#just want to commit crimes with h

[ryoflix]

sukuna being the test subject of your lip products | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n suggestive (under the cut), estb. rl ؛ ଓ

you don’t ask anymore. you just do.

the moment a new PR package shows up—wrapped in glittery tissue, smelling like candy and capitalism—you’re already rolling up your sleeves and calling, “baby, come here. test dummy time.” sukuna groans from wherever he’s sulking in the apartment (usually the couch, half-asleep with one hand in a bag of chips and the other on his game controller). he pretends not to hear you, but he does. he always does.

“what now?” he drags his feet over. shirtless, pouting, voice gravelly with freshly summoned attitude. “if this is another ‘juicy lip plumper no. 3’ i’m gonna riot.”

you ignore him, your hand snaking around his wrist and pulls him down to your vanity stool like you pay him for this. in a way, you do — you kiss him after, and he’d commit federal crimes for that.

“this one’s called eternal cherry kiss,” you say as you uncap the applicator with a dramatic flourish. “supposed to last through eating and drinking. you’ll be the judge.”

“what the fuck is ‘eternal cherry’ supposed to taste like?”

“eternally cherry, obviously.” you lean in. “now pucker up.”

he rolls his eyes, exhales through his nose like this is such an inconvenience, but he leans in anyway. you swipe the gloss across his mouth in a single fluid motion — crimson and glossy, instantly turning his lips into a billboard ad for ‘kissing season.’

he smacks his lips. frowns.

“feels sticky.”

you pull out your phone and hit record. “and now, we let the wear test begin.”

by 2 p.m., he’s still wearing it. there’s a faint cherry sheen while he raids in world of warcraft, barking orders through his mic with his mouth shimmering like a debutante. his guild doesn’t say anything. they know better.

by 5 p.m., you’ve taken him out for errands, the cashier at the pharmacy doing a double take. sukuna glares at the display of cough drops like it wronged him personally, but he doesn’t wipe it off. not even once.

you hand him a mic for the “after” segment. he’s sitting on the kitchen counter, shirtless again, lips still kissed-stained and glowy.

“so, mr. sukuna,” you say with your best influencer voice. “tell us your final review.”

he glares at the camera as he crosses his arms. the gloss is half-faded, but still there, like a badge of honor.

“it’s obnoxious. it survived a shower. survived battle. survived me eating an entire plate of biryani. and her biting my bottom lip at lunch like a demon in heat.”

you make a peace sign from behind the phone.

“…ten outta ten,” he adds reluctantly. “would wear again. for science. or whatever.”

and in the comments, someone goes, “i want what they have.”

sukuna replies from your account—because of course he has the password—with: “die mad about it.”

but since testing lip products just on the lips is for cowards, you’ve upgraded.

this is science. clinical, methodical, incredibly serious influencer business. and sukuna? well, he’s your canvas. your unwilling, irritable, secretly-over-the-moon canvas. he walks into the room already shirtless—because at this point, he knows—arms crossed over his bare chest, all grumble and menace. “so what’s the experiment today, doc? you gonna write your damn @ on my forehead in pink gloss?”

“don’t tempt me,” you say sweetly, uncapping the new gloss. it’s called kissbomb ultra lacquer, and it smells like peaches. “this one claims to last twelve hours, transfer-proof, fade-resistant, and kink-safe.”

he blinks. “kink-safe?”

“don’t worry about it.” you grab his wrist and guide him to sit on the edge of the bed. “shirt off.”

“already is,” he mutters.

“pants too.”

he raises a brow. “...you testing or tryna get laid?”

“yes.”

you climb into his lap with the confidence of a scientist mid-breakthrough, gloss wand in one hand, determination in the other. you apply it slowly, precisely, like you’re prepping for war.

and then the kisses start.

soft little muahs on the corner of his jaw. one on the bridge of his nose. two on his neck, left and right, where his pulse ticks faster. one on each shoulder, then trailing down the hard curve of his bicep. his arms are crossed still, fists clenched, jaw tight—but his ears? red. his breathing? not as chill as he wants to seem.

you murmur, “don’t flex. you’ll smudge the print.”

“’m not flexing,” he says through gritted teeth. “this is just how i exist.”

you keep going. lips marking his collarbones, his ribs, his stomach. lower. every kiss leaving a little stain in a perfect pink imprint like someone went stamp! stamp! stamp! on your big scary man and turned him into a valentine’s day clearance bin.

“you know,” you say thoughtfully, inspecting your work, “you kinda look like the lesbian flag right now.”

he glares at you. “say that again and i’ll throw you out the window.”

you grin, not even fazed. “oh no. my hot queer ally boyfriend’s covered in lip prints. whatever will i do.”

the whole day, he walks around the apartment looking like a sexy battlefield. every mirror he passes, he pauses—just for a second—checking if they’re still there. (they are. of course they are. you chose a good gloss.)

he’s got one kiss mark on the dip of his spine. two on the inside of his thighs. one perfectly placed behind his ear that makes him twitch every time he catches the scent of peach.

“stop looking at me like that,” he growls at you from across the room, sprawled out on the couch later, sipping water and trying to act normal. “you look like a cat who just knocked over a vase.”

you climb on top of him again. inspect a few faded spots. reapply.

“just touching up my art,” you murmur. “quality control.”

he leans his head back and sighs, but his hands are already settling on your hips. there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s so pretending to hate this. he’s so full of shit.

and when you post a blurry photo of your masterpiece—captioned “new gloss. 12 hour wear. boyfriend approved 💋”—you wake up the next morning to 4,700 comments and one furious growl from sukuna.

“who the fuck is asking if they can be next?”

you hum, flipping over in bed to kiss him right on the chest. “don’t worry, baby. the gloss may be long-lasting, but you’re the exclusive trial subject.” he grumbles, eyes half-lidded, smug despite himself.

“…damn right i am.”

kiss divider by @uzmacchiato

[ilovethanosdick]

Choi Su-bong/Thanos (Squid Game) x fem! reader HCS

IM OBSESSED WITH THIS MAN!!!!!

also first ever post?! it’s a little short, but hope ya enjoy!!

SFW:

• he ADORES physical touch

• touching u at every chance he gets, like even simple hand holding, leaning against u

• HE LOVES IT ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES FROM U!!

• casually grabs u by ur ass in public, or give u a lil slap. when u confront him about it, he acts like he dont know what are u talking about, then giggle

• using ur breast like fidget toy, when he’s stressed

• squeezing it, when he feels like it

• shoving his head between ur boobs, bro can stay like that for a good 10 minutes until he calms down

• if u ask him if he would still love u as a worm, he would tell u that he’s not a zoophile

• pet names!! baby, babe, princess are his favs!

• he’s not so good with commitment and stuff like that, would prefer an open relationship (one sided tho, he's so possesive of u)

• have huge jealousy issues when it comes to u

• a male species near u??? he goes into rage mode, getting aggressively touchy to claim u! show everyone that u are his!!

• would apologise to u with rap songs

“Y/N” he screamed outside your house. throwing rocks at the window to wake u up.

“what the fuck…” u muttered to yourself, as u walked over to the window to check what this idiot come up with this time.

as soon as he saw your face, he screamed again, his hands clutching onto his chest “SEÑORITA!!! I WANT TO APOLOGISE TO U!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!! U DO REALISE THAT ITS 3 AM RIGHT NOW???” u screamed back at him, slightly leaning forward through window.

“I LOVE U!!!!!” he get on his knees.

“ARE U HIGH?????” u asked, clearly pissed at his presence.

“HI!!!!!” he said as he waved his hands to u, enthusiastically with a goofy grin.

even after this response, u can’t tell if he’s high. that’s pretty much how he’s acting regardless if he’s on drugs or not.

he turn on boombox, a cliche beat hit your ears. he stands up and cleared his throat.

“Yo, I messed up, I admit it, I’m a clown,

Flirting like a fool when you weren’t around.

But I swear, it was harmless, just a slip of the tongue,

Now I’m here confessing where I went wrong.

I told her, "Hey, nice shoes," and that’s all I meant,

But now I’m in the doghouse, paying the rent.

Baby, you’re the star, the queen of my heart,

And that other conversation? A throwaway part.

She laughed at my joke, yeah, I felt kinda cool,

But now I see, I was the class clown fool.

I’d never trade you for some silly chat,

You’re the boss, the CEO, I’m just the doormat.

I’ll buy you flowers, write your name in the sky,

Sing off-key if it’ll dry your eyes.

I’ll even quit drugs if you need me to,

Just don’t leave me hangin’, I’m a mess without you.

So baby, I’m here, on my knees with this beat,

Admitting my crimes, can’t handle defeat.

Let’s laugh this off, put it in the past,

‘Cause you and me, girl, we’re built to last.”

he end up the song showing a small heart formed with his thumb and index finger.

u sighed “all right, come inside”

“YAYY!!!” he did a happy jump and clapped his feet in midair.

• tbh he’s so silly

• steals flowers from a random garden for u

• night visits, but uses a window instead of a door to enter ur place, literally like some kind of teenager

• even if u gave him the keys to ur apartment, he will use the window no matter what

it was dark outside, about 11 pm. u were coming back from work. damn how exhausted u felt. some arguments with clients, boss yelling at u. it was not ur best day for sure.

u checked ur phone. still no text from Thanos. why he was ghosting u? probably he don’t want to deal with ur complains about how bad ur day went.

u opened the apartment door. u don't give a damn about anything. you plan to go to bed right away, you don't have the strength to change your clothes, wash yourself or eat something.

you threw everything aside and went to the bedroom. when you turn on the light in the room, you see your boyfriend lying on his side, resting his head on his hand, rose in his teeth.

“U WANT TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK???” u flinched. u can’t get used to Thanos randomly spawning in ur house.

“and i missed u too, princess” he grinned, standing up and then theatrically hand over the rose to u.

“i brought ur fav burgers and lotta beer” he said, pointing out at ur kitchen.

“thanks” u smiled softly at him. u can’t help but melt inside at his behaviour. he’a an asshole, but what a cute asshole.

“no problem, babe” he leaned to u, giving u a tight hug. burying his face in the crook of ur neck.

• avoids deep emotional conversation

• would tell that he loves u, but he don’t put much weight into that

• he’s saying it casually like it’s common sense that he loves u

• painting each others nails!!!!

NSFW:

• pansexual king, but he wouldn’t label himself

• he don’t care about gender, he fucks who he consider as cute and that’s it!!

• when u ride him, he would comment something like: WROOM WROOM!! or YEEHAW!!!

• A TOTAL FREAK….

• piss kink (y’all can’t prove me wrong)

• HE LIKES IT DIRTY!!!!

• public sex

• like fingering u in a club or on a party, sometimes anal when he's high

• claiming u like that in front of other people?? IT TURNS HIM ON SO BADD

• never a sub, it would hurt his ego

• bro don’t know what gentle sex is

• always rough and aggressive

• smokes weed/cigarettes during sex, blowing smoke in your face

• talking about himself in third person "yeah, babe. the great Thanos will make u feel so good”

“u like that slut? u like Thanos’s dick that much??”

• he’s not into after care. usually he just rolls down on bed, doesn't even bother putting on clothes, hug u tightly and fall asleep like that

[hughes-your-daddy]

breakups

pairing: hughes!reader x lil nico hischier

warning: toxic relationship

summary: you go to your brothers after a bad breakup but end up seeing someone else

the three brothers were set up in jack and luke’s apartment having played the yearly hughes bowl and enjoying their day off, accompanied by nico with them. they’re laughing as they rewatch the match in the kitchen, perking at the sound of knocking.

luke gets up, still laughing at the conversation opening the door and smiling dropping immediately seeing his younger sister. you stand there, tears streaming down your face as you immediately dive into his arms, burying your face into his chest.

“hey, y/n what’s happened? talk to me?” luke asks, concerned at the rate of your breathing. he slowly guides you into the door, dragging your suitcase in, while still keeping you wrapped in one of his arms.

“luke who is it?” you hear jacks voice carry through, luke shooting his a look over your shoulder, “y/n, what’s going on?” he asks quickly coming over seeing your state.

“h-he cheated on me.” you manage to get out with laboured breathing.

luke and jack share a glance before they’re finally joined by quinn.

“did i hear y/n - woah, what the fucks going on?” he asks quickly coming over, taking you in his arms.

“brad, he cheated on me.” you stutter out again feeling quinn’s arms tighten around you.

luke looks between his two brothers mouthing ‘what do we do?’ as you continue to cry into quinn’s shoulder. jacks shrugs his shoulders whilst quinn just shakes his head guiding you into the living room, followed by the other two.

quinn settles the two of you on the couch, jack on the other side of you and luke perched on the coffee table infront of you.

your boyfriend of 4 years and fiancée of 1 year, didn’t realise you’d be home early from your work trip, finding him and his colleague in bed together doing god knows what. you didn’t take any time in packing, grabbing as much as you could throwing it in a suitcase and getting a taxi straight to the airport. you kept hearing brad calling you, as you were packing but you had to block him out and the only place you could think to go is new jersey, the weekend of the hughesbowl.

“just takes some breaths for me bugs.” quinn says softly gently rubbing up and down your shoulder trying to calm you down. you manage to find your breath taking a minute to ground yourself. “that’s great bug, do you wanna talk now?” he asks and you shrug your shoulders small hiccups breaking the silence.

“or do i just need to go and commit a crime?” luke asks getting a slap off of jack, “ow, im just being real.” he murmurs causing a very small smile to come on your face.

“n-no, don’t,” you hiccup looking to luke, “he’s not worth it.” you sigh looking down at your lap. “do you guys mind if i stay here for a bit?” you ask looking between jack and luke.

“of course bugs, we’ll move quinn onto the sofa, you can take the guest bedroom.” jack smiles, pressing a small kiss to your temple before getting up and moving your suitcase into the small bedroom.

“hey guys, do you want me to pause- oh uh hey.” you hear the sound of nicos voice before you see him, you lock eyes, as he freezes at the sight of you.

“hi nico.” you say with a slight chuckle.

“uh, do you guys want me to leave or?” he asks, awkwardly standing there unsure as to what to do.

quinn looks to you, asking through his eyes what you want to do.

“it’s alright,” you say turning to nico, “you can stay. i think im gonna take a shower anyway.” you smile giving luke and quinn one last look of reassurance before heading off to the spare bedroom, nico giving you a small pat on the shoulder as you walk past, your eyes lingering on each other for a second longer than normal.

you walk down the hallway to the small spare room, seeing jack unpacking your suitcase for you.

“i’m assuming this isn’t everything huh?” jack asks, looking up from the half open dresser.

“no, i don’t really know when i’ll be back.” you sigh dropping down onto the end of the bed.

“do you want me to get rid of that?” he asks looking down at your hands, you follow his eyes seeing you unconsciously playing with your engagement ring.

“oh uh..” you stutter, haven’t not thought about it, “just hide it somewhere, maybe so i won’t find it?” you ask, slipping it off your finger and holding it out.

“of course.” he says softly, sending a sad smile your way before taking it from your grasp, slipping it into his pocket.

“ok, i’ve unpacked your clothes, the only thing left is some of your toiletries, but i thought you might want to sort them.” he says motioning to your case, before turning to see you looking down, eyes watering slightly.

“hey,” he says gently, kneeling down so his eyes meet yours, “he wasnt worth your time anyway, trust me, you’ll find someone better.” he says, gently wiping a tear.

“thanks jacky.” you sniffle before he wraps you in his arms, placing another kiss on your forehead before leaving you to relax.

you quickly make work of taking that hot shower washing off the airport air, before slipping into some sweats and a random hoodie you find hidden in one of the drawers, assuming it’s one of your brothers. you tie your hair up, not bothering to dry it and move into the living room.

you walk past all 4 boys plopping yourself on the edge of the couch, before looking up to see everyone looking at you.

“what?” you mumble looking between each of them.

“that’s nicos hoodie.” jack plainly says as you look down spotting the number 13 next to the devils logo.

“oh, i can take it off.” you quickly say, moving to take it off before a voice stops you.

“nah, it’s all good, don’t worry.” nico says and you look over to see a soft smile on his face.

“oh. uh thanks.” you mumble, slightly embarrassed at the recent encounter.

“how about we order takeout for tonight?” quinn asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“yeh im good with that.” you smile, eyes still not leaving nico’s. he sends you another smile, causing you to look away, focusing on the movie on the tv.

you’ve known nico for a while now. as soon as you turned 18, you moved out to new jersey to visit jack, only moving away once you became engaged to be closer to brad. you two hit it off immediately, but you always thought there was a weird tension between the two of you, you just never took any notice of it due to being in a relationship, well, one that was very toxic.

that was another thing, you hadn’t quite been too open about your situation with your brothers, only the occasional drop in the middle of a convo but nothing too big. that was one thing you knew you needed to tell them, the reality you were living.

yous settle on the couch waiting for the food to be delivered watching some random film on netflix that luke said was good. your mind drifts back to nico. you’re still wearing his hoodie, why would he be so relaxed about it. maybe there was something worth paying attention too.

the food finally arrives, your brothers heading to the kitchen to sort it all out, leaving you and nico in the living room.

“so, how have you been?” nico asks breaking the silence, as you send a look over to him, knowing he can probably guess, “sorry, stupid question.” he mumbles, looking down and fiddling with the blanket over his lap.

“no, no. uh, been better but what can you do with breakups, you feel shit for a while then it gets better.” you smile over to him seeing his brows furrow.

“i thought you were engaged?” he asks, as your cheeks redden slightly at the thought.

“i was, uh guess he preferred his colleague.” you joke seeing a small smile on his face, trying to lighten the situation.

“i know there’s someone out there for you y/n, i know we’ve only known each other for a little while but i can tell you’re worth more than however he treat you.” nico smiles, causing a blush to cover your cheeks before your saved by luke, quinn and jack returning with plates filled with food.

“here you go bugs.” luke smiles, holding out a plate and a fork before dropping down beside you.

“thanks.” you smile, digging in trying to push away any thoughts of that past conversation.

but you fail. maybe your mind was trying to tell you something that you kept refusing to hear.

┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈ ┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈ ┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈

a few months past and your starting to feel a lot lighter, planning your future and where the hell you’re going to live now. you came to an agreement with brad that he was going to ship your stuff over and if anything was missing lawyers would get involved with the way he was acting.

quinn had to be released for the rest of the season due to an injury, so right now it’s all four siblings living together which can come with some cons.

“luke, will you just shut up please.” you mumble at his bedroom door, seeing him laid in bed playing some game on his playstation.

“what?” he asks, moving his headset off his ear.

