#I never mean to build him as a tank it just happens

[indooroutdoorboyfriend]

the interrogator dramatically going "ACK––focus, van calox, FOCUS..." after losing just 1 of his 150 wounds plus 30 temp wounds. like baby girl relax you're gonna be a-ok

[kkusuka]

john price is a good man.

you can see it in the way he smiles as he orders his tea- everyday at 6:12am, herbal with two sugars- and as he stifles a laugh at the pun you leave on the side of his steaming cup- something about goldfish in a tank because you know he was military at some point- and he always, always, pours his change into the tip jar after you refuse to pocket the $50 he tries to hand you- he doesn't push because your manager is right there and he can't get his favorite barista in trouble.

and he is usually the only person in the shop that early- he knows that it picks up around seven so he makes sure he's there before that- and he's always up to talk about whatever you want to babble about as his drink steeps.

the new minecraft update and how you cried over it like you aren't a grown adult. ( 'it's embarrassing, crying over a mob in a video game that i've been plating since middle school. i am a grown adult, i should be crying over rent or taxes or something. 'i'd rather you not cry about anything, sweetheart').

how your roommate keeps leaving dishes in the sink and how it annoys you so much but you refuse to say anything about it. ('and i feel bad because we really get along and it's just this one thing that gets me but-' 'but nothin' sweetheart.' the you deserve to be taken care of, no chores, no worries goes unsaid)

how your manager makes you open and close the shop all alone even when he makes more than you. (that dick, john can make sure that you don't have to worry about mornings at least, he'll be there. you don’t have to worry about nights either, he'll get simon and johnny on it)

how your hourly wage just isn't cutting it anymore and you might have to find a second job to stay afloat. ('it's just a lot you know? i feel like i'm always fighting to keep my head above water.' 'you ever need help with anything you come to me, yeah sweetheart?' and you have no idea how much he means it.)

and eventually you have to seek him out. you got fired, your dick of a manager citing unprofessionalism and the company moving in another direction (it has nothing to do with the visit he got from that motherfucker in the cap with the union jack plastered on the front and some scot. but it really is his fault, john wouldn't have to do any of this if that snake would just treat you right). he doesn't even let you work your last day, just tells you to pack your locker and your check will be deposited next week.

john price is a good man and you know that because he gets you that second job. "bein' a barista is just like bein' a bartender. you'll be great sweetheart."

it's his bar you learn, just something small he and his colleagues bought after retiring from the SAS. you start working about four years, on the dot, after opening day- the man, kyle, says as he showed you around the building. he was your co-bartender, and johnny was some kind of chef for the minimal amount of food they served, and simon was security- whenever he was there anyway.

john mostly stayed in his office, save for the slower afternoon hours when he would join the four of you in your everlasting game of cards. (you've lost and you know it but they feel bad setting it into stone, so the game continues. kyle'll find a way to make johnny lose so you don't feel bad)

working at the bar was probably the best thing that happened to you in a long time. (best thing to happen to john too, but fucking your employee weeks after hiring them is bad business)

and to their credit, they keep you away from whatever side gig they have going on but you never feel out of place. (you don't question them when they randomly disappear in the middle of the week then come back at closing, brushing right past you into the back offices. you look past the blood, if there was an issue they would let you know).

that is until you get followed home by one of the regulars- it really was a one time thing, your car was in the shop and the walk isn't all that far in the daylight- and the only person you could think to call was your boss. john didn't leave the bar until the sun came out so you knew he wouldn't be asleep, and he told you to call him if you were ever in trouble and this was the closest you could get.

it took him less than five minutes to get to you and even less time to convince you that living so far was dangerous and that you could come stay with him until you found a nicer place. (you never question how he already had clothes in your size, or the exact hygiene products you had back in your old apartment.) but you let him guide you into his room, into his bed as he promises he'll make up the guest room another day. and you just let him hold you.

you don’t question how you never see the man again. you don't look twice as his name flashes across the tv screen and you don't think too far into his disappearance.

john price is not a good man, but you don't need to know that.

[kiyoomiee]

one. two. three. four. five.

Your bestfriend, Yuuji’s older half-brother Sukuna, who always had this grudge towards you and you can’t pinpoint why.

You first met him during summer break. You couldn’t keep up with your dorm fees anymore and happened to mention it to Yuuji one time.

“You could stay with me! I have a spare room nobody’s using.”

“Are you sure Yuuji? I don’t want to impose on you.”

“Of course I’m sure. You don’t even have to pay rent or anything.”

A home that’s close to uni and has no fees? It was heaven sent for a broke college student!

“That’s the last of them. Thank you Yuuji, I really appreciate the help. If there’s anything I could do around here just let me know.” You told him after dropping your stacking your last moving box into your new room.

“No problem. Just a heads up though, my brother also lives with me. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, it’s fine with me.” Your famous last words.

