#someone else was going through it too ig

[ryotheraccoon]

Guys look pin

[alexa-crowe]

but also while i'm thinking about it i wish gale talked more bc i always love hearing what he has to say. especially if after talking to mystra and coming to the realization that he was abused by her & that it's cyclical, he tells you about how azuth became the patron of wizards & how elminster had a romantic relationship with mystra too.

[deus-and-the-machina]

ffxiv garlemald discourse is so funny because people will go "ugh people just cant stand it when things aren't black and white" and then you look at how the empire are portrayed in stormblood and shadowbringers and its like hm. that seems like a pretty intense and accurate display of violent imperialism to me! Wow I wonder why people in this day and age may find it hard to feel sympathy for them or even hate them on principal. god its such a mystery.

the games like 50/50 to me on how it tackles these themes because I actually like the garlemald arc in EW, I think it has a lot of horrific and powerful scenes depicting how self destructive fascist propaganda and beliefs are, but I also think it doesn't go far enough on some fronts. the garleans' xenophobia is most notably and obstacle to getting them to accept the contingent's help, which is what they're there to do,

but there's never an admission of harm from any garleans on the uuuuuuuuh massive amount of war crimes the nations around them are still suffering from they're just kind of like "we misjudged you...but you actually wanted to help us all along" like yeah thats great now can we get you all some deprogramming because you keep talking about returning to your prime and glory days and I think we need to unpack some stuff you really SHOULDNT return to. im not even really talking about EW proper but the patches where things are a bit more chilled out and people are recovering.

It feels like they wanted to have their critique of imperialism and also have things end with the beauty of human connection and reaching out and these things just don't mesh well because hey a lot of your modern day audience is not gonna like having to treat people yelling xenophobic things at the cast and your character with kid gloves after you showed them hours and hours of the awful things these people's beliefs have done. especially in the present day hoo boy.

[genekies]

screaming in the club

time for another vent in tags

[elegyofthemoon]

In the cool, plush core of the moon sleeps a mouse as we speak, dreaming of a world lush and green, then golden and undulating, then chopping and churning, a world of many surfaces with skies of many moods.

When it awakes, it will poke its tiny head out of a crater and bask in your glow as it does every morning. Here, all is still and silent. On that sparkling planet in the deep black distance, the sun seems capricious. But the mouse lives in the abyss of the body and therefore with a unique perspective on its essence. The mouse sees what other life does not see.

One needn't worry about unbecoming for the sake of containing a sun. Clouds may blanket the atmosphere of a planet, but still there burns a sun. The spots on the sun's surface may grow and shrink and shift, but still there it burns. And if one decides to cool it down like a waning flame or expand it in a cataclysmic supernova, still there it burns, and one has the right to revoke the state of their existence and become new.

Because perhaps the truth is you are not the sun--not alone--but it is rather a part of you. Your body is the solar system, each planet a world within the body, and each knows this glow in different ways. Some are nurtured by its warmth, others by its distance. Regardless of the sun's changes, they stay the course encircling it.

The universe cannot be held back, harnessed, fully comprehended. It pulls at the seams of solar systems as it pulls on its own seams. In that unstoppable shifting, we stumble. Sometimes it feels like our love and light slips from our fingers, shattering irrevocably in our falls. But what makes us cannot be seperated from us, even in times where our essence is obscured.

There is always another life to appreciate your life, no matter what happens. And in the least, there is always a little mouse in you that understands you in telescopic clarity and offers forgiveness for every change--no matter what, right into the end of time.

❤

[snekdood]

Bitches on here be like "haha! I read this callout about you and i told everyone around me to ostracize you and ignore you and the reason you're alone is divinely orchestrated karma, of course, surely not me and my hand in manipulating people to hate you, surely this is some sort of divine intervention and not a smear campaign that i try to justify my actions with "its gods will" with"

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

bruh he rly can't be stopped

ike was in second place at 95 wins, let that sink in for a minute

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: angst ig

gn reader

Gojo has loved you forever.

When the two of you were toddlers, he was never shy about kissing you and holding your hand. It was only when the two of you began school that he was taught that it wasn’t proper – a schooling that made him frown.

But his love for you never dimmed despite it. Growing up, he became nothing shy of a true bully pulling his crush’s pigtails. He’d flash his six-eyes and limitless techniques and tease you for your subpar cursed energy – often rescuing you like a faux knight in shining armor.

But despite acting like your older brother – he’s really been dreaming of you in carnal ways ever since he first found out what sex was.

Which is why he’d sling his arm around your shoulder when you were talking with other guys – having grown up so tall, he’d have to all but bow in order to level with the small fries – a sly smirk on his lips with his shades low on his nose.

“Ah – I didn’t know you had a boyfriend – I’m sorry.” They’d always stutter – feeling the chills of those icy blues pierce through to their bones.

“Ugh, Gojo – get off – you’re too heavy.” You’d argue in a familiar whine, shoving at his lanky shape – already fuming. “He’s not my boyfriend – he’s just a dumbass with no respect for personal space.”

“Oh – I’m more than that~” He’d insist. “Y’know, we got married on the playground when we were six.”

You’d roll your eyes at his attics. Huffing out a growl at him. But no amount of clenched fists and angry brows could hide the embarrassment. And ultimately, no guy really dared try their luck with you after being introduced to the white-haired childhood friend giving them death glares.

Which is why it’s baffling when he finds out about the wedding.

He’d seen you less and less over the years. He’d been busy as the newly awakened honored one – new missions almost every day. 

You’d capped out as a second-grade sorcerer and decided to become a teacher in Kyoto – sent out on missions every now and again, but mostly just to supervise students. 

He’d been glad you settled on something safe and not something you’d sooner end up being killed – like him. But he wasn’t overly fond that you’d chosen Kyoto over Tokyo where he could keep an eye on you.

But he supposes that’s exactly why you’d done it.

He knows he coddles you – knows you’ve always hated it – knows you hate it because you know he’s right to do it – knows you’d be dead if it weren’t for him.

How could you marry someone else? How could you choose anyone other than him?

He doesn’t respond to the invite. Doesn’t answer when you call. 

He’s gone for several months. 

You know through the assistant supervisors that he’s still accepting missions – out on the prowl, killing curses – doing little else.

You try to deny knowing why he’s upset. You love him like family, but he’s always been a child with too many toys – you, one of them. This is him throwing a fit over someone else taking what’s his.

But you know he’ll come to his senses after cooling off. You know he’ll be at the wedding – all smiles – if not happy, then pretending for your sake. 

In all his strange ways, you know that he loves you. And despite being childish, you know he’ll do the adult thing and let you go.

The two of you would never have worked. Which is why you’ve never given in to his googly eyes – that hand on your thigh when the two of you’d been drinking – that lingering stare resting on your lips – and those silver-toned words on his.