“can you be quiet please, it’s 2am, i’m tryna sleep.” you sigh, seeing him shrug.

“sure.” he mumbles, headset back on focused on his game again, most likely not paying attention to anything.

you sigh, heading to the kitchen as you know he probably won’t be getting any quieter any time soon.

you move across to fill the kettle up, going to make some tea to try and calm you, waiting for the water to boil when your phone buzzes in your hoodie pocket.

you pull it out, seeing nico’s name across the screen with a new message.

the two of you had been messaging and talking after their practice recently, seeing as you haven’t caught up in around a year. it was nice to know you had someone in your corner other than your brothers and best friends, the support meant everything to you.

you up?

yeh, making some tea, everything good

can’t sleep, wanna call?

yeh, that’d be nice

you prop your phone up against the backsplash as you continue making your tea, being careful not to wake quinn who’s still on the couch in the living room, although it is an extremely comfy couch that you’ve spent a fair share of nights on and woke up without back issues.

nicos call comes through and you answer straight away, as his face fills the screen. hair tossled and poking in different directions you assume from the lack of sleep.

“morning.” you chuckle, seeing only the brief outline of his features in the dark room.

“mmh, i’m assuming you can’t sleep either.” he says blanking you.

“luke’s playing some game, he’s like shouting at his friends through his headset. i don’t know how quinn and jack are still asleep.” you mumble, grabbing your mug and heading back to your room.

you settle under the quilt, sitting cross legged brb hands cradling your mug, as you rest your phone against a pillow.

“trust me, jack doesn’t sleep, he complains about that all the time. i think he just tries to blank him out.” nico chuckles, moving so his face is seen better.

“i’m having some people over tomorrow for my birthday, was wondering if you wanna come.” your eyes widen as you place your mug down on the small bedside table.

“ok hang on, 1) i didnt realise your birthday was tomorrow, i usually bake you a cake and 2) did you call me at 2am just to ask me to come to a birthday party?” you ask, feeling a sense of guilt for forgetting his birthday.

“well, 1) you’ve went through a lot lately, i didn’t expect you to worry about a cake and 2) maybe?” he smirks, a matching blush on each of your cheeks.

“i know, but still, im gonna get you something ok, and of course ill come. something positive for a change.” you smile, seeing his own smile grow, before a yawn escapes your lips.

“ok, i’m gonna go, let you sleep.” nico smiles, moving to lay down better in bed.

“no, it’s ok, i can talk.” you smile, even though you feel the exhaustion still.

“nah, i’m feeling tired now myself, ill see you tomorrow. goodnight schatz.” he smiles before you return.

“goodnight nico.” you smile before handing up and moving to head back to sleep before your eyes shoot open.

“schatz?” you whisper to yourself before rolling over to search your phone the meaning. you find yourself smiling at the result ‘a term of endearment’ and with that you fall asleep feeling a lot happier than you woke up with.

the following morning you asked your brothers to go shopping, to try and find something for nico’s birthday tomorrow, so here you were browsing another shop in the mall tryin to find him something.

“who were you talking to last night?” quinn asks as the two of you walk the isles, jack and luke off finding something for lunch.

“just nico.” you say casually before realising quinn stopped walking as was looking at you with his eyebrow raised.

“it’s not like that.” you lie, turning back around to continue walking as quinn catches up to you.

“i’m not saying that, just don’t rush anything yeh? i don’t want to see you hurt again?” he says gently, looking over you with concerned eyes.

“i wouldn’t be rushing anything and you know nick would never hurt me.” you look over seeing him agree, “and besides we’re just there for each other you know? someone to talk to.” you say before your eyes fall on the perfect present.

a small bear wearing a devils jersey, as he used to call you bear when you first met as he couldn’t pronounce y/n. you quickly take it to checkout before heading back to the apartment to wrap it

the next morning you wake up at 7, and make quick work of his birthday cake. you quickly get up, throwing on sweats and a hoodie before tying your hair up. you make your way into the kitchen, baking at small cake, enough to only feed him with white frosting and a red trim with the number 26 in small in the middle.

you smile taking a few pictures before hearing the pattering of feet from one of your brothers.

“mmh, what’s this?” jack asks mid stretch, rubbing his eye.

“nico’s cake so hands off.” you slap his hand away centimetres from swiping a lump of frosting.

“sorry, mrs bossy.” jack mumbles before pulling you into a side hug, “he’ll love it.” he smiles, pressing a small kiss to your temple before moving away to start breakfast.

“i hope so.”

the morning quickens once everyone’s awake, quickly eating some breakfast before they nice to get ready. you quickly shower and dry your hair, before beginning your makeup, making it a bit heavier than normal knowing people will be taking pictures, before curling your hair. you decide on a pair of baggy low rise jeans paired with an off the shoulder top, tucked up to show your waist. you quickly slide some hughes on before your moving into the kitchen where your bothers wait.

“i’ve got the cake,” quinn smiles, jack hiding the presents.

“let’s go then.” you smile as you head down to jacks car, him driving as he won’t drink. you pile in, you and luke in the back making your way over to nicos apartment.

you pull up outside, jack parking before you get out and heading up, yous can hear the music from inside already blasting meaning people are most likely already here.

you knock, your brothers beside you, as nico opens the door, smile plastered on his face.

“hey guys.” he smiles to the boys welcoming them in before pulling you into a hug.

“hey schatz.” he smiles bending down due to your height difference

“happy birthday nico.” you smile as he pulls way and lets you inside.

“you look really nice.” he smiles as he walks you over to grab a drink.

“thank you, here’s your present.” you smile holding out the small gift bag. he carefully takes it from you, the small gift looking even smaller in his hands as he opens the small ribbon. a small laugh erupts from him as he pulls out the small bear.

“you didn’t have to,” he smiles pulling you into for another hug.

“well it’s your birthday, of course i’d do something, and quinn has your cake as well.” you smile as he pulls away.

“thank you, i really love it.” he smiles looking at the small bear, “it’s you.” he smiles as you giggle.

“that’s why i pick it out.” you say, taking a glass of wine.

yous move to join the others seeing all his teammate and friends crowding his apartment, yous dance and sing along to the music eventually singing happy birthday before the crowd starts to die down, people going home.

“so how’s it feel being old?” jack chirps, only you guys left at his house as you lounge around the living room, soft music now playing quietly on the speakers.

“i’m only like 3 years older than you.” nico fires back, everyone laughing. you swish the wine in your glass feeling a little tipsy but not too much so you can’t handle yourself. you smile seeing the interactions between your brothers and their friend.

“what about you y/n?” nico asks as you zone back in.

“sorry what?” you ask unaware of the question.

“plans for the future?” nico asks the other looking at you.

“well i’m looking at apartments here and thinking about applying for one of the team physicians on the team.” you smile, seeing quinn send a proud brother smile over to you.

“that would be great, seeing you every day.” luke smiles, a little too drunk.

“lukey,” you giggle. “you see me everyday already.” you say the others laughing at how far gone he is.

“he’s right though, it would be nice.” nico says softly,jack agreeing.

“well that’s if i get the job and no jack your not pulling any cards for me, if i get it, i get it cause im good at what i do.” you say, seeing jack about to offer his help.

yous continue talking for a while before you decide it’s time to head home, jack and quinn help get luke down to the car while you wait behind with nico, help start clearing up.

“thank you for today really,” he smiles, as you start to pick up empty solo cups.

“i didn’t really do anything, just came along.” you smile, a little off balance due to the wine.

“that’s all i wanted really, for you to come.” he says causing you to stumble slightly at his statement, but not before he caught you, arms around your waist.

you giggle at the interaction causing a small laugh out of him as well.

“had maybe a little too much to drink huh?” he asks moving your wine glass out the way, still keeping an arm around your waist, as your giggles die down

“nico?” you whisper, body’s close and lips almost on each others. you see his eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes seeing the conflict in his eyes.

“can i?” he asks leaning down slightly.

“please,” you let out before his lips crash onto yours, your hands immediately threading into his hair and his grasp your waist slightly tighter. he slowly pushes a tongue into your mouth a small moan pushing past your lips.

you squeal slightly as he suddenly picks you up, placing you on the counter causing you both to laugh, as he pulls away, settling between your legs.

“was that alright?” he asks suddenly shy, as his fingers draw circles on the visible skin of your waist.

“nico?” you asks causing him to look up, “it was perfect.” you smile as he buries his face into your neck, feeling him smile, your hands moving to the tape of his neck.

“stay tonight?” he asks pulling away to look in your eyes.

“i don’t have anything to wear,” you sigh, hands cupping his cheeks.

“just take one of my shirts, i mean if you want, you don’t have to obviously. i know it’s been rocky since the last relationship.” he rambles, as you remember what brought yous together in the first place.

“i don’t wanna take things too fast given the past,” you say keeping eye contact, “but i’ll happily stay over tonight.” you smile seeing his grow on his face.

“ok.” he smiles as you reply “ok” the same way. that’s when you hear your brothers coming back upstairs so he quickly moves away from standing between your legs.

“y/n you ready to go?” jack asks, quinn sending you a knowing look.

“actually, do you mind stopping over for the night, my back is killing from the sofa, was wondering if i could sleep in the spare bedroom?” quinn asks sending you a small smile.

“that’s all fine, she can stay in the guest room here.” nico says to him not catching on.

“alright then, night bugsy.” jack smiles, hugging you and pressing a kiss to your temple , before quinn does the same.

“thank you.” you whispers to quinn who gives you an extra squeeze.

“just be careful yeh?” he whispers back and you nod.

“night quinny.” you pull away before nick walks them out and you keep tidying. your picking up cups before you feel hands around your waist lifting you into the air, and over nicos shoulder.

“nico.” you squeal, feeling the dizziness of the alcohol take effect.

“we can tidy tomorrow.” he laughs, before setting you down in his room, “lemme grab you some clothes.”

“this doesn’t seem like the guest room.” you smirk plopping onto the bed.

“you think i’d make you sleep in the guest room?” he asks pulling out a tshirt and some of his pyjama pants, “unless you want to?” he asks turning small.

“no no,” you reassure him moving over to where he is swaying slightly, wrapping your arms around his waist, his coming around your back, “i’d love to stay here with you, just maybe not ready for anything more than kissing right now.” you smile up at him as he nods.

“of course, whatever you want,” he smiles before handing you some clothes and letting you change in the en-suite bathroom, being swamped in the clothes before stepping out and seeing him shirtless but in sweatpants on his bed, sat against the headrest.

you walk out slightly shy as you notice his eyes on you. “beautiful.” he says under his breath that you catch, a blush creeping up onto your cheeks. “come here.” he smiles opening his arms for you to climb into, practically on top of him.

“you’re pretty like this.” he smiles, hand traced circles on your skin under the tshirt, before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, quickly the kiss deepening as you hoist yourself up onto his lap, his hands cupping your ass. you loop your arms around his neck as the kiss continues to deepen before pulling away after a few minutes.

“i can get used to this.” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his, as his hands move up and down your body gently with no sexual intent.

“i think i can mark that work.” he teases cause you to pull away and laugh, before settling to a comfortable silence.

“do you wanna come apartment search with me? i have a booking in a couple days?” you ask, slightly nervous as to what his response could be.

“of course, but you know your welcome here any time?” he smiles, before pressing a kiss you your forehead as you nod.

“yeh, i’m really lucky to have you.” you smile, moving off his lap to settle under the covers and finally get some sleep.

“trust me, i’m the lucky one.” he smiles, pulling you close against his chest before yous drift off to a peaceful sleep.

[undiagnosedcruelty]

Gummy Worm ?

Pairing: Han Jisung x reader x skz

Genre: fluff, crackfic

Summary: A gummy worm, a fake wedding, and a proposal.

────────────────────────────────────────

────────────────────────────────────────

Content Warning: chaos, fluff, crack humor, chan ugly crying

Word count: 1.4k

────────────────────────────────────────

EVERYTHING WRITTEN IS PURELY FICTION──NOTHING IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO ANY REAL LIFE EVENTS.

It starts, like most ridiculous things in your life, with Han Jisung and his unhinged ideas.

You’re stretched out on the couch, barely paying attention to the TV as your phone screen glows dimly in your hands. It’s a lazy afternoon, the kind where time stretches in slow waves, and the biggest dilemma on your mind is whether or not you want to get up and make a snack.

That is, until Jisung plops down next to you with all the grace of a sleepy cat, limbs sprawled in a way that takes up as much space as possible. He nudges your knee with his own, bouncing slightly like he’s holding back some great revelation. You glance at him, already wary.

He’s grinning. That’s never a good sign.

“Hey,” he says, like he’s about to change your life.

“…Hey?”

He holds out his hand, fingers curled around something. With a slow, almost theatrical motion, he opens his palm, revealing—

A gummy worm.

You raise an eyebrow. “Is this a peace offering? Did you commit a crime?”

Jisung snickers but shakes his head. Then, with absolutely no preamble, he says:

“Marry me.”

There’s a beat of silence. You stare at him. He stares at you. The TV hums in the background, blissfully unaware of the absurdity happening in the room.

Finally, you say, “Jisung, this is a gummy worm.”

“Yeah,” he replies, completely unfazed, “but imagine if it wasn’t.”

His face is entirely serious, which only makes it worse. His brown eyes gleam with mischief, but there’s something oddly sincere beneath the surface, something that makes your heart stumble in a way you refuse to acknowledge.

His expression is so sincere—so utterly devoid of the chaos you know is brewing beneath the surface—that it throws you off. You huff a laugh, shaking your head. “And what exactly are we imagining here?”

“That this is the most romantic proposal ever,” he says. He carefully takes your hand and slides the gummy worm onto your ring finger with a reverence that makes it worse. “That I planned a whole thing. That you’re weeping, overcome with emotion—”

“I’m about to start crying for real if you don’t shut up.”

“But in a sexy way, not a gross way.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Jisung grins, tilting his head like he’s won something. “So… is that a yes?”

And maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, eyes warm and playful, or maybe it’s just the sheer absurdity of it all, but you decide to play along.

With an exaggerated sigh, you hold up your hand, gummy worm and all. “Fine. Sure. I accept your very serious proposal.”

Jisung gasps, eyes widening. “Wait. Really?”

“You started this, husband.”

His entire face lights up. “OH MY GOD. WE HAVE TO HAVE A WEDDING.”

“Wait—what? No—”

Too late. He’s already screaming.

“GUYS! WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

And that’s where everything spirals.

A Questionable Wedding Ceremony

It all happened so fast, you find yourself standing in the middle of the dorm’s living room, facing Han Jisung in what has to be the most absurd fake wedding ceremony in existence.

The couch is shoved aside to create an aisle—if you can even call it that—lined with mismatched LED lights that flicker between colors, making the whole thing look like a neon fever dream. Someone (definitely Felix) has draped a bedsheet over a chair to serve as an altar, the fabric wrinkled and slipping off at the edges. A bouquet of fake plastic flowers from Minho’s room (originally meant for his cats) sits in a cereal box “vase” at the front.

Seungmin, somehow now wearing a judge’s robe (where did he even get that?), stands in front of you both with the air of someone who is so, so done with this. He holds an actual book in his hands, though one glance tells you it’s just a random economics textbook turned into a pretend scripture.

Jisung stands beside you, hands clasped, practically buzzing with excitement. He’s grinning so wide his cheeks must hurt, and he keeps bouncing slightly on his feet. By the sides, Jeongin stands as the best man, holding the gummy worm ring as if his life was devoted to protecting it.

Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple. “Do you, Han Jisung, promise to be slightly less of a dumbass in your marriage?”

Jisung, hands clasped in front of him, tilts his head in deep thought. “…No.”

“Figured.” Seungmin flips to a random page of the textbook and mutters, “Moving on.”

To your right, Bang Chan is a mess.

Not just sniffling. Full-on, ugly-crying.

He’s hunched over, gripping Felix’s arm for support. “They’re so beautiful,” he chokes out between sobs. Felix, looking genuinely moved, nods solemnly. “It’s a sacred bond, hyung.”

Meanwhile, Hyunjin has decided to be the live wedding band.

“DUN DUN DUN-DUN… DUN DUN DUN-DUN…”

He sings the wedding march off-key, dramatically clutching his chest as if he’s personally responsible for the romance in the air. You glare at him. “Hyunjin, I swear—”

He gasps. “Are you seriously scolding me on your wedding day?”

Lee Know, standing beside him, smirks and reaches into his pocket. You narrow your eyes, immediately suspicious.

“…Minho?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches into a bag—then flings something into the air. Cat treats.

Jisung yelps as one lands in his hair. You blink as more rain down around you.“Are you serious.”

Lee Know shrugs. “It’s all I had.”

Before you can recover, Changbin stands up and walks down the aisle with a box of confetti, scattering it all around like the flower girl he aspired to be.

Seungmin sighs, clearly beyond his patience. “Fine. You’re married. Or whatever.”

Jisung turns to you, grinning. “We did it, babe.” You shake your head, beyond words. “We really did.”

Then, just to commit to the bit, you lean in and press a dramatic, exaggerated smooch to Jisung’s cheek. The dorm erupts.

“EWWWW.”

“GET A ROOM.”

“THIS IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE.” (Chan, obviously.)

Jisung just beams, eyes crinkling. “Best fake wedding ever?” he asks.

You huff a laugh. “Absolutely.”

The next morning, You wake up to a dorm that feels completely different from the night before.

Gone is the chaotic, neon-lit wedding chapel, the crumpled LED lights, and the cereal box altar. Instead, the dorm is bathed in soft morning light, the warm gold spilling through the half-open blinds and casting long streaks across the wooden floor. The air is quiet in that particular way it only ever is early in the morning—hushed, still, like the world hasn’t quite woken up yet.

You shuffle into the kitchen, socked feet scuffing against the cool floor. The faint scent of instant coffee lingers in the air, and there, leaning against the counter, is Jisung.

He hasn’t noticed you yet.

His usual chaotic energy is missing—no humming, no half-danced movements, no dramatic gasps to announce your presence. Instead, he’s unnaturally still, fingers fidgeting with something small and velvet. His brows are slightly furrowed, his lips pressed together in quiet concentration as he flips the box open, then closed, then open again. The nervous motion makes something in your chest tighten.

“…Jisung?”

He startles slightly, eyes darting up to meet yours.

For a moment, he just stands there, like he wasn’t expecting you yet. Then, after a breath, he steadies himself and pushes off the counter. He grips the box a little tighter before holding it out.

Inside, nestled against the soft velvet, is a ring.

Not a gummy worm.

Not a joke.

A real, simple, elegant ring.

“You know…” Jisung’s voice is softer than usual, hesitant, like he’s stepping into unknown territory. “If you ever want to make it real.”

