleepily mumbled, yawning before he could even finish the two-word sentence.

You frowned at the feel of him yawning above you, feeling slightly guilty for waking him. You created some space between the two of you, his hand sliding from your back to your thigh, gripping the flesh to keep you there. As you locked eyes with him, you took in his offended expression.

‘Go back to sleep, Jae,’ you murmured.

‘You’re up, I’m up,’ he protested, eyes falling closed again. ‘C’mere.’

He tugged fruitlessly at your thigh, pouting as you didn’t shift. With every ounce of strength he had in his sleepy state, he pulled you flush against him and hooked your leg over his hip. The soft gasp that left your lips was all the proof he needed. He smiled against your neck, pressing one soft kiss to the skin.

‘Just can’t get enough of me, can you?’ He teased, drawing his head back.

‘You’re such a dick,’ you retorted.

His hand slid up your thigh and over your ass, fingers pressing against your dampened panties. He groaned, eyes closing once more as he applied pressure to your clothed clit. You sighed, content to just let him rub you to an orgasm, and then pass out and get a good night of sleep for once.

But no. You knew Jake got hard at just the thought of you being wet, so it was no surprise when you felt his growing bulge press firmly against your front.

You slid up on top of him, finding his lips in a kiss. His hands were under your t-shirt, rubbing softly at your waist. Your hands cupped his face, holding him to you as you kissed. Kisses that were half soft and sleepy, half firm and needy. The kind of kiss that made you think; god, this it. I could die right here, right now. You hummed and sighed against his lips, one hand moving to gently rub at his scalp.

Jake’s hand slid between your thighs, pulling your soaked panties aside to slide two fingers between your folds. Warm and slick, as always. He hummed in approval, lifting you slightly to pull down his pyjama pants. The stereotypical ‘dad style’ pants you begged on your knees for him to start wearing.

How you even kept your hands to yourself at all after he agreed was an achievement in itself.

He jerked his cock for a second, getting fully hard before he tapped it against your entrance. You sat on it, rubbing your slick folds from the base to the tip a couple of times. He groaned into your mouth, hips just barely jerking up into the feeling.

You lifted your hips, giving him the space to press his tip to your entrance. He gently pushed into you, letting you slide the rest of the way. The kiss broke with the sated sighs that left each of your lips.

Falling flush against his bare chest, you considered just sitting there. But your boyfriend wasn’t a fan of cock-warming, and neither were you when sex with him felt that good. After a moment, you began to gently roll your hips. Struggling with the angle, you sat back. Jake watched you with hungry eyes, bottom lip pulled in between his teeth as you rocked against him. His hands moving to your hips helped you bounce slightly.

Knowing you’d get nowhere with the lazy pace you’d set, he began to fuck up into you. The bed rocked, soft sighs and moans falling from your lips that dissipated into the surrounding darkness.

A soft yelp fell from your lips as he hit your cervix, his apology almost as soft as your sound. But the way it made you clench around him, sucking him in, made him want to do it again. He tightly gripped your hips, holding you still as he continued to piston in and out of you. He was moaning breathlessly beneath you, a sinful image you were going to take back to sleep with you. Your moans turned into little whimpers as he fucked up into you hard and fast.

When he grew tired, he slumped back against the bed. You went back to rolling your hips and bouncing slightly, his hands roaming your body making your skin feel even hotter. He cupped your tits, massaging and groping. His thumbs flicked over your nipples, making you gasp and your movements jerk. You tightened around him, knees digging into his sides as you struggled to keep moving.

‘Fuck,’ he groaned, lifting you off him.

He replaced his cock with two of his fingers as you sat back on his thighs, letting you fuck yourself on them as he thrusted them in and out of you. After you spat on your own fingers, you rubbed at your clit with desperation. Jake began to jerk himself off messily, using his non-dominant hand for the sake of fingering you properly. Your eyes were fixed on his fist, the way he gripped himself tightly and twisted his wrist with every drag of his hand.

With the way you were clamping down on his fingers, Jake knew you were close. He picked up the pace of both his fingers and his hand, struggling to get you both off at the same time. You came with a gasp, dropping your head back in ecstasy.

Jake let out a whiny moan, cumming all over his fingers and his stomach. His fingers were stilled inside of you, but you were still rocking softly against them, riding out your orgasm. Your head dropped forward to see the end of his orgasm, watching the last few spurts of cum coat his fingers. Your twisted mind wanted to lick them clean, but you decided against it as you pulled out a few tissues from the box atop his bedside table.

You helped him clean up, the soiled tissues being tossed across the bedroom floor. You slid off of him and immediately knocked out, mumbling a half-assed confession of love.

Published by 11keu on Tumblr, 28th January 2025.

NOTE. i wrote this in an hour.. i’m down bad it’s 2 am

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Lowlife Princess

Act Two: The Joker is one hell of a force to be reckoned with, especially when it comes to his precious girlfriend. Or — You and Jeong Yunho are perfect for one another.

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

"They became the King and Queen of Gotham City — and God help anyone who disrespected the Queen."

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut with plot, gotham au

♫soundtrack♫

SERIOUSLY 18 AND OLDER. MINORS TAKE YOUR LEAVE.

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not beta read, sugar baby reader / obsessive joker yunho, daddy kink outside of sex, possessive behavior, reader wears skirts and dresses because yun likes it but he doesn't make her, yunho goes above and beyond to help reader get revenge, kidnapping, the couple who tortures together stays together aka they torture someone (not detailed, mostly off screen), reader showing just how crazy she can be, recounting murder of family members, smoking and trying to quit (again, yun), emotional vulnerability, causal nudity, reader stalked / threatened / held hostage briefly, physical violence (not towards reader), blood, murder, crazy ass yunho laughing while he kills someone / crazy ass reader gets turned on by it.

smut warnings: very long smut scenes, soooo much more sex than act one; both have high sex drives and now there's no holding back- 😭 general: rough dom yunho, so many pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl, doll, love, angel, sweetie (variations of little, poor, sweet, dumb / stupid, needy, all used affectionately) ), daddy kink + ddlg themes, hardcore dacryphilia, size difference!!, he has a habit of edging himself, overstimulation, yunho likes when reader is a bit mean, praise + kind of condescending yunho, EXTREMELY possessive dialogue (going both ways), cunnilingus, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it), dumbification, spit, matching each others freak on an astronomical level, lowkey marathon sex, yunho king of dirty talk, squirting, spanking + slapping, choking !!! manhandling !!! hardcore sex !!! they are freak nasty !!! 1: brief somnophilia (yun wakes reader up with head), gentle to rough, yunho makes reader scream his name + say she belongs to him, intense morning sex, orgasm control, talk about fantasies including cnc + free use / exhibitionism / anal / throat training 2: brief somno (reader wakes yun up with head), i went maybe a smidge too detailed while describing his cock... cock worship ! kind of ball worship, hand job, hand kink goes both ways, face + throat fucking / head pushing, tongue in ear action (don't look at me-), mid sex love confession, messy make out, slight cnc: yunho 'makes' reader take more than she can handle but she can stop him at any time, fingering, aftercare wooohoo !

➯a/n: dAYYYUM YALL CALM DOWN kkkkk but in all seriousness thank you, i am really proud of this story so im glad people like it so far ! im just as crazy for joker yunho as you guys lol aaand tag list at the bottom because i legit ran out of room above the cut from the warnings 🥲 enjoy and let me know what you think <3

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

ꕥ

You wake up sore. Muscles aching, hips tender. And you feel like you're about to fall into a warm pool of ecstasy. Tears are already welling up in your sleep hazed eyes.

"Good mornin', doll." Yunho's voice reaches you muffledly, and you quickly find why when you lift your heavy head off the pillow and find him lying between your legs.

At some point last night, he came home with you. Stayed with you and held you until you both fell asleep.

"Yunie?" You moan sleepily, slumping back into the mattress. "What're you doing?"

"Breakfast~" He chuckles, giving your slit a long, slow lick that makes you shiver. "I told you I wanted to spoil your pussy, didn't I?"

You let out a little whine, melting beneath his tongue as he starts lapping at your clit. "F-uck," you stutter, rubbing your eyes before you look down at him again. "How long have you been down there?"

He looks at his watch from where he caresses your sore hip. Not even bothering to remove his tongue from your wetness, he holds up two fingers. "Only two minutes? I feel like I'm about to cum..." You sigh softly, his actions filling your sleep addled body with pure bliss.

"Twenty," he mumbles with a mouthful of you, having wrapped his lips around your cunt and began sucking. He lets go with a lewd pop. "Pretty sure you already have, princess~"

"One more then," you ramble out, quickly pulling his head back towards you by his hair and making him moan. "Please, Daddy? Your tongue feels so good~"

He can't deny you. He said he'd give you anything you wanted, and if you want him to eat you out until he physically can't anymore — he will. His tongue is back to work in a second, licking at your clit while his lips massage your swollen ones; still puffy from taking his pounding. Making out with your cunt slow and passionate, he has to grind down on your mattress to relieve some of the pressure of his hard on.

It doesn't take long for you to crash into your peak, sensitive from last night and newly awakened after his almost half hour long teasing. You meet it with a broken gasp, your twitching hips held still by his warm grip, tears slipping down your face and wetting your pillow.

His hands slide up your body as he crawls up to hover over you; coming all the way to cradle your heated face. "I could eat you out for hours, baby," he whispers against your lips before kissing you softly, smearing your own slick against your face.

"Will you fuck me? Please?" You whine breathlessly when he pulls back, tracing your hand across his naked back and feeling the scratches you left there. "I want to make you feel good, J."

"Fuck," he sighs, leaning his forehead against yours, "you're so tempting~" He searches your eyes deeply, "was I too rough last night, love?"

You blink a few times, taking in the new nickname with a soft smile. "No," you shake your head, spreading your legs further for him, "I liked it, a lot..."

"Good~" He pecks your lips before rolling you onto your side, not giving you enough time to wonder what's he's up when when slots himself behind you; his bulge against your ass. "I woke up so hard for you... I thought last night was the best dream of my life~"

You gasp softly as he lines up with you, using the mix of his spit and your arousal to lube himself up, grinding against you. "Fuck," you breathe out in a huff, dripping on his length from the way he wraps his arms around your waist tenderly, "you're gonna have me like this?"

"Mhm~" He kisses your shoulder, rubbing his thumbs over your ribs soothingly as he sinks into you slowly, letting his eyes roll back freely. You feel so hot and billowy around his pulsing girth. Like heaven on Earth. "Best of both worlds," his voice is dripping with pleasure, "get to cuddle and fuck."

"I love that," you laugh airily, holding your hands over his while he begins thrusting slowly. His member stretching you out so gently makes you dizzy. "Love it when you hold me, Daddy..."

"I know you do, sweet girl~" He smiles into your skin, keeping his pace leisurely and deep; massaging your sore walls with his cock. "You fit so perfect in my arms, don't you?"

"God, yes," you sniffle, holding his hands tighter. You don't know if you'll ever get over crying during sex — probably not. Because Yunho is encouraging it. He likes it. He likes making you feel so good you cry; he loves it. Even when he gifted you your jacket and you started tearing up, he had got hard.

Something is wired a bit off in your mind; crying when you feel even an ounce of pleasure or sudden happiness. But that's okay — something is wired completely off in his; getting rock hard when he makes you cry.

"You cryin' already, princess?" He coos into your ear as he continues his lazy early morning stroking of your insides. "You like it that much? Am I making you feel so good you don't know what to do?" He chuckles as you let out a muffled 'mhm', not trusting your voice to do more without sobbing.

He can tell you feel vulnerable, and that makes it all the better because you continue to hold his hands and trust him not to break you in your fragile state. He can hold you like a breakable doll, like now, and he can manipulate your body like a lewd toy, like last night — and you love it just as much either way. And he won't take advantage of that fact.

Now that you're all his, he's going to do everything in his power to make you feel happy and safe and fucked to contentment.

"Don't you worry, baby-doll," the hybrid of his two nicknames for you makes you clench around him, breathing shakily, "Daddy will take care of you and your wet little cunt~"

"Nghh-" You gurgle on your own moan as one of his arms slips up and his large hand wraps around your throat, choking you just enough to cut off a bit of your air flow.

"Shit-" He hisses as you clench around him tightly, leaning his head against your shoulder, "you really do like it when I choke you~ You're fucking perfect..." You also, evidently, like it when he praises you — because a shiver runs through your body as you cum around him, moaning and sobbing in some sort of harmonious mix.

"Y-Yunie!" You croak out with a whine, breathing deeply as he eases his grip and strokes your neck softly.

"Shhh, you're okay~ Can you take it just a little longer, princess?" He reaches down and cups your cunt softly, making you fidget. One of his arms around your shoulders and the other over your hips, though; you don't get far. "Quit squirmin', use your words."

You yelp as he sucks on your neck, his hand squeezing your puffy pussy as he continues to thrust at a torturously slow pace. "F-fuuuck! Fuck you, why is your cock so perfect?"

He has a huge grin on his lips, body tingling at your tearful voice. The way you said 'fuck you' and then immediately praised him makes his brain pleasantly foggy. "Can you take it, baby? You gonna let me fuck you until I fill your perfect pussy~?"

"Ah~ Uh-huh!"

"Words, doll~"

You groan loudly, eyes squeezing shut and making fat tears roll down your face. "Yes! Yes, Daddy!"

"Yes?" The feeling of his tongue tracing up to your ear makes you tremble. "Say, 'Daddy, please fuck my perfect pussy until you cum'," he whispers right to you, moaning at the way your walls twitch around him. "Make it good, baby, you know I don't like to ask for things twice."

Zero hesitation is to be found as you grab at the sheets, steadying yourself as he locks a leg over yours and starts fucking into you with more force. Still slow and steady, but it feels like his rattling your brains every time he bottoms out. His chest is so warm against your back.

"Yunie! Daddy, p-please- oh, god~ Fuck m- ah! I can't think! M'sorry, I can't think!"

"Poor baby~" His laughter tickles your neck, "can't even remember a sentence cause I'm dicking you so good, huh?"

"Nuh-uh," you shake your head, that's one thing you can do.

The spank on your ass makes you shout, both of your hands flying up to your face and covering your mouth. "Words, baby," he reminds you with a threat, "or I'm gonna have to stop."

"No! Don't stop!" You wail behind your hands, grinding your hips back into him and making him moan deeply. "Please-" You whine as you search your scrambled brains, "oh! Daddy! Please, fuck my p-perfect pussy until you cum!" It comes out a bit slurred, but it plasters a smirk on his face nonetheless; even more satisfied when you add some of your own. "Fill me up, Yunie~ Want it, want it, pleaseee!"

"Oh, that's a good girl, I knew you could do it~" He coos, making your heart flutter as he places a kiss to the back of your neck; wrapping his arms up under yours and holding your shoulders. "My little doll~" His sudden quicker pace makes you scream, hands back over your mouth and muffling your own noises roughly; tears soaking your fingers.

He laughs breathlessly at your efforts, because you're still loud as all get out even with both hands slapped over your mouth. "Scared to wake the neighbors, princess? Don't want them to know The Joker is all up in your guts~?" He grabs your wrists, pulling them down to your chest and pinning them there.

"Ha-harder!"

Your face meets the pillow before you know up from down; laid flat on your stomach with him pushing your legs open with his own. "Harder," he laughs, "sweet princess already cryin' but wants it harder~? Oh, don't worry~" He pins your wrists down to the either side of your head as he starts pummeling into you; his hips clapping against your ass each time he slams the weight of them down into you. Slow, rhythmic, and the fucking roughest you've ever got. He gives you time to feel the impact of his cock driving into you before he's pulling back out and doing it again.

"Daddy will pound you just how you like it, baby," he pants from above you, eyes wild as he watches you bury your face in the pillow; screaming with each of his brutal thrusts. "Nice and rough for my precious girl~"

"Ah!! Fuck! Fuck!" Comes your muffled, frazzled response. "M'gonna c-"

"Not yet." He growls with a particularly brutal slap of his hips. His bulbous tip stays buried deep, driving you crazy; trying to hump your hips back into him. He lets go of one of your wrists in favor of smacking your ass. The rough sting makes you wail, clenching around him and leaking all over your unmade bed. "I said not yet."

"Whyyyy?" You sob into the pillow, trembling beneath him with your orgasm just a few small drops of pleasure away from spilling over and consuming you.

"Because you're gonna scream my name first."

"Yunho!" You let it tumble out of your lips with not a second thought. "Yunie!"

He hums, pretending to think, "what about 'Daddy'? Try that one for me, doll."

"D-Daddy! Please, keep going!"

"Let me hear... 'Mister J'. You're so sweet when you call me that~"

He's taking maybe a little too much joy in teasing you. Holding your orgasm just out of reach while he coaxes out your tearful voice, grinding against you just enough to keep you hanging right there. Dangling you above the boiling hot ecstasy and keeping it just at your trembling fingertips.

"Ngh-" You swallow thickly, fisting the sheet tightly and kicking your feet in a small tantrum. "You jerk! Let me cum!"

His cock twitches heavily inside of you, a guttural groan bubbling up his throat as that fire he loves about you so much comes out and singes him even when he's fucking you into a pile of tears.

He pins your legs in place with his own, "say it, baby. And I'll let you cum. I'll make you cum as much as you want, my needy girl~"

"Mister J, please~" You moan so sweetly that he starts up his deep, soul shaking thrusts against immediately.

"Good girl~"

His simple praise makes you fall straight into the ecstasy he kept out of reach, a cry breaking off in your throat as you cum so hard that you blank for a few seconds; your entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind as he keeps you pinned to the bed.

"Fuuuuck, that's it, keep milking my cock just like that~" He sucks in a sharp breath as he pulls up your boneless body, letting your shoulders slump against the mattress while he lifts your hips and starts pulling you into his thrusts — going faster.

"Ah, ah, ahh!!" All you can do is moan, drooling into the sheets as your brain gets flooded with entirely too much pleasure for you to handle. "G-ah..." Any and all attempts you make towards forming words falls short, making him grin widely as he pounds into you.

"Poor princess~" He coos in a mix of mockery and comfort, making you drip. "So dumb on Daddy's cock that you can't even speak," his next words each come with a smack to your heated ass cheek, "so damn cute." The squeaks that leave your lips make him want to spank you more. Harder.

He has so much pent up energy. So much bottled up lust. He's been fantasizing about you for months. Fisting his cock while he thought of all the ways he wanted to absolutely wreck you and place you back together just for him.

And now that you're his — it's all coming out. Through his actions, and his words.

He can't help himself. Just like when you were grinding on his lap; all of his darkest thoughts come tumbling out before he can stop them as he holds back his orgasm. Because while his body might be ready to cum, his brain is still urging him to fuck you more. Until you can't breathe.

"Goddamn~" He starts with a pant as he feels your arousal drip down his balls, "you're so wet for me~ Making a damn mess, you needy doll~ Fuck... This messy little cunt is all mine, hmm? I'm the only one who will ever touch you, ain't that right?"

"Y-yeah!" You manage to get enough air in your overworked lungs to respond, slurring and panting more than he is as another wave of mind-numbing pleasure creeps up on you.

"Say it. I wanna hear you say it, princess. 'My pussy belongs to Joker', go on and scream it~" He pushes you back flat on the bed, his hands pressing down on the small of your back to keep you in place as he pounds into you as hard as he can — trying to fuck all of his pent up emotions right into you.

"M- ah! Joker! My p- oh, my god! I'm gonna cum! Please, I'm gonna cum! Don't stop- my pussy belongs to you, Joker! I belong to you! Fucking make me c-cum! Make me cum, Daddy!" You start rambling just as much him; goosebumps rising on your sweaty neck as he snakes a hand between your hips and the bed, squeezing your cunt again.

"Fuck- that's right, baby~" He moans loudly, right by your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. "You're mine. Every fucking part of you. Get to fuck you whenever I damn well want to."

He's panting, his entire body tingling, ears burning as they revel in the sound of your shaky cries of pleasure.

"Make my pretty girl scream for the whole world to hear~ Make them all watch while I fuck you until you're stupid, yeah? Oh, yeah~ You like that, doll?" He coos with a slight tremble in his voice as you start grinding clumsily into his possessive grip on your cunt. "You like it when Daddy tells you all the dirty things he's gonna do with you?"

A string of slurred agreements and begs is all you can muster up, teetering so precariously on the edge that it feels like you may as well be having one long orgasm.

"My perfect girl," he wraps his arm around your shoulders and holds you tightly, blanketing you entirely while he slows his thrusts enough to let you both breathe. When you start whining, urging him to keep going by wiggling your hips, he shushes you softly. "Shhh, none of that. I'm going to fuck you all morning long, okay? But you gotta let me slow down or I'm gonna cum. You even feel how good your pussy is milking me?"

You let out a soft whimper, shaking your head. "Aw~ Poor baby so fucked out she can't even feel her pussy? Just wants to keep cumming and cumming~"

"Uh-huh," you moan into the pillow, hissing from the slight stinging sensation as he pulls out of you slowly. "Noooo, where are you going?"

"Hey, it's okay, princess," he chuckles, "I'm not goin' anywhere. I just want to see you~ Can't let my pretty girls face be stuck in the bed all morning, right?"

"O-okay," you pant, blinking up at him with wide eyes as he turns you over gently.

"Shit," he whistles quietly as he scans you, his cock twitching in the air. He cups your face, manic grin on his lips, and strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. "I really am fucking ruining you, aren't I? Poor girl~"

"It- It's okay," you whisper as you lean into his tender touches, "I'll let you ruin me whenever you want... I like it."

He just about cums untouched as you speak those words. "Y-Yeah?"

"Mhm~ I belong to you, Daddy."

"Fuck-" He crashes his lips onto yours, smooshing your face in his hands. "That's right-" He says before quickly planting another kiss. "Damn fucking right~" He licks up your cheek, wild in his actions. "All mine-" A lick to your other cheek. "My perfect little doll," he smirks down at you, "I'm going to have so much fun with you, princess~ You don't even know~"

The next kiss he lands on your lips is hot. Burning with passion and all-consuming. You're so fuzzy headed from it — from everything — that it takes you a few moments to realize he's pulled away and slapped you.

It was light, testing the waters. Nowhere near as rough as he could be. But it makes your overstimulated cunt twitch nonetheless. "Open your mouth." You're still dazed, catching up to what's happening when he lands a soft slap to your other cheek. "Say 'ah', baby."

You swallow before you open up your mouth, but there's still strings of saliva as you roll out your tongue. "Ahhh~"

"There we go~" He coos as he straddles your hips, fisting his length slowly while he leans over you. "God, I can't wait to fuck this pretty little mouth~" He spits right onto your tongue, making you jump in surprise. He laughs airily, tracing your chest with his free hand as you look up at him in awe and shock. "You're so fucking adorable..." He hums as he looks down at you, stars in his eyes, before spitting again.

"Swallow it." He says, cupping your breast and giving it a squeeze. "Whenever I put something in your mouth, swallow it. Got it? Spit, cum- fucking swallow and open your mouth to show me what a good girl you are."