He’s with someone new every other week despite his unfair hold on you – keeping you for himself – placing you on a shelf among the other things he hopes he’ll one day grow into – like a pair of shoes bought a size too big.

But you know he’ll never get there. He’ll never mature enough to hold a relationship for any longer than a month or so – never mature enough to settle down somewhere and not hotel-hop from one five-star to the next – never mature enough to respect you the same way he respects himself – never mature enough to commit to anything but himself.

The two of you could never be a couple. You could never love each other in the ways you want to be loved. He would want you to stay at home and wait for him to come back – longingly as a sweet housewife would – and you’d want him to encourage you in your respectful career – happy for you like a supportive husband would. None of it matched.

You love him, but you would never be happy with him. You would never feel respected. 

So, that night when the two of you’d shared a kiss – you’d held him at arm's length and told him it was a mistake – that it would only serve to ruin your friendship. 

He’d taken it as you being flighty – just a cute road bump before you’d finally realize you were meant for him – before you’d come running to his arms with pretty tears dropping from your eyes while throwing yourself at him – all apologies and confessions and desperate kisses – telling him you couldn't live without him.

But there you are…

Walking down the aisle for someone else.

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙞 𝙙𝙤 𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡︎

anon asked: nobu could you do something with scara and feminization?? thank you!

characters: sub!scaramouche x nb!dom!reader

warnings: edging, overstimulation, praise, dacryphillia, feminization, just scara fucking himself stupid on your cock, as always cock can also mean strap on

notes: i gotchu nonnie, i gotchu😌 also scara is a bit of a yandere here ig??? this came out much more softer than i imagined. as a fellow scara-nation person, SCARA NATION COME GET YALL FOOD🗣

reposting bc tumblr has started a war against someone they can’t beat by deciding to suddenly flag my posts as mature

“aah! aanhg! m-mine. mine mine mine! only mine! n-no one else’s! mine! minemineminemine-gyaah~!”

bouncing on your lap with a cute purple, lace lingerie and stocking on was your sweet boyfriend. eralier today when you had your friend and co-worker drop by your house to drop off some of your work documents, scaramouche saw how awfully close you two seemed. your friend even gave you a hug! so he decide to surprise his loving partner with a gift.

after finishing the documents, you didn’t expect your cute boyfriend to be sitting on the bed with the latest lingerie you bought for him. pink nipples being seen through the bra and his already hard cock poking a bit out of the panties with the stocking hugging his thighs just enough to cause a little pudge, he looked absolutely delicious. throwing himself on you and guiding your bigger hands to roam around his body, scaramouche started grinding himself on your legs.

“aww love what’s this gift for?” kissing the old hickeys and marks on his neck, you gently squeezed his ass. even that little action seemed enough for scaramouche to moan in your ears.

“just-just wanted to make you happy” came in the breathy response of your short lover. he oddly seemed quite desperate today. wearing a cute set, throwing himself on you, selfishly grinding his ass over your thighs. but it’s not like you were against it. if your sweet boyfriend was feeling nice might as well enjoy it.

dragging you to the bed by the collar of your shirt and pushing you down on the bed, he seemed more like himself now. straddling your crotch and grinding himself, scara started mumbling and whining about some stuff about how you’re his and he belongs only to you. how you should only look at him, need no one else but him and something along the lines of it.

and that’s what led to this point. with your sweet kuni fucking himself stupid on your cock.

“[n-nameee]~ please? h-help me! ca-anngh aaGKK! pleasshee~ help me! tired. shoo tired nngk~” whining about how tired he is and how he can’t ride your dick anymore he looked down at your face with a pitiful look and tears running down his cheeks. but you only smiled at him and squeezed his hips, gently making him grind down on you. he sometimes hated how easily in control you are.

“shhh, it’s alright baby boy. you can do it. i know you can. do it like how you always do okay? up and down baby boy. up and down” toying with his cherry red tip with one hand while guiding his hips to meet yours, scaramouche found himself growing more and more desperate. soon enough he came with a loud yell of your name and fell on top of you like a deflated balloon.

“aww you did such a good job darling. surely you don’t mind if we go a few more rounds right?” flipping yourselves over and kissing his cheeks you asked him for his permission. he can get overstimulated a bit too easily at times. nodding and smiling dumbly up at you with hearts in his eyes with a dazed look, this was gonna be a long night.

[nerak-01]

Just...Pissed off Bestfriend!Ghost who can't get outta the friendzone...

TW: no direct smut ig, but its teasing and build up to smut. Ghost pinning over an oblivious reader.

This might get a second part if it does well, but who knows.

Imagine Ghost who prides himself in being subtle, unfazed, and mysterious. Except, he isn't around you. He'd been one of your closest friends since you both practically grew up together. Even when he joined to military, you made it a point to send letters and stay in touch. Ugh, that made it so much harder to not grow attached.

Ghost, or Simon, as you know him, would never out right tell you he was interested. Instead, he chose to drop hints. Maybe warding off any guy who looked at you too long wasn't the best hint, but it was crucial. Simon made an effort to keep his hands on you whenever he could. Whether that was a hug; a hand on your hips when he brushed passed you; or full blown cuddles on the couch when you guys watched movies.

Oh, he loved the cuddles. He had your whole body pressed against him as he occupied most of your attention. You were always so soft and warm. He always had to take a bathroom break half way through to relieve himself of a harder problem.

If you noticed how Simon began to change, you never mentioned it. This was now approaching your sixth month of this friends with cuddles non-sense. It wasn't like he wasn't your type! On a boring mission break, he might or might not have gone through your search history to find some enlightening Onlyfans subscriptions. He was both unimpressed and flattered when he saw how his body matched many of your most visited sites. Why pay to see other men's bodies when you could run your dainty hands over his? Simon Riley didn't get it.

Simon also couldn't fathom how you still hadn't taken the hint. He'd agreed to go clubbing with you as you chose to parade around in the sluttiest two piece he'd ever seen. Fuck. Why was your skirt so short anyway? Your top was basically lingerie with the mesh pieces and thin straps. Were you trying to grab his attention on purpose? Cause it...was kind of working... a little too well for his liking.

He hated how his eyes ghosted between your thighs before pulling away to look at the cock block who had you exhale an airy laugh. Your sounds were always angelic. He'd be lying to himself if he hadn't fantasized about the more sinister sounds he could draw out of you when you'd finally gotten the hint. Nevertheless, hearing it directed to someone else made his blood boil. Perhaps the other predicament was the fact that he knew that his eyes weren't the only ones lingering on you.

"Hey, darling, I think it's time we head out." Simon wasted no time, in two strides he was at your side with his arms wrapped protectively around you. He gazed down at the moron who looked a bit paler before the guy made an effort to wrap up your conversation. The idiot quickly scurried off into the tight crowd.