The words linger between you, gentle and uncertain. The playful, exaggerated romance from the night before is gone, replaced by something heavier—something real.

For a second, your heart stops.

The air shifts, the quiet of the dorm suddenly thick with meaning. The golden light from the window catches on the edge of the ring, sending a faint glint across the counter. Outside, the distant hum of the city murmurs through the silence.

Jisung clears his throat, shuffling on his feet. “Uh. You can say no. That’s allowed.”

You glance at him—at the nervous flicker in his eyes, at the way his fingers curl slightly against his palm like he’s bracing for impact.

And maybe you should tease him, draw it out just a little—

But instead, you step forward, take the box from his hands, and smile.

“Ask me again.”

Jisung swallows. Nods.

And this time, he doesn’t have a gummy worm.

────────────────────────────────────────

[artdcnaldson]

Tie Break || Art Donaldson x Reader ; Patrick Zweig x Reader

this can be read as a sequel to changeover or as a standalone :) enjoy <3

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v smut x2, f!recieving oral, handjob, creampie, cum eating), angst with a happy ending, infidelity, toxic relationships, everyone in this is kind of a horrible person, language obviously

Summary: It’s summer in Atlanta, 2011. For the second time in your life, you’re the clear second choice. When the opportunity arises, you find a temporary distraction in Art Donaldson.

A/N: FINALLY here it is! The 2011 Atlanta fic. They’re back, they’re older, they’re even more toxic. Let me know if you’re interested in a part 3!

It was hot, even though the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. It was a cloying, oppressive heat that made the stupid, business-casual top you wore stick to your skin. 

The article you were working on was halfway written, something you could knock out in the next hour if you really tried. Your drink was watered down from the heat, weak when it hit your tongue. A frown turned your lips, but you really shouldn���t have been drinking anyway.

"Working late?”

The voice was so familiar that you could’ve recognized it anywhere, any time. Art Donaldson was one of the most recognizable men in the country, but to you, he seemed so different. The boyishness was still there, but it lay beneath a new level of confidence.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to appear nonchalant, like it hadn’t been four years since you last spoke. “I’m on deadline. I’m writing a feature on Anna Mueller heading into the US Open next month.”

Without asking, he sat down across from you at the small bistro table. He was so close you could smell the minty gum he had been chewing. It nearly made you smile. Old habits die hard.

“So you write about tennis?” He asked, meeting your gaze. 

“I write about athletes,” you corrected. “I was going to be here anyway, and since Anna is heading for a Grand Slam, I thought it would be easy enough. Grab a couple of interviews, watch a few matches.”

He nodded, leaning back in the chair, trying his best to be causal in a situation that definitely wasn’t. You sipped again at your drink, peering at him over the edge of the glass. 

“You have a match tomorrow,” you said, as though he needed reminding. “Shouldn’t you be listening to shitty pop punk to get yourself psyched right now?”

A smile spread across his lips, and he looked so much like the guy you knew from college that it made your chest tug uncomfortably. Same hair, the same smile, the same crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he was amused by something. You couldn’t help but smile along with him, like the past four years were nothing. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said with a laugh. “Do you want another drink?”

You looked down at your glass, mostly water and thin ice cubes. “Rum and coke?” You asked, giving him a tiny smile. He nodded and disappeared towards the bar.

It felt strange, sitting there in the quiet, your article the furthest thing from your mind. Four years. It felt like yesterday and an eternity ago that you’d last spoken with him. He was a familiar stranger, nearly unknowable. 

Your cursor blinked a few more times before you shut your laptop and slid it back inside your beat-up work bag. 

“Running off?” He asked, catching you in the act of packing your things. You shook your head and accepted the fresh drink with a smile. “You said you were going to be in Atlanta anyway,” he said as he sat, spreading out, making himself comfortable in the shitty bar seating. “When you were talking about writing about Anna.”

You nodded. “Mhmm, I did,” you replied, chewing the inside of your lip nervously. His gaze was intense, falling just on the other side of casual. You felt tiny under that gaze, like you were guilty of a crime you didn’t know you’d committed. 

“And you’re here for Patrick?” The words were nonchalant, but you could hear the accusation beneath them, the history of the two of them just in one sentence. It turned something in your stomach, the possessiveness in his voice. You could hear it, even four years out.

The new drink was strong, but it was the perfect way to hide the distaste in your expression. The burn of liquor into your chest grounded you back in reality instead of the easy allure of nostalgia. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I try my best to go to all of his matches.”

Art narrowed his eyes, just slightly. There was still an element of exaggerated friendliness, the casual smile on his lips, the open body language. All of it masking the lingering resentment and hurt that was buried beneath mountains of nostalgia. Deep enough that neither of you had realized it was still there until you found yourselves face to face. There was an unspoken question, one that he didn’t want to ask, one that you didn’t want to answer. 

How long?

You took another drink. 

“Where is Patrick?” He asked, glancing around like he might materialize out of thin air.

“He went out for a smoke, or to walk around and clear his head, or something,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not his keeper. Where’s Tashi?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away— a sore spot. A scab you wanted to pick at until it bled, dig your nails in. Maybe that was your eighteen-year-old self talking. 

“You never used to let her get too far away from you,” you noted, mirth dripping from each syllable. “Bet you came down here looking for her. Your leash must’ve been just a little too loose this time and she slipped it.”

You took a long drink, nails tapping against the glass as you considered your words. Tashi wasn’t the type of woman who let a man hold her back. If you were trying to be more accurate, rather than just piss him off, you might’ve fixed the analogy. Art was the sad little puppy following her around. She tied his leash to a lamp post for a fucking break.

“Do you remember the day Tashi got injured?” He asked, changing the subject suddenly. 

You blinked slowly, appraising him. But his expression gave nothing away. “I do.”

A wry smile spread across his lips, and he met your gaze with a coldness that you didn’t recognize. Mean in the way injured animals like to snap at the nearest hand. “It was Patrick in your room that night, wasn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed, face falling at his words. “What?”

He made a face, something akin to skepticism, but crueler. It made your stomach turn. 

“You were fucking someone in your room,” he said plainly. “And I’ve always had a suspicion that it was Patrick. Was it?”

That didn’t do much to clear up your confusion. “You were there?”

He laughed, mirthless, and nodded. “I was, uh, sitting by the door like an asshole. I came to apologize, to beg for you back, but instead, I spent the night listening to my girlfriend getting fucked on the other side of the door.”

Annoyance flickered in your gaze. He knew of a wound of your own, and he relished in picking at it the way you’d relished in digging your fingers into his. “I wasn’t your girlfriend, Art.”

“Right, you weren’t. But you’re Patrick’s girlfriend now, is that it?”

Heat burned in your cheeks. Your relationship with Patrick was… tempestuous to say the least. Most of the time he was your boyfriend, but others he was just a friend that you could count on for a good fuck, sometimes not even a friend. At the moment, he was the former, but that could always change.

It wasn’t easy, being with someone whose emotions ran on an equally short fuse. You’d sound too much like his parents, or he’d devalue your work, or Patrick would forget to take out the trash in your apartment and you’d snap, or you’d mispronounce a word one too many times and it would drive him crazy. Insignificant things could feel big with him, because of him. For better or worse. 

“At the moment, yes.”

“At the moment.” He echoed, laughing like he was in on some joke you were painfully unaware of.

”That’s amusing to you?” You asked, raising a brow. 

He shrugged, picking at his jeans. “Your choice of words is interesting.” He lets that hang in the air before he meets your gaze again. “Do you think Patrick would’ve even noticed you if it hadn’t been for me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Does it matter?” You asked. “You realize that we’ve been together going on four years now, right? Broken up, dating, fucking, whatever. You realize that there may be more important things in our life than you?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I think you know that whatever you have, it’s built on the fact that you were a warm body when he needed it. Just like you were for me.”

That arrogant expression, like he actually fucking knew anything about you anymore was the last straw. You stood suddenly, grabbing your bag. You weren’t Art Donaldson’s little lapdog anymore— you didn’t have to sit there and take all the shit he doled out. 

“Goodnight, Art. Thanks for the drink.”

It was funny, how your weaknesses were still so exposed. Art’s was Tashi, and it probably always would be. His desire to be seen, to impress, painted upon every lovely feature. And yours, raw and bleeding and obvious— the unbearable, visceral need to be wanted.

You made it to the elevator before you felt his presence behind you. Wordless, but so close it was suffocating. You jabbed the up button over and over in frustration, knowing it wouldn’t speed anything up. 

Art stepped into the elevator with you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He always burned hot, like a human furnace. 

It was silent as the lift lurched upwards. You pressed against the back corner, watching the number of the floor increase one by one. 

“Patrick is with Tashi,” Art said without looking at you, just as the elevator opened on the floor of your room. You froze, swallowing hard. “I saw them in the hotel bar, then they left together. What do you think they’re doing right now?”

You shook your head dumbly, pulse thrumming in your throat. “Go fuck yourself, Art,” you said weakly, because what else was there to say? You stepped into the hallway— lit with dim yellow light so you couldn’t see where the wallpaper peeled and the carpet was stained.

“If you need somewhere to wait them out, and you will, I’m in room 13 on the seventh floor.” The elevator doors closed, and you were alone. 

The hallway was winding, and you felt a bad sort of anticipation of what you might find, like a sick feeling in your gut. You stood in front of the room, 306, and froze.

The door to your room was closed, no light shone from beneath the door, but you could hear them. Muffled, but clear enough. A pretty voice and breathy moans. Patrick’s laugh, the thud of something falling off the dresser.

Your room key was in your purse— you could’ve gotten it out and stopped it, but what good would that have done? You’d still spend the night humiliated, facing opposite walls as Patrick, lying in the same sheets he’d just fucked her in. 

You dropped the bag by the door and took a slow, shaky breath to calm yourself down. 

Tashi Duncan. She had lingered on the edges of your relationship with Patrick too. She was Patrick’s first choice, just as she’d been Art’s. You’d never blamed them for that, you knew where you stood, and you chose them anyway. 

It was easy to choose them when you thought that the threat was nonexistent— when distance made you feel safe. You could hear her and him, but it felt like mere static in your brain.

You knew how Art felt, back at Stanford. Sulking outside the door, unable and unwilling to stop what was happening on the other side. 

You were in the elevator before you realized you’d walked away. Shitty soft rock played over the speakers, and a poster on the wall advertised a continental breakfast. Your stomach turned uncomfortably. 

You knocked on the door— room thirteen, an unlucky number. Maybe it didn’t bode well. As you waited for the door to open, your nails tapped a staccato rhythm against your thigh.

Art opened the door like he’d been expecting someone else. Maybe he had half-expected you to interrupt and send Tashi back upstairs, but no. He got you standing at his door with fiery eyes and an expectant expression. 

Second choice, second choice, second choice.

Art kissed you for the first time in four years, and you let him. Not because you wanted to hurt Patrick or Tashi, but because you knew it would hurt you. His tongue pressed between the seam of your lips like he belonged there, licking into your mouth like he wanted to reclaim every part of you that Patrick had touched. You pushed him with a firm hand on his chest and he stumbled backward into the room. Despite everything, he smiled. 

His hotel room was nearly identical to yours and Patrick’s. But you didn’t have time to really take in the details when he had his tongue in your mouth, kissing you hungrily.

That afternoon, you kissed Patrick after he lost his match. You wondered if Art could still taste him on your tongue then, if he wanted to drown out the taste of him. 

It was different than you were used to. Four years with Patrick meant that you’d grown accustomed to certain ways that he did things— the intensity behind each kiss, each touch. His emotions— good, bad, in between— were never masked, never repressed. 

When Patrick kissed you, when he touched you, when he fucked you— both of you were laid completely bare. 

Art was different. When he kissed you it was through a certain level of performance, like he’d learned how from a searing romance film. In college, you’d believed that he kissed you like that because deep down, he did love you. Even at that moment, years out from your relationship with him, it muddled your brain.

Your sensible work heels had long since been kicked off by the door. Art’s fingers undid the button and zip of your jeans deftly, with a confidence that had only doubled since Freshman year. They wound up in a heap against the hotel dresser. 

In his haste to remove your (also sensible, and very business casual) button-down, he popped about half of the buttons off completely. 

“Sorry,” he said. The grin on his lips made you wonder if sorry was really how he felt. “I’ll buy you a new one.��

“Stop talking.” You pulled off your bra and lost it somewhere across the room in your haste. Art was pulling off his clothes— his hoodie and the shirt beneath. His jeans and shoes toed off and left to be dealt with later. 

He kissed you again, guiding you exactly where he needed. Your knees hit the back of the mattress and he eased you down without moving his lips from yours. When your head hit the sheets, you smelled perfume so sweet that it was nearly intoxicating. You turned your head, breathing deeply. Tashi. In this same bed, in this same spot. It made something stir inside you— right in your chest. A hint of wrongness, a hint of hurt. 

Art pulled back, moving his lips along your jaw, down to the junction of your throat. 

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against your skin, kissing down to your tits. “I don’t want you thinking about Patrick. Not when you’re with me.”

The words were mumbled against soft, supple skin. His eyes were intent as they looked up at you, the demand of momentary fidelity in his eyes. You wanted to slap that expression off of his face, or run your thumb along his cheek and hold his face in your hands. 

How was it fair that he asked you that when he’d lingered like a ghost on the edges of whatever it was that you and Patrick had? How was it fair for him to look at you like that?

He took a nipple into his mouth and you gasped as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. Soft kisses before he suckled softly. “Okay,” you gasped, lying through your teeth. “I’m only thinking of you.”

His hair was still long, kept the same way he wore it in school. Your fingers tangled in his hair like muscle memory, scratching against his scalp as he kissed along your skin with wet lips, treating your other breast with the same, hungry attention.

“Still so fucking hot,” he mumbled against your skin. “Should’ve— fuck— should’ve kept you. What do you want, huh? Tell me.”

Your mind swam with possibilities, but you didn’t even know where to begin. Your mind was stuck on his previous words. Should’ve kept you. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?  “I don’t know,” you replied, completely honest. “Whatever you want.”

He accepted that easily— it was so similar to how you’d been for him in college. You gasped as he kissed down your sternum, then your stomach. His lips found the waistband of your panties and he grinned, tugging at the lace with his teeth, letting it snap back against your hip. 

He peeled your panties down slowly, letting his hands trail down the expanse of your legs. The possessiveness of the touch sent a thrill up your spine. His lips grazed along your skin, from your ankle, up your calf, then your knee. Your legs spread instinctively, welcoming him right back where he knew he belonged. His pretty lips trailed wet kisses up your thighs, stopping just where you wanted him. 

You expected him to rush. He’d seen Patrick and Tashi leave, which meant they’d finish before you two, more likely than not. There was every reason in the world to make things quick— to fuck you and make you leave. 

Instead, he took his time with you. Soft, teasing kisses peppered on the supple skin of your thighs before he nuzzled into your cunt. The first delve of his tongue was slow and exploratory, tasting the arousal that had pooled at your core. 

”God, you still taste so fucking sweet.”

Another thing you’d nearly forgotten about Art— in all things, he was methodical.

He started with kitten licks at your clit— light brushes with his tongue that made you whimper needily for more. His tongue circled you there, and he relished in the way your fingers tugged on his hair at the sensation. 

Then he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking with more pressure until a strangled moan squeezed past your lips. Your thighs tensed on either side of his head, holding him there as he alternated between slow, soothing licks and firm suction.

It was frustrating, how wet you were. Art had brought out the worst in you, turned you into something that left you feeling genuinely embarrassed. And still, you were slick, dripping down to the sheets. A mess of arousal and Art’s spit. 

When he eased a finger into your cunt, it slid in like your body was made to fit whatever he could give you. At that point, you very well could have been. What were you, if not an object orbiting in the atmosphere of his life?

He looked up at you, seeming so fucking intent on making it feel good for you as he crooked his finger. It rubbed against the soft, spongy spot within you and you cried out, eyes rolling back. 

“That’s it, huh?” He cooed as he pressed a second finger inside of you. Your arm was slung over your face. You couldn’t let yourself keep looking at him when he was looking at you the same way he had in college. The same fucking expression that got your head all mixed up in the first place. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit and you whimpered. “I know it feels good, baby, just relax.”

His fingers thrust within you with a slow, deep pressure as he continued to make out with your clit. It was always so good with him— you’d nearly forgotten how easy it was for him to bring you to the edge. 

When you came, it wasn’t like what you had grown used to with Patrick— sudden and overwhelming, like it had been ripped from some secret place within you. It was intense, but slow to build, seeming to last forever as Art’s fingers and tongue worked you through it. Your breath was shaky as he pulled back, pretty mouth wet with your arousal.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, looking up at you expectantly. 

You should’ve stopped— rationally, you knew that it was best to turn back and quit before you fucked up the situation beyond repair. 

But it was Art. He could’ve had anyone else, but he wanted you. Maybe not forever, or even longer than that night. But for then. 

You shook your head softly. “No. Do you think we should stop?”

His fingers moved between your thighs, circling your clit. “We definitely should. You’re with Patrick.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he caressed you with featherlight touches. “Don’t fucking talk about him,” you said, but your words came out with no bite. How could they, when he was playing with your body like a favorite toy?

“No?” He asked. He was wearing a smug sort of expression. “You don’t want me to talk about your boyfriend, huh? Too personal?”

You moaned as he applied more pressure at the apex of your thighs, making your cunt clench and ache to be filled. 

“Does Patrick know how much you’ve missed me?” He asked. Your breath caught in your throat, and he just smiled. “I bet he does. I think he knows that if he just drops my name in a conversation, your pussy gets wet.”

You moaned softly at his words, chest heaving with soft pants. You weren’t even sure if it was true, but it felt like it could’ve been then. He leaned down, his words spoken close to your ear.

“I can go slow. Make it last for you.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver. 

You nodded eagerly, turning your head to capture his lips with yours. The kiss was slow, like you had all the time in the world. His tongue against yours, the weight of his body on top of you, the feel of him hard, pressing against your thigh. 

He sat back to strip off his boxers, and you relished in the sight of him laid bare before you. You’d nearly forgotten how pretty he was— big and flushed nearly red with need. It made your heart hammer with nerves; your excitement and shame and need rolled into one messy, electrifying tangle. 

His hair flopped into his eyes as he held himself over you, just like you remembered. You reached up, brushing it out of his eyes with a tender hand. His lips brushed against the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse thrummed in your veins. 

“Tell me you’ve missed me.”

Heat flooded your entire body, as you repeated the words. “I missed you, Art.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, and guiding it towards your entrance. He moaned and bucked instinctively into your hand.