You're quick to bring your tongue back into your mouth and do as he says — swallow. With a soft moan, you take his spit down your throat before reopening your lips. "Ah?" You hum, searching for his approval.

And he gives it. His cheeks are flushed pink and he's got a shockingly fond smile on his lips. "You're a quick learner, baby~ Good job," the kiss he places on your forehead has you melting. Almost as much as his next words make your heart flutter, "most people would be running for the hills if they heard all the nasty things I wanted to do. But not you, doll... We're a match made in heaven~"

"Not me," you bite at your lip for a moment before you find the courage to ask, "will you tell me more?"

His eyes light up even more, looking up from your chest to meet your eyes. "Yeah?" He whispers, smirk overtaking his smile, "you want to hear what I thought about every night? C'mere-"

You yelp as he suddenly lifts you, wrapping his arms around you tightly and sliding you down on his length as he sits on the edge of your bed. "Ffffuck~" You shiver in his hold as he starts thrusting into you immediately.

"Look at me," he moans, cupping the back of your head and pressing his forehead to yours, "wanna see the look in your eyes when I tell you exactly what I want to do."

"I w- I wanna hear it all, Daddy," you whimper as his girth drags along your overworked g-spot.

"I want to cum inside all of your holes." He dives straight into the deep end, blurting out his fantasy with zero hesitation; eyes locked on yours as they widen slightly. "Your pretty little mouth, perfect fucking pussy-" His jaw tightens a bit as you start meeting his thrusts, "how many people been inside that ass of yours?"

"N-none."

His cock leaks with excitement inside of you, his grip on you tightening. "Fuck, baby- really?" When you nod against his head, he starts thrusting harder.

"Will y-you make it feel good?"

"Fucking christ, doll! You're making me crazy..." His eyes squeeze shut for a moment before they're right back on you, "of course. Of course, baby. I'm going to make your little ass feel so good~ You'll love it, won't you?"

"M'gonna cum-"

"Hold it." He growls, gripping the back of your neck. "I'm not done. I want you to hear about how I want to pin you to the floor and see how hard you'll fight-"

"Ca- holy shit! Can't- I can't hold it!"

He ignores you, slamming his hips up into you while running through his imagination, "I wanna know how much fire you've really got in you. See juuust how far you'll go to try and get away-"

"Yunie!"

"Maybe that's when I'll fuck you in the ass." His vulgar words make you squeeze your eyes shut to try and focus on holding off your impending orgasm. His slap to your cheek makes you open them again, hot tears streaming down your face and getting smeared by his palm. "Thinking about that gonna make you cum? Fuck- It's gonna make me cum~ I can just imagine the pretty cries you'll let out when you realize you can't get away. When I hold you down and make you cum so much you pass out- fuck, it's going to be beautiful~"

You're panting heavily, your entire body is hot, your cunt is tingling. His face is blurry behind your tears, but you can see how excited he is. You feel an unfamiliar twinge in the massive ball of pleasure building up inside of you. One you've only felt once before. "Oh- Fuck- I think m'gonna squirt-" Your words come out in a fast jumble, but he catches every single syllable.

"Do it, pretty girl~ You've earned it~"

"Oh, fuck! Thank you, Yunie, thank you!" You squeal, hugging his neck tightly and keeping your eyes on his until you physically can't — the force of your orgasm slamming into you so roughly that it sends your eyes straight back into your skull, eyelids fluttering shut as pure unadulterated ecstasy rushes through you.

"Fucking perfect..." His whisper of awe, his heart filled eyes as you squirt around him all goes unnoticed as you twitch and tremble in his tight hold.

"Yunho~" Your soft, pleasure drunken whine of his name pushes him off the edge — shoves him, hard. His brain takes over as it floods with dopamine and endorphins. He rolls you both over quickly, thrusting as deep as he can get while he pins you to the bed with his body; hugging your head to his chest.

"My princess. All fucking mine. Take it, take it, baby-" His voice breaks into a loud moan, a full body twitch running through him as he cums inside of you; filling you with warmth from the inside out.

You cling to him tightly: head buried away from the world in the comfort of his chest, sore legs spread wide for him, soft sniffs and whines meeting his pleasured hums.

"You're so good for me, love," his voice is almost a purr as he holds you tightly, "my precious doll. I'll never let you go."

"Y- You better not."

ꕥ

"Hey, pretty girl~ Needa' ride?"

The car pulls up right next you, music blasting.

Yunho smirks as he sees you instinctively reach for the knife he knows you keep in your jacket before you register that it's him; a grin making its way to your lips.

You lean your arms on the rolled down window, popping your gum. "Cash, grass, or ass?"

He simply chuckles, reaching over and opening up the door for you. "Come on, doll-face."

You slide into the car, leaning over the center to give him a kiss, "missed you, Mister J~" It's not even been twenty-four hours — more about ten. He had left late in the night after he got a text, saying he had to 'grab' something and that he'd pick you up in the morning.

So, here you are.

"Missed you back, baby," he hums, cupping the side of your neck to pull you into another quick, hot kiss. He hates to pull away, but he does anyway. It's a big day ahead; and he wants to get right on with it. "Buckle up."

"Ironic," you giggle as you pull on your seatbelt, the car already speeding, "don't think I've ever seen you wear your seatbelt."

"Hm," he pouts as he thinks, before shrugging with a laugh. "Probably not!"

You grab his cigarettes as he points to them, sliding one out carefully. "Where we off to, J?" You ask as you place it between his lips, leaning over to light it for him.

He takes a long inhale before blowing the smoke into the rushing cold air; the winter air whipping through the car. "Surprise~ Don't worry, you'll like it."

"How do you know?"

"I just do~ Call it a gut feeling." His hand finds its rightful place on your inner thigh, rubbing his thumb over your skin softly. "This skirt is pretty on you, wear it more for me~"

"Uh-huh, if you say s-" As he stops at a red light, the song happens to change at the same time; and something else reaches your ears. Muffled screaming and banging from the trunk. "Yunho?"

"What's up, princess?"

"Do you have someone in the trunk?"

"Yup~" He beams as he turns up the music, "don't mind him. It's not a long ride."

You stare at him for a moment. Clearly to ask 'what the fuck?' "Who's back there?"

"No one important," he tosses his cigarette butt out the window before rolling them up and turning the vent toward you. "You cold, baby?"

"A little bit- wait, wait! We aren't moving on that fast. The fuck is going on?"

"Don't you worry about that, love," he smiles over at you, "you trust me, right?"

You think, only for a split second. "Of course, Yunie."

ꕥ

The wear-house by the river clearly hasn't been in business for a long time. The only sign of life for miles is Yunho, running over to open the car door for you.

"C'mon, doll," he takes your hand, all but pulling you back to the trunk. "Are you ready?"

You don't really know. You have no idea what — who to expect when he opens the trunk. "Yeah, I guess so..." You trail off as he pushes it open, eyes going wide. "Holy shit." You whisper. "Holy shit!" You slap a hand over your mouth as you laugh; looking between him and the fearful man who's bound with tape in his trunk.

"You goddamn crazy fuck," you grab his neck and pull him down into a deep kiss. Mumbling into his lips as his hands find your waist, you find a wide smile spreading on your features, "you did this for me?"

"I'd do anything for you, doll~" He hums softly, reaching over without looking away from you and shoving the man back into the trunk as he tries to clumsily crawl out. "I told you that you'd have his heart in a gift basket, no~? I figured why have all the fun myself, I should let my girl have some, too."

In the trunk is none other than Earnest Holmes; the man who you hate more than anything. "This is the best gift I've ever received, Mister J~ How could I ever repay you?"

"Let me help you with whatever plans you've got running through that pretty little head~"

"Deal." You land another kiss to his lips before turning quickly, your pocket knife pulled in a second flat and the tip of it against Holmes' throat; making the man still.

"I bet you don't even remember me." He shakes his head violently. "No?" You press the sharp stainless steel into his skin, a single pinprick made in his neck. You don't want him dead just yet. "I'll give you a hint..."

Yunho leans over, joining you in crowding the terrified man; your shadows looming over him.

"My momma gave you that nasty scar on your back. She got you real good." You laugh as his eyes widen, "mhm~ Ringing a bell?"

Yunho rests a hand on the small of your back, the look in his eyes basically already gutting Holmes. If looks could kill, he'd be dead twice over. Once from you, and another from The Joker resurrecting him just to do it again himself.

"I'm going to do so much more than she did. I'm going to kill you. But not before Mister J and I have a fucking field day making you suffer."

The man yells behind the tape on his mouth as you twirl the knife before driving it straight into his thigh.

"Let's get him inside, baby," Yunho grins wildly, basking in the unbridled fire in your eyes as you look up at him, "we can take our time with this worm."

You yank your blade from Holmes' leg, staring down at the blood on the steel. You're usually queasy around gore. But now? You're thinking of all the ways you and Yunho can hurt him.

You appreciate that he hasn't asked just exactly what the man has done. Because if you tried to explain it at the moment, you'd end up stabbing Holmes more fatally. And he doesn't deserve a quick end.

You move out of the way, letting his blood drip off your knife; which you keep a death grip on — just incase you change your mind and decide that you want to stab him in the throat.

Yunho doesn't have any trouble yanking the man up, dropping him to the dirt with a glare. It softens when he looks to you, and it's back to pure hatred as he looks back down at Holmes. He doesn't know the details — but he doesn't have to. All he has to know is this man has harmed and disrespected you.

He scoffs at the mans sniveling, grabbing him by the ankles and dragging him through the dirt towards the warehouse. "Watch your head." He smirks as he pulls the man up the concrete steps, making his head thud against them.

You have a slight grin making its way back to your lips as you follow, running to pull the large sliding door open for him. "Well, thank you, baby~" He pecks your head as he passes, kicking the man in his injured leg as he tries to use his bound hands to grab at your ankles. "Hands off, fuck-face, or I'll cut them off."

You slide the door shut behind you as he pulls the man up and shoves him into the chair in the middle of the empty space. One look around the desolate building tells you that it's far from the first time The Joker has used it for this purpose. Between the blood stained wooden chair and the work desk of instruments of pain; this seems to be his second office.

By the time you've finished scanning the large, near empty room, Yunho has Holmes hand-cuffed to the arms of the chair.

You toss your knife onto the stained workbench, stalking over to them as Yunho leans back against the metal wall. "What you got planned, pretty girl?"

You grab the edge of the duct tape on Holmes' mouth, pulling it off slowly. "Let's hear him try to explain himself." Half-way across, you yank it; making him yell.

"You fucking bitch-"

Before Yunho can even jump to strangle the man for daring to insult you — you slap the man. Hard. Hard enough for it to snap his head to the side and for the sound to echo a few times.

"Do you think you're in any position to be insulting me?" You huff a laugh, "you should be begging for mercy, you worthless piece of shit." He's silent, looking at the floor. "You think you're too good for that? Hm..." You pout towards Yunho, sarcasm laced in your voice, "he thinks he's better than me, Mister J."

He pushes off the wall with a wild grin, "oh, that won't do~" Holmes groans as he yanks his head up by his hair, making the man face you. "Maybe, if you play nice," he whispers to him, "my girl will make it quick."

He knows that you won't. But Holmes doesn't.

"Listen..." He starts slowly, breaths shaky, "your mother-" He hesitates when you take a step forward. "Your mother... she was just- I d- Fuck, what do you want me to say!?"

"Tell me why you chose her."

Yunho yanks his hair again when he takes too longer to answer.

"Because she was pretty."

Your jaw tightens. "I've decided what I want to do first, Yunie."

"What's that, baby?"

"Do you know how to gouge someone's eyes out?"

He shoves the man's head as he lets go, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and showing you to the workbench. "I'll teach ya'."

ꕥ

You let out a soft sigh, leaning into Yunho's side after he wraps his long coat around your shoulder. "Thank you, Yunho..."

You're both sitting on the edge of the dock, legs dangling. It's only a few hours later, but it feels like a life time has passed. Some of the things you did — you didn't even know you were capable of.

"Anything for you, love."

And he's proved that. Absolutely anything for you. He had washed his hands in the river after carving out the heart of a man who had wronged you — there was probably nothing he wouldn't do.

It sits next to you in a wicker basket that he handed you with a kiss.

You had helped him roll the dead, weighed down man into the water and watched him sink with a feeling of cathartic release sinking down on you.

"He stalked my mother for three weeks." You start with a whisper, "and then he broke into our house. Killed my pops first when he tried to protect us. And... she tried to fight him off, stabbed him in the back. But it wasn't enough. Police said it was random- home invasion gone sideways. They didn't have any records of him stalking her because they said they couldn't do anything until he actually hurt her. What kind of ass backwards bullshit is that?"

He's angry for you. He could tell by the way you talked about it that it has been weighing on you for a long time. He sighs, rubbing your shoulder softly, "I'm sorry, baby. The world is an unfair place, we have to make our own justice... Do you feel better now that he's gone?"

"It doesn't change what he did. But... for some reason? I do."

"Good. He deserved every single thing we did to him and more. If there's a hell, I'll find him there and continue his punishment."

You chuckle quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Maybe I do owe him a single thanks."

"Mh? What for?"

"After my parents passed, my aunt and uncle took me in. Hongjoong's parents. And when he opened The Riddle Room, he gave me a job there. And, in a fucked up kind of way, that lead me to you."

He breathes a small chuckle, "sentimental already, doll?"

"Oh, screw you," you laugh, shoving his shoulder with yours.

He pulls you closer to his side, smiling down at the water that now houses your first kill — right next to his.

ꕥ

"Yes, princess?" Yunho leans back, taking his lollipop stick out of his mouth to speak into the phone.

It's about a week later. A week of officially being his. And while he would absolutely love if it were the case — you don't spend every second by his side. He has business to attend to that he would rather not mix you up in, and you have your college work to focus on now that you've officially quit working for Riddler.

"Hey, Yunho," your frazzled voice makes his heart drop, "are you busy?"

"What's wrong? Where are you?" He asks quickly, chewing on the stick while waiting for your response; impatient.

"Uhm, I'm just at my apartment, but," you trail off for a moment, "sorry, is this a bad time? I can- I know you're working, I can call back later."

"No, it's okay. What's going on, doll?"

He's ready to drop everything for you.

"Some asshole ran into the gas pipe across the street and now my whole apartment building is turning into a damned freezer. I hate to ask but, uhm," you clear your throat. He can tell you're nervous even over the phone. "I don't really have anywhere else to go until it gets fixed, my aunt lives all the way in Arkham and Hong is still a little butthurt- the maintenance lady said it should only be a few days!"

"You can stay with me, baby," he doesn't even hesitate. Honestly, he's relieved it wasn't something worse. His mind immediately went to the worst case scenarios. What if Bullock was following you? What if someone saw you dump the body with him? What if one of his rivals h-

"Really?" Your elated voice rings from the speaker, "oh, thank you, Yunie! I promise I won't be trouble."

"Hm, why not? That's what I like about you, doll-face," he smiles as your chuckle comes through.

"Oh, shut up," you huff a laugh, "you gonna pick me up or should I come to your office?"

"I'll pick ya' up, pack whatever you need," he pulls the phone away to check the time, "I'll be there in an hour, try to stay warm, yeah?"

"Yeah- thank you so much, Mister J."

"You know I'll do anything for you, princess."

He slips his phone into his pocket and takes the lollipop stick back into the side of his mouth. "Sorry," he looks up to the gagged man who's currently tied up on the chair, "had to take that. You don't mind, right~?"

The man shivers as The Joker pulls his leather glove back on, picking up the pliers he had sat down to answer your call.

"Now, let's hurry this along. My girl needs me."

ꕥ

"So..." You trail off as you look around the apartment slowly. "This is the infamous Joker's home."

It's shockingly normal. Nice. Small and cozy. It's clear he doesn't spend a a lot of time here, but he still cares for it.

"Home sweet home," he chuckles as he unzips your large jacket, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, "get comfy, baby-doll, I'll turn on the heat."

"Thank you, J," you cup his cheek softly as he goes to turn around, stopping him. "Really, thank you. I'd be freezing my ass off if not for you."

The way he absolutely melts into your touch doesn't go unnoticed. It never does — you always notice. You have since the beginning. Or, at least since you stopped being afraid of him. You realized he needs touch just as desperately as you.

"Well, we can't have that~" He jokes to break the intense staring contest, kissing your palm softly, "gotta take care of my girl."

"I'm gonna get spoiled if you keep this up-"

"Good." He shrugs, turning and disappearing deeper into the apartment, "my princess deserves only the best!"

You shake your head with a smile overtaking your lips, taking off your jacket and hanging it next to his coat. "How long have you lived in this part of the city?"

It's right in the middle of the upper and lower parts. Probably so he can get around quicker.

"Couple years," he calls back to you, joining you in the open living area; cigarette resting unlit in his lips. "How long you been in your neighborhood?"

"Couple years," you mimic him as you investigate the living room from your spot next to him.

He swipes up the lighter on his short coffee table and lights the cigarette as he falls onto the fabric couch. "Don't be so shy," he says before he inhales deeply, slumping as the nicotine fills his lungs. "What's mine is yours~"

You drop your bag on the floor and all but jump onto the couch next to him. He props his feet up on the table, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as you snuggle into his side; hugging his torso. "That's more like it," he laughs softly as you fold your legs under you.

Almost polar opposites in the way you sit — it's kind of amusing. He's spread out, taking up his space and leaning his head back against the cushion as he smokes. You're curled up on his side; in his space more than your own, head pressed to his chest as you listen to his deep inhalations.

"Did you have a good day at work?" You ask softly, knowing that he's not going to answer. He never does. But you always ask anyway.

"Hm," he toys with your hair softly, humming amused at your insistence of asking. He's not going to tell you that he spent the day sending a message to a rival drug dealer by torturing his runner. "How was your school work? How's my pretty genius gettin' along?"

You smile into his chest, pressing closer.

You suddenly don't mind that the gas heating in your apartment is broken. You like it here, with him.

ꕥ

"I can't believe you were serious." You set the stuffed animal back down on the corner of his bed, giggling as he pulls off your pants.

His bed is big and warm and so comfortable you find yourself wanting to never leave.

"I told you," he shrugs with a smile, "I like to snuggle."

"I guess you did, yeah, just a bit shocking." You smile back as he leans over, pecking your lips as he pulls the pajama bottoms he had gotten out of your bag over your legs.

"Why?" He asks between soft kisses left across your face, his hands sliding under your sweater to caress your waist.

Both of you now dressed warm and ready for bed, it's possibly the most cozy you've ever been as he hovers over you, peppering your skin in light smooches.

"You have a reputation, you know?" He leans into your touch as you reach up and push back his hair. "My Mister J~"

His face would probably be unreadable to anyone else. But, for some reason, you can see past his calm features — you can see into his mind through the smallest flicks of his eyes as he scans your face.

"Are you still afraid of me?"

He asks it so softly that you nearly miss it; like he's scared of the answer he might get. He doesn't need to be, though.

"Why would I be?"

He sits to straddle you, bringing his hands out from your sweater to find yours. Lacing your fingers together, he says, "I'm not a good man."

You wrap your fingers in his, never letting your eyes leave his. "You're good to me."

A smile tugs the corner of his lips. "I've killed."

"So have I." You tilt your head as you look up at him, "do you think I'd leave over something so trivial?"

He laughs at your choice of words, a short huff of amusement. Trivial. Like it doesn't matter. Like you don't mind the blood that stains his very being.

Looking down at you — he can tell it doesn't.

You're holding his hands despite their tainted nature.

"I'm not afraid of you. I bare my neck to you because I know you could kill me... but you choose not to."

You're getting blurry. His cheeks are wet.

Is there a leak —

You force one of your hands from his grasp and cup his cheek, wiping his tears. "Yunho-"

"I love you." It comes in a quick breath, like it was squeezed out of his throat. Like he doesn't want you to catch the confession.

But in the quiet of his bedroom, in the intimate moment; of course you do.

Your face softens, eyebrows pushing together slightly, pupils widening.

"I love you." Again, louder this time. "Please-" He leans over you, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder, "you can't-" His brain isn't working properly. He's blinking rapidly, trying to rid the troublesome tears before he gives up and squeezes his eyes shut.

When was the last time he cried? It had to have been years. Not since he was a boy.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mister J," you whisper as he wraps his arms around you tightly; holding you like you'll disappear any second. "You can't get rid of me that easy~"

You smile as he chuckles quietly into your shoulder, rubbing up and down his back slowly. "Guess I'm stuck with you~" He jokes right back, his voice heavy with his tears.

It's definitely... strange to see the man who you once thought was nothing but chaos crumble like a house of cards as he leans into your touches. You can't find it in yourself to care, however.

He isn't The Joker right now. He's yours.

"Stay with me, baby..."

"Of course, Daddy."

ꕥ

You decide to flip the script on him in the morning whenever you find that you've woke up before him.

"Mh, Yunie?" You moan sleepily as he presses closer to you with a deep groan. You think he might be awake, the way he's pressing his hard-on into your behind while pulling your back more securely to his chest.

But when you turn in his arms, you find his peacefully sleeping face: his lips parted by his gentle breaths, his hoodie over his messy hair, completely content as he rests. Completely — besides the bulge in his sweatpants that he's still trying to press against you subconsciously; a soft whine in his throat when he can't find your ass.

You spend a second to look at him.

He strangely... pretty. The perfect mix of sharp features and round. Just like his personality. Well — towards you, at least.

"Babyyy," he groans in his sleep, you can see his eyes flicking slowly behind his lids.

He did it to you, so you may as well return the favor.

You carefully push him to his back, kicking the blankets off of you in the process, "I'll take care of you, Daddy." You whisper with a kiss to his jaw before crawling down.

You pull his sleep pants and boxers down past his hips, gulping as you get your first good look at his length.

You've never seen one that you would call mouthwatering. They do say never say never for a reason; because you are salivating at the sight of his hard inches.

No wonder he feels so good inside of you. He's just a little too thick for your fingers to wrap all the way around as you softly grasp his base. His tip is leaking, slightly flushed. The vein running down the side looks like it throbs ever so slightly. He has a freckle, near the tip.

His breath hitches as you kiss the freckle. You smile before you trace over the pronounced vein with the tip of your tongue. You catch a taste of his pre-cum and moan quietly, closing your eyes while you swirl your tongue around his head slowly.

The little sounds he's making are making you ridiculously wet for how early in the morning it must be.

You situate yourself a bit better, laying between his legs as he spreads them and bucks his hips subconsciously. With a hum, you lean back down and start kissing along his length; soft, opened mouth smooches echoing in the quiet apartment with his deep moans and whines.

His hand finds the top of your head as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, just resting there heavily.

When he slowly opens his eyes a few moments later, he blinks up at the ceiling as his waking brain catches up to all of the pleasure that's coming from your warm mouth wrapped around the first inches of his painfully hard cock. He looks down quickly, meeting your eyes as you slowly pull away from his length.

"Good morning, Daddy-"

"Are you suckin' my dick?" His voice is raspy with sleep and pleasure; you can feel your panties stick to your lips with slickness.

"Mhm," you hum while kissing back down his length, chuckling as his head falls back to the pillow.