You should’ve headed the red flags when Yuuji tried to warn you about his brother.

“Sukuna can be..difficult sometimes. But it’d be nice if you two would be friends. If not, ehh, just avoid him if you can.”

You should’ve headed the red flags when Yuuji tried to warn you about his brother.

To say that Sukuna had a bad day at the tattoo shop was an understatement. His new assistant never arrived, he was dealing with a shit client plus, his ink almost ran out.

His frustration echoed throughout the two-storey house when he slammed the front door shut.

He was confused by the smell coming from the kitchen as he walked in. Is Yuuji cooking? Nah, his idiot brother would burn the house down if he even tried to get near the kitchen.

Instead, he finds a woman’s figure busy behind the kitchen counter. It made him stop his tracks.

Beautiful, he thought. But too young for Sukuna’s taste. Plus, he doesn’t like it when a stranger touches his favorite spot in the house.

So great, his bad day is about to become worse.

“Who. The. Fuck. Are you?” You almost screamed when your eyes went to the man that appeared behind you.

He looked similar to Yuuji, but the aura was very different. His build was larger, jaw sharper, and he had looked furious.

Oh, he must be Yuuji’s brother, Sukuna. You tensed up unintentionally while his eyes wandered on what you’re wearing.

“You one of Yuuji’s girls? I told him not to bring his hookups here.” He uttered, eyes not leaving yours.

You wore a tank top with cotton pajama shorts. You looked too comfortable just to be visiting.

“No! I-I’m Yuuji’s friend. It’s nice to meet you.” You said nervously.

“Can’t say the same sweetheart. I’m not so fond of strangers in my house. So open the front door and walk outside.”

What? Is he kicking you out?

“Wait! Yuuji didn’t tell you? He allowed me to stay at the spare room down the hall.”

“He what?” Sukuna was fuming. Every step he took closer to you looked like he was going to eat you alive.

“YUUJI!” His voice thundered all over the house.

“I-I think he’s sleeping in his room.” You winced at the string of curses that came out of his mouth.

“Whatever conversation you had with my dumb brother, it’s not happening. You can’t stay here.”

“But it’s the start of the semester, I can’t find a new dorm in a snap!”

“You shouting at me, girl?”

“N-No, I mean-just please, I can take care of the house. I can even cook for you. I can’t afford to leave, not right now.”

Before Sukuna could open his mouth, Yuuji’s footsteps rang out from the stairs.

“Sukuna, you’re back! Wait, did something happen?” Yuuji looks at your nervous face.

“Yeah we’ve met alright.” Sukuna muttered, arms crossing to his chest.

“Yuuji, your brother’s kicking me out.” You tried to hide behind Yuuji’s form.

“What? You can’t kick her out!”

“I can because it’s my goddamn house. If don’t want some girl in here, she’s got to go.”

“You can’t! To be fair, I did tell you that my friend’s staying with us for a while and you agreed.”

Yeah he did agree but he thought that black haired kid was moving in, not you.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Sukuna exclaimed and you could tell he’s about to lose it.

“I’ll stay out of your way all the time, I promise. You won’t even notice I’m here.” You pleaded him.

“Yeah, I doubt that. Clean up your damn mess.” He said harshly and glared at you before stomping his way upstairs.

“I’m so sorry. My brother’s not so good at making first impressions.” Yuuji pouted.

He’s an asshole, you wanted to say.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad he didn’t kick me out.” You exhaled in relief.

If that was his reaction during your first meeting then what about the upcoming months?

“He won’t. I’m sure you’ll grow on him, you kinda have that effect on people.” Yuuji tried to cheer you up but you just gave him a faint smile.

Yeah, somehow you doubt that would work on Sukuna.

——————————————————

note: Sukuna is 29 in this fic and your age gap is 6 years. I don’t like doing age gap with minors, so just think that everyone in this fic are 18+.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝑰𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑶𝒏𝒆*

Pairing: Snake!Hybrid Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Snakes! Mentions of Blood/Stitches, Fork/Split tongue, Oral(F), Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Biting, Two Dicks (kinda double P), Sorry for any mistakes or Missing warnings!

A/N: My animal knowledge really shows here😂

Series Master List

-🖤

It was rare to see snake hybrids. A lot of them hid in fear of how others treated them. Humans were mean creatures, especially to things they fear. They knew that all too well, so seeing a snake hybrid brought into your adoption center was strange. His scales were flakey, eyes stuck with shed. You could tell whoever had him didn’t treat him well.

No one wanted to be near him most of your colleagues staying away some even squealing. However you weren’t scared, did you like snakes? Not particularly, but you knew he needed help. When you approached him in the little container he was in he hissed. You quickly shushed him picking him up to take him to the sink area. You had run him a small bath, just some water for him to soak in. “I can’t believe you’re touching that thing” someone streaked at your side.