”Tell me you want me to fuck you, no one else.” You could hear the implications in his words. Tell me you want me, not Patrick. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Art pressed himself inside of you, sinking into the welcoming warmth of your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him closer, deeper, until his balls pressed firm against you and there was nothing else to give.

He thrust shallowly, rocking against a spot deep within you, one that made your eyes flutter with each brush against it.

“You’re so tight still,” he moaned, lips moving against your throat. “Pussy’s made just for me.”

He touched you like he hadn’t forgotten how you felt or what you needed. Spoke to you like you were one of his possessions.

You lost yourself in it— the sweet, filthy words spoken against your skin, and the rhythm of his body moving against yours. His lips captured yours with a hungry insistence, like he could convey four years' worth of unspoken words with a few brushes of his tongue against yours. 

When he pulled back, lips spit slick and looking so pretty, you thought maybe there was a sort of understanding between the two of you.

His head fell back as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his release. There wasn’t time to stretch it out, to spend as much time as you could with each other’s bodies. 

“Need you to cum,” he said, sliding a hand between your thighs to rub your still-sensitive clit. Your cunt was squeezing him tight, body aching for it, for him, brought to the edge simply because he’d asked for it. “C’mon— you get so tight when you cum, need to feel it again.”

It was like your body was hardwired to give him exactly what he wanted. You came with broken moans of his name and legs squeezing him closer, deeper. Your chest heaved with shaking breaths and punched out whimpers as he kept fucking into you.

He was practically crushing you with his weight, pinning you down, groaning into the junction of your shoulder. 

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” his words vibrated against skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat.

”Want you to.” Your arms slung around his back, holding him close to you. “I’ve got an IUD, so you can— you can cum.”

His lips met yours as he came, with a pretty moan into your open mouth and slow, messy kisses that made you want to just melt into him and stay that way forever. 

Spent, he rolled over and turned on a lamp at the bedside. The alarm clock announced the time in a dim red glow— five past one.

You lay there, damp between your thighs from the mixture of your releases, unsure of what to do. It was cold beneath the hotel AC. He was peering over at you, wearing an expression you were scared to dissect.

When his hand touched your arm, you nearly flinched. Your breath caught in your throat as he ran his thumb along your skin, so sweetly that you felt that same discomfort tug at your chest. 

“C’mere,” he said, an offer. His arm was splayed over the pillows, giving you the perfect spot to lie down and press yourself against his side. To pretend like you belonged there.

But you didn’t belong there. You belonged four floors down with Patrick. That’s where you had belonged for four years. The reality of what you’d done had set in quickly, and you knew you needed to get out of Art’s room. 

”Art,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

He nodded and sat up against the headboard. You watched him grab his boxers and pull them back on, a strange smile on his face. He must’ve sensed your confusion, even without you saying. 

“It’s funny how things change,” he said. “Here I am, asking you to stay for once.”

You didn’t say anything as you picked up your clothes from around the room, redressing as you recovered each piece from its hiding spot around the room. Your shirt was unsalvageable, so you grabbed Art’s. He had plenty of brand sponsors that would jump to replace it, and Patrick wouldn’t recognize it.

“I loved you, I think,” he said suddenly. “Back in college.”

You froze, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him. “Art—“

“No, I did. I loved you, I just did it all wrong.”

“Art, just stop,” you said firmly. Embarrassment hit you all at once— the guilt of what you’d done, and the shame over who you’d done it with. Your eyes stung as you looked at him. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

His lips twitched, dipping into a frown, then back into as close to a neutral expression as he could manage. “I just thought you should know. It’s only fair.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Fair? Jesus Christ, you really haven’t changed, Art.” 

His expression fell completely. It looked like it had back in the hotel bar— icy. “I haven’t changed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed as you looked at him. “It means that if this were Stanford, that would’ve made me crawl right back into bed, lay by your side, and daydream about what it could mean for us. If one day I might be Mrs. Art Donaldson. It means that you say these sweet things to me every time you can feel me slipping away, but they mean absolutely nothing. We’re not nineteen anymore, Art. I’m not leaving Patrick to be your plaything again.”

His jaw tensed, and he looked down at the bed briefly while he picked at loose threads on the sheets. ���You think that’s what I want?”

You frowned. “I think you want what Patrick has.”

He scoffed. “Patrick doesn’t even want what he has,” he said, relishing in the wounded look on your face. “If he did, he wouldn’t be fucking my fiancée right now.”

Fiancée. You felt stupid for not knowing it, but you swallowed down your hurt and met his gaze. “I guess we’re both going to have to be content with being the second choice.” You slipped on your shoes and went for the door. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, Art. I sincerely hope that I never have to see you again.”

The hallway felt colder when you stepped outside of the room and shut the door firmly behind you. A very big part of you wanted to go back, to knock and apologize and grovel like you might have when you were a freshman.

Maybe you hadn’t grown up that much after all. 

The elevator was playing Billy Joel. You leaned against the side of the elevator, relishing in the cold against your sticky skin. When the doors opened on your floor and you stepped out, you blinked in surprise. 

Tashi stood in front of you for the first time since college, looking just as stunning as you remembered, probably more so. Her hair was pulled up, slightly damp at the ends. Her eyes flicked down to your shirt, Art’s shirt, you swallowed as an understanding passed between the two of you— wordless, because what was there to say at that point?

”You left your laptop in the hallway,” she said, skipping formalities. “I took it inside so it wouldn’t get stolen.”

“Okay,” you said, chewing on your lip. She stood there like she expected something more. You felt her surveying you, and froze as she reached forward and rubbed at your bottom lip.

“He could’ve at least cleaned you up a bit,” she said. Her fingers delicately fixed your hair, tucking it back into place. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from the side of your mouth. Once there was nothing left to fix, she looked at you one last time and nodded. “You should be fine now.”

Before you could process that, she stepped into the elevator, and you were left alone in the hallway. When you made it to the room, the door was cracked open, so you let yourself in.

Patrick was on the balcony smoking a cigarette, a towel slung low around his waist. The bed was a fucking wreck, not that he seemed to mind. 

When the door clicked shut, he stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and joined you back in the room. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked. His jaw tensed as he looked at you, like he was ready if you were going to start a fight.

“I just want to go to bed, Patrick,” you said, annoyed by how wobbly and pathetic you sounded. 

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead. “Okay. We’ll go to bed.”

You kicked off your clothes, but left on Art’s hoodie. Patrick didn’t ask where it came from, or what happened to what you were wearing earlier. You knew he already knew, that he could tell the moment you walked in. He dropped the towel onto a heap on the floor, climbed into the bed, and held out his arms for you.

A stronger person would’ve told him to fuck off, but you weren’t a stronger person. You nestled into his side and felt the hot sting of tears in your eyes. 

He rubbed your back soothingly and kissed your forehead. The sheets smelled like Tashi, he smelled like hotel soap, and you smelled like Art’s cologne. 

“Do you want room service in the morning?” He asked softly.

“Patrick—“

“I’m serious. We can have breakfast in bed, do some tourist-y shit, maybe we’ll go watch a couple of matches, then come back and—“

“Are we supposed to just forget what happened?” You interrupted.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” He kissed your forehead, tender, sweet. “I’ll tell you everything if that’s what you want.”

You met his gaze. “Do you… do you want to know? About Art?”

He went quiet as he played with the ends of your hair. “Did it make you feel any better?” He finally asked. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Then it didn’t.”

He kissed the crown of your head. “No?”

You shook your head, sighing softly as his kisses trailed down, over your nose, to the sides of your mouth. “No. It was a mistake.”

”Tell me about it,” he said, murmuring against your jaw. “Tell me how he touched you.”

You shivered, tilting your head to give him more access. Your nails scratched softly against his scalp as he sucked bruises onto your throat. 

“He was desperate,” you said, heart hammering as you began recounting it to Patrick— your boyfriend. There was no world in which he should’ve wanted to hear about it… and yet. He moaned against your throat, encouraging you, wanting to know more. “Kissed me like he wanted to taste you in my mouth, like he wanted to overpower you.”

Patrick moved his lips to yours, kissing you with a sloppy brush of his tongue against yours. “Like that?”

You shook your head and leaned in, deepening the kiss with slow laps of your tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, matching your pace in a way that was rare, but made butterflies dance around in your stomach. He pulled you on top of him— hands roaming from the backs of your thighs to squeeze your ass as he deepened the kiss. It was just as slow and sweet as before, but you could sense the need and hunger behind it.

You pulled back, just enough to remove your lips from his. Both of your breaths came in needy pants. You weren’t sure why you were enjoying this, but you were, so you kept going. “He took off my clothes, and laid me down on the bed.”

Patrick moaned, chasing your lips. You sat back and just looked at him— lying there with still-damp curls, his pupils blown with lust. His cock was hard, resting against his stomach, precum beading at the tip.

You pulled off Art’s hoodie and tossed it across the room, relishing in the way Patrick’s eyes raked over every bit of exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it. “He ate me out, made me cum on his fingers first, then again while he was inside of me,” Patrick’s breath caught, just for a moment. Desire, or jealousy, or both flickered across his gaze. “He fucked me like he wanted me to fall in love with him again.”

Patrick’s chest was heaving as you moved a hand between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand, stroking slowly. “Is that how you fucked Tashi? Like you wanted her to pick you instead of her fiancé?” He moaned as your thumb ran over his slit, smearing the precum that had begun to dribble out. 

“No,” He groaned. You nodded encouragingly, squeezing him tighter in your fist. “Fuck. I fucked her like I wanted her to know she made a mistake. Made her cum until she tapped out”

You ran a thumb over his bottom lip, tugging slightly. “With this pretty mouth, huh?” He nodded, wordlessly. “And with this?” You gave a slow stroke of his dick, making him buck up into your fist. Another nod. 

“Show me.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Show you?”

You nodded and continued stroking him. “I told you about Art, so I want you to show me how you fucked Tashi.”

You recognized the fucking insanity of what you were asking, but you didn’t care. It was a strange form of closure— closing the circle, or whatever. 

“Fuck, okay. Lay back,” he said, patting your thigh. You slid off his lap and settled atop the sheets, watching him expectantly. 

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, and he slid them down slowly. “Fuck.” Your cheeks flooded with heat as he held the sodden fabric up, wet and sticky with Art’s cum. He groaned and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. “That’s… god, that’s really fucking hot, baby.”

Oh. The mix of embarrassment and desire was something new— burning hot in the pit of your stomach as Patrick licked at your pussy, tasting the evidence of your arousal mingling with Art’s release. He moaned against you, holding you so tightly that his fingers dimpled your thighs. 

His tongue lapped at your entrance, pushing into your cunt as deep as he could manage, then back to licking at your clit. It was messy— a combination of spit and cum and your juices.

“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair as he sealed his lips around your clit. He moaned loudly against you, encouraging you to do it again, the fucking masochist. 

He redoubled his efforts, pulling you closer, moaning against your cunt. It was like he wanted to devour you, to lick up every bit of Art that was left inside of you. You wanted him to try— you wanted him to replace every part of Art that was left in your body and soul.

“Patrick,” you gasped. He murmured an mhmm against your pussy. Eyes closed, right at home between your thighs, lost in the taste of you. “Need you inside.”

He planted one, two sloppy kisses to your clit before he pulled back, his lips shiny with your arousal. He wiped the mess away with the back of his hand, smirking down at you. “You need me, huh?”

You nodded, chest heaving with each panting breath. Patrick sat down at the headboard and patted his thigh. “Prove it.”

You sat up, crawling up the bed until you were straddling his lap. “You made her do all the work?” 

He laughed, running his hands up your thighs to squeeze your ass, tug you closer. “I didn’t make her do anything.” Patrick had a hand wrapped around his cock, and you moaned softly as he guided it between your thighs to notch at your entrance. 

You sank down slowly, forehead pressed against his as you took inch after inch. “Fuck,” you breathed. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his as you gave a slow roll of your hips. “Fuck. You’re so deep, Pat. Feels so good.”

His head fell back against the headboard as you began to ride him in earnest. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, still wearing that fucking smirk, even balls deep inside of you. “That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

And you did. The way he was looking at him was proof enough, he was eating up every fucking second of you fucking yourself on him, using him like a toy. 

Your noises were near-pornographic— Right there, fuck, you’re so big baby, so fucking deep.

The poor soul next door slammed on the wall, begging for you to just shut the fuck up. Patrick silenced you with a hungry kiss— a mess of tongues and spit. His fingers moved on your clit, pulling you towards the edge with desperate need. 

“Close,” you gasped. 

He nodded, moving his fingers faster. “I know you are. I’ve got you.” 

You collapsed on top of him as you came— hips canting weakly as he worked you through it. He thrust up into your tight walls, groaning at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he groaned, burying his face into the junction of your throat. “Gonna cum— fuck—“

You moaned softly at the feeling of him spilling inside of you— the soft pulse of him, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt. You stayed on his lap, kissing his freckled nose, his eyelids, his mouth. 

When you finally moved off of him, you whimpered at that loss of fullness, and of the slick mess seeping out between your thighs. If you were smart, you would’ve gone and cleaned up, but there was nothing more you wanted than to lay there in Patrick’s arms and fall asleep. 

Whatever. You’d leave housekeeping a very generous tip. He sighed contentedly as you lay there— like you were made to fit against him perfectly.  A warm hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, and you felt so at home, even in an Atlanta hotel. 

“I love you, you know that?” He asked.

You looked up and nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

You found yourself staring up over at Patrick with a stupid, persistent smile on your face. He turned to watch you watching him, wearing a matching grin on his face. It was hard to tell who started laughing first— you or Patrick. At the absurdity of it all, at yourselves. 

“God, we’re so messed up,” you said, with another laugh.

He nodded. “Really messed up, but whatever. Apparently your brain isn’t even fully developed until you’re 25.”

“Great, so we have one more year until we’re normal, rational adults.” He laughed, holding you against his chest. 

He reached over and kissed your forehead. You were so sticky and gross that you really needed a shower, but, again— it was a tomorrow problem.

It fell quiet, and you could feel yourself slipping into comfortable drowsiness when Patrick finally spoke up. “Are we going to be okay?”

You blinked slowly. With your hand resting on his chest, you could feel his heart thudding just beneath your palm.

When you were twenty, you met Patrick’s parents. Crowded into his childhood bed with your head resting against his chest, his heart pounded as he apologized for the intense grilling you’d received that night at dinner. It was the first time you ever felt like his bravado had been shaken, like you were seeing through to the core of him. 

You always knew you would be the one to say you loved him first— it was just the way things went. “I don’t care if they like me,” you had assured him. “I love you.” His heart beat harder, faster. He didn’t say it back until two days later, when he was fucking you in that very same bed— forehead to yours, skin sticky with sweat. “I love you,” breathed into your mouth like air. 

When you were twenty-two, you moved into an apartment in Manhattan and Patrick followed like a housecat— no rent, no job, just company and a mouth to feed. The tour wasn’t going well, and you were working for a shitty, clickbait news site that hardly covered the cost of your place. 

Things were good, mostly. Comfortable, domestic. Patrick tried to be a good boyfriend, you tried to be a good girlfriend. Both of you were trying to figure out what that meant for the other as best as you could. Patrick would bring you flowers from the corner store and take you out for drinks and dancing on weekends. You’d drive out on holidays to visit his family and wind up leaving early to go back to the comforts and peace of your apartment. 

When you could, you’d follow him out to tournaments. If he won, he’d take you out with the prize money. If he lost, you’d take him back to the hotel to cheer him up.

On rough days, one of you would come home to the apartment and pick a fight over laundry, or a dish left in the sink, or even what he’d left on TV, and the other would give it back tenfold. Your neighbors would beat on their walls in annoyance as you yelled at each other, until one of you slammed a door and sulked in another room for a few hours, or you had make-up sex that gave the neighbors another reason to bang on their walls. 

The breakups were infrequent but severe. You’d kick Patrick out, he’d live out of his car, or in a motel, or fuck off to some tennis tournament that you’d previously promised to go to. One of you always broke first, returning to the other with promises of love, and to do better.

You did love each other, really. And things usually got better. It was just easy to live with your feelings dialed up to a ten where Patrick was involved: bigger good moments, worse bad ones. 

Your career had vastly improved. Patrick had moved up in the rankings, only slightly, but it was something. You could afford a bigger apartment in a nicer area, maybe get a dog. And you didn’t just want those things alone, you wanted them with him. 

You pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and nodded. “We’ll be fine,” you assured. It felt like the truth.

He nodded, looking down at you. His freckles were so much more pronounced after tournament after tournament in the blazing sun. “Yeah, probably.”

The next morning, you both got the continental breakfast you’d seen in the elevator while housekeeping dealt with the aftermath of the previous night. You did tourist-y shit— went to a museum, found a nice spot for lunch.

At the end of the day, you sat in the oppressive Atlanta heat with Patrick and watched Art Donaldson win his tennis match. You and Patrick left early, fucked in the backseat of his car, and decided to head home early. 

As you started the drive back, you held his hand over the center console and listened to a shitty mix CD with songs he’d ripped off of LimeWire. You gave him shit when Kelly Clarkson followed Lil Wayne, but you both sang along to every fucking word. 

You were right. You and Patrick would probably be fine.

[boypied]

saviour

BOB REYNOLDS x M!READER

MDNI + FDNI, mature content below.

WARNINGS: homophobic themes, mentions of slurs, mentions of hate crime, swearing, kissing, protective!bob.

SUMMARY: trying to calm bob down after he punches someone in the face after they hurt you.

Even though you've both been dating for a couple of months now, Bob is still all giddy and nervous around you. He loves doing special things for you whether they are extremely big gestures or just little ones, you appreciate both. Bob thought that it would be a nice idea if you and him went out for a walk since the sun was shining, and he didn't really want to be all cooped up in your apartment.

You and Bob are holding hands as you walk through the quiet streets where you can pretty much only hear the sound of the wind whooshing back and forth. “Whooooosh” Bob says, mimicking the wind, which causes you to burst out laughing, which then makes him smile cause that's his favourite thing to see from you... other than the obvious thing of you riding his cock till there is tears in his eyes.

As you're walking more and more people begin to appear as you get closer to the main city and further away from your small town, It's not hard to notice that the build-up of people has very obviously made Bob nervous as he squeezes away at your hand. “Baby, are you okay?” You ask him softly as you pull him out the way of people, “Y-Yeah, i'm fine. Maybe we can just start heading back now.” he asks you softly, and you nod your head, giving him an innocent smile.