"Fuck, doll-" He huffs, biting his lip as you go even further down and kiss his balls. When you suck a bit, he hisses, pulling your head closer, "again."

You take one of the globes into your mouth, suckling tenderly and rolling your tongue along the taut skin. "God-" He slumps into the bed, bringing his arm over his eyes as he laughs airily.

You let go with a soft pop, licking up the underside of his length.

"Oh, you're gonna make me crazy, love," his chuckle makes your clit throb, and you almost want to give up on making him cum in your mouth when he looks down at you again. Eyelids heavy with sleep, pupils wide with lust, his chest rising and falling a bit quickly.

"You want me to stop, Daddy?"

His cock twitches next to your face, calling your attention. You slide your hand up the length with the help of your spit, making his eyes roll back from the slow motion. "I'll fucking choke you on my cock if you try to stop, pretty baby."

"Will you do it anyway?" You tease with a twist of your wrist while going back down his member.

"Open," he growls while gripping your head with both his hands, pushing you down toward him, "open wide, princess."

He shoves you down on his length until you gag — not even half way down but stuffing your mouth entirely. Your throat contracting around the very tip of his cock makes a loud moan spill past his lips; especially because it's paired with your warm hand working up and down on the rest of his length. "Goddamn, I could cum just like this~"

You grab onto his hip as he starts thrusting into the entrance to your throat, making you sputter and gag each time. "Mh~" His eyes flutter shut as he pulls you along his girth, your sounds and your messy spit making his heart race just as much as the heat of your tongue and the soft muscles of your throat trying to reject him.

You try to relax around his cock, but the feeling is so foreign that it forces you to pull away with a gasping breath, heaving as he laughs. "You okay, sweet girl?"

Your response is to start leaving sloppy kisses on his wet cock as you catch your breath, making his back arch slightly. "I might not be able to take you," you say with a pout as you look up, cradling his balls in your palm.

"Aw~" He coos as he pushes himself up, leaning to kiss your head, "yes, you will, doll. That's what training is for."

"You think so?" You ask innocently while you stroke his member quickly; filling the room with lewd shlicks.

He curses under his breath, eyebrows pinching together, "I'll make you take it, baby. I'll make it fit. Even if you pass out, if you can't talk for a few days — I'm going to make your throat fit me perfectly, just like I will to all of your little holes~"

"Shit-" It's your turn to curse, leaning up to kiss him as you continue with your smooth movements. "Do you promise?" You whisper against his lips, "promise you'll make me yours?"

"You already are."

You were his the moment he laid eyes on you. You just didn't know it yet.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, lifting you up into his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed; his cock twitching between you at the loss of your touch when you wrap your arms around his neck. "I am?"

"Don't you fucking doubt it, pretty girl~ You're mine. Every little piece of you: every bone in your body, every hair on your pretty little head, every smile and every tear. All of it belongs to me. Ain't that right, doll?"

You smile as you slide your hands down his chest, almost shy. "That's right, Mister J~" You yip a moan as he slaps your ass, smirking as he rubs the sore cheek through your pajamas.

"Mhm, good girl~ Hey, look at me," he pinches your chin delicately and tilts your head up to meet his gaze, "I'm yours. Just as much as you belong to me, I belong to you. Your name may as well be carved on my very soul. Tell me you understand."

"I understand, Yunie." And as strange as it might seem — you truly do. You've read stories of all-consuming love. Once in a lifetime meant to be type of love.

Yunho is yours. And you're his.

"We belong to each other," you grin as you let your hands trail down his stomach, watching his eyes flick across every inch of your face; committing each detail to memory before his eyes close as you wrap your hand around his cock again. Warm skin almost searing against the cooling spit as you jerk him off nice and slow.

"Ah~" He pants quietly, taking his lip between his teeth as he looks down, "fucking christ, baby..." He laughs from the back of his throat, fingers digging into your shoulders to stop himself from cumming. "Oh, oh, fuck- Your hand is so small around my cock, look at that~"

You press your heads together as you look down, watching your hand slide up and down on his slick length. "You're just so big, J~" You giggle with him, your free hand going to the back of his head and your fingers wrapping up in his hair now that his hoodie has fallen. "So big and pretty," you hum with a lick of your lips.

"F- you think I'm pretty?" He just about cums then and there when you say —

"The most handsome man in Gotham, cock included-"

"Get on your knees," he says quickly, spreading his legs and helping you fall to do exactly what he says. You push up your sleeves as he rids himself completely of his sweatpants and boxers. "You like my dick, princess?" He smirks as you nod up at him quickly. "Kiss it."

He leans his weight back on his hands, letting you take control as you dive back in with zero hesitation, kissing up his thigh quickly as you settle between his legs. A hum of approval rumbles in his throat as you kiss up his length — indecent, wet, smooches echoing in the sex-heavy air.

"Mhm~ Th- oh, that's it, love," his hands twitch in the messy blankets. He wants to grab you and skull fuck you so badly. But, he's also absolutely floating at the feeling of your lips all over him. "That's my girl," his sweet, pleasure soaked voice makes you whine quietly as your heat gains a heartbeat, "make out with Daddy's cock, show me how much you love it~"

You pant softly as you travel further down, back at his balls; sending a shiver up his spine as you start kitten licking them. "Fuck!" He brings a hand to his mouth, biting his finger as your hand starts giving his shaft attention while you lick and kiss below it.

"Oh," he pants a laugh, feeling his orgasm snowballing in his gut slowly, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name~ Not gonna be a single thought in that pretty head of yours when I'm done with you... Fuck you right back to sleep, baby," his hand finds your head no matter how hard he tries to keep it to himself; his head rolling back as you take both of his balls into your mouth. "You want that? Want me to stick my cock in that cute little cunt while it's covered in your slobber?"

Your hum of agreement vibrates through him, making him gasp; the leaking pre-cum from his tip quickly worked into his length as you stroke him.

"Ah, yeah, you do~ My needy doll," he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, finding himself drooling from the sight of your blissfully closed eyes while you lap at the base of his cock; your hand faithful in its pace higher up. "Fuck... You're so pretty, baby."

The way he said it is so sweet compared to the absolute mess you're making on his member; your sloppy licks and kisses leaving him glistening with spit.

"Open your mouth." And the second you do, he's back inside of it. But instead of fucking back into your throat — he's pressing his tip into your cheek, making it bulge out and filling your face with heat even more than before when he reaches and cups it softly.

He doesn't take his eyes off of you, guiding your head with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your cheek. "My pretty girl~" His gentle slap to your puffy cheek makes both of you moan. "Shit-" He laughs, eyebrows raised slightly as he looks down at you, your hand sneaking into your bottoms, "aww, poor princess~"

He coos with a series of quick, light slaps, "you getting worked up, angel?" He pulls out of your mouth to let you answer, fisting his length roughly. You take in a gasp, rubbing your fingers along your slit faster as the new nickname soaks into your brain.

"M'so wet, Daddy..." You plead as you look up at him with unshed tears, "please- I wanted to make you cum in my mouth but I can't take it, I can't take it anymore, please fuck me?"

"Take your pants off. Let me see how wet you got from making out with my cock~"

You fall into your ass so quickly that he chuckles at your eagerness, pushing back his messy hair in his free hand as he slows his fist on his length. His ears start blushing after you shove your pants away and scramble back a bit before spreading your legs.

You're so fucking wet that the baby blue of your panties is near translucent where it clings to your pussy lips. Your fingers glide over the fabric easily as you circle your clit. "Please, Yunie?"

"Get up here before I fuck you on the floor."

You're on the bed before he even blinks, pulling your sweater off and leaving you in nothing but the soaked underwear. "How do you want me-"

"I'll put you how I want you, how about that?" He grins widely as he pulls you to the middle of the bed, throwing you onto your stomach, "put that pretty little ass in the air for me~"

You land with a moan, immediately pulling your knees up and arching your back; ass in the air just like he asked. "Hurryyy-" You yelp into the bed in surprise as he spanks you. Once, twice, and then his mouth is wrapped around the dripping center of your panties, making you wail, "Daddy!!"

"Hm?" He moans, sucking at your cunt through the fabric and making you cry into the sheets.

"Pu-" You huff, grabbing at his pillow as he all but nuzzles your desperate heat, "pleaseee, make me cum..."

"Ah," he nips your thigh, "since you asked so nicely~" He yanks your panties down, letting them rest around your knees as he impatiently laps at your hot slit.

"Oh, so good~" You slur at his raw movements, each lick and suck he makes filled to the brim with unbridled lust.

He smacks your ass at the same time he takes your clit between his lips, sucking harshly. "Ah! Gonna cum! D- don't stop!"

And of course, he'll be doing no such thing. When he nips at your bundle of nerves and lands another open palmed hit to your cheek, your hips stutter as you gush all over the bridge of his nose. "Ah, you son of a bitch! Oh, fuck! Fuuuck~"

There you go again, making his dick twitch with want as you curse at him; backing your cunt into his face as you work through your peak.

"Mmf~" You groan as you fall flat, face buried in his pillow and soaking it with tears, "s'good, Daddy..."

He crawls up, flipping you over with a smirk, "needy little doll, I barely got to eat you out~"

"M'sorry, you're so good at it," you hum dizzily, melting under his touch as his hand slides up your side.

"Aww, it's okay," he pecks your lips as he grabs the base of his cock, lining up with you, "I know my poor angel was so worked up~"

He slams into you, making your back arch and your jaw drop; eyes squeezing shut while your hands scramble for purchase. "Oh- my god!! Fucking fuck- fuck you, you fucker!" He laughs into your neck, kissing softly while giving your fluttering walls time to adjust. "Holy shit, Yunie..."

"Shhh," he pecks below your ear, licking up slowly until he takes the lobe between his teeth; feeling you clench around him. He tugs ever so slightly, making you gulp forcefully. "You like that, baby?"

"Yeah-" You let out a puffed breath, sniffling as he start to thrust slowly. And you can't help the squeak that comes either when he licks across your ear with his hot, flattened tongue. "More!"

Whether you mean more for your heated ear or gushing pussy — he gives it to you.

One of his hands finds your neck, squeezing and caressing as he makes out with your ear; the filthy noises literally right in your ear. The other grips your waist, keeping you still as he pounds his hips into yours rhythmically.

"Ngh~" You can only manage a few small, pathetic, sounds as his tip assaults your g-spot, "I lo- oh~"

His head perks up from beside you, hovering over you in a split second; hips never stilling. "What, doll?"

You grab onto his shoulders tightly, locking eyes with him even as tears blur your vision.

"I love y-you, Yunho."

He stuffs your mouth with his tongue the second you finish your sentence, hammering into you mercilessly as you squeal and suck at his tongue while he explores every inch he can reach.

Both of his hands find your neck, grounding you in place physically and mentally as he pounds you to another plane of existence. Fucking you like he hates your guts, he pulls back with stars in his eyes —

"Say it again."

"I l- I love you, Yunho!" You stutter out, sobbing below him from the rush of pleasure and emotional relief you've gotten from blurting out your feelings.

"Oh, I love you, princess," he moans as he cups your teary cheeks, rubbing under your eyes with his thumbs, gently — like he's not rearranging your insides. "I fucking love you. I'll go to the goddamn ends of t-the Earth for you. All you have to say-"

"Please, Daddy!!"

"That's right- ah, that's right, baby~ Shh, shhh," he smiles manically as you start hiccuping, throbbing and clenching around him, "I got you, shh, I got you... You just let yourself go, my dumb little angel~"

You cry loudly, pulling him down by his hoodie and burying your face in his shoulder, "m'g- uh!"

"I know, sweetie~ I know, feels so good, right?" He wraps his arms around your head, pausing briefly to hook one of his legs over yours for leverage before starting up his animalistic pace again. "You can cum, baby. You don't have to wait-"

"Ahh! Fuck you- thank you! Fuck, thank you!" You scream into his shoulder as your brain starts short circuiting, your legs trembling below his.

"Mh," he bites his lip, holding you close tightly as you convulse with your release; so much so that he has to pin you to the bed with his body so you'll stop jerking your hips over his member — which is dangerously close to cumming.

But he's not done making you cum and cry yet. "One more." He growls simply before resuming his movements, thrusting and grinding into you so deeply that you see stars. "Come here," he groans, pushing your head back to the bed with his hand around your neck, "open your mouth."

You drop your jaw with a shaky 'ah', rolling out your tongue. He spits right onto it, watching you with dark eyes as you quickly swallow it and put your tongue back out.

"Good girl, you remembered~" He squeezes your neck as he leans down, hips slowly slightly as he presses his tongue to yours and groans with satisfaction.

It's unclear if this is kissing, but it kind of feels like it. Your lips don't touch, but your tongues are all over each other as he rolls his hips into you.

His tongue slips away from yours, going up your heated cheek slowly and gathering up all of your salty tears. Your noises have him going deeper, rougher. Every sniffle and gasp and moan makes him try to thrust further into you and get more out of you.

"You gonna cum for me again, princess? Can you take it?"

"I d- uh! I dunno know," you shake your head with a loud whine, "f-fuck, feels too good!"

"You can take it~" He chuckles breathlessly, rubbing his thumbs on the sides of your throat while he chokes a broken moan out of you. "My girl can take it," he leaves a trail of kisses down your jaw, fingers tightening around your neck. "If you really want me to stop, slap the shit out of me, okay, baby?"

You only let out another whine, grabbing the sheets tightly.

"Hey." He slams his hips into you one more time, lodging himself deep and staying there as he slides his hands up and cups your face. "If you want me to stop, fucking slap me. That will tell me you really can't handle it. Okay?"

"Yes, Daddy," you whimper quietly as his cock twitches inside of you, his knuckles stroking your cheek softly.

"Say it back to me, I want to know you understand before we continue."

You lean into his touches, blinking your teary eyes to try and see him clearly, "if I want you to stop, I'll slap you."

"Good girl~" He pats your cheek softly before slapping you, his hips grinding into you again in the next second and knocking your brains hardwiring loose from the mix of stimulation. "Knew you could take more- this little pussy can't get enough of me, can it?"

He huffs a laugh as you gasp in response, forcing himself to pull out. There's so many positions he wants to try with you, he can't let himself stick to one.

You slump on the messy bed, panting to catch your breath as he pulls off his hoodie. "Fuck, angel," he chuckles, rubbing your trembling thighs softly, "you got me working up a sweat... come here~"

You don't have much choice as he pulls you down the bed until your hips hang off the edge, shaky feet planted on the floor. "Where are you goin'?" You pout as he stands, wiping your face as you look up at him.

"Nowhere at all, pretty girl~ I'm gonna stay right here and make you cum the rest of your brains out."

You breathe sharply as he plunges three of his fingers into your messy hole, curling them right into your g-spot. "Ohhh, fuck! Why, why, why- give me your cock, Daddy!"

"I don't want to cum yet," he hums nonchalantly, smirk growing on his lips as you press your legs together, shoving at his hand as you start sobbing all over again. "I want you to be completely stupid when I stuff you full of my cum."

"Yunie!!"

"Baby~" He mimics you, leaning one of his knees on the bed as he hovers over you, "you gonna be a good messy doll and squirt?"

"Ah! Ah! Please!"

"C'mon, love," he pins you to the bed by your throat, leaving your fidgeting useless, "one more for me, you can do it-"

"I can't! I can't! I c- cumming!"

He watches in a twisted awe as your jaw slacks and your eyes roll back into your head, your legs tensing up as you squirt with every thrust of his fingers. A broken whine leaves your throat as you droop into the bed, your feet hit the floor again with a thud. The splash as he pulls his fingers out makes you hide your face in your arms, sniveling as he licks his hand clean.

"One more."

You groan as he turns your boneless body onto your side, wailing as he slowly slips his member back into you. "Daddy! I al- I already did! That was one more!"

"Hm?" He pretends to think, bending over you and placing his hands on either side of you; admiring your side profile as he sinks balls deep into you. "No? I don't think I said that~"

"Y-you didn't? I though-"

"Shhh," he laughs softly, petting your head as you pout, "I did, princess. I did say that, I'm just playing with you~"

"You play meannn~ My brain isn't workin' right now," you bite your lip as he starts his thrusts slowly.

"Good," he lays his chest across your side, making sure your hands are free before he starts hammering into your over-sensitive cunt. "Then I can fill you up now~"

You slap at the bed, fist the sheets tightly, but you never come towards him — because the pinch of pain that comes with the mind-numbing pleasure is just as delicious. Even if your body doesn't seem to agree, trying to flatten yourself and get away.

"Where the f-fuck you think you're going?" He hums, wrapping an arm under your leg and gripping your thigh tightly; pulling you into his barbaric thrusts. "You said you wanted my cock, so just lay there and take it, sweet girl~"

You stutter out the start to ten different pleads at one, babbling nonsense as he digs into you with the all new angle. You grab at everything you can reach, eventually reaching one of the pillows and clutching it to your chest; hiding your face in it as you scream and cry. He's really, officially fucked your brains out and you are a-fucking-okay with it.

And so is he, dangling himself over the edge and slowing down whenever he gets too close to tumbling over because he still wants more. He wants to watch you hug his pillow as you shake with the overwhelming pleasure forever. But in the end, he's still just a mortal man and you still feel fucking heavenly as your walls tremble around him.

He pulls out for only the second it takes to shove you onto your back; already slipping back in as your head falls flat on the mattress. He pulls the pillow from your death grip and slots himself in your arms instead, letting you hold him tightly as he ruts into you. He wraps his arms under yours and grabs your shoulders, anchoring you in place.

"Poor baby, look at you~" He kisses up the tears that have slipped down to your neck. "Oh, god, look at you..." He says again, trailing off in a low moan. "You're so perfect."

You can barely recognize that he's speaking to you, head lolling side to side; feeling completely empty. "Daddyyy~" You manage to slur as you dig your nails into his back, your hips still turning this way and that to get way from his unrelenting thrusts.

"Mh- fuck! Stop s-squirming, pretty girl," he pants as he leans to your ear, "you ready to take my cum?"

"Yeah!" You huff out, voice dripping with tears and overwhelming ecstasy.

He doesn't have to say anything else, and he can't anyway — too busy gasping for air as his orgasm knocks it all out of his lungs.

Your soft whimpers are the only thing grounding him to Earth. His grip on your shoulder is so tight that it will undoubtedly bruise. His eyes are closed and rolled back, his jaw dropped and his heavy breaths meeting your neck.

"Fffffuck!" He whines with one last thrust, stilling deep inside of you with his warm release. "Good fucking hell, princess..."

He kisses your neck softly, sucking a deep mark as you sniffle and catch your breath, trembling below him.

"Shhh," he coos genuinely soft, rubbing your shoulders gingerly, "Daddy's got you."

"D-don't leave." You plead quietly, clinging to him like your life depends on it.

"Never, doll." He promises just as quietly, letting the air settle around you and letting you collect your brains, "I'll hold you until you're ready to let go."

"Never," you pout, squeezing him in your arms tighter.

"Not ever?" He chuckles fondly, slipping one of his hands to wipe your cheeks softly.

"Nope, you have to hold m-me forever."

"Not a problem, angel~"

ꕥ

A couple of hours genuinely felt like forever as you held each other, talking about everything and nothing all at once until you fell asleep.

Fucked back to sleep, just like he said he'd do.

Even as your breathing evens out to a slow, steady pace and your eyes close peacefully — he still holds you. You didn't say you were ready to let go. So, he stays right where he's at.

In nothing but his boxers, holding you; in nothing but his hoodie with it pulled over your head and shielding your face from the early afternoon sun that shines through the blinds and casts stripes of warmth across your near-naked bodies.

You sleep curled up on his side while he lays on his back, one arm securely around you at all times as he watches the birds on the fire escape.

Something is nagging the back of his mind, and he can't figure it out. He tries to ignore it, and just fully enjoy holding you. But —

His morning cigarette.

It hits him completely out of nowhere. He didn't smoke when he woke up, for obvious reasons. And even now, a couple of hours later; he still isn't craving one.

He looks down at you, your face hidden in his chest. "You little witch~" He giggles to himself, rubbing your back softly as you stir.

He has been smoking less and less with you around because you started to pout about the health of his lungs. But to not even have a craving? He hasn't been craving free for years.

Even with every technique he's used. Snapping a rubber band when he has a craving, not keeping his cigarettes in reach, keeping his hands busy — lollipops and gum was the closest thing that got his mind off of it. Only for a few minutes, though.

Never hours.

Never filling him with a satisfaction deep in his bones.

Never like you.

"Yunie?"

"Hey, baby," he smiles softly, looking over you slowly as you lift your head, "good nap?"

"Mhm," you smile back, groaning as you lean up and peck his cheek.

"You hurtin'?" He helps you sit up slowly, rubbing your lower back.

"Yeah, you fuck like a mad-man."

"Weeeell-"

"I heard it when I said it," you shove his shoulder with a laugh, eyes shining as you look up at him. "Gimme a kiss."

"Oh, yes, ma'am," he jokes, but he leans down as he stands and he kisses you, just like you asked.

"Another?"

And he gives it to you, lifting you off of the bed gently and holding the back of your thighs as you wrap your legs around him.

"One more?"

You get it as he sits you on the bathroom counter carefully, chucking into your lips.

"One more," you grab his wrist and tug him back when he goes to turn on the shower.

"I just gave you one more~"

"Nuh-uh~"

"Nuh-uh?" He grins, cupping your cheeks and pecking your lips repeatedly while you laugh softly. "Is that enough 'one more's, pretty girl?"

"I'll take 'em~"

You let him go to the shower, watching him with a smile stuck on your lips. "I love you, Yunho."

His back straightens out, eyes slightly wide; like he's forgotten you admitted it while he was ruining you earlier.

"I meant it when I said it earlier, I don't want you to think I just- cause the heat of the moment, y'know? I really do love y-"

"You stop talking before I get hard again." He cuts you off with a blush on his cheeks, looking away to check the temperature of the water. "C'mere," he has a smile just a permanent on his face as you do while he pulls the hoodie off of you. "I love you," he says with a kiss to your head, "don't say it like that unless you want me to fuck your sore cunt, though."

"Like what?"

"All soft and shit."

You laugh as he helps you into the shower, holding your arm as you step in before ridding himself of his boxers and joining you.

"Should I say it meanly, then?"

"God, that's even worse. I love it when you're mean." He caresses your sides softly, letting the water run down your aching back.

"You perv~" You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you as he moans dramatically.

"Oh, I'm hard~"

"Shut up," you smile widely, crashing your lips into his. Both of your eyes fall shut, moving together in tandem.

He towers over you, leaning down to meet you without forcing you to be on your toes. He guides you by your hips until your back hits the cold tiles, making you gasp.

You moan around his tongue, kitten licking against it as he laps at everything he can reach until you both run out of air. He places his forehead to yours gently, "thank you, doll."

"Hm?" The water runs down his jaw and drips onto your chest. "What for?"

"Being mine."

ꕥ

Three days later, your heat is still broken and you're still staying at Yunho's apartment.

As you make your way up the vast stairwell after getting his mail; you notice it.

The shadow that comes up the stairs, turning the corners right after you do.

You slow down, and their footsteps echo for a moment before they do as well.