"No, I wanna dance more~" Your voice drew Simon's attention. You were being such a brat by subtly grinding your hips against him. Sure, you were wasted, but you had to know how riled up he was. You should be able to feel his hard on poking your back by now. He gripped your hips, forcing them to still.

"Baby, you're drunk, and I'm the one who's responsible for getting you home," he growled in your ear. There was a thick rasp in his voice as he tried to repress the urge to grind back. This wasn't fair to him at all. How could you expect a man to resist you? Simon had plenty of trouble doing that already, but this gave blue balls a whole new meaning.

[starry-bi-sky]

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

[evsstolenhearts]

Summary: you got kidnapped

Implied Spencer Reid x BAU!gn!reader | 1.4k | no y/n |

Warning: kidnapping, drugging, blood, ect. Cannon typical violence

A/N: I wrote this at like, 2am on a Monday I think. Its.... unique. R and spence are not really considered as dating, more just mutual feelings that are not discussed at this time ig?

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆

The cold tiles have gone warm from your body heat hours ago. Wrists are sore and bloody from the rope on them, ankles and knees in similar condition.

The window in the old, nearly abandoned-looking kitchen once showed the sun, but now the moon is shining through it. That's the only thing telling you it's no longer day.

Earlier this week, you and the rest of the BAU was called onto a case in Cincinnati, Ohio. Some guy decided he wanted to get people drunk, kidnap them, and torture them before disposing the bodies. 

Luckily, you had a lead on a Tyler Mixins, and went to check this out. Unluckily, he got mad, knocked out Rossi, who was with you, and kidnapped you.

So now you sit in an old kitchen, next to a missing girl who has been unconscious since you got here, in a house in the middle of nowhere. It's hard to tell how long it's been because he keeps getting you high. From what you can tell, it's probably high doses of benzodiazepines. Keeping your muscles and mind pliant.

The few times you have been conscious enough to fight back, he's thrown you back into the wall so hard that you definitely have a horrible concussion. From what you can tell, there's also blood coming from somewhere on your head, having moved down to the side of your face and dried there.

Faintly, you hear heavy footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Tyler walks in, hands shaky as he forcefully ties a rope around your head and between your teeth, keeping you from talking, before he grabs your wrists and drags you through the house. Despite wanting to struggle, the drugs in your system keep you from doing so.

He takes you to a separate room, one that seems like it was once a bedroom with a bathroom connected to it. He sets you onto a old vanity chair, tying your middle to the back of the chair. 

Your eyes start to droop from lack of energy, brain slightly fuzzy. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see him grab an ax that rests against the wall. Your heart feels like it's going to fly right out of your chest.

Tyler walks closer, standing in front of you, ax in hand. Just as he prepares to swing it, the front door to the house is busted down, and rapidly moving footsteps enter. Vaguely, you can hear shots of commands as Tyler quickly grabs a syringe off a metal medical table, making quick work of uncaring the needle and rushing to inject it into your neck.

With the last of your energy, you try to scream through the gag, clearly being loud enough, as footsteps rapidly approach the room. Prentiss appears in the doorway, a gun pointed at the man in front of you.

"You don't want to do this, Tyler." Emily keeps her voice calm, taking cautious steps into the room.

He quickly goes behind you, syringe horrifyingly close to our neck, yet he remains silent. His silence doesn't seem to surprise Emily; some form of information they got while you were here probably told her why he's so silent. Too bad you didn't get to sit in an only slightly uncomfortable precinct chair while learning more information about this guy. 

"Put down the syringe." Emily stops moving closer, with the chance of him snapping and injecting whatever is in the syringe into your body. "We can talk this out; you don't want to hurt them. You'll be in even more trouble for killing an FBI agent."

For the first time since you've been here, Tyler speaks, his voice rough and clearly not very used, "I'll get a lot of respect in prison for killing a fed."

There are footsteps behind you now, who you can only assume is someone else from your team. They probably snuck through a window in the bathroom. Tyler seems to pick up on this as well, as you register his grip on the syringe tightening.

From what you can tell, he does stab that syringe into your neck; there's distant yelling and footsteps. Tyler falls to the ground before all the liquid is administered into your veins, and someone else quickly rips it out. The same hands make quick work to untie all the ropes from your body; everything seems barely there. Like everything you are experiencing is memories from a dream, going in and out of consciousness.

The only thing you can know for sure is the soft, repetitive beeping slowly surrounding you. The last thing you can remember is being untied from the chair after the unsub injected you with something. You probably knocked out. And you know, you're probably in a hospital right now. But it feels like you are underwater. Like you're at peace for now. It's quite the comfortable place you've made in your mind. Feeling weightless and soft. Mind blurry and warm.

But soon you register more than just the beeping in the room. There is a soft-spoken voice. A familiar one. And suddenly, the place in your mind isn't as comfortable. The softness becomes too soft, nearly prickly. Feeling unease as you leave this place in your mind. Slowly, you blink open your eyes.

You were correct. The familiar look and smell of the hospital fills your senses. The lights seem to have been mostly turned off; lights from the hallways shine through the door, unlike the night sky shining through the window. There are flowers on a table next to you, but the most notable thing is the voice.

Next to you, is Spencer. Sat slightly awkward as he reads aloud, though, not very loudly, a book. 

"Spence...?" Your voice is rough and sore, turning your head to look at him

He stops reading from his book, looking up, slightly startled. He stands up, setting his book down and walking over to you. "Hey... how are you feeling? Does your head hurt? Any other forms of pain?"

"I don't think so, my memory is really fuzzy though, and I feel drowsy." 

"That's to be expected. The doctor said you had an extreme concussion as well as a wound to the left side of your head. There weren't any fractions or broken bones, but the unsub did inject you with high doses of benzodiazepine." Spencer talks quickly, giving you a once-over as he recites what your doctor said. "How much do you remember?"

You recount your memories for a moment, trying to put them into words. "I remember being tied up in a kitchen, as well as the unsub giving me pills; there was a girl here too-" The quick realization of another person being in danger courses through you: "Oh my god, was she okay? Did you guys get her?"

"We did get her, and she is being treated a few rooms over. I'll debrief you on her condition after you finish telling me what you remember." Spencer's voice remains as calm as he can keep it.

"Okay, I don't remember how much time passed, but he took me to a room, I think it was a bedroom, and tied me to a chair in there. Around that time I think Emily and someone else came I to the room, but everything else is pretty blurry."

Spencer nods as you talk, taking in the information. "The other person was Derek; the window to the connected bathroom was opened, so he climbed through that while scouting the outside perimeter. You did get injected with more benzodiazepine, which seemed to knock you out. Prentiss and Morgan got you into an ambulance, and I drove with you to the hospital. You have only been out for a day, which is expected with your injuries."

A small smile overtakes your features. "You joined me in the ambulance?"