As you both start walking back the way you came, you start feeling uneasy as a man approaches you from behind and walks through both you and Bob, breaking apart our hands from touching. “Hey! What the fuck.” You gasp out as you shake your hand, the man turns to you and pushes you against the wall aggressively as you bang your head against the brick wall.

“go fuck yourself, faggot.” the man grunts out.

you stumble off the wall, and Bob notices the very obvious blood patch from your head, which must've happened on impact. “Bob, let's just go h-home now.” You mumble out in pain as you try to fight back tears, and Bob's eyes have never looked so furious as he watches the man that assaulted you walk away. “I'm gonna fucking kill him.” Bob blurts out as he starts walking over to the guy, you stand there in shock as you watch the scene unfold. You've never seen Bob like this.

“Hey!” Bob shouts out as he practically speed walks over to the man, “Oh, what do you want now fagg-” and before the man can even finish his sentence Bob's fist collided with his face breaking his nose on impact. You stand in shock but also kinda turned on, Bob grabs the guy by the hem of his shirt and pulls him over to you as he leans down to whisper in his ear, “apologise.” he whispers in the man's ear but he stays silent until Bob punches him in the stomach, “Apologise to my boyfriend... NOW!” He shouts at the man.

“O-OKAY! I'M SORRY!” The man shouts in fear as blood runs down his nose and drips onto the floor as Bob's grip soften as he drops the man and he immediately pulls you towards him, “w-we need to get you to the hopsital.” he murmurs in your ear as he holds back tears, and you just pull away and smile at him “my saviour.” You mumble out as you peck his lips. Bob just stares at you with a lot of concern as well as love, “he's lucky I didn't kill him for hurting you.” he mumbles out as Bob walks you to the hospital.

After the trip to the hospital, you had to get two stitches as well as preventing Bob from going out and committing murder. You now lay in bed with Bob holding you from behind covering your neck in kisses as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear as you listen to the soften of his voice knowing exactly that this is where you want to be.

“I love you bob.” You mumble out in a state of tiredness, “I love you too... and I did the dishes.” he mumbles in your ear and you both just burst out laughing, as he pulls you closer.

taglist ' @starboye @dqrkhold @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @gaefaeyae @sluttyhusband @sleep-0-deprived @lucerowrites1

[blackleatherjacketz]

Mouthy

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel has been watching you, and is willing to do anything it takes to get you to join his team.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, Teasing, Flirting, Kissing, Biting, Blood Drinking, Licking, Thigh Riding, Undressing, Voyeurism, Female Masturbation, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Word Count: 2.6k+

Read more of my MIGUEL stories!

You had been toying with Miguel all night, sparring with him until your sweaty session had resulted in swinging from rooftop to rooftop, leading his tour of your world to an end at the top of your apartment building. Three separate visits to your universe in the span of two months had led you to believe that he was getting desperate for help, or for something else. The first time he showed up was to help you battle one of the more formidable foes of your crime-fighting career, the second to ask you to join his group of heroes to fight off even bigger threats, and the third, well… you’re still trying to pin down.

If Miguel is anything, it’s persistent.

“Give up already?” He chides, denting the metal of the AC unit with his landing as you finally stop swinging.

“Who’s giving up?” You pull the mask off your sweaty face as his head piece disappears without a trace, revealing his gorgeous features and flowing raven locks.

“It’s only midnight,” he points to his watch as he walks toward you, those hips of his sauntering in a way that nearly hypnotizes you on the spot. “Plenty of other threats around the city to be squashed.”

“Then go squash them.” You challenge, tilting your head to look at him from another angle. Why can’t men in my universe look like him?

“You’d like that, huh?” He keeps advancing until he stops just short of you, his broad shoulders towering over you as a light breeze blows the smoky scent of his cologne into your nostrils. As if you hadn’t already committed it to memory. “If I did all the work?”

“Well, you can’t blame a lady for wanting to know if something’s worth her while.” You tease as he closes the space between you, backing you up against the rusted metal door of the stairwell. “Because if we’re being honest, Miguel, I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I’m perfectly fine here on my own.”

“I can see that.” His irises glow a fiery red against the white sclera of his eyes, searching your face for any hint of doubt or deceit. Your senses had been telling you that he wanted much more from you than just a teammate, the sound of his pulse quickening whenever he looked at you barely louder than the silence of his stilled breath. He wanted you… needed you almost as carnally as you needed him, and it was getting to be more difficult for either of you to ignore it.

“But don’t you want to be more than ‘just fine’?” He plants his palms against the brick structure behind you, his direct proximity tying a knot into your stomach as the night sky behind him somehow bleeds a passionate crimson hue. You can visibly see his intentions, actually feel the desire as it emanates out of his pores and into the hot summer air, drawing you in with its magnetic pull. “Don’t you want to be amazing?”

“I can tell that you do.” You smirk, prolonging your trance as you trace the bright red outline of the spider on his chest, watching it rise and fall faster with each word you speak. “Not everybody wants what you want, Miguel.”

“Is that so?” He leans in close, his full lips brushing against your ear as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. “Is that why you moan my name at night every time I leave your world?” He slides his knee swiftly between your legs, gently lifting it up the crevice of your thighs until it rubs that sensitive spot between them.

“You’ve been watching me?” You knew that he’d been keeping tabs on you from whatever little hideout he had beyond your known universe, but you didn’t realize that he was paying that close attention to you. How much of your behavior had he actually witnessed? Was he speculating, hopeful, or had he actually watched while you slid your fingers beneath your underwear to satisfy that sudden urge his presence always seemed to evoke?

“You’re surprised?” He jeers confidently, his breath hot on your neck as he draws out a groan from your chest with another brush of his thigh, tapping into your natural moisture.

“That doesn’t really seem fair,” you start, eyes fluttering to catch glimpses of that scarlet sky phasing in and out of black and magenta as he continues to stimulate you. “You get to see all of me, but I don’t get to see any of you.”

You wonder just how far he took his viewings of you late at night; how many times he tuned into his recurring guest appearances in your imagination before you pleasured yourself into a dull, blissful slumber. Had he joined you in your handiwork, stroking himself in tandem, worlds apart, just in time to mutter your name with his release before the connection was lost? Or had he stayed tuned way past your loss of consciousness, hoping to hear some verbal confirmation of his presence even in your dreams?

“We can change that, you know.” He closes his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair, his thick lashes feathering over the shell of your ear as he presses a kiss into your neck.

“You’re gonna let me spy on you when you jerk off, too?” Your breath halts as he tastes the skin behind your ear and underneath your jawline, his teeth nipping at your pulse to make you pay for your quippy retort.

“Aye, cariño, are you always this mouthy?” He grabs onto your chin in a failed attempt to reign you in, the tips of his protracted claws nearly breaking your skin as he thrusts himself against you.

“You have no idea.”

—————————————

Miguel manages to stumble into your apartment with your legs wrapped around his waist, his clawed hands grasping at your thighs as they desperately cling to his hips. He pulls you up into him as he rounds the corner past your couch, his erection stretching the navy blue fabric of his suit as it grows harder against the drenched mound between your legs.

“You fucking taste like heaven, you know that?” He whispers through a dozen hungry kisses, the sharp sting to your skin and the iron of your blood flooding your senses as he bites down onto your bottom lip, wantonly sucking it into his mouth. That twinge of pain that would have hurt before you got your powers is nothing more than a scratch, a mere tickle as the warmth of his tongue soon counters it. He tugs and pulls every bit of flavor he can out of it, savoring each hint of salt and remnant of coffee on your tastebuds as he nearly gnaws your lip right off in the process, running into every wall along the way until he eventually reaches your bedroom.

“I thought you said those things were venomous.” You worry aloud, just now noticing their size and severity as he tosses you onto your bed with a lick of his lips.

“Only when I need them to be.” He grins and helps you peel your suit off your arms and torso, tugging it down past your hips and thighs before stepping out of his own spider suit with unmatchable ease. Eyes ravenous with lust, he watches you pull the last bit of stretchy cloth off your calves and feet, licking the tips of his fangs again as you toss your costume onto the floor.

“Well that’s lucky for me, then.” You sit up and press your knees into the mattress in order to get closer to him.

“Lucky for both of us.” He slides his thumbs beneath his boxer briefs and exposes what he’s working with, stealing the very breath from your lungs. Before you can comment on how big he is, before you can make a joke about how you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, he steps toward you and places his hand in the middle of your chest, pushing you flat onto your back.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs sternly.

“What?” Your brow furrows. Hasn’t he gotten enough of that through his viewfinder? Wasn’t that the whole point of him coming here in person? To actually touch you with his own hands and taste you with his own mouth? So that he didn’t have to just watch?

“I want you to touch yourself like you do when you think I’m not watching,” he reiterates, standing his ground as he resists the temptation to stroke himself, a single droplet of precum leaking from the tip of his cock.

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, his demanding tone of flattery quickly fueling your actions as it overpowers that inherent sense of stage fright nagging in the back of your head. “I can do that.”

You watch him hold his breath as you slide two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them as gratuitously as you can before pulling them out with a long trail of spit leading down your chin. His eyes follow your digits with rapt attention as you bring them down your body, their deep ruby hues darkening to burgundy as his pupils begin to dilate. You hear his breath hitch as you graze over your hardened nipples, snake your way down your navel and finally smooth them in between your soaking wet folds, exciting the sensitive neurons that have been begging for attention since the moment he arrived.

Doing as you’re told, you spread your juices up and down the length of your lips, catching a glimpse of his cock twitching against his stomach in anticipation, throbbing as you slowly pull upward on your clit. You can’t help but wonder how amazing he’s going to feel once he’s inside of you, your fingers barely able to do his length and girth any justice as you slide them inside your walls.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he finally exhales with a hint of a moan. He retracts his claws with a bite of his lip, cautiously touching your bare feet with the palms of his hands before slowly spreading your legs apart as he continues to watch you work. “Who knew your pussy’d be just as pretty as your face, huh?”

You huff in exasperation, too stunned to speak as his grin mimics your smile from the edge of the bed.

“You look even better from this angle, you know that?” Another lick of his lips spurns a trail of kisses onto the balls of your feet as he crawls between your legs, sucking little bruises into your calves and behind your knees; mementos for you to remember him by once he inevitably returns to his own world. You keep rubbing your bud up and down as he advances along your body; his lips, teeth and tongue massaging the skin of your inner thigh as waves of pleasure start building up into your core from both of your tantalizing efforts.

It isn’t long before he lifts your leg up over his shoulder, biting into your thigh once more before looking up at you with completely blackened eyes, your blood now staining his lips as it smears across his cheek. You moan as he takes his time lapping up the scarlet fluid as it mixes with his saliva, dripping down between your crevices as his mouth gets that much closer to your needy center.

Without a word of warning, he grabs onto your wrist and carefully pulls your fingers out of your swollen heat before encircling them with his lips. Those charcoal eyes of his roll back into his head, a deep guttural groan vibrating around your fingers as his tongue surrounds them, the savory flavor of your blood now blending in with the sweet tanginess of your sex. You push them in even further past his blood-stained lips, shivering in arousal as he sucks all the way down to your knuckles, making a sloppy show of licking them clean before finally drawing them out.

“Not so mouthy anymore, huh?” He asks, kissing the palm of your hand before lifting it up and placing your wet fingers into his hair.

“Uh-uh,” you whisper, the heat from his breath sending phantom pulses of bliss up through your spine, leaving you practically speechless.

“Then let’s see if I can get you to make some noise.” He licks a stripe up the length of your folds, choosing not to use his fangs on your most sensitive area as he focuses solely on tasting your raw flesh. He groans into your skin as he licks you up and down, inhaling your pheromonal scent as if your very essence is the only thing capable of sustaining him any further.

Your eyelids fall shut as you allow a few breathy moans to escape your lips, his tongue saturating every receptor you have with such an intense euphoria that it forces your hips to buck up into his mouth. Your grip on his onyx locks tightens as he continues to suck on your clit, pulling it taut into his mouth just like he had with your bottom lip, persistently eating you out like a man starved for days.

“See how good you are at following my orders?” He stops licking you just as you’re on the brink of ecstasy, a thin ring of red now glowing around the rims of his irises. “I just need you to do one more thing for me.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” You barely have the capacity to ask, your muscles vibrating beneath him with the promise of release that he so quickly took away from you.

His full lips curl into a smirk as he licks your bud one last time, kissing his way up your belly and breasts before reaching your neck, his cock needily bobbing between your legs until it slides inside you without ceremony. You gasp as his girth fills you up with impeccable ease, your slick walls welcoming his thick throbbing member, clenching down around him as he gently thrusts up into you.

“Miguel!” You shout in a stifled whisper, stars shining in your eyes as the tip of his cock hits that bundle of nerves he’s been teasing all night.

“Come for me,” he growls against your throat, all traces of that controlled man fading away as he pins your wrists to the mattress before bottoming out completely, rutting into you repeatedly like a wild animal.

“Mmm hmm!” Your moans echo off the walls in your bedroom as he drives himself further inside your heat, ricocheting off your nightstand and ceiling fan until they dissipate into the air above you, falling down like raindrops as they cover you both. His hips only quicken their steady pace the deeper he gets, sending hit after hit of white hot bliss up into your core until your body can no longer take it.

That wave of pleasure you’re so used to delivering yourself nearly takes you out completely as it washes over every inch of you from the inside out. It paints every cell in your skin, muscles and bones all the colors of the rainbow under Miguel’s hypnotic thrusts, his sweat dripping down onto you in tiny translucent beads before melting into your skin. Both of you phase in and out a variety of shades and patterns as you wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him in to make sure he feels the heightened state of nirvana he’s finally brought you to.

“I can feel you falling apart around me, cariño,” he whispers into your shoulder, thrusting one last time as hard as he can as he twitches and spasms inside you. Lavender paisleys, red and white stripes, olive and orange checkers all slowly fade away to a calm light blue before he pulls out and eventually lets go of your wrists. “You sure you don’t want to join my team?”

[marasmadness]

Only Need You For The Oxytocin- Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

CW: season 17 section chief Emily💋, stripper!reader, erm not everything Emily does is very legal but let us all close our eyes for the time being, interrogation, enemies to less than enemies. everybody is very flirty in government buildings where they should not be! handcuffs, smut, rough sex, power dynamics (dom!emily), bondage, thigh riding, light degradation, oral sex (em receiving), choking, semi public sex

Rossi tapped his fingers against the windowsill of an interrogation room, turning to face Emily beside him. “Some of the most psychopathic men have sat in the room and started to squirm after thirty minutes. She’s been sitting in there for two hours, unphased.

“She’s not a man,” Emily mumbled, watching the woman on the other side of the glass with squinted eyes. ”I’m going to talk to her.” Emily perked up, finally growing impatient. Grabbing her jacket off the chair behind her, she slipped it on, knowing that Rossi had already turned down the thermostat in there.

"Prentiss, wait, we already drew up a profile. We won’t get anything out of her. She’ll just try to play with you.”

“Let her,’ she replied, leaving Rossi with a half-open mouth as she dipped inside the interrogation room, shutting the door behind her.

“Oh, you’re a new one.” You smiled at the older woman who had finally walked into the room, alluding to the three other agents who had entered hours ago and quickly left. “Shame, Agent Jareau and I were having a grand old time. You could be fun too,” you commented, eyeing her up and down as she introduced herself.

Emily cleared her throat, choosing to ignore your comments. “I’m SSA Emily Prentiss with the BAU. Do you know why you’re here today?”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “Because your team wanted to have a little chit chat?”

“Bullshit, you’re too smart for this. You know why you’re here.” Ignoring the chair across from you, she opted to sit against the edge of the table. I’ve already talked to just about everyone else in your club and every other one in the city, for that matter, and they all came to one conclusion. If I needed information, you would have it. She explained calmly yet sternly as she swept her arm toward the door.

You sighed as you rested your tilted head on your palms. “You speak like this is an expectation from me, yet your men dragged me in from the parking lot on the way out of my shift and didn’t tell me anything until I was sitting in your interrogation room, like I’m the one running around committing crimes,” you said pointedly. “And don’t think I didn’t realize your old friend out there was lowering the thermostat, thinking it would get me to tell you whatever you wanted; I’m barely wearing any fucking clothes; of course I’d notice when it drops a few degrees.”

A sense of unease flashed across Emily’s face as she felt slightly guilty. She had come in headstrong, and you were right, without knowing how you ended up here in the first place. She was still standing in a room across from you, who was already on edge, so instead of rewinding, she doubled down. “So now what? You’re not going to give us the information we need to stop a serial killer because you’re offended,” she scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

You just stared, watching the woman. She wore a gold watch, its face sitting on her inner wrist, which clinked against her belt buckle lightly every time she dropped her hands to her side. Underneath a long red coat that you desperately wished to be under right now, her outfit was sleek and simple: black pants, thin gold jewelry, and a black blouse with newly undone buttons. Your eyes froze on her shirt, your lips pressing into a smile."Really? Two hours of you and your team of profilers brainstorming, and the best you could come up with was that I would spit out all my information if you sent a woman twice my age in to what exactly, seduce me?” Emily looked caught off guard, and you tipped your head toward her chest. “You’re wearing three fewer buttons than when I watched you walk by this room earlier when Luke left, and a fresh coat of lipgloss.”

Emily held up her hand, leaning in closer over the table. "Okay, I get it—not the correct strategy.”

“No, you had my weaknesses spot on; just use them in a bar or a date, not an interrogation room. I’m not that gullible.” You smirked, enjoying watching Emily’s panic level rise, and then her eyes narrowed as a giggle escaped you.

Emily finally took the seat across from you, resting her forehead in her palm. “You’re giving me a headache.”

She heard you shuffle, reaching underneath the table, and eventually looked up when you tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in front of her. She suddenly snapped up in attention. Where did you get those?”

You shrugged, picking one up. “I had them on me.”

“They didn’t search you when you came in?”

You shook your head, going to light one until Emily snatched in from between your fingers. “Stand up,” she directed, dragging two fingers upward through the air as she made her way around the table. You heard her mumble something under her breath, unable to distinguish any of it other than something about doing everything herself around here.

Her hands slid delicately down your sides and along the side seams of your clothes. She hesitated at the sensation of her hands brushing against your bare waist. Clearing her throat, she removed her hands. “Moving on, I need the list of Claire Demont’s regulars; I know she handed the list down to you.”

“I don't feel entirely obligated to help you. Claire has done a lot for me. Men have done a lot of shitty stuff to her. I’m not saying murder is ever the answer, but I don’t doubt that there's a reason for her rage. Can I go home now? Last time I checked, I wasn’t guilty of anything.” You stretched back over the metal frame of the chair, waking up your stiff muscles.