You go to grab your knife from your pocket — only to realize you don't have it. You don't have anything. You're in nothing but one of his large hoodies and a pair of pajama pants, your sneakers pulled on lazily.

You stop completely; so does your stalker.

You pull your sneakers over your heels quickly, glancing down the stairwell and only seeing their shadow against the wall. Can't even be bothered to hide all the way?

It's much too short to be The Joker.

You pull the hood over your head, covering your hair and tying the strings in a tight bow. Less to grab, the better.

Yunho should be coming home soon. If you can't scare off your stalker, he certainly will — he'll do much more than scare them.

"Are you stupid?" You call down loudly, your voice bouncing on the walls and down the long drop down the middle of the stairs.

The shadow doesn't move.

"Hey! Jackass! I know you're following me!"

It takes a few seconds for the person to speak. "...I don't want to hurt you."

It's a man, a younger one.

"So stalking is just a fun way to pass the time?"

He takes the remaining steps to turn the corner, and you drop the mail onto the floor with a dramatic sigh.

He's much too buff for you to fight off on your own.

"I just need your help with something. It's in your best interest to comply. I don't want to hurt you, but I can."

"Out with it then." You lean your shoulders on the wall, face to face with him as he ascends the stairs slowly.

"I need you to call The Joker."

You raise your eyebrows, "mh? What makes you think I know him?"

"You've been his gal-pal for a couple months now." He stops on the same flat landing as you, a few good inches away. An arm, or a legs length away. "I saw him leave. Call him back."

"Sorry, I'm not his assistant-"

Your sass earns you a gun to your face, staring down the barrel of it with a blank face even as your heart thuds.

"Call him back."

"I don't have my phone."

When he reaches to grab your shoulder, you kick him in the stomach; shoving him down the stairs and running before he gets the chance to get back up.

"Get back here!"

He's up and his footsteps are booming behind you much faster than you'd like. But then, he does look at least semi-professional. He's probably here to kill or at least threaten Yunho — and you happen to be his best bet at getting what he wants.

He grabs the hoodie, and it yanks you to a stop; but thankfully it protects your scalp from his grasp. "Fucking should have seen it coming," he groans as he drags your stumbling figure up the last set of stairs to the floor Yunho lives on, "of course Joker's bitch is feisty."

He seems to know exactly which door, pulling you right to it as you try to get out of the hoodie without falling flat on your face.

You're a bit too late, slipping out of it just as he throws you into the small entrance hallway. You scramble up as he puts the chain lock and the deadbolt on; racing mind trying to think of a game plan.

You can't do much without risking getting a bullet in the process. You need to be alive for him to use you as bait — but you can survive a shot to the leg or arm.

"Let's try again... Call The Joker."

ꕥ

"Yes, doll?" he answers the phone as calm as ever, leaning his head on his hand as he sits at his desk; business partner sitting across from him, on his own phone with a slightly annoyed look.

"Yunie..."

He shoots up out of his chair, letting it clatter to the floor. Your voice is tense and full of unshed tears. He's out the door before the man in his office even notices he'd gotten up.

He knows deep in his gut that something is wrong.

"I need you to come home. I think- think I'm sick."

"Am I on speaker phone?" He asks quickly as he gets into his car.

"No, I'm okay... I ju- I just need you to be here."

Bullshit. You are far from okay. But you do need him to be there.

People are honking at him as he weaves his way into traffic. "Is someone there, baby?"

"Mhm."

"Did they hurt you?" He'll kill them. If the answer is yes or if it's no; he'll kill them either way.

"Just a little-" You get cut off by a hushed whisper. He's tries to listen, but it's all in vain. The person is too far away from the microphone. You clear your throat, "will you come home?"

"I'm on the way. Try to get them to the living room."

"M'kay... See you soon."

ꕥ

"My hands are getting numb." You deadpan from your place on the couch, sitting with your back against it and your feet up on the table. "Can't you loosen-"

"No."

He tied your wrists together with some rope, and it was tight enough to be chaffing your skin with every attempt you made to loosen it.

"...Well, fuck you too then."

"Are you always this mouthy?" He groans from the chair he'd placed facing the front door, ready to shoot The Joker the second it opens. With every second that passes, you're more and more afraid that that will be the outcome.

Your throat is dry and your stomach is in knots.

"Most the time, yeah."

A soft clink catches your attention. It sounds like it came from the bedroom behind you.

You tilt your head over the back of the couch — and your eyes light up as you meet Yunho's dark gaze while he crawls in through the window by the fire escape.

He slips in as silent as a mouse, pulling a knife from his back pocket as he stands. With a metal finger to his lips, he approaches.

You look back to the intruder with relief on your face. His back is still turned as Yunho makes his way into the apartment quietly. He stops briefly to give you a once over, ruffling your head before continuing on to the man.

"Ahem."

The man jumps, gun aimed — but quickly knocked out of his grasps when Yunho slams the butt of his knife into his hand.

"Fucking stupid jackass," Yunho groans as he grabs the man by the hair, knife to his throat and eyes daring him to move. "Do you think you're going to get out of here alive after what you've done? Do you think I won't gut you like a fucking fish?! Breaking into my home? Threatening my girl?!"

He shakes his head quickly, making The Joker scoff. "Coward on top of being an idiot, how did you make it this far in life?"

He drags the man over to your tensely seated form by his hair, forcing him to kneel. "Beg."

"W-what?"

"Beg for her forgiveness. Make it convincing enough and I'll make your death quick." He can sense the man's hesitation, which is fair — because he's lying through his teeth. "Scouts honor~"

"Please, Joker, this was just a job! Your girl was never gonna get h-" He gets his head slammed into the armrest for his troubles.

"I said beg for her forgiveness. There's no need to beg me, it won't get you anywhere. She's the one you've disrespected, look at her!" Yunho yells right in the man's face, yanking his hair again as they both look at you.

You seem almost unfazed by the situation, but your heart is beating wildly. You've never seen Joker so angry. He was calm and collected when he was showing you all of the ways he knew how to make a man scream. The run-in with the detective might come close, but you didn't hear anything he had said.

Now, though, he may as well have steam coming from his ears, "look at her! Tied up in the safety of her own home-" You catch onto that, but he doesn't; too lost in his rage. "Did he hurt you, princess?"

The way he goes from absolutely livid to soft as cotton when speaking to you makes your heart flutter. "Not bad. My wrists are bleeding a bit..."

"Poor baby, c'mere." He shoves the man to the floor and steps on his chest, making him wheeze. "We need to wrap you up when we're done here, don't let me forget."

He does another once over of you as you stand up and hold your wrists towards him. "He didn't touch you, angel?"

"No." You shake your head quickly, sighing with relief as he carefully cuts the ropes.

"Hmph," he pouts as he holds your hand gently, turning your arm to get a better look. "One thing this idiot did right, I guess. He can die with his dick still attached to his body."

"Joke-"

"Shut up!" Both of you yell down at the man before going back to looking at one another softly.

"How did he get in?" Yunho presses more of his weight on the man as he struggles.

"Caught him following me up the stairs, drug me up here after I pushed him down a flight-"

He holds a finger towards you to tell you to wait and kicks the man across the face. "Would you stop fucking fidgeting, asshole? I'm trying to listen to her! Go on, love."

"He was watchin' us. He said he saw you leave. He-" You sneer, glaring down at him, "he called me a bitch."

"A bitch?" Yunho looks down at the shivering man, almost laughing. Either this man is the stupidest man in Gotham or he was hired by the person with that title. Sending such an unprofessional after The fucking Joker. "You called her a bitch?"

"No- no, no, no!" He tries to deny it, getting a kick; this time from you, to his leg.

"Liar."

"No, I sw-"

"So you're calling her a liar, then?" Yunho replaces his foot with his knee, leaning over the man and dragging his blade against his cheek. "My sweet girl would never lie. Right?" He looks over his shoulder to you with a manic, dark smile.

"Never, Mister J."

"See?" He twirls the knife to get a better grip before driving it into the man's shoulder, making him yell. "I told you." The blood spurts onto his suit as he yanks it out.

You hover over the both of them, jaw tight.

"You said it was a job," Yunho says evenly, like the man isn't writhing beneath him and bleeding all over the floor, "who hired your sorry ass?"

"Falcone-"

"Ugh!" Yunho rolls his eyes dramatically, "seriously? That fucking guy is back?"

"He wants-"

"I know what he wants. He isn't going to get it. Especially not if he keeps sending dimwits like you after me. Baby?" He turns to you, making you perk up.

"Yes?"

"How do you think we should send a message that says 'fuck off'?"

"We could..." You hum, coming up behind him and looking down at the man's begging eyes as you place your hands on Yunho's shoulders; relaxing him ever so slightly. "Carve it into him?"

"Wait-"

"That's a great idea, doll! Here, hold this." You take the knife without a second thought, backing up while he yanks the man up quickly. "You won't be alive for it, don't worry," he chuckles as he slams the man to the wall; banging his head against it and making him too dizzy to fight. "Just know," he smiles darkly as he reaches his hand out. You place the knife in his open palm, skipping over and looking around his arm.

"You had this coming. Nobody gets to touch her, so-" He shoves the blade into the man's stomach, "nothing too personal. No hard feelings, right?"

By the time the man recovers from the slam to his head, he's already half dead. The Jokers blade jabbing his torso too many times to count. But if someone were to do so, it would be around stab number 16 that he started laughing.

Quietly, at first. Then it's full fits of chuckles. Then, pure manic laughter. The last sound that anyone killed by the man has heard. His mocking, gleeful sounds as their life force bleeds away.

You look away from the carnage, instead looking up at Yunho. His lips stretched wide with his cackles, crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

He's fucking crazy.

And you smile at him.

When the man becomes nothing but dead weight, Yunho finally steps back; panting softly as he watches the body slump to the floor. He covers his mouth another giggle slips up his throat, peeking over his arm at you.

"Yunho?"

He hesitates for a second. "Yes?"

"Have you ever fucked in front of a dead body?"

"...No?"

"You want to?"

You're fucking crazy.

And he smiles at you.

"Absolutely."

ꕥ

【jokers♱】 @mentallyunpresent @fireseo @beomkyum @spicyhotteokkay @vinylphwoar @ramadiiiisme @m00njinnie @love--in-stayville @xoenhalover @roxhanah @zeilixir @aurorasjoongie @palchokitty

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Dreemurr of Jokes

1 | 2 | 3

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Toriel stops by Sans' shop for some goods, and for some more cheery distractions! Unfortunately, all this time later, it's still too difficult to escape reminders of what's been done.

It was fun finally getting to do some stuff with Sans in this universe! The last part for this trio of scenes will be up sometime next week!

Alt text for these pages is under the read more:

Page 1 Panel 1: Interior shot of a small store, with displays of goods, loose plywood, sacks of things. Two circular woven hangings bracket the door through which Toriel enters, a heavyset woman in a polka-dotted dress with a basket over her arm. Sans watches her enter, though we see only the back of his head. 

Panel 2: Toriel enters the shop and we see more displays, mostly food. There are large potted trees as well, and the shop’s counter, draped in patterned cloth and decorated with candles. Toriel: “Well, hello again. I was wondering if you had-” Sans, a jovial, bearded man dressed in loose robes and always smiling, waves a hand and cuts her off. “Hold on, you hear that?”

Panel 3: “...Hear what?” Toriel asks, nonplussed. Up close, her face is soft but distressed.

Panel 4: Sans leans over his slightly messy counter, still grinning. “I HERB that you needed some more cinnamon cloves, and look what I have here!” He offers a handful of herbs. Up close, the cuffs on his robe sleeves are patterned with little bones.  

Panel 5: “Just what I needed! How did you guess?” Toriel exclaims, reaching out with a real smile to accept the herbs. She and Sans are framed by other mysterious shop wares- jars of things, open sacks, rolled-up mats. Things you might find in an open-air desert market. 

Page 2 Panel 1: Sans: “Was just thinking it’d been awhile since I saw you making the neighborhood rounds with some of those pies of yours… Figured you were planning to start this month’s soon!” Sans gestures up at Toriel in explanation. 

Panel 2: Toriel smirks, setting down a handful of coins.  “And perhaps hoping that I would stop by your place first with them?” Sans: “I pride myself on my forward thinking, y’know.” His grin is conspiratorial as he leans towards her and he taps his temple with one finger. 

Panel 3: Toriel, eyes sad despite her smile: “All right. How about this: Tell me a good joke, and you have my word you will have the first and freshest one.”

Panel 4: Sans: “Just a good joke?” He raises an eyebrow. 

Panel 5: Toriel clutches her chest- we don’t see her eyes. “I find myself in desperate need of levity these days.” 

Panel 6: Sans waves his hand as if to keep her from feeling like she need say more, scratching his chin in thought with the other.  “Sure, I got one…” 

Page 3 Panel 1: Sans, with the smug grin of someone about to tell a terrible pun: “Why was the empire soldier happy to get demoted to horse groomer?” Toriel, with her hand on her chin in thought: “I do not know, why?” 

Panel 2: Sans shrugs widely like the answer is obvious. “Because he finally had STABLE employment!” 

Panel 3: Toriel laughs in genuine delight, although maybe a little harder than expected. 

Panel 4: Toriel: “Thank you, I needed that.” She smiles a relieved little smile. Sans: “No problem. So hey, aside from the pie… Can I maybe get an invite to those little get-togethers I see some folks around here doing once a month?” He steeples his fingertips together. 

Panel 5: San’s dialogue continues: “I’m so curious as to what goes on then!” We only see Toriel, though, shocked and dismayed. She’s thinking of the Ritual gatherings- townspeople gathered in their robes and animal masks- reindeer, fish, but most centrally, the goat masks she and Asgore wear. 

Panel 6: Toriel: “Unless you are completely enraptured by tedious talk of planting schedules and building repairs, I believe I can sate your curiosity by saying you would find them quite boring.” She waves a hand in front of her, dismissing the thought- her expression is once again drawn and weary. 

Page 4 Panel 1: Toriel turns to leave, waving goodbye. “You should look forward to your well-earned pie more!” 

Panel 2: Sans gives her a slightly skeptical look. “Alright.” is all he says. 

Panel 3: As she leaves, Toriel looks down and sees for the first time a small statue set by the door, surrounded by candles- it’s not a merchandise display, more like an altar. The statue is a horned figure holding a bowl filled with greenery- an offering of some type. The figure is rounded like a sitting child, and simple, with closed eyes and little other detail. 

Panel 4: Toriel’s dialogue over a close up shot of the figure: “What an interesting little figure you have. It does not look like it is for sale, is it?” The little horned one has three toes and four fingers on its stubby little arms and legs, and a detail on its forehead that could be a suggestion of hair, or it could be a symbol. The pillar candles surrounding it have been burned enough to have long wax drips pooled around them. 

Panel 5: Sans: “Nah, that’s just a holdover from my home country. Supposed to help keep demons out of your space.” He seems uninterested in this bit of lore, but Toriel, still facing away, is wide-eyed and shaken.

Panel 6: Toriel whirls back to him, sweating. “I-Is that so?” 

Panel 7: Sans’s expression intensifies, eyebrows dropping dramatically. “Sure thing. You know what happens when demons get in your grain stores?” 

Page 5 Panel 1: “They’re OATsolutely RYE-ined!” Sans holds his hands wide, like he’s waiting for the rimshot effect. It’s almost like his shop counter and back wall are suddenly a stage. 

Panel 2: Toriel hides a giggle behind her hand, relieved. 

Panel 3: “Is that something you have had to deal with previously?” she asks, stepping a little closer in her interest. Sans makes a slight gesture of dismissal. “Nah, I don’t really go in for that sort of stuff, honestly.”

Panel 4: Sans: “My brother, though… He’s all in on charms and wards and that sort of thing.” He gestures up, as if to point to wherever it is in the town that his brother might be now. 

Panel 5: “Keeping customs from your home country, I suppose?” Toriel asks, drawn again into the shop and closer to Sans. “Something like that,” he responds, leaning forward on his counter. On the wall next to him, there’s another woven wall hanging like the ones over the door.  Toriel: “Do you have any customs that have a reverse effect?” 

Panel 6: Sans looks as skeptical as one can while constantly grinning. “You mean like, if you want demons in your house?” 

Page 6 Panel 1: Toriel puts a hand up in denial. “N-No, that would obviously be undesirable! I meant more… just out of curiosity about your home.” 

Panel 2: Sans stares up at her, for a beat of silence. 

Panel 3: “Maybe? Again, this stuff isn’t my thing.” He leans back in his chair with his hands behind his head, nonchalant as can be. “And anyways, we left our country for a reason. Old customs aren’t relevant in this town, y’know?” 

Panel 4: Toriel once again turns to go, with a rueful smile. “Maybe not… but I cannot imagine letting go of your entire history.”

Panel 5: Sans shrugs and looks away. “There’s worse things to let go of, honestly.” 

Panel 6: Toriel, gritting her teeth, thinks of a happier time tucking Kris into bed. 

Panel 7: Close on Toriel’s expression, now more haggard and pained than it was when she came in. She clutches her chest tight. 

[chubsonthemoon]

Another jayvik book!!! This is the incredible divine alchemy of the self, by r0sie_p0sies.

This fic was recommended to me by dear friend @ilgaksu and holyyyyy shit. It was written pre-s2 and yet somehow ends up in the exact same emotional place as the finale; the similarities range from larger scene beats all the way down to certain dialogue choices. Rosie just gets these characters, through and through!

As usual, process chatter under the cut!

It's fitting for a jayvik book that this first attempt was chock-full of experiments and new techniques! This is my first hardcover quarto Legal size, which I really loved doing. I also finally have a proper finishing press, so I was able to properly round and back a book for the first time! The shoulders are a little weak, so I'm hoping to improve when I make Rosie's author copy. I also used my foil pen for the first time and handwrote the little blurb on the back.

Most exciting, this was the first time I tried an inset! I used some of my favorite blue Momi marbled paper; rectangle placement is heavily inspired by one of @pleasantboatpress's gorgeous binds. Loveee me a good rectangle, heh. I thought an inset was fitting for this story; as you can probably tell from the title, the fic is all about transforming oneself--through grief, through illness, through love. I wanted this to be a book of contrasts--stark white for a kind of blank canvas (also a nod to Viktor's hexcorized dolls in s2), blue and gold for magic/hextech. Here's an abridged version of what I sent Rosie while chatting about design (please picture me as that It's Always Sunny conspiracy meme, but in DMs):

The framework of the fic being alchemy, creation, a literal step-by-step guide for how to create something divine, is something I really want to explore! I really like the idea of this kind of blank canvas casing + swirling paper inset. All the love and life and messy tendrils of illness surrounded by this...blank divinity. That divinity as a medium, a container, for the complicated human experience. But also the inverse--the blankness of the canvas drawing attention to the brilliant blue/gold of the inset. The bright light shining through the windows of their living room in the ending scene juxtaposed with the moment of their (possible? wonderfully ambiguous?) deaths; those two moments being, in many ways, the same. A window into their lives loving each other, seen from both the outside and within. *insert lots of keyboard smashing*

Interiority and vulnerability were also two themes I wanted to convey. So with that theme in mind, I tried something very, very new to me, and thought, fuck it, let's try to use paper vellum for the endpapers:

You're not really supposed to use paper vellum for endpapers because 1) it wrinkles and curls like all hell and 2) since it's translucent, it means you can see the inside of the boards and the tapes. But for this bind, I decided to lean into that effect--I scribbled the four stages of the alchemical process (the framework of the fic's chapters) onto the boards so you could see them when you opened the book (I wanted to evoke jayvik's "mad scientists" vibe lol); I cut the supporting linen tapes into points (a nod to the rune Viktor carves into his leg brace) and painted them gold so they'd stand out more (they reminded me of Vik's spine brace; I mean hell, they're literally sewn into the spine of the book for extra support. It felt criminal to not incorporate them in some way!); I tried to be more intentional with the glue brushstrokes while casing in to give the paste-down a more painted effect; and finally, probably the thing that was hardest to let go (and which I'm still a little unsure about, to be honest), I let the damn endpapers wrinkle, for more ~texture.~

The overall effect is something I'm still mulling over, even as I write this--it kind of goes against everything I've learned as a bookbinder, and almost makes me feel (or rather, the book feel lol) naked. These are the parts of the book you aren't normally supposed to see, put on display the moment you open it. But! I think that even if it's not the strongest from a design perspective, I think thematically, it works. Reading this fic made me feel like I was being carved open, so I wanted the experience of reading the book to be a little vulnerable, too. Also: beauty in imperfections, right? :3

Aaand that's all for today! A million thanks again to Rosie for letting me bind her wonderful work <3

And once more for the road: you can read divine alchemy of the self on ao3!

[soppsop]

[Image Description: A series of digital redraws of the Cookie Run Ovenbreak characters from the Cookie Trial event in the Ace Attorney art style. The first image shows Cotton Candy Cookie standing in the witness stand, holding a love letter that covers her mouth. She's looking to the side and blushing. Her textbox reads "I'm here because the defendant stole something from me!".

The second image shows Langue de Chat cookie in the defence bench thinking "Um... The witness is blushing...". He is pushing up his glasses and has a drop of sweat on his face.

The third image is of Roguefort Cookie standing as the defence's co-council in a prison outfit, looking at the camera and smiling, saying "That person really is an interesting one..."

The fourth image shows Cappuccino Cookie standing in the prosecutor's bench, holding a book in his left arm and hitting the bench with his right fist, shouting "Tell us what they stole!"

The fifth image shows Cotton Candy Cookie again, this time blushing more, with her eyes closed and the letter covering her face even more and saying "That person..... Completely stole my heart!"

The sixth image shows Langue de Chat Cookie shocked, leaning on the bench and pushing up his now broken glasses, sweating and with messy hair. The textbox says "!?"

The seventh image is Cappuccino Cookie also shocked and sweating, leaning on the bench with his fist clenched and the textbox says "!?!?!???"

The last image shows a comparison between the redraws and the original cookie sprites. End ID]

I'm sorry everyone I gave in. I attorneyd the cookies

This was meant to be just some doodles but i was having wayyy too much fun with this lmao. The text is a bit awkward but there was a LOT of dialogue in the original and i had to cut it down somehow rip

Anyways I think Roguefort Cookie would be the worst defendant ever

*I'm very bad at writing and describing things so if anyone has any corrections to my ID please tell me thank you 😭

[breakmeoff]

Dopamine

pairing: jackson wang x fem!reader warnings: swearing, suggestive dialogue, angst, comfort, aftercare. smut: oral (m and f receiving), fingering, soft dom!jackson, usage of “daddy”, praise kink. kinda turned into mostly porn w/no plot - sry not sry. MDNI, 18+ only

word count: 3.1k

synopsis: the pressure of his new album was getting to him, and the only thing that would calm his frayed nerves was getting a hit of dopamine; precious time with you. note: trying something new here, so please bear with me while i get my footing. my initial thought was to write one-shots loosely based off of some of the lyrics in jackson's songs that inspire me. however, in falling down the rabbit hole that is pinterest, i have seen so many other pictures of him that are possibly making me want to write other versions of him (husband!jackson? dad!jackson?) not quite sure yet, but i am happy to hear any/all suggestions if you have them! as always, thx for reading :)

Masterlist

Sometime after midnight, you were curled up on the couch, unintentionally passed out while the television screen played some trashy reality show you’d fallen asleep to.  