Spencer quickly trying to change the subject as you save his heart. "You have a change of clothes, would you like to change into them?"

"Oh God, yes." You laugh as you sit up, excited to change out of the hospital gown and to spend more time with Spencer, now awake. Even though, this experience will probably leave a lasting scar.

[twistedfics]

𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

Leona (twisted wonderland) x AFAB!reader (no pronouns mentioned) NSFW

2.3k+ words

~

hi! this story is 18+ and contains dark content. read at your own risk.

tags/warnings: ⚠️ non-con/dub-con, somno, biting, dacryphilia, breeding, possessive sex, mating, leona is in rut, licking, cum eating, kinda yandere ig?, leona is mean, maybe a bit ooc

~

summary: what if the night you stayed at savanaclaw went a little.... differently?

Leona had been acting strange. Or, at least, that’s what you thought. You couldn’t exactly say you knew the guy very well but something seemed off about him. 

But then again, maybe you were just majorly pissing him off. If you knew anything about him at all, it would probably be that he wouldn’t exactly want people (that he doesn’t seem to like, especially) all up in his business. And especially not in his bed. Whoops.

You’ll admit, it wasn’t the best arrangement, but given your current options, it was all you had. You had to stay somewhere right? It’s only temporary, you can live with him hating you for a night. 

Leona grumbled to himself, tail flinging around as you attempted to make yourself comfortable. He had thrown himself down in the middle of his bed in the midst of his little tantrum and you were forced to squeeze yourself into the bed the best you could. And as far away as you could manage. All those times you thought about Leona getting you into his bed, this wasn’t exactly what you had imagined.

“This is so fucking stupid. I should just throw you out and let you and that damn cat of yours find someone else to bother.” He spat in your direction, but you didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe if you just face the other way and pretend to sleep, he’ll calm down?

“You better not make a fucking sound tonight. If you wake me up, you’re dead, herbivore.” Guess not. 

You sighed and turned slightly in the bed, looking over your shoulder at him. You spoke softly, “Look, Leona. I’m sorry about this, really. but I really appreciate you letting us stay here. I’ll keep quiet, okay? You won’t even know I’m here.”

He didn’t look at you, but you heard a quiet “ugh” which you decided to take as a response. You knew you weren’t getting much more. 

“Goodnight, Leona,” you said as you turned back to face the wall, closing your eyes. You just needed some sleep, and then you’ll figure everything out in the morning.

~*~

You awoke to a room that was far too dark for it to be anywhere near morning. You felt hot. Way, way, way too hot. You attempted to move but found yourself constricted. What was going on? 

In your half-asleep state, you tried to kick away whatever it was that was holding you in place, and your heart nearly stopped when you were lucid enough to feel it. Something was pressed up against you from behind, holding your body against the mattress. Your eyes shot open when you felt something wet and hot against your neck. 

You tried to scream and were immediately silenced with a hand over your mouth. 

“Shh. I told you to be quiet.” A deep voice growled in your ear. Leona? That was definitely him. What in the seven was he doing?

“Leona, wha-” your voice was muffled, and he shushed you again. “You smell so good,” he mumbled, shifting against you. And that’s when you felt it. Something long and hard pressed against your ass. 

Panic shot through you as you began to struggle against him. You managed to turn yourself towards him before he got a hold of you again, removing his hand from your mouth in the process.

“Stop. Stop, Leona, please!” You cried trying desperately to pull yourself out of his grasp. This proved impossible, as he simply tightened his hold on you. It felt like he was trying to crush you to death.

“Maybe you should of thought of that earlier? You know, before you decided to invade my space all night.” He spoke low, way too casual for the situation you were in. His teeth pressed against your neck and you gasped.

This is apparently your fault to him??? You didn’t ask for this! You were only staying here out of necessity anyway. Sure he was hot, and you can’t lie that you haven’t thought of this before, but you never wanted it like this. Why now? Why you?! Violated just because a man can’t keep it in his pants? It’s sick!

Despite your constant struggling and protests though, Leona didn’t let up. His claws were digging into where he held you by your hips and you were sure your neck was probably bruised beyond belief. And to make matters worse, no amount of your crying was keeping him from pressing himself into your thigh. 

“Leona, please! You’re scaring me. Let me go right now!” Your pleas fell on deaf ears as he maneuvered himself on top of you. One of his hands held your wrists together above your head, the rest of his body pinning you against the mattress. Tears were falling down your cheeks now, sobs getting stuck in your throat. You were no match for his strength. You couldn’t see yourself getting out of this alone.

“Do you ever shut up?” He growled, attacking your neck with his teeth again. His claws started to work at tearing your shirt apart and his hips not so subtly ground against your thigh. You tried to thrash around one last time, but the groan that came from him at your movements stopped you in your tracks. This was a nightmare.

“W-why are you doing this?” Your voice was shaking now, sobs being ripped from your throat at every nip of his teeth against it.

“I let you sleep here out of the kindness of my heart, didn’t I? I should at least get something out of it.” He had completed his task of ripping your top to shreds, and he slowly moved himself down your body, biting and sucking at your skin the whole way.

You whimpered when he reached your chest, licking at one of your nipples while his hand came up to pinch at the other one. He teased you for a while, switching between your tits, sucking and licking at your nipples while massaging the other one. 

You could feel him each time he ground himself against your thigh. He was so hard, and you could almost swear he was growing harder- if that was even possible. Pre-cum dripped from his tip and soaked the front of his pants, so much so that you could feel it, sticky on your exposed skin.

His free hand moved down to toy at the waistband of your shorts and your breath hitched. He was really doing this. This was really happening. 

You tried to free your hands but found that he still had your wrists caught in an iron grasp. Tears were now pouring down your face, begging and pleading as you sobbed for him to stop, to just let you go. 

Why did this have to happen to you?

He came back up so he was level with you, his face just centimeters from yours. You searched his eyes for any kind of remorse at what he was doing, but there was nothing. His pupils were blown wide with lust as he smirked down at you.

His face moved closer towards you and you froze as you felt him lick at your face, wiping away your tears in the most disgusting way possible. You felt like you were going to vomit.

“You’re cute when you cry. Be a lot cuter if you were quiet though,” he whispered to you, nipping at your ear before moving back down your body. 

You had given up struggling, accepting your fate. You couldn’t get out of this. He was too strong, and there was no reasoning with him. Something was wrong. He wouldn’t listen, you knew that. 

You cried even harder as he finally ripped away the material of your shorts. You felt humiliated, left in just your panties as you cried and shook beneath him.

His hand slipped past your panties to toy with your cunt, and you watched in horror as he flashed you a predatory smile. 

His next words sent ice through your veins, “Would you look at that, herbivore? You’re soaked. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Freak.” He chuckled and you felt as if you weren’t even in your own body anymore.