“No yet, but we do have a 24-hour hold because my team is under the very strong impression that you have information regarding the case.” Emily began to trail off upon seeing your disinterested demeanor and knew she wouldn’t be getting through to you. “Look, I can’t get you out of here; the best I can offer you is that we talk in my office instead, but I better be leaving with the list of names, no exceptions, got it?”

“Fine,” you got up slowly, demonstrating restraint to hide your eagerness. Before you could breathe deeply about your new slight ounce of freedom, the agent’s hands were enclosed around both your wrists, swiftly moving them behind your back. A short gasp of shock left your lips as you recognized the cold metal rings that clicked around your wrist. “I thought you said I was under arrest,” you muttered, irritated.

Emily’s chin hovered just above your shoulder as she whispered slowly in your ear, “You’re not; that was just for my entertainment.” A soft chuckle escaped her as she pulled away. Looping her fingers around the chain connecting your wrists, she tugged lightly, directing you toward the door.

Emily stepped outside much more composedly than you when you came face-to-face with three security guards outside the room. Emily knew they would be the only ones left in the building; no other agents remained, and they did not alarm her.

You heard a soft noise from over your shoulder, something you couldn’t make out but clearly Emily had. Turning your head, you found a man’s eyes roaming down your skin, almost greedily. Within seconds, Emily had dropped her coat off her shoulders and draped it over your shoulders. Pulling it closed around you, it hung down almost your entire body. Without a comment, her hand naturally fell down by her badge, and she gave a soft nod as she passed by the remaining guards, giving them no reason to question her authority.

Your heart rate sped up the farther you made it down the hallway; its loud beating suddenly became very evident beneath your chest. Peeking a glance over at Emily, she seemed collected and undeterred as she led the way to her office.

Stepping into her office, you immediately opened your mouth to speak. Before you could get a word out, Emily’s hand was over your mouth as you were pressed up against the wall beside her door as she locked it and pulled down the blinds. She eventually dropped her hand, narrowing the space between you slightly with the tilt of her head. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” She smirked before reaching over your waist to undo the cuffs, then looped them back around her belt. “Sit down,” She tossed her hand out across the office as her eyes scanned the rows of shelves lining the back of the room. You took a seat on the edge of her desk, right across from her chair. She pivoted around on her heel, setting a pen and piece of paper next to you. “Names,” she said, tapping the blank sheet with her nail.

You sighed under your breath but picked up the pen anyway, twirling it in between your fingers. Emily slid herself between her chair and your legs, dangling off her desk, before sitting back. ”Just so you know, I never knew all of Claire’s clients. When she left, she only gave me a handful of regulars' names to pass on to me.”

“That’s fine. The more she interacted with them, or the bigger impression she made on them, the more likely these men were to be targets. Do you know if she slept with any of them?”

“No, she never slept with clients, and despite contrary belief, neither did I,” you clarified, narrowing your eyes into a warning glare.

“I never said that,” Emily corrected, her voice remaining low and even throughout every interaction. “Sometimes it's just helpful to know because a man’s sex life can often tell you a lot about him.”

“If that's the information you need, you don’t need a profiler to find that out. You just need a little attention to things other than the physical act of sex.” You flipped the piece of paper in your lap around so the names were facing Emily as your pen rolled down the list. “These three are married and always want to give up control. They crave attention from the dancers but don’t do anything to draw it to themselves. They don’t demand anything; they want you to come to them. And the next handful of names have been single almost their entire lives. Most of them are possessive, and they want to spend the most time with you. They’ll tell you exactly what they want from you. Those men are typically the ones who will pay for a lap dance or two.”

Emily looked up at you, curious and slightly impressed. “You can tell me all that from a few minutes of interaction?” She asked skeptically. Your eyes skipped to the slight movements of her body, her thighs tensing against the tight fabric of her pants, and her ringer fingers closing against her palms as they rested at her side.

“Almost always, it's quite straightforward to discern if a partner is going to be possessive, controlling, desperate, or possessive.” You selected your words carefully, letting them hang in the silence between the two of you almost tauntingly.

Clearing her throat, Emily shook her head softly, causing a strand of silver hair to fall from her shoulder. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

Without thinking, you slipped off her desk with languid movements, finding yourself hovering over her with knees on each side of her body. You leaned away from her, back arching, so you were suspended over the air in front of her. Within seconds, Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, pulling you farther into the chair. It wasn’t an act of politeness to keep you from falling; it was lust-filled, her bruising grip not lessening or pulling away like two strangers should. Lifting your fingers, you brushed the collar of her shirt out of the way, pressing two fingers to the warm skin beneath her collar bone. Smirking, you felt her skin pulsing against you rapidly—the telltale sound of her racing heart. Tucking her fallen hair behind her ear, you whispered softly and sweetly. “ Just proved it.”

You lifted yourself off of her, starting to climb back down, before her firm grip pulled you forcefully back onto her lap. Her hands slid up her back, fingers playing with the zipper that held your top together teasingly. “Ah, finish what you started, doll.” She positioned you how she wanted to, her thigh between your legs with your hands draped over her shoulders. Her nails trailed down your legs, leaving light red scratches as she tore through your thin fishnet stockings.

Her lips latched to the side of your neck, sucking bruises of red and bluish hues down to your collarbone. Her sudden tightening grip made you suck in a gasp midway through ridding her of her own shirt. “Ride.” With one hand on your waist and the other clinging to the curve of your ass, she started the rocking motion. She flexed her toned thigh, holding you roughly down on her thigh, so every slight movement initiated by her stimulated your clit through the thin fabric between you.

The fact that your breathing was already breaking into stuttered sharp inhales simply from riding her thigh had your face burning. In an attempt to hide the fact, you buried your face against her shoulder, turning away from her unwavering gaze.

She brought your rocking to a halt, stopping to rest a hand on the base of your neck until you had to pull back upright to breathe deeply enough for the stars in your vision to disappear. “Eyes on me,” she corrected without additional comment before continuing her motions.

Sensing you were close to falling apart for her, she tugged your panties to the side, pressing the pad of her thumb to your clit. “Fuck,’ you trembled against her strong frame. The older woman’s eyes suddenly darted over your shoulder, and she quickly brought her hand from between your legs up to your mouth, pushing two fingers coated in your arousal past your lips.Sensing a noise behind you, your eyes widened in fear, realizing she had given you her fingers to keep you quiet.

There was a knock on the door, and Emily didn’t appear to be as alarmed as she should be, in your opinion. “Get under my desk and stay quiet.” She husked directly in your ear, nudging you down onto your knees in front of her, and she called out. “Come in,”

Anderson entered, swiping his badge to unlock the door. “Hey, Agent Prentiss. I just noticed your light was still on and wanted to make sure everything was okay. It’s getting late.”

“I’m good, Anderson, thanks.” She smiled softly as she thanked him. Her eyes fell coolly to the papers you had scattered across her desk from sitting on it. “I’m just finishing up some case files. I’m a bit behind at the moment.” Emily shuffled forward in her chair in an attempt to hide you if Anderson stepped any closer.

Sensing that he seemed to want to linger for a moment, you reached towards Emily’s zipper, her belt already on the floor beside you from your flurry of undressing earlier. Her hands engulfed your wrists, but after a minute of protesting, she had to lift her hand back up to avoid looking like she was fighting something under the table. The opportunity for payback was being handed to you on a silver platter.

Her voice spiked up an octave as her legs clenched over your ears. Unperturbed, your tongue traced along her slit as she kept up with Anderson’s casual conversation about work and what she did when she wasn’t at the office. Her hands dropped lightly into her lap and beneath the view of her desk, but unbeknownst to the man rambling to her, she had her hands gripping at your hair, tugging harshly as your tongue swirled around her clit. She resisted the urge to look down just briefly to catch a glimpse of her arousal smeared across your mouth, hair mussed from her touch.

You picked up your pace as you heard Ansderson start moving back toward the door, which left Emily’s legs quivering as she climbed toward an orgasm with every lap and flick of your tongue. The second the door was locked behind the security guard, Emily’s hands found the back of your head, nudging your mouth into her cunt. “Fuck, you better let me come on your mouth after that little stunt, sweetheart.”

You grinned up at her from the floor, a mischievous look in your eyes as you delved back into her cunt, wrapping your lips around her clit as she moaned while orgasming on your tongue. She panted as she came back down from her high, slouching back into her chair and spreading her legs. She helped you up off the floor, fixing you up before yourself.

In the middle of it all, you picked up a pink sticky note and pen off her desk, scribbling something down. Emily’s eyes narrowed as you held out the sheet. “What is this? You were supposed to give me all the names already.”

“I did,” you said, rolling your eyes at her assumption. "This is the club address, and when I work, Stop by sometime; you do still owe me an orgasm,” you pointed out with a grin.”

“Mhm,” her eyes widened at your boldness as she held one knuckle to her lip, hiding her soft, sly grin. ”Well, I risked my job because you're a desperate little thing, so I think you owe me about three. I thought you didn’t sleep with clients.”

You shrugged and started heading for the door. “Well, there's a first time for everything, or maybe I’m just making an exception for you,’ you teased," she said, pivoting around to return her coat on her arm that you had forgotten about for a brief second.

She gave you a small head tilt. “Keep it; I’ll see you shortly anyways,’ she suggested, and you just dropped your head slightly, smiling on your way out.

"Have a good night, Agent Prentiss.”

[stealthetrees]

So this is more of an AU of the fandom AU where the Coruscant Guard live in a shitty run down building that’s falling apart. But Commander Fox finds this unacceptable so he clears out a warehouse used for storage and builds a shiny new headquarters. The original building they fix up, but only the lobby, a couple offices, and the med bay so troopers on senate duty can stay there due to its proximity to the senate building. Their new building they can go nuts with, adding all sorts of stuff that they arnt allowed to have.

An entire room is filled with tv monitors so they can slice into security cameras around the planet and see everything. They get a nice rec room, an area for the engineers to play around with ideas, even an office for the medics to make you talk about your feelings. A server room is dedicated solely to storing and orgonizing blackmail collected on pretty much everyone worth mentioning on Coruscant.

But after one secret building, what’s another? Areas of strategic importance are carefully chosen and a new headquarters is established nearby. They are each given code names. The original building is still Headquarters, the new main building is the Barracks. The Office is where they run intelligence and investigations from. IT Department is next to the industrial district. The Kennals are much lower than some of their other buildings, a small station set up to monitor the rancor infestation (Thorn moves down there to become a cowboy after he “dies” on Scipio). The Lobby is set in the lower civilian levels as a way to help the people who arnt rich enough to bribe politicians into getting what they want. The Med Bay started as just somewhere for big surgeries, physical therapy and prosthetics, but which the “generous donations” they acquire it grows into a hospital for civilians as well, completely free, and they start hiring nat born doctors, surgeons and nurses while paying them well and proving a great work environment. Adding a therapist office helped a lot of troopers as well.

The system takes a long time to build and works perfectly. Until Fox figures out Palpatine is a Sith. It’s not actually world shattering news, but it does give him a panic attack after realizing Palpatine though Fox already knew, because he had threatened the chancellor with a slug thrower instead of a blaster. Through questions to his batch mates with Jedi generals he learns that Sith can influence people’s minds and decides that in order for the clone rights bill to pass Palpatine needs to die.

And die he does. The rest of the conservative senators are swayed by a mix of blackmail, bribes, and bomb threats. The bill does pass, and most of them are instantly arrested for sentient rights violations, assault, and various other crimes because government property can’t serve as a witness in a civilian court of law.

The timing of all this could not be worse, as two of Fox’s batch mates where on planet, Cody and Wolffe, and they loved to stick their noses in his business. Which means when a lot of Corries are injured in the fight with the senate guards and private security while trying to make arrests, Cody and Wolffe help get them back to Headquarters, because it’s much closer than the Barracks. But Headquarters has a very small med bay because so few troopers use it. So they are over crowded and run out of bacta.

Also Cody gets turned around in the hallway and discovers how bad the rest of the building is. So Fox has a choice to make. He grabs Cody and Wolffe and drags them outside and back to the GAR barracks while texting Thire and telling him he has an hour and a half to make Headquarters look lived in. Then Fox opens a one way comm line with every Corrie so they can keep the story straight as he answers his brothers questions.

Fox commits to the bit so hard they believe the Guard is suffering horribly from abuse and budget cuts while in reality they just steal money from what ever rich person they have the freshest blackmail from. He could just tell them all the illegal things he’s been up to, but Fox would rather die than tell someone more than they needed to know.

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Jimmy!

Summary;Anya told you about Jimmy, the least sane on the ship

Type:Scenario:Horror(?):Crewmembers & M!Reader, Anya X M!Reader(alittle)

Version:Mouthwashing

⚠️THERE ARE SPOILERS!! READ WITH CATION!!⚠️

~

It was a mystery why you came on the ship, with the countless therapist telling you not to, and your parol officer trying to stop you. But the law seemed to let you go, hiding the crimes you committed after realizing what you could do with ease, and letting you go. Why you joined- Nonone knew, all Anya knew was that you seemed to like her- in what why? She's unsure.

Everyday you'd say hi to her, finishing your tasks early to sit by her when she's alone. Everything was alright. You kept Jimmy at bay for abit, gave her time before he got to her.

She was quiet after that, not speaking as much, staring blankly. You've seen it so many times to know something was wrong, she couldn't convince you otherwise. She'd flinch around you, tense around Jimmy, and preferred to have Curly around. It was frustrating. All your hardwork was going out the window, sucking into space with nothing but a star to use up.

When you saw her sitting alone, now was your chance. To finally achieve your hardwork back, to have her back with you.

"Anya? What's wrong. Your so...distant now"

You sat next to her, keeping some distance to keep her in her comfort zone. Your head tilted, she wasn't looking at you. Your hands itched to tilt her head to you, to make her look at you with those eyes that always had you captivated.

"Its...it's nothing, really."

Her voice was holding on by a thread, she was scared. You knew she hadn't figured out about your past, it was all hidden years ago. Besides the ankle bracelet that they never took off before you got onto the ship. But she didn't know what you did, only had your doctor and therapist notes. So why? Why was she so scared.

"Anya..."

You moved closer, hand reaching out. But you didn't grab her, a light touch of your finger to her shoulder- making her jolt and look at you. Your hand was hovering, looking at her with a look she knew that you wouldn't leave until you knew the problem. She always thought you were stubborn. With a sigh she leaned back, rubbing her arm as she stared off again, blankly.

"...It's Jimmy. He....he's just...too much"

She didn't see the anger flash in your eyes, wasn't looking at you to see the darkness in your eyes. The same darkness that got you arrested. Anya had glossy eyes, clearly holding back tears that threatened to call her out.

"...did he hurt you?"

Anya looked at you shocked, gulping as she saw the anger. After a moment she looked down, her shaky hands gripping her pants as tears started to flow.

"Not...not necessarily."

It took a moment before it clicked in your head, eyes narrowing as you stared at her. You got it, you'll deal with him.

"Anya. I'll deal with him. I'll make sure he won't bother you."

Before Anya could react you walked out, looking for Jimmy. She knew she messed up when your voice boomed through the ship, shouting for Jimmy like you were hunting him.

After your...chat, with Jimmy, it got quieter. He wouldn't even look at Anya now, didn't show his face. But, Curly didn't like the chat you had with him, coming to chat with you but couldn't bring himself to mention it. Anya was confused, looking between you and Curly with a puzzled look. Curly had to get you away from get Anya. It took until you fell asleep to get to talk to her.

"Anya... he.. he didn't talk to Jimmy"

Anya looked puzzled, she knew you talked to him. You told him, she why else would Jimmy be avoiding her, you did seem mad.

"What? I watched him go to talk to Jimmy."

Curly sighed, rubbing his neck as he looked off. He didn't want to break the news like this, but it had to be said.

"Anya.. he, hurt Jimmy. Badly. H-...Jimmy's face its...it's bad Anya"

Anya was stunned, staring at Curly in disbelief. Her mouth opened but no words came out. Her throat was dry.

"I don't think He's sane Anya, Jimmy was so badly hurt i-i don't know what to do. I know I'm captain, but he won't listen to me."

Anya was silent, not wanting to believe it was real. But..maybe it was a good thing. Anyas hand found her stomach, an uncomfortable cramp starting up... but no blood was coming out.

"I'm sorry Curly..i-i have to go"

Anya stood up and walked out before Curly could continue. Leaving Curly there in silence. Curly head dropped into his hands, letting out a shaky breath.

Anya didn't look at you the same, there was so much conflict and confusion in her mind. It scared her to see you around the others- you seemed to like the others at least. Jimmy didn't look at you, but Swansea found it hilarious. Jimmy pissed him off so much, it was about time someone put him in his place. When Anya finally saw Jimmy's face again, it was when she was telling him about her pregnancy. She saw the bansages, the beaten face. And the anger, so much anger on one man's face.

Then the crash happened. And everything changed.

Jimmy became captain, you got angry, and Swansea was frustrated. Diasuke didn't change much.

Anya couldn't do it, her pregnancy was devastating, especially when it's a man she didn't want who's the father. When you came to the client, looking at Curly blankly, but at her with sympathy, she broke. She didn't know why, but you had that effect on her. She cried and cried into your chest- her legs couldn't even hold her, making you both sit on the floor as she sobbed and told you everything. Your arms were around her,letting her sob and let out all out until she fell asleep. Curly watched in horror as you flexed your hands. He couldn't do anything, not even able warn anyone. You'd hurt him again, and again until someone was dead. Either you, or him.

When Anya woke, she was in the client wrapped in a blanket alone with Curly. He was groaning, thrashing around while staring at her. He wanted to warn her, but she just sighed, getting his pain meds and gave it to him.

It was silent in the ship, Swansea and Diasuke were sitting at the table silently. It's been about a month since the crash, and suddenly... there wasn't a Jimmy yelling at them. And no axe. Anya walked around, a bad feeling in her gut as she looked for you. Her voice cracked as she called out for you. When she found you, there was no Jimmy, no axe, and... no uniform. You were in a white shirt and some spare pants.

"There you are! What happened? Everything's so quiet- and i...I have a bad feeling"

Your face was blank, staring at her before smiling, shaking your head with a chuckle.

"Your overthinking it, nothing happened."

You pulled her away from the cockpit, not wanting her to see the mess. The axe wasn't needed anyway.

Later that day while she was lying down, she looked at you, growing nervous as you sat next to her. There was something..wrong, very wrong. Your hand touched her stomach, staring at it before smiling.

"I'll help you, Anya"

She didn't like the look on your face, slowly sitting up. Your hand moved away, now resting on your knee.