The work week had already been draining, and so after two glasses of red wine and some greasy take out, all you wanted to do was turn your brain off.  So much so, you turned off all of the lights in your apartment before collapsing onto the sofa, and shut down your phone.

A few soft, methodical knocks rapped on your front door not far from the living area.  Blinking your eyes open slowly, you looked around the room in a daze trying to refamiliarize yourself with where you were when your attention fell back on the quiet noise.  

Pushing yourself up lazily from the couch, you adjusted your sleep shorts and tugged down your oversized hoodie as you meandered to the door.

With a quick peek through the peephole, you were surprised to see the visitor just outside.  Opening the door quickly, your eyes fell on the slumped over figure of your boyfriend, Jackson, leaning against the doorframe.  “Hey…” you murmured quietly, furrowing your brows at the state of him.

Wearing his signature baggy black jeans, black hoodie pulled over his messy hair and chunky black boots, you could barely see his eyes due to the shadow of the hood over them.

“Baby, what are you doing here so late?  What time is it anyway?”  Your voice was soft, gingerly reaching out to him to pull him inside your apartment.

“Almost 1 AM, sorry, you weren’t answering your phone…” he mumbled, shuffling his feet inside before kicking off his shoes and pulling his hood back.  “I just needed to be with you.”

“I… I turned my phone off, I’m the one who is sorry.  Didn’t mean to cut you out too,” you apologized, shutting the door softly behind you.

Taking a few steps forward, Jackson lifted his arms to slump around you, burrowing his nose into your neck, breathing you in.  Feeling the weight he was carrying, your arms wrapped comfortingly around his midsection.  

“Are you ok…?”  you whispered into his ear, placing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Yeah… no… I don’t know.  Lately I’m so caught up in the moment that I’m forgetting the big picture I think.”  He paused, pulling back a little bit to press his forehead against yours with a heavy sigh.  “There's so much in my head, can't put it down.”

“Pretty substantial stuff for so late on a Wednesday night,” you tried to tease quietly.  Pressing your lips to the tip of his nose, “why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll make you some tea?”

Jackson finally lifted his head, making his first real attempt at eye contact with you since he walked in.  “There’s just too much on my chest…” 

You placed a comforting palm above his heart, nodding empathetically.  “Go sit down, baby.”

Turning around, he made his way over to the sofa and leaned back against the cushions, tipping his head against the back while shutting his eyes.  

A few minutes later, you came over to sit beside him, handing him a warm mug of green tea.  Shifting his eyes back to you, he took the beverage gratefully and took a slow sip before placing it on the coffee table.

Snaking one of your arms around his shoulder, you softly began kneading at his muscles, trying to relax him quietly.  

Dipping his head forward with his eyes closed, he sighed gratifyingly, mumbling something about shoulders tight.

“Tell me what’s going on, what’s got you so stressed out?”  

“I think it’s the new album, there’s a lot of pressure to get it right.  And my team is insistent that I am out there promoting almost every fucking day…” Jackson said, shifting to lean his back against you, silently encouraging you to continue rubbing his shoulders.  

“Everything just feels like it’s getting heavy, and I’m not seeing anyone turn on the light at the end of the tunnel…”

Your deft fingers continued to caress his fatigued upper body, pressure changing from light touches to firmer strokes up the column of his neck.

“The initial reactions to Buck are positive though, right?”  You murmured quietly, trying to keep the level of your voice calming to match the rhythmic motions of your hands.

“Gratefully,” Jackson agreed, sighing deeply to the feeling of your careful ministrations.  

“Be kind to yourself, there’s a lot going on right now and I know it’s got to be so draining but you have to take care of yourself too.”  With his head resting back against your shoulder, you placed a feather-light kiss to the top of his hair.

Reaching for one of your hands, Jackson pulled it down to kiss the back of your hand softly before resting it flat on his chest.  “Truthfully, I’m here because I was craving some of your care…”

“Oh yeah?”  You playfully questioned, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt beneath your hand.

Craning to look back up at you, a mischievous glint in his eye becoming apparent in his dark, weary face.  “I need a little smoothing out the rough…”

“That so?”  Fingernails dragging slowly across his chest, applying just enough pressure to cause his breath to hitch.

Jackson sat up again, moving his back to lean against the couch cushions as he reached out for you, hands gripping your waist in an attempt to coax you into his lap. 

“...I want relief I know only you can provide,” he murmured, ghosting his breath over your wanting, parted lips.

“I want to feel your touch…” Jackson whispered against your neck, his hands digging into your thighs as he began rocking you against his growing arousal below you, achingly slow. “I want release…” 

With your eyes pinched shut and your head tipped back, you exhaled the sweetest moan as he began trailing the tip of his tongue down the side of your throat.  “Jacks…” you whimpered breathlessly, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

One of his hands meandered its way up your back, up to the base of your scalp where his lean digits curled your hair into a makeshift ponytail and gave it a commanding, possessive tug. 

With even more of your neck now exposed to him, he sucked at your heated flesh, leaving a deep rouge bruise in his wake, eliciting another desperate whine from you.

The air between you was thick, heady with anticipation and each touch ignited a heated spark between you.  “Fuck, I love when you beg for me…” Jackson groaned, nuzzling into you as both of his hands dropped to the bottom of your hoodie, inching it up your otherwise bare hips and waist.

“The noises you make are intoxicating,” he continued, his calloused palm creeping up enough to cup your now exposed breast.  “...you’re like a damn drug, one I can’t get enough of.”  His expert fingers lightly rolled over your nipple, causing it to harden instinctively under his careful touch.

“It’s like my body just knew where to go to get a fix…” he murmured, dotting kisses along your jaw, up to your mouth, finally melting his lips against yours in a slow, all-consuming manner.  “I came here to get some dopamine,” he confessed against your mouth.

“...to get a hit of my favorite addiction,” Jackson paused, leaning back just enough to fully remove the hoodie you were wearing, exposing your chest and upper body to him entirely.  Lifting his eyes to yours, wandering hands resting on your warm, flushed skin. “... you.” 

The intimacy of his words, so poetic and full of intensity, always did something to you.  Your mutual yearning for each other never wavered.

You began rocking your hips on top of him more fervently, applying more direct pressure of your damped heat on top of his erection below which was becoming harder by the second. 

Weaving your lips together, you pressed your bare chest against his torso, the flames of your internal fire stoking your hunger for him with every movement.

“Let me take care of you baby…” you hushed against his lips, your fingers now at the bottom of his own sweatshirt, pulling it and the tank below off at a teasingly slow rate, heightening his anticipation.  

Raking your fingertips down the expanse of his defined chest muscles and toned torso, thin red lines marking his flesh that would linger as a reminder of your touch, you pushed yourself off of his lap and fell to your knees between his legs.

Jackson stayed quiet while his gaze remained fixed on your face, his lips parted, watching your every move so intently.  Though when your fingers reached to the front of his jeans, you heard his sharp inhale when you unbuttoned his pants, and drug the zipper down.  

Leaning forward, eyes still locked in on his own, you pressed a soft kiss to the curve of him straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs.  Noting the small, growing damp spot near the head of his cock, you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging your tongue against it.  

“Fuck,” he exhaled, unable to look away.

Once your fingertips reached the waist of his clothes, Jackson lifted his hips just enough to help you slide everything off, his heavy erection now twitching before you.

Eagerly, you brought your soft palm to the head of his cock, smearing the precum that had collected there to drag down his shaft.

Teasingly, you placed a chaste kiss to the leaking tip of him before dragging your tongue all the way down his hard length and right back up before wrapping your plump lips around him. 

Shifting your weight to get more comfortable, you began bobbing your head up and down him languidly, enjoying the sound of his breath getting steadily heavier.

“Shit, my lady looks so pretty with my dick in her mouth…” he cooed, gingerly moving his hand to your forehead to brush away any unruly strands of hair out of your face.  

Your cheeks flushed a soft pink at his praises, which only encouraged you to take him further down your throat.  Noticing how his words affected you, his hand shifted to the back of your head and helped guide you down as far as you could go, nose pressing into his lower abdomen as a low moan reverberated around his cock.  

“Gooood girl,” he purred, holding your head still for a moment.  “Such a good fucking girl for me.”  Releasing his hold on you, you pulled back off of him completely, gasping for air as a sticky trail of drool connected your lower lip to the head of his dick.  

Wrapping his hand around your hair again, not to force you to move, but to hold you close and keep himself grounded, he became mesmerized by the rise and fall of your breasts with your deep inhales. 

You’d never felt truly desired before Jackson, and how he looked at you like you hung all of the stars in the sky - cherished, revered, loved.  

“So tasty…” you whispered, looking up at him through your eyelashes, bobbing your head back down his flushed cock.  “Want to make you feel so good, Daddy.” 

“Fuck, you could make it go all night and I’d die a happy man,” Jackson said, his voice gravely, low, hoarse.  

Even after years of being together, the pull he had over you was undeniable.  The heat of his gaze caused you to press your thighs together, becoming desperate for some sort of friction.

Closing your eyes, you placed one of your hands on the top of his thighs for stability as your free hand snaked down the front of your body and beneath your soaked panties.  

Noticing the hitch in your breath, Jackson’s eyes moved down to your hand, unable to see it beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts.  Groaning deeply, his hips instinctively lifted, chasing the exquisite feeling of you gagging around him.

“Oh is my girl feeling needy?”  he teased, his grip on your hair tightening, thrusting against the back of your throat in slow pumps.  “Go on, touch yourself… I know you’ve been waiting for me.”

Jackson’s words of approval made you moan around him, encouraging you to press your middle and index finger against your swollen nub, rubbing small circles against the bundle of nerves.

Pulling your lips off of his cock with a loud pop, you inhaled a sharp intake of breath at the sensation between your legs.  

“Fuck,” he whispered, watching your reactions.  Bringing his hand to the base of his dick, he began stroking himself with his free hand, his other still tangled in your hair.  “Finger yourself, let me hear how wet you are.”

“Yes Daddy,” you whined, dipping the same two fingers down your slit and into your throbbing pussy.  Building a slow rhythm, you pressed the heel of your palm against your clit as a wet, squelching sound could be heard from between your thighs.

Leaning forward again, you dipped your head between his muscular legs and dragged your tongue flat against one of his balls.  Hissing at the sudden feeling of your wet, warm breath, Jackson began twisting his hand faster up and down his length. 

Sucking one of them into your mouth, you twirled the tip of your tongue around the delicate flesh, unable to help your moaning. 

The feeling of your vibrations against his most sensitive area caused his grip in your hair to tighten, and he held your head closer against his body, writhing against you as his speed on his cock became erratic.  

“Such a filthy little girl for me, drooling all over me like you can’t get enough… you like it when you’ve got Daddy’s balls in your mouth, don’t you?”  

Nodding frantically, you let go of one and switched to the other, swirling your tongue around it as your fingers buried in your cunt increased their momentum. 

“You gonna cum from just your fingers, sweet girl?”  He asked, almost more demanded.  “Put your mouth back on my cock, you better suck Daddy dry before you fucking cum.”

The switch of his tone from soft and gentle to harsh and domineering was dizzying.  Doing as he demanded though, you took your place back higher on your knees, taking the length of his pulsing cock deep in the back of your mouth once again.

The sensations of Jackson fucking up into your mouth and the sloppy sound of your fingers moving in and out of your slick was becoming too much. 

Digging your fingernails into his thigh, grasping on for purchase, you began rubbing the palm of your hand more fervently against your clit, chasing your eminent release.  

Unable to speak with him so deep down your throat, you hallowed your cheeks and hummed a moan against him, doing all you could to push him over his looming edge.

“Gonna fucking cum princess…” he grunted out, holding your head against him as he bucked up into your mouth once, twice.  Tipping his head back, he left out a filthy, load moan as you felt his warm, sticky seed coating the back of your throat.  

Between the addictive sounds of his climax, the tangy taste of him on the back of your tongue, and the walls of your pussy fluttering around your fingers, you were so close. 

Jackson pulled himself out of your mouth, letting you catch your breath as you so desperately tried to push yourself over the edge.

Regaining his senses, he saw you struggling before him and without any warning, pushed you back onto the floor and ripped your shorts off your legs. 

Pulling your hand away from yourself and letting him manhandle you, you laid back flat against the carpet as Jackson pulled your legs over both of his shoulders and buried his face into your pussy.

“Oh my God, fuck fuck…” you cried, lifting your head just enough to watch him pull your clit between his lips and began sucking.  

Bringing one of his large hands between your thighs, he slipped two of his fingers into your slick walls, already so wet for him.  Curling them just right, and flicking his tongue against your sensitive nub, you started trembling under his touch.

“Gonna c-cum… Daddy please let me cum,” you begged, your fingers finding the back of his head for stability.  Groaning against you, he demanded with one simple word.  “Cum.” 

With his command, the pressure of his fingertips against that sweet spot deep inside you and his skillful tongue, you came hard, involuntarily grinding against his face. 

Jackson left his fingers still, buried inside you, and placed soft kisses against your clit as your body convulsed under the aftershocks of your intense release.

Gently, he released your legs back to the ground, soothingly massaging the tops of your thighs as you tried to catch your breath.  First licking his lips, he brought the back of one of his hands to wipe the remnants of your arousal from his mouth and leaned up to grab the blanket off the back of the couch. 

Laying down beside you, Jackson draped the blanket over both of your naked bodies.  Shifting so he was hovering halfway over you, he brought a hand up to brush the damp strands of hair away from your face and leaned in to kiss you gently.  

“You ok?”  He asked, barely above a whisper.  With a simple nod of your head, you turned to nuzzle into his neck, taking a deep breath.  “I was supposed to be the one taking care of you tonight,” you mumbled.

“Just being here, you telling me sweet nothings…” he paused, pressing his lips to the top of your head, “you got me all right.”

You hummed softly, wrapping an arm around his waist and tangling your legs between his.  “Really was just trying to be an ear for you to vent to, a shoulder to lean on.”

Jackson laughed low, “ain’t no time for talking when we’re tongue-tied.”

tag list: @angel-writes-here

let me know if you'd like to be added to any future jackson fics!

Masterlist

[puck-luck]

I’m back for another drink from Andy’s cafe. 😗

Can I have a cappuccino w/ an extra espresso shot? Add whipped cream (sub!quinn) and peppermint (enemies to lovers).

My vision is enemies to lovers with lots of tension and teasing until it all boils down to a hurried hookup at a party with lots of banter (enemies, duh) until quinny can’t take it anymore 😏

sub!quinn is actually so beautiful thank u cappy for brainstorming 3 lines of dialogue that set the tone for this blurb

The hockey team has always been a rival of yours, although there’s very little reason to back it up. To make a long story (with little validity) short, you were cut off by one too many hockey cars leaving class and you’re tired of each player. 

You have a soft spot for Quinn Hughes, though. He’s still one of your enemies, being a hockey player, but you’re fond of the way he blushes and averts his gaze whenever he sees you. It’s the one highlight of running in a similar circle as the hockey team. 

Quinn rarely lets you get close enough to have an extended conversation. You can’t tell if he’s attracted to you or afraid of you, but for the first time in your life, you’re trading jabs with him.

“At least I’m not drinking light beer at a party with an open bar,” you laugh, gesturing toward Quinn’s beer.

“At least I’m not tossing shots back like someone who belongs in AA,” Quinn shoots back with a crooked but shy smile. 

You scoff, gasping sarcastically. “This, my dear Quinn, is neat whiskey. It is not a shot and I am not tossing them back.” You toss your hair over your shoulder instead. “It’s a sipping whiskey.”

He chuckles, his H’es overpronounced. It’s cute, just like his floppy hair and the spattering of pimples across his forehead. “You’re mean.”

You purse your lips, waving him forward. You cover your mouth with your hand, whispering a secret in Quinn’s ear: “You like it.”

Quinn gains an inch when he straightens his spine, eyes wide. He looks at you like he can’t believe what you just said, a deer-in-headlights sort of shock consuming him.

The air between you is tense for a moment, your smile flagging when he doesn’t come up with some quippy response within seconds. Your head is tilting to the side when he finds his voice. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, shifting on his heels. “I do.”

You react, but only barely. It’s a blink, a small flinch. Quinn doesn’t notice. “Oh, you do?”

Quinn wraps a hand around your waist and guides you toward the closet across the room. There’s a small crowd of dancers around you, but Quinn has no problem parting the sea. He leans close to your ear: “I really do.”

You’re still processing his admission when Quinn ushers you into the closet, closing the door behind you and immediately pressing you up against it. His hands eagerly slide up your sides, clumsy kisses marking your neck.

While you’re the one pressed against the door and being touched, you’re under no impression that Quinn is in charge. In fact, his enthusiasm portrays one thing: need.

“Oh my God, Quinn, how long have you been wanting this?” you taunt upon feeling his hard length press against your thigh. You tangle your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp, biting your lip when his grinding quickens. “You get this fucking desperate when a girl is mean to you?”

He releases a strangled moan against your collarbone and circles his arms around your waist. 

“Pathetic,” you praise, dragging Quinn up to your mouth and petting his tongue with your own.

Quinn whimpers and sucks on the muscle, moving easily when you flip your positions so that his back is against the closet door. 

You work your hand into Quinn’s pants, seizing his cock and stroking it at an immediately rapid pace. 

Quinn buckles slightly, his head tipping back and hitting the door with a thud. 

You attack his pale throat, sucking a messy splotch over his pulse point as you massage his cock. His legs are shaky, so you pin him to the wall with a hand on the base of his neck. You can feel his whimpers and moans rising up his throat, open-mouthed breathing because he just can’t handle how you’re making him feel.

“What would the team say if they saw you like this,” you ponder before nibbling Quinn’s earlobe. “I bet they’d laugh, seeing how pliant you are when I’ve got my hand around your cock.”

Quinn’s breath stutters, his hips bucking into your hand. 

“I’m going to send you back out there with a wet spot on your jeans, baby,” you tell Quinn, humming against the curve of his jaw before sucking a hickey there. “Everyone will see what you did. They’re going to know you’re mine.”

Quinn all but groans at that, his eyelashes fluttering and cock twitching in your hand, semen flowing from the tip and staining his underwear. 

He looks so beautiful like this, boneless and satiated. 

[themeraldee]

The Lucky Winner - Part 3

[Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2] | [AO3]

18+ Only | 10k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 1. Voice kink (very mild mention). Awkward first dates. Awkward dialogue. Messy timeline. Established Relationship. Love confession. Emotional sex. Unhealthy Relationship.

Summary: Your life turns upside down, again, when Homelander reaches out to you asking you out on a date.

Author’s Note: This is set between the events of Part 1 & Part 2. It really is just a self-indulgent excuse to explore some relationship building and dynamics. Lot of awkward dialogue so be warned.

The next time Homelander contacts you it catches you just as off guard as the first time. Maybe even more so. You never expected him to turn up in the first place, let alone be interested in seconds.

Your phone is ringing on the bed and ever since the development from a week ago you’ve been on edge anytime your phone rang. You drop the towel you’re folding back on the pile of unsorted laundry and you nearly dive onto the bed, reaching for your phone. In the panic you drop it about three times, your shaky hands inadvertently playing hot potato.

“Hello?!” You yell into the phone, panicked. You don’t actually end up checking who’s calling, too worried about not accidentally hanging up. Plus it’s not like you could have saved Homelander’s number from a week ago anyway. It showed up as blocked on your phone’s call logs so you had no way to recognise his number.

“Hello there! Nice of you to pick up.” You squeaked in surprise and the voice on the phone turned from chipper to confused. “You okay? You sound a little—” And oh my god, it’s him! You’re talking to Homelander, again. Okay, okay, now it’s time to try and keep calm.

His voice is still gloriously rich and sweet in your ear and here you are about to most likely embarrass yourself again because for the life of you you’re incapable of coming across as calm and collected.

“I’m fine!” You immediately cut him off, your voice shrill and strained. He does not need to know the ins-and-outs of your internal struggle. But either way you’re already doing terribly. Who are you to cut Homelander off mid-sentence? Where are your manners? 

“Why are you—um—I mean, is there anything you need?” You clumsily make your way through your response. Definitely not how you wanted to present yourself but it’s a lot better than barely being able to say a word like last time!

“I’m taking you out on a date. Get ready for 7 today.” You heard it. You’re pretty damn sure you heard that right, yet not a single part of you believes what he said.

“Sorry? W-w-what do you mean?” You sputter in confusion, your brain simply not capable of computing this news. 

“I mean that I’m taking you out for dinner. What’s hard to understand?” He sounds irritated and your heart is pounding. From so many things at once. How are you meant to process that Homelander contacted you again, is asking you out for a date and now you’ve managed to irk him?!

Before you manage to apologize, following your typical spiel, Homelander continues. “Maybe you don’t know this but it’s kind of what men do when they want to get to know someone. You following yet?” 

You ignore the condescending remark and instead you focus on what he’s actually saying.

There may as well be steam coming out of your ears, you genuinely feel like a blushing teenage girl talking to her crush. You’re hot bright red in the face and you feel the literal heat coming off your face.

“Yeah but you’re not—well of course you are—but also you’re not! Y’know, just an average Joe.” How do you go about explaining that you don’t feel worthy of that kind of attention?

“Doesn’t matter, you’re missing the point. Is that a no?” You’d think he would be pissed saying that, who in their right mind would refuse going on a date with Homelander, but he sounds amused more than anything. 

Again with the reading you like a book. Because you barely manage to let out a barrage of “No! No no no no— that’s not!” before Homelander starts laughing.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up then.”

“No, wait! I can’t—I can’t do the public thing. You’re you! And as soon as I show up in public with you I won’t be left alone. I know that’s normal for you, but my life isn’t like that. I’m just… me.” You’re just a nobody. You don’t have a social media presence. You don’t bring attention to yourself. And you like to keep it that way. Going on a public date with America’s golden boy himself? You would be ripped apart by the online vultures. 

You all but freak out on the phone and for a second you think he disconnected because you can’t hear a thing over the line but he suddenly speaks up.

“Oh well. We can’t have that, can we? You better have dinner ready at your place instead.” You don’t need to see him to imagine him with the biggest satisfied grin on his face. “I’ll be there at 7. Catch you later!”

Homelander hangs up on you and you hear the disconnected tone ringing in your ear as you stand there like a fish out of water. Mouth gaping open, letting out disbelieving stutters. 

You pull the phone away from your ear, looking down at it as if it offended you. It’s then you notice the time. Shit shit shit. You have less than four hours to make your place and yourself presentable, go on a grocery run and start cooking for Homelander?! What just happened!

“Oh no no no no. This is not happening.” You rub your hands over your face as if to wipe the shock off your face. You’re so overwhelmed with the rollercoaster of emotions that you don’t know whether to have a panic attack, laugh nervously or downright cry.