“It deserves the same amount of love and compassion as any others here” you retort looking down at him. You cleaned him up helping the stuck shed off before putting him back with a heating lamp.

“Y/n will you take it home?” Your manager had asked.

“Why don’t you want it here?” You glared.

“Listen, most of us don’t like them. He’s probably not gonna get adopted and we also aren’t equipped to take care of him properly. You at least seem to know what you’re doing.” They rambled.

You looked back down at the snake who was now curled up by your hand. “Fine, I’ll take it home, however.” You said with a small pause. “He’s mine as soon as we leave and I want the next few days off to take care of him and help him settle.” You stated.

“Of course-“ your manager started to say before you interrupted him.

“Paid” you said sternly.

With a sigh knowing he wasn’t gonna win he agreed just wanting that thing out of the building.

You put him in your spare room, getting the necessary stuff for his set up. You watched as he explored smiling to yourself. “Listen, I know you understand me. So whenever if ever you wanna become human. This room is yours. You have free roam where ever. You’ll be safe here, and taken care of” you kept talking.

He laid under the heating lamp listening carefully. If he could laugh he would. He’s heard that before. Knowing damn well his last owner started off with “love” but quickly forgot about him. He never got comfortable enough to turn so what made you think he would here he wondered.

As days went on you grew fonder of him, seeing some of his goofy personality shine through. His scales looked a lot healthier, a beautiful dark shade with glints of goldish color in them. They matched his beautiful piercing gold eyes. He hissed at you a lot however never making any attempt at striking. After shifts at work you’d pick him up out of his tank, laying him on the couch as you watched tv. It was one of these nights that it changed.

You had done your normal taking him out laying him on the couch with a heating pad beside if he got to cold. He stayed there as you cooked dinner only to be startled from his sleep by a crashing sound. He could smell blood in the air his fork tongue flickering at the scent. “Fuck!” He heard you yell from the kitchen with a bit of rustling. He was scared something had happened that someone broke in. In his panic turning ‘human’. He ran into the kitchen only to see you on the floor holding your hand that was gushing blood.

“What the hell happened?” He said making you jump. He looked at you realizing he was ‘human’.

“You turned?” You said almost excitedly.

He couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh “that shouldn’t be the focus right now, you’re literally bleeding” he said before grabbing a clean towel to wrap it around your hand.

You watched him looking over his features. He had a sharp jawline, slim but muscular physique, those gold eyes even prettier. When he started talking your eyes found themselves on his pillowy lips. You could see the small peak of fangs and to your surprise his tongue was split. You were just in awe taking him in not even realizing he was talking to you. Not until he lifted your head with his warm hand. “Hello? Are you listening? You probably need stitches” he said looking at you were furrowed brows.

You only nodded eyes still scanning over him. You grabbed your phone off the counter with your other hand calling your neighbor. He came over taking you to the hospital and you did in deed need stitches.

Your snake hybrid cleaned up the mess. He finished making the dinner you were working on before it happened and sat there. Waiting. Agonizingly waiting. When you came through the door he smiled sighing in relief. “Hey! Thanks for cleaning and- wait you finished dinner?” You said surprised.

“Yeah, how’s the hands?” He said.

“Ah well it’s not bleeding anymore” you said with a laugh.

“I can’t believe you cut yourself that deep, what were you doing? Dancing with the knife?” He teased.

“No this was all just a scheme to see if you’d come to my rescue” you teased back making him roll his eyes. “Since I can properly ask you now though, what’s your name?” You asked siting down at the counter.

“Hyunjin.” He said.

“Good now I can stop calling you snakey” you said laughing.

After that moment Hyunjin didn’t turn back for the most part. Sometimes you’d fined him curled up under his heating lamp, other times he’d be curled up on the couch under lots of blankets. Your routine continued coming home, cooking, sitting on the couch with him just watching tv. Now though, he talked back. He got into the habit of curling up against you when you came home. Your body’s heat always feeling so nice to him.

You came home today more exhausted than normal though. A fight braking out between some hybrids at work. You being in the middle of it when it happened. Today honestly wasn’t as normal as you thought. All the hybrids were acting weird around you. A lot more possessive and clingy. When you walked through the door thinking about it more you realized hyunjin hadn’t came out from his tank.

“Hyune, are you ok?” You asked leaning down over the tank. When he didn’t budge you picked him up like normal his skin scales feeling warm. He hissed at you baring his fangs. “Are you mad at me?” You said softly, making him stop. He slithered up your arm before slithering down your leg. He made his way to the bed before turning back to his human like form.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “I’m not mad at you. Ugh” he groaned. “Do you realize you’re ovulating?” He said with a loud groan.

“Am I? Is that why everyone’s been so weird today?” You questioned.

“Probably- god I don’t know how you went to work with all of them. You’re supposed to be mine” he said the end of his sentence trialing off.

“I am yours” you said quickly with out realizing your own words impact.