Were you enjoying this? No! You can’t be. You’re scared out of your mind and you want it to stop. So why are you wet? Surely a natural reaction, right? There’s no way you could actually be into this kind of thing, right?

“Look at that pretty pussy. All f’ me.” While you were lost in thought, he had torn your underwear away completely. He spread you apart with two fingers, watching as your wetness dripped from your core between your thighs. You didn’t think you’ve ever been more embarrassed.

He pressed down harshly on your clit, closely watching your reaction as your whole body jerked. His stare had you pinned, you felt like prey being stalked. But the lion had already caught you. 

“I hope you’re ready, herbivore. I’m done waiting.” He let go of your wrists and swiftly flipped your body around. Your face was now pressed against the mattress, support from your arms taken from you as he once again pinned your wrists, this time holding them behind your back. 

With one hand he pulled your hips up, leaving you face down with your ass up, level with his hips as he kneeled behind you. He removed his hand for a moment, and you heard the rustling of clothes before you felt his hard cock pressing against your soaked entrance. 

His hand came back to grip your hip, claws digging in and leaving marks on your skin. Your body involuntarily tightened up as it anticipated what would come next.

Leona pushed his hips forward slowly, groaning softly as he forced the tip of his leaking cock into your little cunt. 

“If you don’t relax this is going to hurt a hell of a lot more than it would have,” he grunted and continued to press forward.

You whimpered as you tried to force yourself to relax, your body not wanting to welcome the intrusion. He was huge! It hurt like hell, but no matter what, he wasn’t stopping, and you cried out as his tip stretched you out more than you had ever felt before. 

“That’s it. Take it, you little brat.” You moaned as his cock continued to stretch you out, the feeling burning more with each inch that entered you.

After what felt like forever, he finally bottomed out. He sighed as his hips pressed against your ass and you took a deep breath to try and prepare for what came next. You could feel him inside of you, pressing against the walls of your pussy, hot and twitching.

Without warning he pulled back and quickly slammed his hips forward, pressing you hard against his bed. He gave you no time to adjust, starting out with a quick and brutal pace, abusing your pussy with each harsh thrust.

“Fuck! You’re so tight~ So perfect for me, herbivore.” He bent himself over you hammering his hips into you as he spoke into your ear. His words were interrupted by his own moans, matching the sounds you made as you cried and drooled into the pillows. 

He nipped and licked at the back of your neck, working his way over your shoulders as his cock hit that perfect spot inside of you. You gasped and felt him grin against your skin. You weren’t supposed to like this! So why did it feel so good?

“That feel good, huh?” He readjusted to continue hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, fucking you impossibly harder. He let go of your wrists to get a better grip on your waist and your hands fell limply to the bed. You moaned loudly, losing yourself to the feeling of his cock deep inside of you, letting yourself enjoy the moment. He bent his body over you once more, licking at the shell of your ear, making you shudder. “Cum for me, baby,” he whispered to you, “Cum. For. Me.” 

Each word was punctuated with an insanely hard thrust, sending you hurtling over the edge. Your vision blacked and you screamed, falling completely limp in his arms as your orgasm hit you hard.

You tried to catch your breath, but Leona didn’t let up. He continued his harsh pace, fucking you into the mattress as he panted and moaned in your ear. The wet sounds of his hips slapping against your thighs echoed through the dark room. 

“Almost there, fuck!” he moaned loudly, his claws biting into your skin as he held you in a death grip. 

“Leona~ Leona, please, stop it hurts, please!” The sensation of overstimulation had you sobbing again, repeatedly chanting Leona’s name and begging for him to stop, to just give you a break.

“Shh, shh~ Shit! I'm almost there! Fuck, just a bit more baby,” He moaned directly in your ear, face pressed into the crook of your neck. “I’m gonna fill you up, yeah? Fuck you full of my cum, everyone’s gonna know you’re all mine- fuck! My own personal little fuck toy. My mate.”

His words sent you over the edge again, screaming out his name as you clenched down on his cock. He followed right after you, biting down hard on your shoulder, breaking the skin as he pumped you full of his hot cum. You could feel it inside you, hot and sticky as it filled you up while he rode out his high. 

When his hips finally stuttered to a stop, he collapsed on top of you, trapping you beneath him. You were both a sweaty, panting mess and it was a while before he finally lifted himself off you.

He slowly pulled out, watching as his and your cum gushed from your cunt, staining the sheets below. Using his fingers, he scooped some up and pulled your head back by your hair, shoving it into your open, panting mouth.

You closed your lips around his fingers and sucked and he sat back to watch as you licked his hand clean. He removed his fingers with a pop, drying them off on the sheets before giving you a quick pat on the head.

“You'll be a good little mate.”

hi there! if you made it this far, thank you! sorry if this was a little rocky, it was my first time writing smut/dark content. i'm a little rusty with my writing >_< but i tried my best!

if you enjoyed this, please like and/or reblog! interaction is very much appreciated! <3

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hi!! Hope everything is going well!

Could I Please ask for some bottom buggy (mayhaps with some watersports since I saw you had a interest) or some ftm crocodile being fucked into submission!

Have a nice day.

Ftm Sir Crocodile x male reader

Ficlet

I love Sir Crocodile so much 🗣️ 🗣️

Reader is part of Buggy’s crew, cuz I thought that would be hilarious. Reader doesn’t have a devil fruit, but is still super kickass. Hes kind of the information gatherer, smuggler, etc, for the Buggy crew. Reader is also normal human height.

Mixed terminology for Crocs bits. Also, breeding/pregnancy? kink warning ig. but its just mentioned for the fantasy.

The Cross Guild appeared great for any outsider or lesser in the know members, which was most of them. They all saw your captain as someone great and almost godly, thinking he was so much more than he was, but you had been with him for many years, even before the Buggy pirates had even been created. Shortly after the execution of Rogers, Buggy had stumbled into your path and had accidentally saved your life, and from then on you had been by his side.

Most people thought of you as something akin to an accountant or treasurer, wearing an outfit that looked very much like that of a ringmaster, long red tailcoat and top hat and all. You were always one of the first to run away, giving you a reputation of a coward who couldn’t fight.

The only one who truly knew how much of a threat you could be, would be your captain and his inner circle, which you were also part of. You might not have been the strongest physically compared to someone like Mihawk, but no one could gather information like you could, smuggle like you could, or have someone “disappear” like you could. Your network was so extensive that even the one they called Joker, who you knew was none other than Donquixote Doflamingo, was jealous.

That was why you knew everything about Sir Crocodile and Mihawk before the day was over when the Cross Guild was formed. You cowered off to the side, keeping up your weak act as you flinched at their raised voices or the light reflecting off Crocodiles golden claw.