Okay, first of all the pile of laundry is gonna have to wait. You don’t have the time to meticulously fold your t-shirts and panties. You gather up the clean and dry laundry into your hands, haphazardly shoving it into the closet before closing the door on what will be an avalanche of laundry for your future self to deal with.

With pure panic-induced energy that you haven’t felt in a long while you manage to just about make your place presentable within an hour. Finally managing to gather and clean up the mugs and glasses that have been cluttering up your surfaces, making your bed all neat and tidy—just in case—and shoving all unnecessary clutter into cupboards. It’s not like Homelander would use his x-ray vision to judge the inside of your cabinets, would he?

Speeding your way out of your apartment you make your way over to the closest shop. Standing in the fresh produce aisle you suddenly realize you don’t actually have a plan. What the fuck are you meant to cook for Homelander?! Even after all the content you’ve consumed you’re pretty sure there’s not a single mention of his favorites. At least ones he’s not been sponsored to promote. Sure, he’s on many products, ranging from frozen peas to whole milk but that doesn’t mean it’s something he genuinely endorses. After all you want to get to know the man behind the costume, a date is not meant to be just another PR interview for him!

You’re starting to look strange. People are passing you while you’re internally panicking over what to buy. What if he’s allergic to something? What if he goes into anaphylactic shock and fucking dies! Even if you had an EpiPen or he carried it on him you wouldn’t be able to stab it into him anyway. And suddenly you’ve killed the world’s most beloved superhero and you’re spending the rest of your life in jail with Vought most certainly making sure you pay your dues. Even if all of that was true you had no way of knowing. It’s not like Vought would ever leak that kind of information. Not very good for their brand to tweet that their best superhero is allergic to fucking nuts!  

You shake your head a little, snapping yourself out of your dazed state. If Homelander’s brand is anything it’s that red-blooded American male perfect standard. Surely he wouldn’t complain about some steak dinner right? Men love steaks! You just make sure to avoid most common allergens. You pick up some potatoes and other vegetables to roast along with a good pricey cut of steak that was easily out of your budget.

You get home just as fast and with each passing second you’re more and more on edge. You don’t know whether it’s the anxiety coiling in your guts or the so called ‘butterflies’ but you’ve never been this nervous before. With the clock ticking and the food cooking you’re suddenly more and more paranoid over everything. From your insane Homelander merch collection to even just the furniture you’ve got! Not that that’s anything you can change in the next hour but your mind is running at a hundred miles an hour and you’re trying to account for everything. 

Just before it gets to the agreed time you change into something nice but casual, straight after shoving the laundry avalanche back into its place. You even leave the balcony door open, doubting he’s gonna knock on your door like a normal person. 

And while you’re there focusing on platting up your best attempt at steak and roasted vegetables, you hear the familiar sound of Homelander’s landing. You whip your head towards the wall clock with such urgency it’s shocking you don’t give yourself whiplash. 

Shit. It was literally 7pm. You wanted to set the table all pretty and prep it perfectly but you got so preoccupied with the place looking as good as it can that you lost track of time. You’re sure he’s used to luxury and perfection. You want to do your best to replicate that!

“Homelander!” Comes out of you with a little gasp. You tilt your head to look at him. And what you see makes your heart skip a beat. 

There he is, in his suited-out glory per usual, except this time he’s holding a bouquet of roses with a dashing smile on his face that quickly turns into a self-satisfied grin as he immediately notices your panic at his presence. Even after he thoroughly reduced you to a puddle of goo just last week you were still such a skittish uncertain thing around him. 

“Wow, smells delicious in here.” He looks around taking it in while inhaling the mouth-watering smell of sizzling steak.

Homelander steps closer with calculated steps, checking you out without an ounce of shame. You don’t know if it’s just the pure intensity in his eyes that has you feeling on edge or if he really is undressing you with his gaze. “These,” he frees your hand, prying your palm open with his gloved hand, “are for you.” He places the bouquet of roses into your palm, squeezing it shut around the wrapped stems.

In a way you’re paralyzed. The reality of the situation finally hits you and you realize you’re really here about to have a dinner date with Homelander. Who just brought you expensive, gorgeous flowers, because that’s something that totally happens to people like you.

You’re standing there, staring at the deep rich red of the roses that actually ends up matching the cardigan you put on for this. Your little attempt at complimenting the suit you knew he'd show up in. 

Your mind is going a million miles a second and your other hand squeezes a petal in between your fingertips. There’s droplets of water on the velvety surface. You didn’t realize it was raining at the time. You look past him through a window as if you could make out the weather through the darkness of the evening.

Looking at the roses now, they look beautiful, pristine. He flew here right? How did he manage to keep them in one shape with the speeds he flies at.

“H-how did you fly with—” You don’t even finish the question before he’s answering.

“I don’t have to fly at super speeds all the time. You’d think my most loyal fan would know that.”

“You can read minds too?” Falls out of your mouth before you even think about what you're saying.

“No. You’re just very easy to read.” He places his hands on his hips, naturally defaulting to his superhero pose. 

And sure, maybe the way your eyes move in between the window, him and the flowers is a dead giveaway but you still don’t think it’s that easy to figure out exactly how your thought process works. 

He seems unhappy with your lack of enthusiastic response. He probably expected you to jump at him, wrapping your arms around him in pure glee that he’d do such a romantic thing. 

He nodded towards the bouquet, raising his eyebrows.

“Anyway, your flowers. You might want to put them in some water. Unless you plan on fondling each petal all night.” You don’t know whether he said it that way on purpose or if your absurd attraction to his voice is reaching new heights but the imagery that conjures is not one that would belong at a dinner table. There’s a different kind of petal-fondling you have in mind for later.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. And thank you. Really, this is very kind of you. They’re beautiful.” Finally, he’s satisfied with that response, his shoulders relax a bit, his chest puffing out as he sees you hold the flowers closer to you.

You’re all over the place and your movements are in no way elegant or thought out as you awkwardly stumble around, pulling out the biggest glass you could find. This ends up being a large glass measuring jug which you admit looks rather strange, and you don't miss the way he raises his eyebrow at the display. 

Well, it was a lot better than if you used the bucket you keep under the sink for cleaning. It’s not like you have a perfect pretty vase ready for this occasion. Until now you didn’t have anyone bringing you flowers and you never really bought any for yourself.

He doesn’t comment on the miserable display. Instead he focuses on how wound up you are.

“Jeez, you’re even stiffer than last time. You know I usually fuck my dates after dinner, but if you need me to loosen you up…” His crude attempt at humor and breaking the ice just has your brain screeching and halting all actions. 

“What?! No, nonono. That won’t—That’s not. I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. That you’re here.”

“I did tell you I’d come. And I’m pretty sure you’re not plating up two plates for yourself there silly.” He shakes his head while clicking his tongue, as if disapproving of your doubt. 

“I mean, I’m surprised that you want to do this. With me.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m here aren’t I? Last time I checked I asked you out, not the other way around. And trust me sweetheart, I don’t do shit out of pity.” He walks closer to you, his hand patting the side of your arm, settling his hand there and sliding it up until he reaches your jaw. The leather of his glove is cold, some raindrops still stuck in the crevices.

Although your heart rate picks up, you smile genuinely. Getting the straightforward confirmation that he wants to be here with you warms your heart. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have everything ready. I lost track of time. Do you mind just sitting down, I’ll finish up in a second.”

“Yup, can do.” He sits down at the small table slapping his palms on his thighs as he does so. Already peeling his gloves off, discarding the gloves at the edge of the table. 

You finish up the plating, trying to make it as neat as possible. You bring the plates over, one in front of him the other right opposite. “Um, do you drink beer? I got some in case you do. I know you do endorse some but I’m sure that doesn’t mean you have to consume it in your free time.”

“No thanks, never got the taste for it. Have you got milk?” 

You blank a little at the request. It’s not the typical pairing by any means but who are you to tell him what to like. Instead you comply, tucking away the little preference into the corner of your mind where you keep all your knowledge about him.

“Um, yeah. I do. Again, I got one you’ve done marketing for, just in case you did like it. I wasn’t really sure. Believe it or not there’s a lot I don’t know about you.” You admit. It’s not like everything that his Marketing team puts out is all real. You're sure they leave out any of his actual preferences so future advertisers don't clash with any competition.

“With this logic I’m surprised you didn’t buy the entire store.” 

“I was close to it.” You take the carton out of the fridge, shutting the door with your hip. “Do you want it warm or cold?” 

“Cold is fine.” You nod, pouring some into a glass placing it in front of him.

As a last touch you take two roses from the huge bouquet, popping them into a narrow tall glass filled with water and you place the romantic decoration to the side of the table before sitting down.

He strangely smiles at the gesture, something about it feeling awfully domestic. It may not be perfectly manicured but it's real and it does the job just as well. It's not a perfect setting made for a photoshoot. You're just trying to impress him with what you've got. All for his enjoyment only. And that alone makes it a lot more special. 

Suddenly being right across him really set the reality of the situation. You feel a little awkward about the setting. But there is really only so much you could have done with your small apartment. And it’s not like he hasn’t been here before. He knows what you're working with.

You watch as he cuts into the steak, stabbing it with his fork and bringing a piece to his mouth.

“Wait! You’re not allergic to anything right?!” You suddenly panic, feeling cold sweat pour over you at the thought of your irrational thoughts from earlier coming true. 

He looks thoroughly amused but he doesn’t answer and instead just takes the bite. 

“Are you always this worried on dates? Or do you get them to fill out a questionnaire beforehand?” He seems to enjoy throwing all these little jabs highlighting how much of a nervous mess you are in his presence. 

“I don’t usually cook for my dates on the first date. There’s usually nothing to worry about.”

“I did ask you out for dinner. This is your own doing missy.” He waved his fork at you, pointing at you being the one to blame.

“You think I’m—oh. I’m not complaining about this, oh my god! I just didn’t really know what you like! Surprisingly not a lot about that online. They really know how to keep you a mystery. And even superheroes have allergies! How was I to know whether you’ve got one or not? But even if you did, it’s not like Vought would release that information.” You ramble on, trying to explain yourself but you’re really just digging yourself a deeper hole. Not that Homelander looks particularly put off. If anything, the amused grin spreads to both corners of his mouth.

“You know I’m not here for the food right? Though this is not too bad. Didn’t think you had it in you.” He raises his eyebrows in appreciation. 

“I live on my own. I don’t know why you’re surprised to learn that I can cook for myself.” You said feigning offense but inside you were squealing at the compliment.

“When’s the last time you’ve had a date?” He changes the topic, with each passing moment he’s less interested in the food and a lot more honed in on you and what little secrets you can let him in on. Though he’s still happily nursing the glass of milk. 

“It’s been a while, I guess.” You’re overcome with this anxious feeling in your gut. Is it meant to be a dig at the date you’ve prepared? Is he saying that you’re not desirable enough to be dated?

He catches you off guard with his smug little smile. “Thought so. Guess you’re too busy being my biggest fan, huh?”

You nearly choke on your food, surprised and flustered by his words. The tell-tale sign of heat creeps up your neck and to the tip of your ears in embarrassment. He’s hard to read and you can’t tell whether he’s trying to humiliate you or if he genuinely enjoys the reminder of having someone fawn over him right there and then.

You put your cutlery down, softly clinking it against the plate. “Look, I’m really sorry about all that. I’m a fan but I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.” The corners of his mouth comically pull down feigning innocence with a shrug.

You playfully roll your eyes. “You insinuated. I’m just saying I wouldn’t have all this stuff out if I knew you’d ever see it!” You wave your arm in the general direction of the rest of your humble apartment. Still littered with Homelander merch. If you had more time to prepare for the date you would have maybe even taken some of it down. Replace some posters with photos of friends or family, making you appear a lot more put together. But alas, your guilty pleasure is still blatantly obvious and out for anyone to see. It's all the worse that in this case it’s being seen by the featured star of your guilty pleasure himself.

“There’s no shame in being a fan.” 

“No, but it’s different to collect memorabilia and merchandise of a beloved superhero that you don’t ever expect to witness the madness and to actually have him see it all and feel objectified. As if all there was to him is just the plastic he can sell with his face on it.”

You don’t know why you’re getting into the heavy-duty topic of someone’s worth and value but maybe part of you just wants to present yourself as someone who cares. Someone who looks beyond the obvious. 

Homelander is similarly perturbed by your words. Clearly not used to fans taking such direction with him. Thinking about it you doubt he hears more from them beyond a predictable can I have a selfie?

He furrows his eyebrows for a second tilting his head. As if he’s trying to look into your brain to read your mind. And sure he can literally see inside your skull but it doesn’t help him understand your thoughts. So instead he digs deeper. Putting the glass of milk down he looks you straight in the eyes. 

“You don’t think that’s it?” 

His resolute question makes you pause, feeling as if you overstepped. And even if, there’s no way to backtrack anymore so you continue. “O-of course not. I know you’re more than what Vought puts out there.”

You’ve spent countless hours following the content Vought markets out to the public. All of it manicured to match his perfect brand and profile. They’re slick enough to control even the content fans put out. From conventions to random street encounters. You remember following a thread of an anonymous fan sharing their experience of getting barraged by Vought’s lawyers after they shared a post about a poor experience they had meeting one of their superheroes. You haven’t heard an update from that story in a while, god knows what happened to the fan. Maybe Vought’s lawyers managed to get their anonymous account too. 

“How would you know?” Irritation seeps into his tone, shoulders tensing, feeling exposed right before he slides back into his normal casual tone and body language as if remembering that he’s meant to be talking to a date and not some nosy interviewer trying to get the next scoop.

“I mean who hasn’t put up a face to show the world their perfect self? Whether it’s on dates or in front of friends. I just imagine that doing that in front of the whole world means there’s a lot you feel like you have to hide.” With each word you feel like you’re digging yourself a hole, ruining any chance of another date. But you’ve started saying your piece and when else are you gonna get the chance to tell the man exactly how you feel?

So you continue.

“I just think it has to be exhausting. Your entire job, your life is existing in the public eye and you can’t ever slip up? Not super-abled celebrities deal with that already but for you there’s the added burden of being seen as the superhero right? ‘Here to save us all’. I just mean, do you ever get to be yourself?”

You mean to be sympathetic, not that you could ever imagine what it’s like to be in his shoes. Being as obsessed as you are, you've watched all the footage with him. You notice how often the same lines repeat, how well he’s perfected the mask of a perfect hero. The fake humble you’re the real heroes being repeated in every video and appearance. If it was you, you know you’d have enough a while ago now. The daily grind of a job is exhausting enough but to do that all under the public’s scrutiny? You couldn’t even imagine. 

You were so lost in your little monologue, spilling all the little thoughts you had about him and his persona that you miss how his casual demeanor has once again shifted into something else. He’s less irritated but he’s tense. Even more so than before. He wears an expression you’re pretty sure you’ve not seen on him before. His jaw may not be dropped but his surprise and confusion is evident without it. 

He’s speechless. Thinking about it now, has anyone ever spoken to him in such manner before?

You watch his body language and the way he’s squeezing the fork so hard you’re sure he’s bent the metal. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just once I get going I can’t stop!” 

He lets out a breathless little laugh. His shoulders release in tension. He stops gripping the cutlery and sure enough it has a bend that definitely wasn’t there before but you don’t care. He’s not pissed. He raises his free hand waving you off and stopping you from apologizing any further. Something you’ve managed to do about a hundred times since his arrival. 

“No. No, it’s fine. You didn’t.” He shakes his head a little, looking at you with a different look in his eyes. No longer just looking for a little bit of excitement, now he’s truly locked in. What else can he get you to say? “Well maybe you did a little, but color me intrigued anyway.” 

He looks at you in a way that makes you feel small. You feel like you’re on your knees praying for your god to hear out your prayers knowing it’s unlikely for him to even notice you.  

“Can't say I've heard any of that before.” He concludes, slumping back into the chair now that he's relaxed again, having lost all interest in the food you've served up.

You’re embarrassed by the call out. It’s like all your efforts to not appear like another crazy fan have been pointless. He might not seem angry but that doesn’t mean he’s about to jump at the thought of another date. You may have ruined your chances at this being anything more than mild entertainment to him so you try to save yourself. “I just mean. I have always wanted to get to know you. The you without the cameras.”

“You already have. I don’t go on dates with many fans, believe it or not. And I gotta say you’re a lot more interesting than I gave you credit for.” 

And maybe it wasn’t such a lost cause yet. Have there been many people that Homelander has ever found genuinely interesting? You wouldn’t know but at least you’re one of them.

“Oh…ah-hah thank you.” You fluster under his heavy gaze. His words make your heart skip a beat. There’s very little that can match the euphoria of your hero, the hero really, saying he finds you interesting. It’s hard to calm the pounding of your heart at the thought of a man of his caliber seeking your company out.

After all you’ve managed to blurt out you feel more at ease. It’s not awkward like you expected it to be. In a way you’ve broken the ice you didn’t know was even there.

With you both losing interest or having had enough of your meals you move to the small but comfortable couch. And like any good dinner and movie date you put on the first title that gets advertised to you on the main page of the Vought+ streaming platform.

In reality the movie doesn’t get watched. Either you let it play in the background or you pause on sections just so you can continue the conversation between the two of you. And somehow it’s still mainly you literally just rambling on about him. It’s not that he doesn’t talk or doesn’t ask questions about you but you see the way he preens at all the enamored praise you send his way. 

The only parts that do get watched is the small cameo Homelander ended up having in the title and the conversation steers back to him. He gives you all the details you ask for, more than happy to talk about how great of an actor he is. 

With each minute of sitting close to him you feel your body respond to him. You feel hot. Too warm for the cardigan you’re wearing but you don’t want to seem too forward by taking it off. Especially after knowing what kind of trouble he could get up to in between your legs it makes it very hard to accidentally brush against his thigh and not spontaneously combust.

Homelander turns around to look back into the room while you’re dealing with your internal turmoil. Would it be too unseemly for you to initiate?

Your thoughts are interrupted when his bare hand cradles your jaw, bringing you in for a kiss. The whimper you let out is embarrassing but you quickly lose track of anything that’s not his hot lips melting you into a puddle. Just as things are about to get good, just when you’re about to pry his lips open with your needy tongue he pulls away. He doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his hot breath while he rests his forehead against yours. 

“I’ll have to set off. I need to get back to Vought tower.” He hums so close to you that you get goosebumps from the way his voice turns all low and hushed. Even though the words he’s saying are anything but good news, the attractive sound still soothes you.

“Oh-kay.” You nod. A little sad but understanding that he’s got things to get to. Every part of you is holding back from pulling him in for more but as much as your fingers twitch for him you restrain yourself.

“Come on now. Don’t sound so upset.” He gives your cheek a soft little pat before placing another peck on your lips with a chuckle from behind his closed lips.

The taste of your lips pulls him in anyway and he holds you close for a few more indulgent kisses. Upon separating you’re warm and flustered. His touch always seems to have that effect on you. 

“It's just… I had a lot of fun today.” And you don't want it to be over or for it to be the last time you see him. But how do you ask him out? 

While your limbs still feel like jelly, having melted into the couch, he stands up, walking over to the little dining table where he left his discarded gloves, pulling them back on.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll be back.” He clearly reads your expression and watches as you stumble while getting up, clearly wanting to see him out before he flies off.

His words alone are good enough to lift your spirits and you let yourself show that joy outwardly.

“Thanks for today.” When’s the last time you’ve ever felt this in the moment? Even if he never came back this moment would easily be a highlight you look back on.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” As if he couldn’t restrain himself his eyes snapped in between your eyes and lips, his eyelashes fluttering, lips parting as he took in the sight of you. So eager to please and be there for him. He wets his lips and your stomach flips at the display. The pink of his tongue disappearing as quickly as it appears.

His eyes soften, lips stretching into a lazy lopsided smile.

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?” 

And just like that with one last kiss he’s off again, returning to his duties.

This isn’t where things end with you two. If anything, your life takes a massive turn. It’s not been the same ever since you’ve won that silly competition. And it strangely makes you want to send a gift basket to whoever organized it, no matter how much you dislike Vought itself. 

At first he comes back to you seeking comfort.

He strolls in through your balcony door which you’ve gotten into the habit of leaving unlocked—just in case. It’s not like there’s anyone else eager to fly into your home. You awake at the disruption, eyes bleary and straining in the harsh light of the nightstand lamp you’ve turned on to see what’s going on.

He doesn’t explain himself as much as he just vents to you about how he’s not being respected and taken seriously. It’s the first time he’s been back since your date and you’re surprised to see him so emotive. So unlike the perfect persona or even the carefully charming guy he presented himself as during  your date.

He’s already pacing back and forth, the thud of his boots bound to disturb your neighbors below. Not that either of you care. He’s too preoccupied with being angry. And you’re too frazzled by the thought of something upsetting your hero to this degree.

You see the angry tremor in his hands and the sharpness of his teeth, highlighted by the yellow night light. You snap out of the sleepy daze and you catch his gloved hand when he paces in front of you. 

You pull him down next to you, cooing supportive words and showing your own anger at seeing him be so disrespected by Vought. You believe they don’t know how lucky they are to have someone like him. They should revere him, yet the things he lets slip in his anger make your chest tight, fueling the rage simmering inside you. 

It’s like seeing you riled up at the way he’s being mistreated is enough to calm him down. The more you seethe the more he cools down, the energy exchange working in between you perfectly. He’s pleased to have someone in his corner. Preening at how much you parrot the words he’s saying without needing to nudge you in that direction.

Swoop-in visits like these happen more regularly. Either he comes in irritated wanting to get some frustration and anger out, fucking you throughout the night until all he can think of are your moans and cries telling him it’s too much.

Or he comes in happy, excited to share the news that his numbers are up or that the public and the on-scene reporters couldn’t stop praising him after his latest save. Those days he comes in for affection and a cuddle, wanting to hear over and over again just how well he’s done since you’ve last seen him. Treating you less like a stress ball and more like a teddy bear he’s hugged against his chest in comfort. 

You start thinking how lonely he must feel. The thought that there aren’t any people around him showering him with genuine love and friendship hurts you and suddenly you want nothing more than to keep him here with you, making sure he knows just how special he is.

As much as you’ve always been devoted to this god-like being and the idea that he represented, you never got to love the person. Until now. Now the ideology alone has seeped into your never ending love, fueling the suffocating adoration you hold for him. So strong it’s eating away at you anytime you don’t get the chance to scream how much you love him.

You used to see these late night visits as something he does for his own benefit. With you always being the easiest and most effective balm to his troubled soul. You didn’t think he was serious with you. After all, this is the Homelander you’re spending every other evening with. 

So when he sends you flowers out of nowhere, effectively courting you, you start thinking that this might be turning into something real.

It starts with the first delivery at your door. A gorgeous bouquet bursting at the seams, tagged with a note saying it’s from Homelander. Since then he’s made sure to supply you with the most beautiful bouquets as if to keep a reminder of him on a daily basis. You finally invest in a pretty vase, knowing it’s going to be thoroughly used and displayed.

Your home always had touches of Homelander throughout it—some might even say too many. However, as your relationship grows you come to a realization that those really only represent Vought. It’s these new touches that really represent Homelander’s presence in your life. Like how he times the flower deliveries just right so your place is never empty. Always there to remind you to keep him at the forefront of your mind. Never wavering. 