“Yeah?” He said looking up at you. Those gold eyes had a hint of something in them. “Then let me make you mine.” He said before grabbing your arm pulling you to him.

He didn’t give you anytime to protest before kissing you, his lips warm softer than you’d imagine. His kiss was hungry tongue quickly making its way into your mouth. His hands came down pulling your bottoms down quickly in one swift motion. He was moving so fast, his motions only driven by need. The need to have you all his, a primal need. His sharp fangs grazed your bottom lip as he moved down your neck. It was almost like he was a little vampire with those fangs. He kissed down your body, pulling your thighs up to him.

He licked his lips looking at your dripping cunt “she’s calling me” he said with a smirk before diving into your core. His fork tongue feeling way different from anything you’d ever had before. Both the muscles moving on their own as they lapped at your folds. His fingers came up to graze against your slick before pushing them into you. He curled them hitting a sensitive spot. The moan you let out only drove him to keep doing it. To hear it again and again. Your hands found their way to his long soft locks.

“Fuck Hyune” you moaned out.

“Feel good? Gonna cum on my tongue?” He said with a devilish smile.

You nodded making that smile only grow. He picked up his speed fingers finding another even more sensitive spot. With his pace and tongue lapping at your clit your high crashed quickly over you. Walls tightening around his fingers. He licked a long strip up eyes staining into yours. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep tasting you all over him but he needed to be inside you. Fuck your smell alone was gonna make him nut in his pants.

He stood up pulling down his pants revealing his two curvy cocks. With shock, eyes widen you blurted out “you have two?!”

He couldn’t help but laugh “yeah, you didn’t know? Thought you read up on me” he said. He took your hand wrapping it around the bigger one “this one’s the main one, and th- this one” he stuttered as your hand grazed the smaller one “this one is super sensitive like your clit” he said.

You nodded staring intently at his cocks. He leaned you back pressing his body against your kissing you deeply. He slowly pushed himself into you, the smaller cock rubbing against your clit. He let out a hiss of pleasure before his mind went. He started pounding into you mercilessly. His smacking against yours. The sounds of moans and skin smacking filling the air with the scent of sex. He had his head buried in the crook of your neck his long fangs grazing so gently at it. “I shouldn’t even let you leave smelling this good, all of them got their gross scent on you.” He hissed. “I’m gonna make sure they know you’re taken.”

His thrusts continued fast before he gripped at your legs pressing them against your chest before drilling into you. The new angel letting him hit at your cervix. “Hyunjin!” You screamed hands coming up to touch his chest. He pulled out fully before pushing hard back into you however he felt bigger. You felt more pressure in your core like somehow his cock grew a size. The pornagraphic sound he let out made your eyes snap open looking down you realized why he felt bigger. His smaller cock has slipped in, your cunt sucking both of them so greedily.

“Sh-shit I- I- fuck!” His head rolled back not being able to even speak at the pleasure. The warmth overtaking his smaller cock making it twitch in over stimulation. He snapped his hips back one more time both cocks pushing deep inside of you before you were Cumming. Cumming harder than you have ever before. His body shook at the feeling. Your walls tightening more and more around him. He gripped at your hips harshly digging his nails into you. He cried out as his release finally spilled out painting your walls white.

When you stared to squirm a bit trying to adjust yourself, the movement pushing him deeper into you making him whimper. “D-don’t move” he pleaded. You realized his smaller cock was still hard. You smirked up at him before moving away only to push back on him. He gasped almost like the wind was knocked out of him. His hands tried to stop your movement but one more push back his smaller cock was cumming.

He had the most intense orgasm, his body shook body falling to the side of you. He tried regaining his breath “I’ve- I’ve never- with my smaller” his words coming out choppy but you knew what he meant.

You pushed some of his hair back kissing him softly. “M’sorry for- I should have asked” he said still out of breath.

“It’s ok hyune honestly after today kinda needed it” you said with a smile.

“Gl-glad I could help.” He said nuzzling his head into your neck. His breathing was still heavy as you stroked his back.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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[straw-berrysoju]

The Tease (18+)

Pairing: Soobin x female reader (smut)

Synopsis: YN is failing English, and her quiet, soft-spoken tutor Soobin is her last shot at passing. But she’s more focused on tempting him than studying—flirty remarks, suggestive touches, revealing outfits. She wants him to lose control. And maybe teach her how to behave.

Setting: College AU | Age gap: 2 years | Private tutoring sessions | Senior -junior dynamic

Genre: slow-burn, smutty build-up, needy fl

Warnings: suggestive content, sexual tension, teasing, oblivious (or very self-controlled) Soobin, needy and bratty fl, unprotected sex(pls be safe y'all never skip protection), oral sex, anal sex

Word Count: 3.1k

Minors dni!

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

You didn’t expect your literature professor to assign him as your tutor.