They believed you a weak fool who’s only worth was your quick mind and ability to calculate numbers quicker than most computers, which resulted in them mostly dismissing you. It was a role you basked in and felt comfortable, using it to keep your true identity under wraps. That was until they pushed your captain too far, as Crocodile especially seemed to take great pleasure in antagonizing and hurting your captain.

You were protective, most pirates were, if they felt any sense of loyalty to their captain. It was because of that, that you dug up a trusted contact, a celestial dragon with greater access to seastone than anyone else you knew. Using measurements from the moment’s clothes had to be made, a pair of cuffs in just the perfect size soon arrived to you with the post.

It was easy to press Crocodiles buttons, to get him worked up by acting stupid and pathetic, just the way you knew made his blood boil. It was even easier to enrage him so far that he chased after you, so blinded by his anger that he didn’t even notice how you kept avoiding his sand, or how you were leading him further and further away from the rest of the guild.

When he finally caught up, Crocodile caged you against the wall, hook digging into the drywall as he almost snarled down at you, cigar crunched between his teeth as his purple eyes blazed. But mild confusion crossed his face as your fearful expression dropped, his body straightening as your eyes met his head on. Before Crocodile could order an explanation, a feeling of weakness crashed through his body, making his knees buckle enough that you had to catch him, supporting his towering weight and bulk.

His vision swam as you started dragging him along, his feet dragging along the floor because of his height compared to your own. Crocodile felt dizzy and mildly nauseous, his eyes finally catching the heavy bands around his wrist, the one he still had left. “ssseastone?” he slurred out, voice lighter than the growl you were used too, cigar long forgotten somewhere along the journey.

In the beginning, you had planned on torturing him, the blades strapped to your person burning at the thought, but as you threw him down almost carelessly on a barely clad bed, a different through passed through your mind.

A slight thrill ran down your spine as his purple eyes burnt into you, his usual anger still present, but mixed with something else, something deeper and hungrier. Soft pants left Crocodiles lips, sounding faintly struggled as the seastone drained the power from his body, leaving him limp and pliant.

You could see the heat rising to Crocodiles cheekbones as you started stripping off your usual getup, tailcoat slid off your shoulders and neatly folded, top hat placed down with care. “What the hell are you doing…” Crocodile rasped from the bed, his pupils blown as an unfamiliar need unfolded inside him, the familiar thrum of pleasure running through body.

Maybe it was his weakened state, but he swore his cunt was pulsing with need, especially as you unbuttoned the stark white shirt you always wore, revealing a tightly muscled and heavily scarred body underneath, leather straps adorned with vials and weapons stretched across your torso.

Crocodile tried to shuffle his legs, maybe to squeeze his thighs together, or to spread them further apart, he wasn’t sure, but all he could do was a minimal twitch and jolt. “I planned on cutting you up, making you beg for mercy. But from the looks of it… you wouldn’t mind some other kind of discipline” you murmur, almost stalking towards him where Crocodile was splayed out on top of the white sheets.

You could see all his muscles tense as you let your hands climb up his legs, up his thighs and stomach, traveling all the way up his arms towards his hook. A choked off noise leaves Crocodile as you remove his hook with ease, like you had done it a thousand times before, placing it off to the side with care.

“Behave yourself” you tell him, squeezing the sides of his jaw to make his lips part. Crocodile tried to growl or snap a threat, to snap his teeth at you or somehow fight back, but his body was mostly unresponsive, his tongue feeling thick and useless in his mouth.

A shiver of anticipation ran through Crocodile as you moved again, settling between his thick spread thighs. Your eyes met as you reach for his belt, your brow lifting as if asking if he wanted you to stop. You may be a pirate, but you had class and manners, at least when it came to stuff like this.

But when all Crocodile responded with was a sour expression and glare, you make easy work of his belt and slacks, tugging them down his hips and legs, throwing them off to the side with little care. Your disregard for his clothes made Crocodile grumble, but the noise was quickly silenced as you pressed your entire hand against his slick underwear, fingers teasing his hard t-cock and soaked folds.

“Tsk tsk, look at you, bet you just need someone to put you in your place, is that it?” you mumble in an almost mocking tone, looking up at him with an almost feral hunger in your eyes. Crocodile chokes on the words that want to form in his throat, some kind of rebuttal perhaps, that he would never want someone as low as you to do anything to him, but as you pinch his cock between your fingers, it morphs into a shaky moan.

Crocodile’s boxers as easily pulled off, thrown to the floor with a damp plap, making his face redden further as you only find amusement in the obvious sign of his arousal. Kicking off your pants and boxers, you crawl up the bed and sit between his thick thighs, pushing them further apart to expose where he only grows slicker, hole clenching around nothing as if begging you to fill it.

“What would they say, seeing the great Sir Crocodile, spread out like this, ready to take the cock of a feeble weak treasurer” you taunt, pressing your hips closer to his, so that you could drag the tip of your cock up and down through his folds. The act has Crocodile arching as good as he can with the cuff on, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenches his jaw, a breathy noise leaving him, folds only growing slicker around you.

Maybe it was your size difference, with you being average human size, compared to Crocodiles almost 9 feet, or maybe it was his gut deep arousal, but his hole didn’t need much prep for you to be able to fit inside.

That didn’t mean you were just gonna give it to him, since this was supposed to be a lesson. A stuttery moan spills almost silently from Crocodiles lips as your fingers rub through his folds, barely pressing against where he wants you the most. He had never imagined himself in a situation like this, splayed out and dripping for you, someone he had always just seen as a nuisance, but here he was.

“Come on Crocodile… ask nicely” your tone is almost cruel as you push only two fingers inside him, barely felt because of his size, but just enough to rub against his wet gummy insides and leave him aching for more. Crocodiles jaw clenches, barring his teeth as his head weakly rolls to the side, as if to hide his face into the sheets.

“Or… I could just leave you here, thighs spread open, cunt glistening with want. Im sure someone will pass by, and who wouldn’t want a chance to fill this” as if to exaggerate your point, you push two more fingers into his slick hole, burying them as deep as possible into Crocodiles wet insides, punching a gasp out of him.

Crocodile seems to debate it, if he wants to put his pride aside for someone like you, but his thoughtprocess is knocked off course as you pinch his cock with your free hand, twisting it cruelly. Had he not been wearing the seastone cuff, his thighs would have clamped shut and a shout would have left him, but now all his body could do was tense up as a wet keen tumbled out of him.

“P…please” Crocodile finally mumbles, voice small and almost shy, but it can barely be heard over the wet slick sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out of him, his wetness running down your palm and wrist in the process.

“Hm?” you hum, the questioning tone in it clear, as if you didn’t hear him at all, giving his cock another twist just because you could. “fuck me… please…” is gasped out, Crocodiles insides clenching around your slick fingers as they rub and prod around inside him.