You two haven’t officially said that you’re dating throughout these nighttime visits but it’s at the tip of your tongue each time he comes. You want to voice the love you carry for him like a burden. Overflowing from your arms with nowhere to go. And it feels like each second you don’t say it, it’s being uselessly spilled on the floor like sand falling from in-between your fingers.

Homelander has his own way of showing affection. Seeing as so much of his life has been in front of some sort of camera you wonder if thinking in advertising scripts and photoshoot visuals comes to him more naturally than casual and real gestures. As ever since he started with the flower deliveries he’s been showering you with gifts upon each visit. As if everyday had to be Valentine’s day and he had to bring something to symbolize the reason for his visit.

You call him out on that one day. 

“You know you don’t have to bring anything right? You don’t need to bribe me.” You chuckle at the gift box he brought with him. You’ve got dozens of similar gift boxes and bags that you feel reluctant to get rid of mainly for the sentimental value but the retail price associated with the gift they hold certainly doesn’t help. 

He clasps the gifted necklace around your neck. The dainty chain lays cold against your skin and your fingers gently caress the pendant with care. Your statement still rings true but you can’t help but feel giddy every time he brings you something he thought would look great on you. 

“Do you not like the things I bring you?” With a perplexed expression you see him trying to do mental math, trying to figure out why you could possibly not kneel or bow in gratitude. He watches you play with your new pretty jewelry with a squint. 

“No! It’s all beautiful—this one especially—just. I don’t want you to feel like that’s an obligatory part of you being here.” You laugh it off a little, still dreamily thinking about what it really means to get pampered to this degree. 

He breaks your thoughts with a simple sentence.

“Maybe I want to treat my girl.” 

Your eyes widen, and you let out a shocked stuttered breath.

“Your girl?”

“Yeah, duh.” He scoffs as if what he said is as obvious as the sky being blue and water wet.

“Because you’re mine, right?” You don’t see the way his eyes reflect his own complicated and simmering feelings. The tension in his jaw betrays how he needs you to acknowledge his words and speak them into an existence. But you don’t notice any of that because it’s like the dam you’ve been doing your best to hold together with safety pins finally bursts.

You’re nodding feverishly. No longer able to hold back you’re possessed to blurt out the words that have been threatening to fall off the precipice of your tongue for weeks. 

“I love you.” 

Homelander’s eyes widen. Surprised by your admission just as much as you are. Your heart is racing, suddenly feeling insane for thinking this was anything more than simple fun to him. The knee-jerk response to apologize spills easily from your lips.

“I’m sorry—,” but instead he interrupts you by cradling your jaw in his bare hands, stepping closer.

“Don’t be sorry.” He says in a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine. He leans in to give you a tender kiss. Just barely slotting in between your parted lips, pressing them against his. Before you get the chance to continue he pulls away with enough distance to speak up.

He breathes out, eyes squeezed shut in longing which to an untrained eye would just look like pure pain and frustration. But not to you. You’ve learned to read him better. 

He nuzzles his face against yours, dragging his lips across your cheek until he reaches your ear, growling a weak, “say it again.”

You’ve partially gotten used to the timbre of his voice in your ear. Capable of having a conversation without getting worked up by every word he says but the way he’s now needily begging in your ear has your body erupt in goosebumps. He doesn’t need to say please for you to hear it anyway.

“I-I love you.” You whimper out. The emotion alone feels thick in your throat, as if it was clogging up your airways anytime you come up for air. Your heart is pounding, you’re strung up, the butterflies in your stomach make you antsy. 

His hold on your jaw tightens. With a sharp intake of breath he smashes your lips together. No longer composed and tender. Your teeth nearly clash as he’s pressed you close to him. He’s prying your lips open with his, his whimpers easily falling into the press of your lips.

“Again.” 

“I love you.”

You don’t want to cry but you’re so overwhelmed with emotion the burn that turns your eyes glassy spills over and you’re dripping tears down your cheeks in pure emotional instability.

“Again.” 

And each time he asks he sounds more wrecked. 

“I love you.”

Homelander catches the tears with his tongue right before kissing the salty taste into your mouth. Not letting any of your love get wasted. You grab onto him, grasping where you can. Your hands tangle in between his as you wrap them around his neck. One hand grips as much of the fabric of his suit it can while the other tangles in his hair, pulling on it for support more than anything. 

You feel like you’re drowning. The intensity of the moment makes you gasp for air but it’s like Homelander kisses it back into your lungs like a lifeline. Hearing his shattered whimpers soothes you, his own need fueling yours, filling the void your tears are leaving behind.

He lifts you up and with practiced ease you automatically wrap your legs around him.

He leads you both to the bedroom while he’s continuously prompting you to continue declaring your love to him. Each again, again, again you reward with the three words that make him feverish and mad. The more you say it the less your heart feels like it’s about to explode from the burden it’s been carrying for too long.

Homelander quite literally rips your clothes off, not caring that he’s leaving his own recent purchases in tatters. He doesn’t want to separate his lips from your neck where he’s kissing trails across each inch of your skin.

You don’t have the luxury to treat his suit with the same carelessness. Even if you wanted to, the tough molded material would make it impossible. Instead you do what you can. Unclasping his belt, pulling at the front of his suit, pushing his pants down where you can reach.

He helps you with taking off the rest of it until he’s on top of you, skin to skin. You rarely get the luxury of lying with him fully stripped and each time you’re shocked at how hot he runs. Now his hot body is making you melt under the heat alone.

Neither of you have stopped kissing with the same intense need that has been laying there dormant for months. Anytime you have the chance you repeat the same words over and over again until they’re all you know how to say.

It’s the first time sex has felt anything more than a physical relief he comes to you for. You’re barely keeping it together as he nudges your legs a little open, sliding his hand down your body, his palm blazing hot as the anticipation makes you clench your core.

It’s by no means either one of your first times, nor it is the first time you’ve been together yet you’ve never felt more nervous. The first touch he descends onto your clit feels like a lightning bolt crackling down your spine, spreading the tingles out to your toes and fingertips.

“Ahh hah—fuck. Want it so bad, don’t you?” He looks as broken as he sounds when he hisses at the feeling of your soaked pussy. It makes his fingers glide too easily, making it harder to give your clit the precise rhythm he’s learned to make you see stars with. 

His attempt at his normal dirty talk is disrupted by his keen moans and broken whimpers. Part of you wonders whether his super senses include being able to feel other people’s sensations with the way he’s acting as if it was him getting his body set on fire.  

You hum and ahh in response, your tongue feeling incapable of saying anything but the words you’ve been finally allowed to repeat over and over again. 

His fingers easily slip inside the sloppy mess you’ve made for him and he moans right into the kiss he leans in to steal from your lips. And it feels good. The friction is perfect, his fingers are hitting the right spot inside you and the loud squelch is embarrassing and intoxicating in equal parts. Yet it’s not what you want.

It takes all your strength to reach down and pull his hand out of you, as instinctively you’re already clenching around the all too familiar emptiness you whine at every other time when he’s done with you. 

“I want you. Please. Just you.” You manage to breathe out, your hand reaching over for his hard cock. You give him a few shaky strokes, smearing his leaking precum across the entire length.

“Alright. Uh huh, okay. I’ll give it to you.” And he’s just as out of it as you as his normal cocky one-liners just break into a lot of grunts and stutters.

He wedges himself in between your thighs, spreading them wide open. His lips part with a wistful sigh while his eyes haze over with lust at the sight of your pussy spread ope, generously glistening with slick all made for him. 

He aligns his cock with your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. He’s just as strung out as you are. He splits you open with a single thrust, your slick pulling him in with an easy glide.

“I love you.” For the first time the confession spills from Homelander’s lips. A relief just as palpable falls upon him. It’s a different story for you. The words cause more tears to spill, a wet hiccup leaving your throat as you clench around him.

“Shh, shh.” He hushes you sweetly, already reaching back for you. 

He lays his body flush on top of yours and kisses your tears away, the heat and weight of his body on top yours grounds you. He repeats the words over and over again in between wet, messy kisses. He ruts into you in shallow thrusts as if he doesn’t want to part from you any second longer.

Nothing in the world exists but you two and neither one of you can believe how perfect you really are for each other. You’ve always felt like the way you love was overwhelming. It left the other person choking on the overwhelming viscosity of it all. Homelander isn’t like that. To him your love is a breath of fresh air. 

As long as you love him with the same unyielding intensity he’s yours. At this point, he wouldn’t know how to live without it.

He kisses you in a way that says just that. Needy and broken yet utterly completed by you. 

You’re both so worked up with the overflowing emotions it doesn’t take much more than his frenzied grinding to make you both reach the release that’s as emotional as it physical. Maybe even more so.

Because the reward isn’t just a good orgasm. It’s the love that fills the air, spilling into every empty crevice you didn’t manage to fill with your bodies.

Homelander’s whimpers resemble cries as he finishes inside you right as you flutter around him with the toe-curling orgasm wracking your nerves. 

It takes you a little while to regain your mental faculties after such an emotionally draining affair. You feel boneless, your limbs feel like jelly and you just lie there dazed. Focusing on the way your heart beats loud even to your ears. 

Homelander is doing the same thing. Listening to your heartbeat with his head on your chest.

After a long while you both pull yourself together. Still in bed but now you’ve managed to strike up a normal conversation again. Talking about everything and nothing.

You lie like this for what feels like hours. Having changed positions you rest your head against his chest, ear pressed to his pecs to listen in on the steady beat of his heart.

After this reveal your brain recognizes your relationship as the utmost priority. Because of that your eyes lock onto the Kuddle Buddy plush resting just a foot away from Homelander’s head. As if you were locking onto an enemy. You pluck it from the pillow, squeezing it in your hand.

You’re staring at it, still clutching it too hard. 

“What got you thinking so hard? You’re making my head hurt from how tense you are.” Homelander interrupts you from your thoughts. 

“Just you. This. I can’t look at this stuff these days without—I don’t know—rage? To know how much Vought has wronged you.” You furrow your eyebrows, assessing the innocent plush toy while it’s staring back at you with its stitched grimace.

“That’s what the toy reminds you of, really? It should remind you of me.”

“It doesn’t anymore.” Your furrowed expression slowly melts into one of content as your hand presses against your new necklace. “Things like these do.” 

“And these.” Your fingers continue to travel up your neck where they tap at the darkened patches you feel he has left behind. With soft nipping and sucking he left your neck coloured in all shades.

He plucks the plush toy from your hands, throwing it somewhere across the room with thankfully not enough strength to knock anything else over. You’re pretty damn comfortable and you’d rather not get up to assess any damage. 

“Maybe I should give you more reminders then.” 

You squeal as he easily pulls you up so his lips can meet yours, kissing your worries out of your mind.

Homelander lands on your balcony with a soft thud. It’s late in the afternoon, earlier than he normally arrives, and he doesn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Already predicting the shit Madelyn would put him through if he got caught regularly perusing outside some random person’s apartment.

His person’s apartment really. You’re not just a random boring nobody.

He makes his way in quietly, closing the door and stepping in. Each time coming back to your apartment has felt more like coming home than he’s ever felt at Vought. You’ve arranged your life around him. He’s noticed you cancel plans, call off events just so you could stay in in the evening, waiting for him to make his return.

You even make space for him in your small apartment. The state of which he’d normally scoff at but it’s hard to mock your financial situation when you manage to make the place feel warm.

His presence left its mark in the gifts you happily displayed or the flowers you always took good care of.

And of course, the insane collection of merchandise you’ve spent years accumulating.

Wait.

Where is everything?

Homelander looks around, breaking out of his routine and instead he scans the surroundings as if it’s the first time he’s ever been here. Only now does he realize that all the usual merchandise carrying his likeness is gone. No posters on the walls. No action figures on the shelves. No funko pops. No collectibles. Nothing.

Homelander feels his blood pressure rise. There’s no way you’d want to get rid of him. Not you too. You love him. You wouldn’t do that.

He finally notices the black trash bags pushed into the kitchen, still open and overflowing with all the things missing from your walls. 

His stomach flips. 

No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.

You can’t get rid of him like this. He can’t lose you. 

Not after he’s finally tasted what real love in cooking tastes like. Or what it’s like to wake up next to someone who instead isn’t pushing you away straight after sex. Someone who makes an effort for him. Not out of fear but out of love. 

He mentally compares everything you’ve changed his perception on. 

Like when you give him a gift or help him out it’s different. Vought employees being at his beck and call could never compare. 

He’s the most powerful man in the world, with means that don’t feel like they have an end yet he could never buy the love you give freely. For once, love doesn’t feel like pulling teeth. It feels like a warm embrace on a cold winter night. 

You make it easy. You don’t fake it. And most importantly you do it unconditionally. Love him through thick and thin, the devotion to him a part of your very core. Your love is overwhelming, oozing and sticky like he’s never gonna be able to get rid of it. Just like you could never get rid of him.

You’re the only one who hasn’t left him.

Exactly. It can’t be. You wouldn’t.

This has to be some kind of a mistake.

The shuffle of your slippers against the floor breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looks up sharply. Seeking some sort of explanation.

“Hey baby. You’re early today—what’s wrong?” The smile drops from your face as quickly as he sees it and it’s only then he realizes his hand is shaking. He squeezes it into a fist, the leather creaking with the pressure as he takes in a labored breath with a jittery shake to his head.

“W-uh-what is… What are you doing?” He blinks rapidly, shaking his head pretending that his voice doesn’t quiver and waver the way it does. 

“Bit of spring cleaning. After we talked the other night I just can’t look at this stuff and not think how much Vought has used you. I don’t want those reminders. It’s not what I thought it was and now that you opened my eyes to it, I can’t forget. So. Out with it.” You say so casually, not picking up on the panic he’s been going through in his head.

“Oh—okay.” He lets out a visible breath of relief, his posture relaxing. “I thought—” His jaw tightens and he looks away. Thought so heartbreaking, he doesn't want to give it voice.

“You thought I was getting rid of you?” You stop what you are doing. Putting the box on the couch and instead you walk up to him, hand on his jaw you turn him back to look at you.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You kiss him, and Homelander melts right into it. He lets himself melt into the loving embrace of your pliant lips.

“Good. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” When you pull away he puts his hands on your jaw, tilting your head as if he was inspecting you. Seeing if what you’re saying is true. And he can’t see a single speck of a lie with the steady beats of your heart and the taste of love on your lips.

“So what are you doing with all of it?”

“Selling it, donating or trashing some I guess.”

“Why not sell it all?”

“You can buy a Homelander poster or card at any shop for a few bucks. I'm not gonna bother with those.”

“What if I sign them?”

“Oh please don’t waste your time. You’re not here to be a show pony.”

“Nonsense, come on. Bring it out.”

Homelander ends up taking the stack of posters with his or the Seven’s likeness from the top of the trash bag, placing them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He sits down, hooking his cape out of the way. He picks up a pen off the table already signing the first poster. 

Part of him is still upset that you feel like throwing a part of him away. Is this part of him not good enough for you anymore? It’s how he found you, how he got to know you and now it feels like you’re throwing it away. 

As if you could read his thoughts you sit down next to him, placing your hand on top of his as he’s halfway through his signature.

His head snaps up towards you, expression clearly guarded while he looks you over with his piercing blue gaze.

He carries his upset so visibly it would be hard even for someone as unaware as you to miss it. His smile is tight, not even attempting to reach his eyes.

You pull the pen out of his grip, instead wrapping your hand around his. The other one goes to his hair, scratching your nails down his scalp until you reach his undercut where you play with the shortly buzzed hair.

“I’m not getting rid of you. Not now. Not ever.”

At that he leans into you, nearly purring at the pleasure your scalp massage brings him. The way you touch him with no hesitation will never cease to amaze him. There’s enough love pouring off you to almost fill the black hole in his heart. 

It was exhilarating to have someone so eager to keep him in their life. Everyone else has just pushed him away, entertained him until they got what they wanted. Not you. You give and give and give. Sometimes he’s scared you’ll run out of love to shower him with. However, one look at you tells him that the love you carry feels just as much of a burden as his need for it does to him. You free each other by sharing the love. You feed his insatiable beast of a heart and he lets you burst the dam free without feeling like you’re not allowed to.  

The posters are forgotten about. Any hurt brushed away with a press of his lips to yours. Needy and hungry, wanting to see if you can prove your words with actions. Again and again.

And you do. Like you’ve done a hundred times before and just like you will do thousands of times over.

[Next -> Part 4]

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged when I post a new Homelander fic)

@morishitoshi @ker0senebunny @itsvaleriesucka @thychuvaluswife

@nervoussystemss @littlegaaby @natliecole @thatvintagefanboy

@infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade

@nommingonfood

[stagtorccio]

pls write some Dom!lottie and sub!nat I think they're the most perfect pairing to ever exist

smacks you over the head with this untitled from my drafts

warnings: car sex, fingers in mouth, praise kink? etc etc. you know the drill. probably slightly ooc dialogue in the name of porn honestly

w/c: 652

mdni, 18+

“Are you gonna say something,” Nat mutters, “or just keep staring at me?”

Lottie leans forward and plucks the cigarette from her lips, takes a drag herself, then stubs it out on the car ashtray with deliberate calm.

“You talk too much when you’re nervous,” she says.

“I was smoking—” Natalie’s protest gets cut off by Lottie’s fingers, slipping into her mouth and hooking behind her bottom teeth like reins.

“Shh,” Lottie murmurs, thumb brushing her cheek. “Let me.”

Nat freezes, lips parted, pupils blown wide in the dim light. The leather seats creak as Lottie climbs into her lap, straddling her with an air of casual confidence that makes Natalie’s head spin.

“Open for me,” Lottie says gently, fingers sliding free only to tap Natalie’s jaw. “Tongue out.”

Natalie blinks fast. Says nothing, because her body’s already moving, mouth parting, tongue lolling like someone’s stupid golden retriever, dumb and obedient.

Lottie’s thumb presses down, firm on the center of her tongue, and Nat gives a soft, choked sound. Not quite a gag, but adjacent.

Lottie’s smile is pure radiance, like this is some sort of private miracle. Her fingers are warm and sure and worshipful, and the praise comes quiet, velvet-soft.

“Good, Nat,” she murmurs.

Just the name in her voice sends a thrill ripping up Natalie’s spine, hot and electric, like lightning through a soaked wire. And beneath it, a heavier ache, molten and sinking low in her belly, settling like lava pooling in her hips.

Lottie’s other hand moves lower, skimming past belt loops, brushing the bare skin of her stomach with fingers that feel far too soft for how fucked Natalie already is.

They watch each other.

“Is this—”

“Uh huh,” Natalie gasps around her thumb, barely able to speak. “Mhm. S’okay.”

Lottie hums, satisfied. “You want me to?”

Natalie nods frantically.

Her belt falls open with a clink, jeans shoved halfway down her thighs, the cool air of the car licking against fever-warm skin and forcing a shiver. Lottie shifts lower, slipping her hand between them, fingers skating down and in, no teasing this time, just sliding past rough curls and into Natalie’s slick, messy heat.

Nat moans around her thumb, eyes fluttering, hips arching like her body wants more before her brain can even catch up.

“You’re soaked,” Lottie says, voice lilting, half a laugh, like she’s delighted by it. Not cruel– the opposite. Absolutely enamored. “Were you like this the whole time? Back at the party?”

Natalie gives a strangled noise, muffled around the finger still resting on her tongue.

Lottie slides two fingers in deep, curling just right, palm snug against her clit. Natalie bucks, wild and helpless, and Lottie just keeps watching her, enthralled.

"Aw,” she whispers. “You could’ve told me.”

Her fingers pick up speed, fucking her harder now, rhythmic and sure, the sound of it slick and obscene in the close heat of the car. Natalie’s eyes roll, thighs trembling, her voice just wet noises around Lottie’s thumb.

Lottie leans in, breath hot on her cheek. “Are you close?”

A twitchy nod is earned in response.

“Gonna be good for me?” Lottie asks as she curls her fingers again– shit. Natalie shatters. It hits her so hard she almost bites down on Lottie’s finger, mouth falling open on a cry, body locking up and then collapsing, legs twitching uncontrollably.

Lottie holds her through it, murmuring soft, sweet praise while her fingers work her through every aftershock.

When it’s over, she finally pulls her hand back, wipes it delicately on the inside of Natalie’s ruined shirt, and slips her thumb from Nat’s mouth with a wet pop.

“You were so good,” she says, brushing damp hair from her face. “You okay?”

Natalie can’t speak. Just nods, eyes glassy, lips swollen.

Lottie presses a kiss to her cheek. “Let me clean you up.”

God help her.

[scealaiscoitetareisdorcha]

⋆˚࿔ build a fic 2.0 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ choose a body part, a scent and a line of dialogue (a number, letter, + creature), and write/request to your heart’s content!

𓂃 ࣪˖ a body part

꒰ 1 ꒱ a trembling bottom lip

꒰ 2 ꒱ the nape of a neck

꒰ 3 ꒱ a rough palm

꒰ 4 ꒱ a pebbled nipple

꒰ 5 ꒱ the tender patch of skin behind an ear

꒰ 6 ꒱ a curled index and middle finger

꒰ 7 ꒱ a soft thigh

꒰ 8 ꒱ a rope-marked wrist

꒰ 9 ꒱ the notches of a spine

꒰ 10 ꒱ a swollen bottom lip

꒰ 11 ꒱ a crooked knee

꒰ 12 ꒱ a raised ass

꒰ 13 ꒱ a clawed hand

꒰ 14 ꒱ a happy trail, slick with arousal

꒰ 15 ꒱ a throbbing clit

꒰ 16 ꒱ a heaving chest

꒰ 17 ꒱ a pair of teary eyes

꒰ 18 ꒱ a tip messy with precum

꒰ 19 ꒱ a lovebitten hipbone

꒰ 20 ꒱ a rim glossy with lube

𓂃 ࣪˖ a scent

꒰ A ꒱ headily floral perfume

꒰ B ꒱ gasoline

꒰ C ꒱ cigarette smoke

꒰ D ꒱ ambery incense

꒰ E ꒱ iron-tinged blood

꒰ F ꒱ medicinal tiger balm

꒰ G ꒱ saltwater

꒰ H ꒱ men’s body wash

꒰ I ꒱ stale sweat

꒰ J ꒱ chlorine

꒰ K ꒱ noxious cologne

꒰ L ꒱ almond hotel soap

꒰ M ꒱ sterile latex

꒰ N ꒱ sour red wine

꒰ O ꒱ warm cinnamon

꒰ P ꒱ fresh-cut grass

꒰ Q ꒱ mint gum

꒰ R ꒱ sharp whiskey

꒰ S ꒱ familiar body wash

꒰ T ꒱ bleach

𓂃 ࣪˖ a line of dialogue

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ “i don’t need to hear you beg, pretty. your body’s doing all the talking.”

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ “don’t even think about cumming.”

꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ “pl-please… i can take it, i promise!”

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ “i’ll call you that, so long as it never leaves this room.”