Choi Soobin.

Tall, broad-shouldered, annoyingly soft-spoken Soobin. The kind of senior who showed up to class fifteen minutes early just to get the best seat and probably highlighted his notes in pastel color-coded perfection.

And worse? He was gorgeous in a way that felt unfair. Sharp jaw, full lips, thick lashes, and a voice deep enough to curl your toes when he said things like “Turn to page twenty-seven.”*

You were doomed from the first session.

Because Soobin, for all his charm and bedroom eyes, was utterly, painfully innocent. Or at least, he acted like he didn’t notice the way your skirts kept getting shorter. Or how you started showing up in clingy little tops, gloss on your lips, your perfume just a little sweeter than usual.

If he noticed, he never said a thing.

Which only made you want him more.

---

Session Two: The Beginning of the Game

You trade your hoodie and leggings for a soft, slinky V-neck tee and shorts so short you have to pull them down every time you sit. When he opens the door, you smile like nothing’s changed.

He does a double-take. Barely. His eyes flicker down, but they don’t linger.

“You look… ready to work,” he says with a nod.

You hum, dropping onto the edge of his bed—the only surface you two can sit on since his room doesn’t have a proper desk. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you say, crossing your legs slowly.

He sits beside you, opens your notebook, and starts circling mistakes in red ink like the outline of your thighs isn’t right there in his peripheral vision.

You shift. He doesn’t look. You lean in. He scoots a little away.

It’s frustrating but it only makes you crave him more.

---

Session Three: You Up the Stakes

You pick your outfit carefully—white tank top, no bra. Just soft fabric clinging to your skin. You tilt your neck as you sit beside him on the bed again, fingers trailing lightly over your collarbone.

“It’s really hot in here,” you murmur, fanning yourself.

“I can turn the fan on,” he says immediately, rising like a soldier responding to a command.

You pout, but he doesn’t see it. He’s already across the room.

When he comes back, you lean back on your arms, arching your back just a little. His eyes flicker to your chest—but only for a second.

You catch it.

Still, he sits back down like nothing happened and starts explaining compound sentences again.

You blink slowly, letting your eyes trace the curve of his lips, the way his fingers grip the pen tightly.

You want them on your skin.

But Soobin just keeps talking.

---

Session Four: The Drop

You “accidentally” drop your pen in his lap mid-sentence. It lands on his thigh, dangerously close to the center.

“Oops,” you murmur, leaning in to grab it before he can react.

Your fingers brush something firm. Warm.

His breath catches, just slightly.

You pause. Meet his eyes.

He looks startled—like he’s holding his breath.

“Sorry,” you whisper, your hand still there for a second longer than necessary. “Didn’t mean to.”

He clears his throat and slides your pen back into your hand, avoiding your eyes.

“Uh… so, anyway—” He flips to the next page, visibly tense.

You bite your lip.

He’s definitely noticed now.

---

Session Five: Hands-On Learning

You rest your hand on his thigh this time.

Just gently. Just casual. Just to see.

He stiffens beneath your palm.

You start reading your worksheet aloud, pretending not to notice. You trail your thumb in slow, lazy circles as you speak. His breathing slows. His pen stills.

“You’re… uh,” he says, not looking at you. “You’re missing a modifier in that sentence.”

You glance over at him. “Maybe I just need some… hands-on correction.”

He finally looks at your hand.

Then back at the paper.

And you swear he’s using every ounce of willpower in his body when he doesn’t move it away.

---

Session Six: Dangerous Territory

You’ve stopped pretending this is about tutoring.

Your skirt today is indecent. Your tank top is cropped to the edge of decency, and when you stretch, a sliver of skin shows just under your chest.

You lean over him, breasts brushing his arm as you reach for your phone.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sorry at all.

His arm tenses. His eyes flick to your chest. You see him swallow.

Then he sits up straighter, shifting away.

“Let’s stay focused,” he says, voice slightly strained.

You blink at him, all fake innocence. “Am I distracting you?”

He meets your gaze. His eyes are darker than usual.

“No,” he lies.

---

Session Seven: On the Edge

You moan.

Softly.

Not on purpose—not really. You just stretch, tired from trying to care about grammar, and a little sound slips out. Frustrated. Drawn out.

His head snaps up.

“You okay?”

You nod, lips parted. “Just… tired. This stuff is hard.”

Soobin’s jaw tightens.

“I can slow down.”

“I like it when you go fast,” you say without thinking.

Silence.

His eyes flick to your lips.

You shift closer. “Soobin,” you say softly, “why do you always sit so far away?”

“I don’t,” he says. But he does.

You’re barely breathing now. You’re close enough to smell his cologne, the clean warmth of it making you dizzy.

He looks at you like he wants to say something.

And then he stands up.

“I think we’re done for today,” he says, not looking at you.

You want to scream.

---

You know he’s close to breaking.