Your fingers movements slow to a stop, silence filling the room long enough for Crocodile to peek an eye open and look down at you. Your eyes are intense as they bore into his, the predatory flare in them making Crocodiles insides quiver. “Normally id demand better than that, but I’m starting to pity you” you scoff out, withdrawing your fingers from his hold with a slick noise.

Instead of wiping them off on the sheets, you use the large amount of slick that had gathered in your palm to slick up your shaft, releasing a huffed exhale as Crocodiles eyes widen at the sight. “I’ve thought about making you ride me, so you’ll have to make yourself take it, but we can’t do that right now, can we” you eye the cuff around his one wrist, making Crocodile growl and spit out a weak warbled “fuck you”

His insult carries no heat, clearly only for show, his glare quickly wiped off his face as you finally push inside him. Crocodile needs little time to adjust, resulting in you almost immediately setting a bruising rough pace, drawing in and out of him with loud wet slick noises, his hole gripping onto you as he gasps and moans.

Reaching down, you push his shirt up just enough to splay a hand across his lower stomach, a foxlike grin spreading across your lips as you watch his hips weakly roll into your own. “If you weren’t such an asshole, I could fuck you whenever. Imagine that Crocodile, walking around, cunt leaking my cum, as you try to play tough.” You chuckle darkly, tone thick and hungry in the way only a predatory animal could possess.

As your cock rams into that sensitive spot inside him, Crocodile is finally starting to realize you are truly more than you seem, his cunt drooling a wet puddle under him on the sheets as you take him with a new hunger, a glint appearing in your eyes as your hand presses down harder on his stomach.

“I could knock you up you know, right here.” Is hissed out as you bottom out inside Crocodile, the words making him tighten up and shiver in want. “No one would find you so scary then, would they Crocodile. Waddling around, fat with my kid” you purr, letting both your hands splay across his stomach. It was all fantasy, but by God did it make Crocodile wet and wanting. Something about the fantasy of you, some lesser subordinate knocking him, Sir Crocodile, up, had him seeing double.

The seastone didn’t help with his woozy state, all attempts at forming words only becoming half formed and slurred, Crocodiles eyes going wet and glassy as that familiar feeling spread through his body. “in… inside me…” Crocodile slurs as you curse to yourself, clearly close to the finish line as well. Had it not been for the cuffs, he would have thrown his legs around you, squeezing you against his body to keep you inside him, but all he could do now was beg.

Crocodiles pride crumbled as your fingers squeezed his cock one last time, a pure orgasmic expression crossing his face as he gasped and moaned, his entire body twitching weakly as he came, wetting your cock and the sheets even further as the feeling thrummed through his entire body.

With a deep groan you bottom out inside Crocodile for a last time, letting your eyes squeeze shut as you spill inside him, coating his insides in a thick coat of white. Crocodile whimpers weakly at the feeling, trying to squeeze around you as if to milk your length for more.

He slumps against the sheets further than he already is, eyes falling shut in a relaxed exhausted expression. Crocodile barely notices as you pull out, white leaking out from between his folds to join his own mess on the sheets. He barely even notices you cleaning him up, only twitching and gasping softly when you clean up between his legs.

Its only when the seastone cuff leaves his wrist that Crocodile returns to himself somewhat, as the familiar feeling of his devilfruit washes through his body again. Squinting his eyes open, he catches sight of you getting dressed again, tucking on your shirt, then your coat, and lastly placing your hat on top of your head.

Even with his devilfruit returned to him, Crocodile still feels weak and exhausted, but the good type of exhausted one only gets after a good fuck. Part of him wants to ask you to stay, to hold him and pet his hair, to maybe mumble more dirty fantasies about knocking him up, and how you’d make him live as your pretty little housewife. But instead, Crocodile just grunts to get your attention, his attempt to demand to know where you are going.

“I have to get back to the others, since ill be taking over your duties for the rest of the day and tomorrow” you say, voice resolute and not allowing any denial or struggle. And normally Crocodile would have growled and rejected anyone taking over his duties, but for some reason, the idea of you taking care of him made him relax deeper into the bed, muscles lax and thoughts empty and calm for once.

Approaching him, you press a soft kiss to his forehead before telling him “this room is hidden away from everyone else, so take all the time you need. Ill check up on you later” as you pat his cheek. After telling him where the bathroom is, where he could find towels and replacement sheets and blankets, you were on your way, leaving Crocodile on his lonesome.

It took a while, but he finally pushed himself into a seated position before getting to his feet. The feeling of your cum trickling down the insides of his thighs as the familiar heat of arousal burning inside him once more, making Crocodile shuffle towards the bathroom you had pointed him towards. Even though you had just left, he could still get himself off a few more times from just the memory alone.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be disciplined by you, he wondered how you’d react if he caused issues with your smuggling routes. The idea sent a line of heat up his spine as he stepped into the shower, hand quickly traveling between his thighs, fingers burying themselves into his still sensitive hole, fantasies of hungry glare and cruel fingers filling his mind.

[c0llisiion]

I HATE YOU - g.st

Cr. _3aem on twitter/x for the pic!

★pairing : gojo satoru + fem!reader

★genre : smut

★: clan leader!gojo, mean dom!gojo, yandere type ig? , Mention of possessive gojo , cuckqueanery, voyeurism , degradation, fellacio , name calling , slapping, bondage — lmk if i missed any ^^

★W/C: 874

A/N : HIIIIII I DECIDED TO WRITE MY FIRST JJK SMUT CUS I BE GOING THROUGH THAT SATORU GOJO BRAINROT ( my gorgeous man is coming back frfrfr ) kinda gives me the ick everytime i proof read it 😭 but ANYWAYS HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Thinking about clan leader Gojo, who you were forcefully married to. Your clan and the gojo clan had a lot of tension building up between each other, and the last option was to marry the gojo's gifted son and the youngest beauty of yours as a peace treaty. Satoru had met you before. To say the least, he was not very fond of you. He thought of you as just a daddy’s princess who had no talent, even though your cursed technique was one of the rarest. Satoru was not pleased at first, but he had a change of heart.

Satoru was rude to you every waking second. He treated you like his cumrag. You were to obey him at all times. You want to go out? He will join you too. He would threaten to slice someone’s head off if they ever laid eyes on you or stared at you for too long. Cause you were his toy. His to look at. His to fuck every night till you were brain-dead. He would dismiss his rudeness towards you as possession or love. His cerulean eyes glowed as he rutted into you at an inhumane pace. His pale hand covered your mouth, stopping you from talking back to him. “You are damn right about me hating you. Cause you are mine. Mine to fuck. Mine. All mine.” He would say, landing a harsh slap on one of your tits. You writhe in pain, kimono all over the place, and your legs split open as he pounded his length harder and harder. “My fucking whore. You like it, don't you? Getting treated like a useless whore? Yeah? That's right.. You can’t do anything about it cus you belong to me. Your perfect little body is all mine."