"Where's Jimmy?"

Your face faltered, suddenly becoming blank. You stared, sighing as you shifted to sit across from her, putting some distance between you two.

"In the cockpit, where the captain always is."

She didn't like that answer and slowly stood up. You followed her, the blank look. When she got to the cockpit she hesitated, staring at the door with nervousness before you reached around and opened the door. The chair was turned to you two, but Jimmy was there. She could see his arm resting on the armrest and his head from over the chair.

"See? He's being a captain"

Anya sighed, rubbing her face as she turned away. Not noticing the handle of the axe sticking out from the side of the chair

"Maybe you were right...I must've been overthinking"

When the door closed there was a small thud, that Anya did notice. But thinking it was just Jimmy- technically, she's not wrong.

"Come on, let's go to bed"

~

[A/N: I've been wanting to write something about mouthwashing but never had any ideas. I hope you enjoyed]

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 30- Villain!Miguel x Hero!Reader

*Requested by so many of you that I had to incorporate so much in here. So- breeding, glove kink, fingering, dark thoughts, kidnap and so much more. Might make this a damn mini series because I fell in love with it!*

        This was not how you expected your day to go. Everything was going smoothly as you patrolled the city for any crimes. You stopped a few bad guys, retrieved a stolen purse and helped an elderly couple with directions. All the normal stuff. None of your big villains were out committing crimes, so you had a moment of peace. At least you were until you met him. A new villain who was a big threat, but not in the way you expected him to be.

        Before you even met this new threat, you were responding to an explosion at the Alchemax building. It was the last place you wanted to go since you worked there, but it was also where you received your powers. Swinging towards the tall building, you noticed people falling. Quickly, you scooped each person and brought them down to safety. They thanked you and begged you to stop the mad man who was tossing them like rag dolls.

        Whoever this person was had no care for human life. You huffed as you crawled your way up to the building. Entering through the broken glass, you coughed towards the smoke. You had to stop the fire from spreading. Webbing as much as you could, you continued inside the building, wondering where this new threat was.

"Ahí estás, mi hermoso nuevo sujeto de prueba. (There you are, my beautiful new test subject.)" A voice called out.

        You flinched, jumping away as you tried to locate the voice. It was strange, this person almost sounded like your extremely sexy, yet insane, coworker, Miguel O'Hara. Miguel was the son of your boss and CEO of Alchemax, Tyler Stone. Miguel was dangerous to say the least. He shared his father's beliefs and was determined to test the DNA of spiders on regular people, cue how you got your powers. You were lucky to have it been an accident. Everyone else did not share the same fate.

        Either way, you never saw Miguel turning fully evil. It was just a disappointment too, especially after fantasizing about him. Shaking the thought out of your head, you tried to look through the smoke. You gasped lowly, noticing a tall and buff figure before you. This was defiantly not Miguel. Miguel was a twig.

"¿Sorprendido por mi nuevo look? (Surprised by my new look?)" The man spoke as the smoke cleared, "I'm just like you now, but better." Miguel said with a fanged smirk.

        If your jaw could drop, it would. He really was insane! Miguel tested on himself and now had spider powers like you? This could only end in disaster. You went to web him in place, but Miguel was faster. He grabbed your wrists and pinned you against the floor. His body hovered over yours, causing your heart to race. This was bad, very bad.

"Don't look so scared, cariño (sweetheart). I'm not going to hurt you," You were so focused on his fangs,

"H-How am I supposed to believe that?!" You huffed, trying to kick him away. Miguel pinned your legs down,

"I would never harm the successful ones," He brought his head to your neck, inhaled deeply, "You smell so sweet, cariño. I'm going to take such good care of you."

"I don't think you mean that in a good way,"

        Miguel just chuckled darkly as his new red orbs stared directly at you. It was scary how strong he was. You didn't have fangs and you sure as shit were not this strong. You let out a small yelp as you felt Miguel inject something into you. You vision began to blur as your body weaken.

"Vamos a formar el equipo perfecto, cariño. (We're going to make the perfect team, sweetheart.)

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

        A soft grunt escaped your lips as you started to come back to your senses. You fluttered your eyes open, wincing at bright white walls. Trying to make sense of what happened, you shivered in response. Your eyes widen as you recalled Miguel. You raised your head, whimpering as you felt your naked body strapped to a soft table. You were confused and scared. Your mask was off too. Miguel really was insane and you had no idea what he was going to do to you.

"Ah, you're awake." Miguel said as he walked in with his lab coat over his bare chest, "I was surprised to see that it was you under that mask, (Y/N). How very naughty of you to hide right under my nose. Perhaps that is why I took an interest in you."

"A-As much as I would love to hear more...Please let me go," You begged, fear creeping into your system. Miguel walked over to you, his fingers stroking your body from your legs to your neck,

"Can't do that, cariño. Right now, I'm studying you." He hummed lowly, "Tienes un cuerpo bastante sensible. Perfecto para mi. (You have quite the sensative body. Perfect for me.)

"Miguel, please...I know I lied to you, but we've known each other for years. Please let me go,"

"You'll run away if I do." Miguel walked over, fixing his gloves, "I need you."

        You glanced around the lab, trembling in fear. This did not look like any of the labs back in Alchemax. It gave off a more homey atmosphere. Even the table you were on was soft. You knew that Miguel had some common sense in him. You just needed to find and exploits it so you can get free. You weren't lying when you had known him for years. Hell, you even had a crush on this mad scientist. Perhaps you could use that to your advantage.

"I-I won't run away. I....I'll corporates. I know you like things to be easy," You said with a whimper. Miguel's eyes sparkled for a moment as you saw his fangs poke out again,

"You'll be a good girl for me?" He asked.

        Oh, if it weren't for the situation you were in, you'd find that extremely sexy. You had to admit, you were a good girl which is why you became a hero. So much for avoiding the liking bad boys trope. You gave a hesitant nod towards Miguel, hoping that he would at least free your hands.

"Spread your legs out for me the," He demanded. You gulped, slowly doing as he said, "Que hermoso coño. Todo para mi. (What a beautiful pussy. All for me.) Did you have any major changes to your reproductive system when you got your abilities?" He asked.

        You trembled as Miguel started to touch your inner thighs. You replied to him with a 'no'. His fingers just stroked your legs as he loosen the binds on your feet. He kept your legs up, retying your feet. You could only twitch as the cold air hit your cunt. Miguel was watching your reaction. He fixed his glove one more time, spreading your folds. You squeaked, wanting to complain, but you knew that would only make him mad. You were his new test subject. You had to behave or he will hurt you.

"Don't be so scared, cariño. I'm not going to hurt my good girl," Miguel whispered as his finger entered your hole. You whined lowly as he explored your insides with his thick finger, "So tight, you've stayed single, yes?"

"Y-Yes." You replied, trembling as his finger alone stretched you out. You needed to change the topic, "M-Miguel, b-besides fangs...and your physic...w-what else affect you?" You stuttered as he pressed against you cunt.

"Tsk, tsk, don't change the topic. We're focusing on you."

        You bit your lower lip, almost afraid of where this was going. Almost. The deep dark part of you was getting horny at the thought of what Miguel might do to you. It was bad. You were tied up in his private lab with his finger inside you. Miguel was a villain now. You could not allow yourself to be swayed by him. Right as you were about to ask something else, Miguel entered another finger. You hit your head back, letting out a soft mewl in response.

"Good response. Flow is above average according to the data, but all the better for me." Miguel spoke to himself, pumping his fingers inside your dripping cunt, "Now for the length until burst."

        You whined as you tried to move your hips as Miguel's fingers pumped deep inside you. His two fingers alone were larger than some of your toys. This was the most pleasure you had ever felt. You gasped sharply as he curled his fingers. He kept curling as if he was searching for your weak spot. Once he found it, you broke down. A loud moan escaped your lips as your body shook in pleasure. You cam against his gloved hand, your pussy clenching against his fingers, wanting more.

"Qué rápido. Es más fácil para mí criar. (How quick. Easier for me to breed.)" He smirked, taking his glove off.

"Hah....hah....Miguel?" You panted softly, relaxing from your high. Miguel took off his lab coat, typing away on his computer.

"User experiencing intense thoughts of breeding, higher salivation, increase blood-"

"A-Are you okay?" You asked, wondering if he was now having side effects of experimenting on himself. Miguel stood straight and made his way over to you,

"I'm not, but luckily I have a hero here to save me. You will save me, right?" He leaned closer to you, his hot breathe against your neck.

"H-How can I?" You knew you shouldn't have asked.

        The look Miguel had was lustful and curious. He placed himself between you legs, revealing his large, harden cock. You could feel your heart about to leap from your chest. Miguel's breathing was irregular and his pupils were blown. This wasn't an experiment anymore. He was taken over by lust.

"My good girl," Miguel stole a kiss from you, the tip of his dick pressing against your folds, "I can't stay mad at you for hiding this little secret. Not when our offspring will be perfect."

"M-Mig-" You winced as you felt his cock stretch your walls, "Mhm...W-Wait-" You begged.

        You whimpered as Miguel kept pushing. His hands were stroking your body. You whined and lifted your hips slightly as his dick kept entering your tight walls. He was so big. It felt uncomfortable at first, but you started to get hotter and wetter. Miguel's tip kissed your cervix, threating to enter. Your pussy pulsed around his cock, taking in his large shape. Miguel grunted lowly, inhaling at the thought of finally being inside you,

"¡Un ajuste perfecto, estábamos hechos el uno para el otro! (A perfect fit, we were made for each other!)" He roared in laughter before slamming his hips into yours.

        Your body arched as you let out a breath taking moan. Miguel was bullying your poor pussy with his monster of a cock. Each time he filled you back up with his dick, you felt your vision blur. Your loud moans were overtaking the wet slapping noises of your bodies connecting with each thrust. Miguel's grunts getting sloppier as he rutted into you like the madman he was. He grazed his fangs over your shoulders, biting into your skin. You cried out, blood tingling down.

"M-Mig~" You cried out, begging for freedom. Miguel licked his lips as he felt you tighten against him, "G-Gon...na cum...p-please....M-Mig, please~!" You begged repeatedly.

        Miguel just smirked as he watched you fall apart. He freed your arms, allowing you to wrap them around his neck. He held your hips tighter as you cam against his dick. Miguel kept thrusting through your high. You whimpered his name as Miguel stopped to cum inside your womb. His chuckle echoing the room as he placed you back down on the table, putting you on your side.

"We're not done yet, cariño. I have the stamina to last for hours," He whispered harshly before pounding into your pussy again, "Oh? What's this scar? How did my little subject get hurt?" He actually sounded concerned.

"Ah...I-I g-got it...mhm...f-from...hah~ V-Vulture..." You finally said between moans. Miguel growled lowly as he lifted your leg over his shoulder, slapping his dick deeper inside you, "AH~ s'much....deep~" You cried out.

"How dare he." Miguel's tone got darker as he watched you fall victim to another orgasm, "As of today, you are officially retired as Spider-woman. I won't allow my perfect partner to get hurt again."

"B-But-"

"I'll take over the role," The look in his eyes turned wicked, "When I'm done with them there won't be anyone left to challenge us as the superior beings." Miguel chuckled as he gave you another load of his cum.

"Miguel," You whimpered lowly.

        Miguel noticed your body losing feeling. He placed you on your knees and noticed the area where he bit you. His tongue grazed over his fangs, realizing that he had paralyzing venom. A sinister chuckle escaped his lips as he continued his harsh charade of thrusts from behind now. You body twitching and shaking from the overstimulation. Your moans getting louder as your face grew more blissed out. Miguel pulled your hair, forcing you to arch your back,

"How does that sound? Are you going to be my good girl and stay here as my perfect subject?" He whispered in your ear as he pounded your drenched pussy.

"Y-Yes! Yes, yes!" You cried out, unable to think straight. Miguel stroked your back as you tighten around his dick again,

"I won't let you leave. I'm going to find out everything about you as you carry our perfect offspring. Qué hermosa eres, siendo contaminada por este villano. Me aseguraré de que todos sepan que fui yo quien te jodió hasta someterte. (How beautiful you are, being tainted by this villain. I'll make sure everyone knows that I'm the one who fucked you into submission.)" He chuckled.

"Mhm~ M-Miguel~" You moaned lowly, feeling yourself drift from the numbness. 

        Miguel hummed to himself as he gave you one last load. Pulling out, Miguel raised the table and fixed you on your back. He had your hips raised, wanting to make sure that his cum stayed inside you. Miguel stroked your hair as you fell asleep before making his way to his computer.

"Set reminder to not use fangs during breeding session. Subject will not last and it isn't as fun without her cries." 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Have you ever think about Boothill, Sunday and Dan Heng with Foxian reader?

Poke ears and brush tail, they will do it with a smile while watching you squirm and face burn in embarrassed.

One of them will bury his face into your tail and sniff it gently, your tail is his pillow and teddy bear to hug.

Boothill:

This man would take one look at your ears and tail and automatically his mind is filled with ways he could -lovingly- get on your nerves. He’s just fascinated by the way they twitched and perk up at even the slightest of sounds, it was as cute as it was entertaining.

He’d even softly blow hot air against your ears and watches as they would twitch/ flinch at the sensation and how you’d try to hide your fluster expression behind your tail.

He loves getting you riled up and will not give it up for the life of him as it was just too much fun!

Boothill was shameless in his teasing and that was enough to make you flustered and he’s barely even touched you! He’d probably even used his shark like teeth to playfully chomp on your ears, drowning out your protests with his boisterous laughter.

Your tail is his personal pillow and his head is always buried deep within it 24/7. He’s nuzzling it, smelling it, kissing it and so much more that the crimes he committed against your tail and ears were astronomical.

Dan heng:

Had accidentally fell asleep on your tail once. Cuddling against it even and muttering under his breath about how ‘soft’ and ‘warm’ your tail was as he nuzzled his face into it with a small smile upon his face.

The moment you told him this the next morning, the poor man was embarrassed and flustered to the highest of heavens. He was about to profusely apologise for his actions when you waved him off and saying that it was pretty cute of him, before then telling Dan Heng that he was more then welcomed to do it again should he ever get tired.

He tries to reframe from doing so now but even he had to admit that at times it was just too tempting to pass up. And yet he still managed to find the will power within to not give in, he’s already made a fool out of himself once in front of you, he was not doing it again.

…until he does it again and cuddles up against your tail, purring as he once again smiles while doing so. You’ve decided not to mention any of this to him later on, and kept it as your little secret.

Sunday:

He’s the type to poke and prod at your ears and tail just to see you get flustered and squirm beneath his insightful gaze.

He finds you easy to tease but that never stops him from taking through enjoyment every time you fail to swat him away, or conceal your expression behind your bushy tail. After all His wings were pretty sensitive too but yet you still touched them with a mischievous smirk, so of course he’s going to want to get back at you for it.

It’s a game to him to see just how many expressions he could coax out of you within a certain time frame before leaving abruptly.

‘H-hey! Where are you going?’ You’d cry as you felt Sunday pull away from toying with your ears, watching on in confusion as he stood up from his seat, adjusted his clothes and began to walk towards the door.

‘I have a meeting soon and I do not wish to be late because I was indulging in…other things.’ He says as he looked over his shoulder with a wry smile at your expression, but you couldn’t help it! The way he spoke was only meant as a means to make everything that happened come off more intimate than it actually was!

You hated him sometimes for drawing reactions for you so easily but that was also something you admired too, and besides you did kinda start it but messing with his wings.

[ancientnapdragon]

the most self indulgent svsss au i will never write is like a double reach-around cross-universe type shit.

Luo Binghe is the tragic villain of Pathetic Demon's Immortal Revenge (or some equally stupid name). LBH is the Qing Jing Peak Lord who was well liked and well respected by the Cultivation world at large; rumored to be the most powerful one like ever. Had a super tragic backstory and always came across kind if a bit self sacrificial and distant.

This and the story is all experienced through the eyes of the Scum Protagonist, disciple Shen Jiu. SJ ALSO had a tragic past and was saved by LBH before being taken into the Sect. But he's like. You know. SJ. So he has it out for LBH and doesn't trust him because SJ would never allow himself to change or get any happy ending.

It culminates into SJ taking every chance to secretly slander and tear apart his Shizun's reputation until finally LBH is like tried for all these crimes he didn't commit. LBH ends up having like a qi deviation and gets real quirky before it ends up this like epic battle where SJ finally kills LBH. And SJ like gets away with all these years of framing his Shizun for all this terrible shit he never did. It's the most beautiful story that Shen Yuan has ever read! Critically acclaimed, multiple adaptations, ect ect. This real deep cut into trauma and how it effects people and their perceptions of others and all this stuff. When the story closes out SY cries so hard he chokes on a meat bun and then fucking dies. And woah! he gets transmigrated! As SJ! Except, like, the System kinda fucks up. And instead of actually taking SJ's body over, he becomes like his twin? But this works, because now he has a chance to save his favorite character ever, LBH, from his tragic death! And maybe he can also help out some of the other well rounded characters who suffered because of SJ in the novel!

EXCEPT. EXCEPT.

THE DOUBLE HORSESHIT REACHAROUND.

Meanwhile, one universe to the left, another SY is dealing with this exact same thing. He's the twin brother of Scum Villain SQQ, the Qing Jing Peak Lord. He's working SO HARD, even with his System limiting him, to keep his 'brother' from blackening white sheep LBH in this shitty novel he fucking hates.

After finding some bullshit artifact from Airplane's shitty writing, some wife plot happens and SY activates it by accident. SQQ and LBH end up in the perfect spot to BOTH try and drag him out of it's range, only for both of them to get effected as well.

What it ends up doing is (somehow?) dragging Peak Lord!LBH and Disciples! SY and SJ into PIDW. So then they all just Spiderman Point Meme at each other. VERY IMPORTANT NOTES ABOUT THIS STUPID AU:

Disciple!SJ is just as, if not more, psychosexually obsessed with PL!LBH as canon LBH is about SY. More so, even. It's a 'if I can't have him no one can' type situation.

Both SY figure out pretty quick they're transmigrators and do their best to compare notes. Adult SY is pretty mad that he got stuck in the shittier story.

Both SJ like hate each other instantly. Somehow the 14 y/o is crazier and tries to pull off loony tune plots to kill his adult version. It never works.

Adult LBH and Child LBH have no idea what to do with each other. Adult LBH still ends up adopting Child LBH like instantly tho because he wants the kid to 'have a better life' than he did.

Adult SJ finds himself charmed by the sad wet dog aura that Adult LBH has and gets a crush on him. He hates himself for it. This is a factor in why Child SJ wants to murder him.