You see it in the twitch of his fingers when you reach for his pen instead of yours. In the way his knee bounces when your thighs brush under the table. In how he never sits back once during a session anymore—just leans forward, elbows on his knees, like he's trying to put as much space between your body and his as possible.

So of course, you push more.

And God, you hope he breaks.

You want to see the exact moment he snaps.

---

Session Eight: New Tactics

You're late on purpose. Not by much—just seven minutes. Just enough to have him open the door with furrowed brows and a furiously working jaw.

You pout up at him. “Sorry, Soobinnie.”

The nickname makes his ears go pink.

You step inside, brushing past him on purpose, your arm grazing his chest.

It’s warm. So firm. And for a moment, you wonder what he’d do if you just turned around and pressed your body against it.

But not yet.

You sit cross-legged on the bed, skirt barely covering you. You wore a lacy bralette under your loose cardigan and a skirt you’d be terrified to wear outside.

He notices. You know he does.

His eyes lower—just for a second—before he opens your textbook like it offended him.

“I marked your assignment,” he says, like he’s not obviously distracted.

You hum, stretching back on your palms. “Am I improving?” you ask, letting your chest lift slightly with the motion.

He doesn’t look. His neck goes stiff.

“I think you’re… testing me.”

Oh?

“Testing your patience?” you tease, eyes glinting.

He turns a page too hard, the paper nearly tearing. “Let’s start with sentence corrections.”

You grin.

---

Session Nine: Body Heat

Soobin is already seated on the bed when you arrive this time. Legs apart. Slouched like he forgot to be tense.

You take it as an invitation and plop down next to him—closer than usual. Your bare thigh touches his denim-clad one.

He tenses immediately.

You pretend not to notice.

You lean over the textbook between you, making sure your side is practically glued to his.

“This part confuses me,” you say, pointing vaguely.

He leans in too. And you tilt your head until your cheek almost brushes his shoulder.

He smells like citrus and cedar. Clean, masculine, unfair.

His fingers start explaining something, but you’re not listening. Not really.

You shift your weight and accidentally press your chest against his arm.

You stay there.

He clears his throat, voice tighter. “You’re… really close.”

You smile, eyes wide. “We’re sharing a book.”

“Right.”

He doesn’t move.

---

Session Ten: The “Accidental” Fall

It’s late. You’re both tired. The room’s dimly lit, the lamp on his desk throwing warm shadows against the walls. Your cardigan is slipping off one shoulder, and you make no effort to fix it.

Soobin is explaining something. You’re half-listening, half-admiring the veins on his forearms as he gestures.

You shift positions, stretch lazily—and then fake a little wobble.

“Shit—”

You catch yourself—sort of—your hand landing right on his thigh as you tip forward onto him.

You gasp. Your chest lands against his stomach. Your hand is just inches from his crotch.

He freezes. So do you.

Only, you’re pretending.

“Sorry,” you whisper, staying there just a second too long. You’re almost in his lap.

He inhales sharply.

“You okay?” he asks. Voice like gravel.

You nod. “Just clumsy.”

You slide back into place, fingers trailing down his thigh as you pull away.

He swears under his breath.

You smile into your hand.

---

Session Eleven: Legs

You sit sideways today, knees up, leaning against the wall while he sits on the bed beside you. Your skirt slips higher with the position. You don’t adjust it.

You stretch your legs across his lap.

“Hope you don’t mind,” you say sweetly. “My back hurts.”

He looks down at your thighs—bare, smooth, warm against him.

“I—uh—no. It’s fine,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t touch you.

But you can feel the way his muscles tense under you.

Every time you shift, his jaw tightens.

At one point, your foot brushes against something solid.

You freeze. So does he.

You raise an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t answer.

Just flips the page harder than necessary.

---

Session Twelve: The Whisper

You’re behind him.

It wasn’t planned, but he’s standing now, scanning your paper at his desk while you linger behind him on the bed. His shirt has ridden up a little. You see a sliver of skin.

You rise slowly. Walk over.

He doesn’t notice you until you’re right behind him.

You lean in, your breath brushing his neck.

“I think I’m failing,” you whisper.

He jolts, turning slightly.

You don’t back up. Just tilt your head, close, lips nearly brushing his jaw.

“You’ve been helping me so much,” you say softly, voice dipped in honey, “but I feel like I’m just… not focusing.”

He swallows.

“Maybe you should punish me.”

He turns to face you fully now, eyes locked with yours.

And fuck, there’s something in them.

Something dangerous.

Then he steps back.

“Break time,” he says tightly. “Five minutes.”

He practically flees the room.

You flop back on the bed, laughing into the pillow.

He’s so close.

---

You decide you’re done playing fair.

You’ve been soft, suggestive, patient.

And he’s still trying to pretend you’re just clumsy. That you just don’t know what your body’s doing when you’re crawling into his space with skirts that barely cover your ass and sweaters that hang open to show just enough lace.