His servants are always on alert. After your little sessions he would order them to clean you up while he goes out into the gardens for a smoke. He wouldn’t even take a chance in cleaning you up himself or embracing you. ‘You don’t deserve it.’ Is all he said to you when you asked him.

He liked seeing you suffer. Your tears and your cries were a pleasure for him. That's why he got you tied up. Hands tied behind you, and legs tied wide open as you watch your husband get his dick sucked by another woman. This man was a sadist. He watched you cry and writhe as one of his hands was bobbing this other woman’s head on his dick. Legs splayed out. His hair tussled. His haori hung loose around his body and he had an evil smirk on his face. “You like the sight, wife? You like seeing me fuck someone else’s mouth, don't you sweetheart?” He said. “No! Satoru! Please! Please! I'm sorry! Please satoru stop it! I don't like it!” You cried out. Face stained with tears and voice hoarse from the constant begging and crying. Even though he treated you like shit, you still loved him. That was your husband. Your husband. Your legs twitched as your arousal dripped down from your wet cunt. “Seems like you are enjoying it.” You shook your head. He let out a dark chuckle and threw his head back as he made the other woman choke on his length. He let out a deep breathy moan as the woman kept bobbing up and down. He hissed and moaned, to taunt you. “So.. fucking.. Good.” He bluffed. “Satoru please! I can do so much better!! Please im sorry im so so sorry! I will only listen to you! I will worship you, Satoru! My eyes will only be for you! Please satoru!” You pleaded out in defeat. Crying uncontrollably. Satoru raised his eyebrows in amusement. The woman in between his legs was giving him the worst head of his life. He just wanted to see you beg for him after your little drama earlier that day. Satoru called in two of his trusted and loyal servants, commanding them to untie you. His servants had seen worse, so it wasn’t that awkward for them. As they untied you and left, you immediately fell on the floor, crawling to gojo mindlessly, with hunger in your eyes. You pushed the woman off his dick, sending her flying to the wall. satoru giggled at your eagerness. You immediately wrapped your lips on his dick, taking him in fully. His hands grabbed your hair and started thrusting into your mouth. You gagged and moaned as his dick hit the back of your throat. Gojo was in full pleasure. His head was thrown back, and his body arched off the couch as you give his underside and balls attention. You choked around his length, your nose hitting the base as he pushed you further down his shaft. He tugged your hair before pulling you away. You gasp and cough, a mixture of your spit and his precum all over your chin. A string of the mixture connected your lips and his tip. You looked up at him with your big doe eyes. Satoru looked disheveled. He slapped your face softly before pulling you into a heated kiss, tasting yours and his mixture, smiling into the kiss.

“I fucking hate you.”

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU FOR READING <333 how was it? Should i be writing more jjk? Ilysmmm!

[ma1dita]

I need a pt 2 to the Luke and long distance!gf PLEASEEEEE

mdni

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

pt 1 here

a/n: man... getting out of my writing rut so here's this filth. sexting. kinda public. luke cums in his pants. what a loser

wc: 780

*bzzz*

Luke’s phone buzzes for the third time in a row in his Financial Marketing lecture today. The notification shakes his phone against the wood of the table to the point that it’s bugging the hell out of Chris who’s locked into whatever the professor’s saying—but as soon as Luke sees your name flash across the slightly cracked screen of his iPhone, he drops his pen in favor of you. His brother rolls his eyes, slumping further into his seat head lolling against his arm. There’s a smile that immediately settles upon Luke’s cheeks at the thought of you.

“baby 🤭 you busy?”

“why are you not answering you don’t even like this class anyway”

“fine ig i’ll ask someone else for their opinion 🤷🏻‍♀️” 

He chuckles lowly as he types out a reply, “opinion on what babe 👀” and Chris nudges his arm with a nod to ask if everything’s good. The professor drones on in the background about the stock market and for once, Luke is glad that Hermes gave him the ability to skate through his Econ degree (the only think he’ll be grateful to his absent father for), because it gives him more time to focus on more important things, like the slew of images of you trying on bikinis that infiltrate his phone.

[5 Image attachments]

“oops sorry! guess i sent them to the wrong person”

He gulps almost comically, shifting in his seat as he saves them for later. Shifty eyes and quick fingers can only do so much in a crowded lecture hall. But you see that his read receipts are on, and frankly the lack of a response is irritating when you’re pulling your best poses in the comfort of your living room. Boys never get how much effort it takes to be sexy.

“damn. guess i’ll go find a new boyfriend who can appreciate all of this”

Luke sighs, half stifled by is need to see you bare and his spit going down the wrong pipe that he clears his throat loudly, trying to ignore his jeans tightening by the second. Licking his lips, he clicks on the presentation slides, trying to catch up to where the professor is after your very welcome distractions. 

[Image attachment]

He presses the ‘next’ button just as another iMessage notification pops up on his screen, trigger finger clicking open an image of your tits pressed between your fingers, nipples taut against the fabric and lips between your teeth—all shiny soft skin almost bursting through the flimsy top that’s loosening and almost vivid through the still image. If there’s more, he thinks he’s seeing stars.

Luke slams his laptop shut and it echoes.

He takes a deep breath trying to remember what year it is.

“You good bro?”

Chris mumbles with a furrowed brow, watching sweat glisten against Luke’s flushed cheeks.

“Not feeling well. Think I’m gonna head out. Send me notes later?”

It’s almost an inside joke between the two of them, but Luke laughs a little too hard trying to play it off. He shoves his laptop into his backpack, before slowly weaving through the row and hoping no one noticed his girlfriend’s tits on the blown up screen of his Macbook. But then again, something’s obviously off as he walks stiffly towards the exit, feet swift with no predetermined destination. Luke contemplates the probability of someone interrupting him in the hall bathroom if he goes there to rub one out. His dick is hard and weepy, frustration brimming at the seams of his resolve when he walks out of the lecture hall. Readjusting himself into his waistband and groaning at the pressure, Luke wonders if he can walk home fast enough.

[Video attachment]

He stops in his tracks as he opens your message, the sound of your moans and slick movements of your fingers buried under the damp bottoms of your bikini almost too loud in his Airpods. His dark brown eyes trace the movements of your swiveling hips on his screen and he leans against the wall to groan lowly, a pathetic noise clawing up his throat, until his mouth dries at the sight of you parting the fabric aside just in time for him to watch you cum hard, soaking the rest of your hand and the leather of the couch beneath your ass. Luke doesn’t realize his body’s unprompted decision to join your release until he feels a sticky, uncomfortable warmth pool against the bottom of his shirt, soiled beyond belief.

His head of curls bangs against the wall behind him as he moans.

*bzzz*

A lopsided grin forms on his face when his phone buzzes again in his hand.