YQY is over the moon because now he has FOUR Shidi to dote on. Child SJ takes the most advantage of him because the other three are not really interested.

Child SJ ironically ends up being fantastic for Child LBH. Because Child LBH is kind of his Shizun, and no one can be mean to his Shizun except Child SJ. So he WILL break bully bones. Even if Child SY does his best to curb that.

Adult LBH is still half heavenly demon but he like hides it.

The underground Cang Qiong Fujoshi Alliance is going insane because of everything happening. This is like a perfect honeypot storm for them.

[bokuroar]

12:17 — few years later | 🛬❤️‍🩹🎇 iwaizumi h.

“you’ll be there, right? right? right?!”

if it’s anotamically possible to cut your ear off without passing out because of oikawa’s incessant nagging, you would’ve done it the first few seconds he begged you to accept kuroo’s reunion dinner invite before the all-star game. you were seijoh’s babysitter manager after all so, according to kuroo, it’s just right you’re there, in which you only replied with a i’ll think about it.

“haji’s gonna be there.” oikawa says in his annoying singsong voice and you swear you could hear his smirk right through your phone.

you bite your lip as if oikawa could see you blushing and smiling through the call. after years of graduating from high school, you wouldn’t have thought just hearing his name will elicit the same effect on you.

“and?” you reply nonchalantly because you would rather crawl under the earth and bury yourself alive than let oikawa confirm your cutesy, little high school crush on iwaizumi never really went away.

oikawa being your best friend saw through your reply and snorted, “pft, if i know you’ve been looking at his instagram every night before you sleep just because you’re too much of a scaredy cat to hit him up. don’t act as if you don’t zoom in on his shirtless pi—“

“oh my god, fine! i’ll go to this freaking dinner so please for the love god shut the hell up! ” you exasperatedly sigh wanting to tolerate oikawa’s teasing no longer not because it’s untrue but because you felt like you were caught committing a crime. it’s a curse and a gift you have a best friend that knows everything about you.

you hear oikawa shriek through your phone in celebration and about being there at 6, so you mutter a good bye before he lays out a plan that involves dragging you wherever into the night.

as if on cue, your phone lights up with a notification from your old group chat when the call ended,

✉️ t. oikawa: see you all on saturday!!!! no backsies!!!!!! :p

you roll your eyes knowing he’s talking about you. you were about to hit send on a message something about being him still being an annoying ass when another bubble popped in your screen that made you rewrite everything you were about to say.

✉️ h. iwaizumi: im back too 🇯🇵 see you guys :)

✉️ you: i’ll be there ☺️

come saturday, you’re standing in front of the restaurant which every nook and cranny you’re familiar with as this was a popular go-to after-school-dinner-place during your younger years with the team. you try your best not to look frantic while you check your phone at least every 10 seconds to tell oikawa “wru >:(”

you were about to hit the call button when you hear somebody clear their throat. as a reaction, you step away from where you were standing thinking you were probably blocking the entryway.

“sorry i was just w— oh. haji?” you take these few seconds to take him in—the way his shirt hugged his biceps, the watch that also somehow added to his attractiveness, his skin that’s more tanned, his freshly cut hair, and his smile. god, that smile. so many things have changed about him since he last visited home but his kind, subtly giddy smile still reached his eyes.

“been awhile, hasn’t it?” iwaizumi sheepishly say and you hold back a gasp when he scratches the back of his head that flexed his arm.

“it’s been.. yeah? yeah, it has. i mean. yes..” you nervously laugh, mentally kicking yourself for tripping over your words.

you feel your cheeks redden, not from the cold air of the darkening day but because of the manly, handsome laugh that bubbles from iwa’s chest. “watcha doin’ out here, though? waiting for a someone or..” he drags his sentence hoping you don’t hear his silent prayer that you are romantically available.

you snort before you could even think about it, “no, c’mon it’s not like that.” you laugh and went on to tell the tale of oikawa begging you to come, “i’m waiting for that idiot tooru who went several measures to make sure i’m here.”

“you two were thick as thieves, weren’t ya? i’m glad you stayed in touch even if that shithead went abroad.” iwaizumi smiles and you can’t resist staring at how he threw his head back when he laughed at oikawa’s typical antics.

“wish we did too, y’know. i missed ya.” iwaizumi suddenly confesses, “i just found myself wanting to talk to you when i was out there.”

to say your heart felt like it dropped on your feet was an understatement. it’s like everything froze—the leaves halted midair, the world went silent and the only sound you could hear was the loud thump of your heart. all what you manage to let out is, “o-oh? you did? really?”

iwaizumi looks at you like you just asked the most ridiculous question, “‘course i did. we talked every day then! remember how i used to walk you home after our trainings then stop by that dang old ramen place that was there since forever? missed hanging ‘round with you and the team ‘tis all.”

you smile as you look at the ground, shyly but fondly recollecting all the simple but sweetest moments with iwaizumi you cherish so much. with his sudden reminiscing, you recall the sort-of debate you had with him because he kept on insisting he should always walk you home.

“r-right. the team. yeah, i missed them too.” you say as you shake your head along with the thought of having a chance of romance with your longtime friend.

“we should go inside. fuck that tardy tooru i think a lot’s of them here.” you casually laugh and walk towards the door until you felt a hand on your wrist.

iwaizumi shoots you a grin, “what do you say the two of us go grab that ramen? for old time’s sake?”

a/n: so .. uh … im back ! hope everyone’s still here 😅🫣 anw this was supposed to be just a drabble but i got a lil carried away & im alr thinking of writing a pt 2 .. wdyt hehe

[devildomditzy]

Mammon SFW A-Z

🎂Happy birthday to my beautiful jpeg husband

🎂 I ain’t even gonna lie this is so rushed 😭 but I wanted to get something out for his birthday in time!

🎂 This is more so based off of OG game Mammon and not Nightbringer Mammon

🎂 SFW besides some cursing

🎂 A-Z template by tumblr user @/the-coldest-goodbye

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He has a very hard time showing affection in a public setting. Even in front of his brothers, he sometimes panics - getting all red in the face - which usually ends with him denying his feelings for you or outright insulting you (why would he want to be with a stupid human anyways?, etc.)

In private, he is the most annoying motherfucker you have to peel him off of you most days. Earlier into the relationship, it was shy touches mixed with blushing. Now that you’re comfortable with each other, you have 0 personal space. Because hey, what’s yours is his - and that includes your bubble, right MC?

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

We already know the answer to this one, as he was literally written in game to be the ‘best friend’ archetype. Mammon starts crass and rude, acting like you’re a bother and he’d rather be anywhere else but next to you. Your friendship starts once Lucifer assigns him to be your guardian. Though he acted like he hated it, Mammon quickly became fond of you. Now you’re his inseparable partner in crime.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

The minute you are home from RAD and you both have changed out of your uniforms, he’s pulling you into his room, on to his bed, and not letting go of you. Sometimes he doesn’t even wait for you to change. He’s clingy, okay! Why would you wanna be anywhere else but layin’ with him?

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Mammon already feels like you are. His home is the HOL, with his brothers. And now, his home includes you. It’s his ideal scenario.

Plus he doesn’t have to pay rent.

He can be good at both tasks if he actually applies himself, but only seems to do it if you specifically ask him to. If Lucifer asks him to cook or clean, the room still feels dirty and everything is burnt. You almost think he does it on purpose.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Listen-

He literally couldn’t.

Once you and Mammon are together, he can’t see a future without you. He can’t see his life without you.

If it was ever broken off, it would be a scenario where he means well, thinking you would be happier or safer, generally better off without him.

But he is greed and even the thought of it upsets him to no end.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The boy cried watching Cinderella ofc he wants to get married! But he couldn’t imagine to whom until you came into his life. Something just clicked for him. You’re his best friend, his partner in crime, you’re his. I don’t think it would be quick, as a matter of fact he’s way too tsundere for that. But he’s sure once he’s ready, it’ll definitely be you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

It depends! So we know he’s the second strongest, so in that regard if he wants to be he can be far from gentle. But when it comes to you and his brothers, he consciously trying to be softer. Emotionally? Boys a wreck. A huge softie. Please hold him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Once again, please hold him. Even if he acts like he hates it sometimes, your hugs are something he looks forward to. When he feels awkward in public he’ll give you one of those weird barely touching you side hugs. But in private? Have fun trying to get him off you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

So we know canonically when this happens (I believe it was around end of season one of the og game?) and we know he says it plenty after that. We don’t have an exact way to know how much time passes between episodes, but you can assume it took about a year as that was the end of MC’s exchange program originally.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Ooooooooh while he may not be like Levi embodying envy, when it comes to you he’s ridiculously jealous. He’s your ‘first’, remember? If it’s something that’s making him jealous relating to his brothers (i.e. hanging out with someone other than him), he’ll pretend he doesn’t care to the point of being a giant dick about it, inadvertently showing he actually does care a lot.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Honestly? Most of the time they’re timid and shy. He holds you in the highest regard, he adores you though he may not show it very well. You still make him blush like crazy and his stomach still stirs every time he looks at you.

Other times they’re possessive and passionate, he is the avatar of greed after all. But really, his style depends whether or not you take the lead.

His favorite place to get kissed is the neck/collarbone area

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Another one we canonically know! He’s great with them. He probably the most emotionally intelligent of his brothers and actually cares greatly about the things that matter to him. His brothers and you are everything to him, but that little girl back in the human realm that he takes care of? She means the world to him too. He’d be devastated if something happened to her. Meeting you, the thought of having your own child pops into his head every now and again, and it makes his heart melt. But whether or not you have children is something he leaves entirely up to you, not pressuring or pushing you about it. All in all, he’s a natural at taking care of them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

If it’s a school day, most the times Lucifer forces you both to sleep separately in your own rooms. He’ll knock on your door at the same time everyday to walk you down to breakfast with the others, and then off to school. It’s very routine.

If it’s a lazy day, or a weekend, he’s clingy. Have fun trying to get him out of bed, and if he has anything to say about it, you won’t be doing anything productive either.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

School nights are spent having to be separated most of the time per Lucifer’s rules which Mammon says are ‘totally unfair’ and ���dumb’ and whatever other negative thing he can think of. But he’s going to call you. Relentlessly even, if you don’t pick up right away. He’ll talk your ear off into the night until one of you falls asleep on the other line of the phone.

Weekend nights are spent out on the town, he wants to go to places like casinos and The Fall, so if you let him drag you along too, he’s elated.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Since he puts up such a front with his feelings, it’s hard for him to get really mushy or personal. Once he begins to trust you more (and fall for you) the speed at which he tells you everything quickens, and he becomes an open book.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He seems to be easily angered by his brothers teasing him, but knowing him as well as you do, you can tell he’s never really actually mad at them. He could never be. The only time you’ll see him actually get mad is if something happens to you or one of them.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He’ll pretend like he doesn’t remember every single little detail you’ve told him, but mentally he’s taking notes every time you open your mouth. He hangs off your every word, so he knows things ranging from general facts about you to your most deep, personal secrets. And he won’t forget a single word (even if he may act like he did)

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Mammon’s favorite moment in your relationship was your first trip to Devil’s Coast together. He’s honestly not even sure if you considered that a date, since you were actively looking for Lucifer and Diavolo, but he certainly does. No. 2’s commentary didn’t help at all. He gets embarrassed when he thinks about it, but he loves it all the same. He keeps the picture you took together in his wallet.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He was literally assigned to essentially be your own demon bodyguard, so yes, he’s very protective of you. At first it was because it was an obligation, then it was because he was intrigued with you, and it quickly morphed into because he’s in love with you.

He’s shocked anytime you stand up for him or defend him in anyway. He’s not used to his brothers defending him in conversations, and is surprised to see you do it. Honestly, he feels like he doesn’t deserve it because of how much he looks down on himself. And you’re this tiny human stepping up to the plate, sometimes risking your life for him? Honestly he finds it hot.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

The most try hard that ever tried hard. Even if he tries to pretend what he’s doing for you is a favor, or the gift he got you was nothing special, it’s always something ridiculously couriered to you and your tastes, or something you physically said you wanted out loud. You could have said you wanted something three months ago. A year ago even. But he’ll always remember and always make sure you get it one way or another.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He’s literally the avatar of greed, so obviously there’s that. He can lose control sometimes when it comes to grim, or his obsession with both his belongings and with you.

But, I think Mammon’s worst bad habit is how negatively he thinks about himself. You’ll always need to check in on him from time to time to make sure he’s not spiraling in his mind. But when he does, you’re the best person to pull him out of it.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s concerned to a degree being a model and all, but definitely nowhere near Asmo standards of vanity. He’s the kind of person who always looks good without trying. The most effort he’ll put into anything is his outfits, especially if it’s an outfit he’s wearing to go out with you. Besides that, he’s not too concerned.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

His world would shatter.

Now that he’s met you, and now that he’s almost lost you countless of times, he could never ever see a future for himself that doesn’t have you in it.

He doesn’t want any future without you in it.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He goes through your things. With good intentions of course!!! Why would you think anything else??

Okay maybe at first it was to sell your stuff. But now that he’s with you, he only does it to see what you’re into at the moment so he can gauge the best gift he can get for you, or what date he can take you out to.

He lives for the sparkle in your eye that you get when he does that kind of stuff, so while not an amazing thing to do, his looking is not malicious.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn’t like people who are assholes for no reason. Sure, he can see why someone would act aggressively if he knows the why they are, but if they’re just doing it to do it or for some self serving reason, he dislikes them.

And though he is a model, he also doesn’t like people who are too full of themselves. He’s already got an Asmo at home, why would he need another one of em’?

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He is terrible at falling asleep.

And even worse at waking up.

He becomes accustomed to staying out late or just talking to you late into the night, so his sleep cycle is horrendous.

Once he does fall asleep, have fun trying to wake him up. We all know how great that went for Levi when he was trying to get his figure back :)

[dioslesbianwife]

So I have this idea where Reader is a really chill person but their stand says otherwise, and It feels like It’s another person stand yet It is actually theirs, I’m talking about a stand that is an absolute menace to society and acts almost on Its own but they eventually learn how to deal with their stand and control it. So I’m curious how Reader and their stand dynamic would be with the Jojos. To sum it up jojos with a reader whose stand is too dangerous, thank you!

this is a really interesting idea- thank you for requesting and also tysm for being patient, this took a sec cause i got covid last sunday lol

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan is the type to believe in the good in you, no matter how terrifying your stand is. Even if it acts on its own, he’ll always remind you that you are the one in control.

He tries to be understanding, but if your stand nearly kills someone over something petty (like a waiter bringing the wrong order), Jonathan will intervene quickly.

“Your stand may have a will of its own, but you have a stronger one. I believe you can master it.”

If your stand ever hurt someone unintentionally, you’d probably feel terrible, and Jonathan would be there to reassure you. "You're not a monster. Mistakes happen. Let's work through this together."

The ultimate gentleman, he would stand by you no matter how dangerous things got.

Joseph Joestar

Oh, Joseph is shocked the first time he sees your stand act out on its own.

“W-WHAT THE HELL?!”

He’d probably try to trick your stand into obeying you rather than actually training it- like setting up ridiculous scenarios where it has to listen to you to “win.”

Joseph would totally joke around about it. “You? Chill? Sure, but your stand is out here committing war crimes.”

Deep down, though, he genuinely wants to help. He’ll use his quick thinking to stop your stand if it ever goes too far, but he believes you’ll get it under control eventually.

Jotaro Kujo

Jotaro is not amused the first time your stand goes rogue. He’ll immediately go “Tch.”

If your stand ever tried to attack him, Star Platinum would knock it down without hesitation.

“Control it, or I will.”

But despite his bluntness, he sticks around. He sees potential in you, and he understands how hard it is to deal with an overwhelming power.

He'd help train you to command your stand properly. “The more you hesitate, the more it does what it wants. You need to be firm.”

Deep down, he respects your ability to remain calm despite your stand’s chaotic nature.

Josuke Higashikata

At first, Josuke thinks you’re a cool person to be around- until your stand starts destroying everything in its path.

“H-Hey! Tell your stand to chill! That was my favorite arcade!”

Josuke would 100% try to befriend your stand, like it’s some wild animal.

“Look, I know it’s a menace, but maybe it just needs some love.” Cue him trying to pat your stand on the head and almost getting decked.

But when things get serious, he has your back. If you’re struggling, Crazy Diamond will be there to fix the damage and keep you from feeling guilty.

He also secretly finds it kind of funny that you are so chill while your stand is pure chaos. “It’s like a dog that doesn’t listen to its owner, but, like… really dangerous.”

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno is unfazed. He deals with dangerous stand users all the time, and he sees potential in yours.

He immediately understands that your stand has a will of its own and will help you learn how to coexist with it rather than suppress it.

“It’s not about control. It’s about understanding what it wants and guiding it properly.”

He would use Gold Experience to counter your stand’s actions when necessary, but ultimately, he believes you can get a handle on it.

Giorno probably treats your stand like an unpredictable force of nature- dangerous, but something that can be used for good if harnessed correctly.

If you ever doubt yourself, he’ll calmly reassure you. “You have more control than you think. Don’t let fear dictate your actions.”

Jolyne Cujoh

Jolyne’s immediate reaction: “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES YOUR STAND ALMOST KILLED ME??”

She’d be frustrated but also determined to help you control it.

She wouldn’t hold back if your stand got too out of hand- Stone Free would wrap it up in string to keep it from causing chaos.

“Look, I like you, but if your stand tries to attack me one more time, I’m gonna kick its ass.”

Over time, she’d start seeing your stand as part of your personality, in a weird way. She’d even tease you about it.

“You act all calm, but I know deep down, you’re just as much of a menace as your stand.”

Johnny Joestar

He wouldn’t judge you for it, but he’d push you to take responsibility.

“I know what it’s like to feel powerless. But if you don’t step up, your stand’s gonna get people hurt.”

If your stand acted up too much, Tusk would be ready to put it in its place. He’s not afraid to use his abilities against it.

That said, Johnny wouldn’t abandon you. He gets that it’s a process and would support you in learning to manage it.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

Josuke finds your stand fascinating but also really annoying at first.

“Wait, so it just… does whatever it wants? That’s a thing?”

He’d have a habit of side-eyeing your stand whenever it moves.

If it ever tried to attack him, he’d respond immediately with Soft & Wet- probably trying to steal one of its abilities just to make it stop.

“Guess I’ll just take away its ability to be a pain in the ass.”

Over time, he’d respect your ability to handle something so wild, and he might even try to get creative with how you use its unpredictability in battle.