Tonight? You're not leaving any room for confusion.

Tonight, you're making it filthy.

---

Session Thirteen: Endgame

You show up wearing his weakness: a tank top so tight it clings to your tits like second skin, no bra. And the shortest shorts you own—barely more than underwear. One wrong move and you’d be flashing him everything.

Good.

He opens the door and doesn’t even blink at first.

Just stares.

Then swallows hard. “You, uh… going somewhere after?”

“Just here,” you say innocently, breezing past him.

He follows, a little stiff. (Everywhere but his cock.)

---

You don’t sit on the bed this time. You crawl.

Slowly. Deliberately. Letting the hem of your shorts ride up.

Soobin’s behind you, silent.

You sit on your knees and look over your shoulder. “Coming?”

You swear his eye twitches.

He sits beside you, at the very edge of the bed.

You don’t open the textbook. You don’t even pretend to care.

Instead, you drag your fingers over your own thigh slowly, tracing a lazy path toward the hem of your shorts.

He notices.

Of course he does.

“You okay?” he croaks.

“Mmhm. Just hot.”

And with that, you reach back and lift your hair, exposing the sheen of sweat on your neck.

He watches you like he’s in pain.

You lower your voice. “Can I sit in your lap?”

He chokes. “What?”

You pout. “My legs hurt. It’s just for a sec, Soobin.”

He stares. Doesn’t answer.

So you do it anyway.

You straddle him.

Carefully, deliberately, sliding onto his lap with a weightless innocence that’s anything but.

You feel him the second you settle—his thighs tense, cock already thick and pressed between you, trapped under his sweats.

He still doesn’t move.

Doesn’t touch you.

Just freezes like if he blinks you’ll disappear.

But you’re not going anywhere.

You shift slightly, grinding just a little.

Not enough to be obvious.

But enough to feel him twitch beneath you.

He inhales so sharply it’s almost a gasp.

You lean forward, your lips brushing his ear.

“Am I making it hard for you to focus?” you whisper, your breath hot against his skin.

He finally reacts.

His hands grip your waist—tight, tight—but he still doesn’t pull you closer.

“Y/N…” he warns, voice shaking.

You roll your hips again.

His jaw clenches.

“I just want your attention, Soobin,” you murmur, lips brushing his jaw now. “I want you to stop pretending you don’t want me.”

“You’re my tutee,” he grits out, “I’m trying to be good.”

You smile wickedly. “I don’t want you to be good. I want you to make me feel good.”

And then you do it.

You grind hard—slow, filthy, full pressure.

Right against his cock.

He groans. Deep and choked and utterly ruined.

Still, he doesn’t move.

So you tip your head back and moan.

Loud.

“Fuck, Soobin…”

His hands tremble on your waist.

You do it again.

And again.

His cock is so hard it’s pressing against you, leaking through the thin fabric, and you’re soaked now—completely shameless.

“I’ve been thinking about this every night,” you whisper, breath hitching, “about how it would feel to ride your cock right here… right on your stupid study sheets…”

“Stop,” he rasps.

But he’s grinding back now.

Breathing hard.

Losing it.

“I touch myself thinking about you, Soobin,” you murmur, lips at his neck now. “About how you’d sound when you finally fuck me. If you'd make me beg first. If you’d make me cry for it…”

He groans. His hips buck up once—completely involuntary.

You whimper at the contact.

And that does it.

That breaks him.

His grip slams tight around your hips and suddenly you’re dragged down onto him, hard, his cock pressed directly against your soaked core through layers of clothes he’s about two seconds from tearing off.

His forehead drops to your shoulder.

“You’ve been driving me fucking insane,” Soobin growls, your body pinned to his lap, soaked through and trembling.

“Then ruin me,” you whisper, voice wrecked with lust. “Please, Soobin. I need it.”

“Fuck me like I belong to you”

Something snaps in him.

His mouth crashes into yours.

No hesitation. No gentleness.

Just teeth and tongue and all the desperation he’s held back for weeks.

You gasp into him and he swallows it, hands already yanking your tank top up over your tits.

“No bra?” he mutters darkly, palms closing around your breasts. “You planned this.”

You moan as he thumbs over your nipples, rough and fast. “I wanted you to look.”

“I did. Every fucking day.”

His mouth drops down, lips wrapping around one nipple, tongue lashing it hard as his other hand slides down—under your shorts, under your panties—and slams two fingers into you.

You scream.

“So wet,” he groans, thrusting them deep. “You’re soaked through everything. Fuck, baby, were you this needy all semester?”

“Yes,” you cry, hips bucking against his hand. “All for you, Soobin.

He chuckles against your breast, lips curling cruelly.

“Oh, I know.”

He pulls back and flips you onto your back like you weigh nothing. Your shorts and panties are ripped down your legs in seconds. He drops to his knees between them, eyes locked on your soaked pussy.