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ “someone’s - oh, fuck - someone’s going to see.”

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ “look up into the lens and give me something good to watch back, yeah?”

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ “what happened to all that big talk, hm? gone all quiet, just because i’m inside you?”

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ “i’m not gonna last if you keep doing that thing with your tongue.”

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ “we’re not making it to the bed, are we?”

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ “the only thing that got me through today was the idea of ending it with my head between your thighs.”

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ “no, leave a mark. when tomorrow comes and you’re back to acting like i don’t exist, i want something to tell me this wasn’t just some fucked-up dream. give me that, at least.”

꒰ 𓃵 ꒱ “wait, wait- i wanna get on top.”

꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ “yeah, we shouldn’t be doing this. but, i think that’s why it feels so good.”

꒰ 𓆌 ꒱ “you want me so bad we’re fucking in an alleyway- but tell me again how little this means to you, yeah?”

꒰ 𓆏 ꒱ “i need you so bad it hurts.”

꒰ 𓅭 ꒱ “you were saying my name last night, in your sleep. well, not saying- moaning would be more accurate, don’t y’think?”

꒰ 𓆗 ꒱ “you know the drill, pretty. face down, and ass up.”

꒰ 𓃢 ꒱ “yeah, because a rocking car with steamed-up windows is a notoriously accepted thing in public.”

꒰ 𓆧 ꒱ “show me how you like to be touched.”

꒰ 𓃔 ꒱ “there isn’t a single part of you that isn’t deserving of adoration to me.”

[araavib]

I used to get stuck in the endless cycle of plotting, worrying about pacing, structure, and word count. Writing started to feel more like a chore than the creative escape it once was. That’s when I decided to ditch the stress and try something new—a method I now call The Eight Chapter Method.

It’s something I came up with after struggling to finish projects. I told myself: “What if I wrote the entire book in just eight chapters?” No strict structure. No perfect pacing. Just pure, messy storytelling.

𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊’𝖘 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖎𝖙 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐𝖘:

💡 I cram the whole book—plot, character arcs, major moments, and even some dialogue—into eight chapters. It’s rushed, chaotic, and beautifully imperfect. But it works. I don’t worry about word count or whether everything flows seamlessly. I just write.

Once those eight chapters are done, I go back with a clearer view of the story. That’s when I start breaking down the chapters, expanding scenes, smoothing transitions, and cutting what doesn’t fit. It’s like having a rough sketch before painting the final picture.

𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆?

✍️ It keeps the excitement alive.

⏳ I don’t get bogged down by perfectionism.

📖 I see the whole story faster, making revisions less overwhelming.

I’m not sure if anyone else works this way, but it’s been a game-changer for me. If you’ve ever struggled with finishing drafts, I can’t recommend this enough. Just write the heart of your story, and worry about the rest later.🫀

[eighth-heroine]

crazy on you

pairing: soulless! sam x reader

CONTENT: smut RIGHT under the cut, porn what plot, dom/sub dynamic, s&m, unprotected p in v, usage of sir, bondage, marking, slapping/spanking, riding, dacryphilia, overstim, multiple organisms for both, light possessiveness, choking, pain kink? ig goes with s&m

word count: 2.9k

a/n: prompts used by @loveisanimaginarydagger3000 "Phrases/Actions that have my legs divorcing" @smaoineamhsalach "smutty dialogue prompts" @creativepromptsforwriting "smutty one-liners". all can be found in my master prompt list, linked in main masterlist. dividers by @cafekitsune

nothin' left to do at night / but go crazy on you

The door to the hotel room you were staying in slammed, making you fly bolt upright in bed. You relaxed when you saw that it was only Sam, the guy you had been hanging out with (and fucking) all week. His broad shoulders stretched beneath his worn flannel as he unloaded his pockets onto the side table, followed by a pistol from his waistband.

You didn't really know what it was that Sam did all day, sometimes night, or for a living. You had some inkling that it was violent, seeing as how he often came back bloodied (not always his own). But damn, gangster or not, he was good in bed, so you didn't ask questions.

Tonight he looked okay. The only flaws on his face were bruises from the week past, nothing fresh. His warm brown hair was messy, sure, and when he turned around, you saw that his t-shirt was dark with something that was probably blood, but if he had been fighting, the other guy lost.

"Hey," you called softly, voice thick with sleep. His head snapped towards you like he had forgotten you were there. "Welcome back. Kind of late."

Sam walked toward you slowly like a predator stalking its prey. His eyes glinted in the darkness. "It's only two."

Your heartbeat quickened, knowing what came next. This was the routine: Sam left for hours, came back beat up, then fucked you into tomorrow. You weren't sure when the man slept. You had resigned yourself to taking short naps while he was away.

"You're not how I left you," Sam observed.

Shit. He had told you to stay naked after your escapades last night and to be in bed when he came back. You had only fulfilled half of his requirements.

"I-I had to leave to get food," you offered lamely, knowing full well he had left you a credit card to get room service.

"Right," he said slowly, creeping closer. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach and down to your core.

"I'm sorry," you said, crawling backwards against the headboard. Sam tilted his head. "Sir," you added quickly.

The corners of Sam's mouth quirked up momentarily. "Strip."

"You first," you retorted, a rush of confidence emboldening you.

"Behave, I wouldn't want to punish you now." He looked at you warningly and finally touched down on the edge of the mattress.

You gulped and nodded, making quick work of your pajamas. You hadn't bothered to wear any underwear. "Make it even," you told him, shivering in the air-conditioned room.

Sam's head tilted in the other direction, almost like a dog. "Who do you think is in charge here?" he asked, voice dangerously calm.

You took a deep breath and shakily said, "I just wanna see you."

He chuckled, shaking his head, and peeled off his flannel, followed by the t-shirt that was damp with blood and sweat. "Better?" Sam asked, but the way he said it was almost mocking, like you were pathetic for asking.

His large hands gripped your knees where they were bunched up at your chest and spread your legs apart. He looked down at your pussy hungrily and ran a finger through your dampening folds. Your eyes closed at the sensation and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. After a week of being pounded into the mattress for hours at a time, you were more sensitive than you'd ever been in your life.

You felt him grip your wrists and shove them above your head. You opened your eyes to see him grab a blue tie that had been on the nightstand for days and use it to secure your wrists to the headboard.

You whined and pulled against your restraints. Sam just laughed triumphantly and got up from his seat on the edge of the bed.

"Not fair," you complained as he took the opportunity to remove the rest of his clothes. He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom for a minute, you heard water running, and then he was back, sans blood. He approached the bed slowly, lustfully. The look in his eyes was animalistic, and you had been around him enough to know that it pretty much was. You closed your legs instinctively, drawing back into yourself.

Sam kneeled over you and spread your legs again, more roughly this time. "Do I have to tie your legs down too?"

"No sir," you squeaked.

He grabbed your face and hummed, turning it side to side, fingers digging into your skin. You shivered at his touch, somehow giving you so much and so little at the same time. His head swooped down and he began kissing you aggressively, tongue invading your mouth. The taste of him had become so familiar, you relaxed in his hold.

Then Sam released you with a pop and started biting at the skin on your neck and chest, following the marks he had mapped out days before, darkening them. You arched your back into him, straining at your bonds.

"Sam," you moaned shamelessly.

He took your nipple into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth. You gasped and pitched your hips up into him. His hand came down to your stomach, holding you down firmly.

Sam took his mouth off your breast and blew cold air over the spit he left behind. "Come on baby, if you want something, use your words."

You shivered intensely. "Just fuck me already," you whined.

He delivered a sharp slap to the outside of your thigh. You jumped. "Language."

"Sorry, sir," you breathed. "Please."

Sam smirked approvingly, moving up to sit against the headboard beside you. He lifted you up and turned you around so that you were straddling him, twisting your bonds so your arms were around his neck. He dragged his wet mouth up your sternum, breath hot against your skin.

You ground against his hard cock with lips pursed, staring him in the eye, daring him to do something about it. Sam didn't care much about making you use your words in that moment, and lined his cock up with your entrance.

You sunk down gladly, feeling yourself stretch around his length. He swallowed a groan, gritting his teeth and giving you that look again. He was restraining himself. For the time being, you were thankful, because you definitely needed to cum at least once before letting him loose on your body.

Sam's hands fell on your hips, urging you to lift up and start moving. You started bouncing on his cock, hips slamming together, his tip hitting the deepest part of your pussy and still not fitting all the way. Your thighs started to burn and shake and you put more of your weight on your arms, using your bonds to pull yourself up. But you couldn't keep it up and started slowing down, whimpering.

The pain seared up your legs into your dripping core. You could come just like this, you thought. Just clenching around him, staying still. Pain sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You closed your eyes and focused on the knot forming in your stomach, willing it to come undone.

But of course, Sam wouldn't let you. He slapped your ass, bringing you back down to earth. "Come on," he growled. You protested, opening your eyes. "You have to work for it."

"Help me," you whispered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you dragged yourself up and fell again.

"No," he said bluntly. He was smiling coldly, actually enjoying your suffering.

You let out something like a broken sob and began riding him again, slower than before as the muscles in your legs cried out for reprieve. Sam kept his hands on your hips, guiding you as minimally as possible, still making you do most of the work.

"Good," he growled. "Keep going."

He bit kisses into your jaw as you rode him, grinding your clit against his hips, head thrown back. Your breasts bounced as you heaved yourself up and down in a broken rhythm, feeling his cock drag through you unpredictably as your hips stuttered.

After minutes of slow building, the knot inside you suddenly snapped, and you were cumming around his cock before you knew what was happening. "Ah- fuck, fuck," you moaned. You couldn't find the strength to keep fucking yourself with him anymore and dropped.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned as you came fully seated on him, feeling the deepest parts of your walls gripping him like a vice.

You collapsed against his chest, exhausted, your arms suspended above you limply. You felt him tugging at your restraints and they came free, allowing your arms to drop to your sides. Then, he lifted you off his dick and let you fall to the mattress on your back.

Sam was back inside you almost instantly, allowing you little time to recover before he was pumping into you roughly. He propped up your legs, allowing them to fall open on either side of his hips as he fucked you into the mattress.

You could hardly catch your breath with the way he was on you, kissing and biting your lips and jaw. Another orgasm started building inside you, faster than you would've liked. Sam sure knew how to draw them out of you, thrusting at a pace that built the most friction and hit your g-spot with just the right amount of pressure to have you squirming beneath him in seconds. He had learned your body well over the past several days.

You came again with a cry, pleasure washing over you blindingly fast, but Sam showed no signs of stopping, instead doubling down. Tears streamed down your face as he pressed your wrists into the pillow by your head, a feral expression covering his face as he drilled into you.

"Yeah, keep fuckin' comin' for me baby," he growled. A whimper fell from your lips. He didn't even seem close. You had no idea how he had this kind of stamina, especially since you weren't sure if he slept.

Suddenly he released one of your wrists to reach down to the place you were connected, rubbing your clit vigorously. You moaned desperately, hand flying to his shoulder and clawing at his back. He threw his head back and moaned himself, pace faltering.

"Yeah? You like it when I do that, huh," he gritted out. Your nails dug into his shoulder, breaking skin as you came around his cock for the third time.

"Sam!" You practically screamed his name, restrained hand flexing into the air, desperate for something to grasp. Sam grunted and kept thrusting into you, fucking you through your high, and then you felt his warmth seep into you as he followed.

He pulled out and sat back on his knees, continuing to rub your clit as your hands grabbed the pillow behind your head in an effort to lighten the overwhelming sensation.

"Oh god Sam, fuck- stop, please, sir," you blabbered. You opened your eyes to see him stroking his cock to you in the same rhythm as he rubbed your clit; slow at first, but picking up speed in response to your moaning and writhing.

Sam smiled unfeelingly, showing no mercy. "Can't you handle it, baby?" he asked wickedly.

Your hips bucked of their own accord. "Yes, I can- fuck, I can handle it," you whined, eyes wide and shiny, staring desperately at him.

The look on his face alone was enough to send you careening over the edge again, thrashing in his grip as you chased more. More sensation, more of his touch, just more of him. You could feel your mascara melting down your face as involuntary tears flooded out.

You felt him spread your folds with two fingers, smearing your wetness around your pussy and thighs. You jolted as his fingers skated over your clit. "So fucking pretty," he growled. "If only you could see how your pretty pussy is leaking my cum. All pink and puffed up just for me."

Your breath came out in little moans as you struggled to think of a response. "Water," came your voice, barely recognizable to yourself. You tried to sit up and find the glass you'd set by the bed.

Sam grabbed you by the throat and threw you back down. "We're not done yet."

You whimpered, looking up at him to find that same cruel glimmer in his eyes. You felt another pang of arousal rush your body. The way he controlled you was toxic, you knew, but it also turned you on insanely to be thrown around and used like a limp rag doll.

Sam's smile was strangely devoid of emotion as he looked you over, his gaze ending on your face. He wiped your wet cheek with his palm. "Don't cry, sweetheart. I'll give you what you need."

His words were sweet but his expression was deadly. You suddenly found yourself wondering what would happen to you once Sam left. Would he just leave you behind, imprisoned by his memory?

Perhaps it would be your blood staining his shirt one day.

Better to seize the moment while it's still here. You laced your fingers up Sam's neck, grabbing him by the hair, and pulled him down roughly to meet your lips in a messy kiss. He growled into your mouth and gripped your waist tightly. His body weight crushed down on you as he slowly thrust his half-hard cock back inside you. You gasped, the walls of your pussy fluttering at the sensation.

Sam hissed, nose and lips pressed into your neck. His long hair brushed against your cheek. You hooked your legs around him, wanting him closer than was humanly possible.

"Come on, Sammy, fu-uuck," you breathed, nipping his ear.

He jolted up, eyes narrowing on you. His hand was instantly back on your throat, and your own flew up to meet it.

"Don't call me that," he said sharply. His hand tightened below your jawline. You grasped weakly at his fingers. You were becoming lightheaded, but his bruising grip was all you wanted.

Your lips tried to form the words I'm sorry, but no sound would come out. Sam started driving into you, holding you where he wanted you by your neck. With each thrust, the pressure on your neck increased, then decreased. Increased, decreased. You gasped in air on the upstrokes and let yourself become dizzy on the down strokes.

Fire blazed in your core, and you weren't sure if you were cumming again or if you just never stopped. Sam hit deep inside you every time, and soon the pleasure was constant and the pain was fading away. Or maybe it was the opposite. You couldn't tell anymore. You could hardly think anymore, Sam the only thing on your mind.

His hand wrapped around your neck. The weight of him on top of you. The feeling of his cock splitting you open for... was it the fifth time tonight?

"Sam," you rasped, eyes rolling back. The hand squeezing your neck loosened for a moment.

"What?" Sam almost looked angry. He always looked angry, seeming like he had some pent-up rage about something to get out.

"Hurt me," you begged. "Do whatever you want, don't stop- ah!"

Sam squeezed your neck once harshly and let go, hand flying to your thigh, scooping your leg up and pressing it forward, calf resting on his shoulder. He slapped your ass sharply, followed by a slap to your face. You cried out in surprise.

"Such a fucking slut," he grunted, pounding into you harder than you thought possible, his tip bruising your cervix, causing a pleasant ache to rise in you. You couldn't even hope to respond, breath coming out in short pants and gasps.

Pain lit your core on fire, mirroring the blaze in Sam's eyes. You came faintly, feeling exhaustion set in and becoming aware of the layer of sweat that covered your body, dripping onto the sheets.

Sam's skin shone with sweat too, but he glowed. You could only lie there and take it, imagining how worn you looked compared to the god of a man above you.

"Good fuckin' girrrll," he said, sounding strained. His brow knitted together, eyes closed, as his rhythm began to falter once more.

"Give- give it to me," you stuttered, struggling to catch your breath. "Fuck, sir- please!"

Sam's arms scooped underneath you, holding you tightly against his body as he buried his cock deep inside you. His voice cracked as he groaned deeply, pressing into you as far as he could as he released inside you again, shuddering.

It was still for a moment. Sam held you caged in between his big arms, breathing heavily, your hips closely attached. Then he raised his head from where it had dropped into the crook of your neck and fell on your lips, kissing you roughly, letting out the last of his energy for now. You kissed him back with fervor, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other embedded in his bicep.

Sam pulled out, releasing your mouth with one last wet suck, and rolled to your side, pulling you with him to hold you tightly. You traced your fingers dazedly up and down his torso, blinking heavily as exhaustion threatened to take over.

Strangely, Sam didn't seem tired. At least, he didn't seem like he was going to fall asleep, like most men would after going that many rounds. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about something you would never learn. But you had come to expect this from him. He would hold you selfishly until morning, and then he would be gone again, leaving you weak and horny and unsure if he would return in one piece.

You supposed if he didn't sleep, there wouldn't be much else to do at night. You were sure this wouldn't last, he would move on and find another girl to pass the time inflicted by his insomnia. When he left, you would remember how he had made you feel, picturing his face with every other partner, always hoping he would come back and rock your world just once more.

[yours-the-author]

Even criminal overlords fall down sometimes... good thing the Toppat Chief's Right Hand Lady and friends are there to make it better!

God, this took SO LONG. It's not the biggest comic I've ever done, or even the most complex (though it certainly wasn't easy), but getting all of the dialogue to fit was a challenge (I tend to write big and messy, as I'm sure most everyone was able to guess). If the dimensions of the panels seem odd, it's probably because of that.

Right Hand Man's standing over here like "is this really the guy that almost killed me?" Meanwhile, Reginald's more worried about the hat. As he should be; it's a very important hat! Ellie has the patience of a saint... or a mom friend.

How did Henry set the scooter on fire and only get a cut on his knee? It's Henry Stickmin; literally anything is possible. He's probably lost his scooter privileges for a while, though...

Charles isn't dead in this timeline, but I imagine Henry likens him to an angel in multiple ways (self-sacrificing, heroic, handsome... an angel!) He's is still displeased with Henry's choices in this timeline, of course, and Henry knows it. His one regret in life... (I've been reading too many Toppat Henry x Charles fics and comics lately... or maybe not enough?)

Anyway, come get some Toppat King ending food. Chapter one of The Beauty and His Right Hand Beast will be out this Monday... I just need to get started on it, heehee.

[zeroseuniverse]

You're A Cuddler?

Word Count: 512 Summary: Pairing: Hanbin X fem reader

Navigation

The late-night glow of the TV bathed the room in a soft, flickering light. The movie playing on the screen was some predictable romantic comedy that neither of them had been paying much attention to. They had planned a casual movie night, but somewhere along the way, the blanket fort on the couch and the open bag of popcorn had lulled her into a relaxed silence.

She shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing against Hanbin’s. She glanced over, noticing how comfortable he seemed. His head rested against the back of the couch, his dark hair slightly messy from the way he had been running his hands through it earlier.

What she didn’t expect was the way he subtly leaned toward her as he moved, closing the small gap between their shoulders.

“Are you getting tired?” she  asked softly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Hanbin shook his head, but his eyes were half-lidded, betraying how relaxed he had gotten. “Not really. Just... comfortable.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Comfortable, huh? You’re kind of leaning on me there, you know.”

Hanbin opened one eye, giving her a sheepish grin. “Am I? Didn’t notice.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, amused. She didn’t move, though. The warmth of him pressed against her side was oddly comforting.

Minutes passed, the movie continuing in the background, when Hanbin suddenly shifted. Without warning, he slouched down and rested his head on her shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.

She froze for a second, caught off guard. “Uh, Hanbin?”

“Hmm?” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric of her shirt.

She raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn’t see it. “Never took you for such a cuddler…”

That got a quiet laugh out of him, the sound vibrating against her shoulder. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” she replied, fighting back a grin. “Just... unexpected.”

Hanbin tilted his head up slightly to meet her gaze, his expression a mix of playful and serious. “Well, you make it easy to want to stay close. You’re like... I don’t know. A safe space.”

She blinked at the unexpected confession, her cheeks warming. “Safe space, huh? That’s new.”

“It’s true,” Hanbin said, settling back down. “I don’t usually do this, you know. But with you... it just feels right.”

His words hung in the air, soft and genuine. Her teasing smirk softened into something gentler as she looked at him.

“Well, if it feels right, then who am I to stop you?” she said, shifting slightly to give him a more comfortable position.

Hanbin smiled against her shoulder, his voice a quiet murmur. “Thanks. You’re not so bad at this cuddling thing either, you know.”

She rolled her eyes fondly but didn’t bother responding. The weight of Hanbin against her, his steady breaths and the warmth of his presence, said more than words ever could.

The movie continued playing, but neither of them noticed. The night had found its own rhythm, one that didn’t need dialogue or drama—just the quiet comfort of being close to someone who felt like home.

[dekariosclan]

how would gale be w a pregnant Tav? Especially one who might be gnc/trans so would have to deal w other folks being weird about that

Ooh Anon, this question had me pondering for a bit! This delves into one of the lesser-discussed, lesser-known aspects of our fav wizard: Protective Gale©️. And while I love that aspect of Gale, it’s also a difficult one to parse because he only shows a few glimpses of it during the game! But we’re gonna try.

The most notable instance and the one most relevant to your ask, is, of course, in the very beginning of the game, when Astarion threatens Tav with a knife, then tells everyone there’s no need for this to get messy. Gale replies:

Cheerful, wanting to avoid bloodshed if possible, but deadly serious about protecting Tav. That’s our Gale in a nutshell, and that’s how I think he would approach most situations where Tav was made to feel uncomfortable—with one important caveat: the above dialogue was Gale’s protective response for a Tav that he barely knew. So a partnered Tav? A Tav he knows completely and one that he loves and adores? His ‘protective’ response would, of course, be amplified accordingly.

So, to your ask! First of all, if Gale and Tav agreed to have children, I think Gale would be absolutely 1000% invested. Not only in the overall preparations for the baby, but also in making sure Tav was comfortable and doted on their whole pregnancy. Worshipped, almost.

Because he would think they are the most stunningly beautiful creature he had ever beheld.

And if some Waterdhavian jackass decided to noticeably leer at them, or make a rude offhand remark, I think Gale’s initial response would be a few tight-lipped, cutting comments. You know, some of the bangers he’s been known to throw out if he really gets offended. He might even gently but firmly insist that this individual apologize to his beloved for their appalling lack of decorum.

But if that wasn’t enough to shut it down and end the situation? If this person got aggressive or openly hateful and said some truly appalling things about Tav?

Then I think Gale would square his jaw, smile at Tav and gently direct them away from the situation.

“My dearest, forgive me for overstepping—I know you could have taken care of this brute by yourself were you not in the current state of carrying our child—but seeing as that’s the case, please go and rest for a moment, my love, and I’ll join you shortly.”

Then, with the calmness and confidence of a former Archmage, an unwavering smile on his face, Gale would turn back to this idiot. And whilst performing a few complex finger motions to show his mastery of the Weave, say charmingly:

“Would you prefer simple immolation, or shall I rework the entire fabric of your being into a form that better understands how to act like a gentleman?”

Needless to say, Tav would be receiving a LOT of very humbled apologies from anyone who dared to offer any negative commentary on their appearance during their pregnancy.