“God,” he breathes, voice shaking. “Look at you. You’re a fucking mess.”

Then his mouth is on you.

Tongue everywhere—sliding through your folds, flicking your clit, sucking it hard as he finger-fucks you like he’s mad at you.

You can’t even moan—you scream.

Your back arches, hips lifting, and he slaps your thigh down.

“Stay fucking still.”

You whimper, twitching under his mouth. “I—I’m gonna—”

“Cum,” he orders. “Now.”

You shatter.

Soobin doesn’t stop.

Even as you squirm and sob, overstimulated, his tongue keeps working your pussy like he’s starving.

You’re begging, babbling nonsense, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

And when he finally pulls away, face glistening, lips slick with your cum—

You’ve never seen anything so hot in your life.

“You thought you could tease me,” he mutters, climbing back up your body. “Thought you could grind on my cock and walk away?”

You nod, dazed.

He smirks and grabs your throat, squeezing just enough to make your eyes flutter. “Wrong.”

He frees himself from his sweats—thick, veiny, hard as sin—and you whine the second the tip rubs against your dripping entrance.

“Beg for it.”

“Soobin—”

“Beg.”

You sob. “Please, fuck me. I need it. I need your cock so bad—please ruin me, please—”

He slams into you in one brutal thrust. Your pussy clenches around him as you scream his name.

“Ah Soob—FUCK. Yes”

Soobin groans deep in your ear, his cock buried to the hilt. “You’re so fucking tight. Jesus—made for me.”

He pulls out halfway, then slams back in.

You cry out.

He sets a pace that’s vicious—deep, punishing, your body jolting with every thrust.

Your nails rake down his back. Your moans turn into sobs.

“Yeah,” he pants, fucking you harder. “Take it. This is what you wanted, right?”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Yes—yes, please—harder—”

He grabs your hips and slams into you, over and over, cock pounding your g-spot until you can’t think.

“Gonna cum again,” you choke out.

“You better,” he growls. “You don’t stop cumming until I say so.”

You cum again—harder than before.

And he fucks you through it.

Every twitch, every scream, only fuels him.

He doesn’t stop.

He flips you onto your stomach, pulls your ass up, and fucks you from behind—his hand in your hair, dragging your head back.

“You like being used?” he snarls.

“Yes—fuck—use me, please—”

He spanks your ass, hard. “Louder.”

“Use me, Soobin—fuck me until I can’t walk!”

And he does.

He slams into you until your body collapses.

Until you’re a sobbing, ruined mess under him.

Until he finally groans, “Fuck—I’m cumming—where?”

“Inside,” you beg. “Please. Fill me—”

Soobin growls your name and pours into you, hips jerking as he empties himself deep.

You collapse together, sweaty and panting.

Silence, save for your wrecked breathing.

And then—

“You still failed that assignment,” he mutters against your neck.

You laugh, breathless. “Then maybe you should punish me again.”

He grins.

“Oh, I plan to.”

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

[derekhighwaytf]

Welcome to the Team, Bro

TW: Misogyny, Homophobia

Your twenty-first birthday had been going absolutely perfect. Of course, you’d surrounded yourself with all your closest friends, all girls, obvi.  Drunk off cheap grocery store champagne being sipped out of red solo cups, you all continued laughing and enjoying your annual birthday roast, regardless of how uncomfortable everyone was stuffed onto your small college apartment couch. It was all in the name of light-hearted fun—typical jokes about how you wear the tightest of clothes, how you seem to have retained more Sex and the City quotes than anyone else alive, and of course, your nonexistent love life with guys. The usual, nothing that cut too deep. You laughed along, leaning back in your chair, feeling comfortable and safe being with your gal pals.

But then the door swung open, and Levi, Jessica’s ultra jock boyfriend, walks in. The room goes completely silent for just a second, the atmosphere shifting rapidly. Levi, an absolute douchebro, is the kind of frat guy who dominated a space just by existing. Tall, muscular, and that same cocky grin permanently plastered on his face. He saunters into your living room like it was his own frat house.

"Hey, birthday boy!" Jessica teases, giving you a nudge. "Levi asked me if he could take a turn roasting you. He says it’s good practice for his stand-up career.  Can you please let him go up?  I promise he won’t say anything too horrible."

You blink. ‘What on earth could Levi even say?  He doesn’t even know me?!’ you think to yourself. The other girls exchanged worried glances. The guy’s not exactly known for being subtle or sensitive, but before you can protest, Levi stepped towards the middle of the room, cracking his knuckles as he sized you up.

"So this is our little birthday bitch, huh?" His voice booms, loud and commanding. He stands in front of you, creepily grinning as he looks you up and down your skinny, twinkish frame. "Man, look at you. You’re such a fucking stick. Bet you couldn’t lift up a five pound weight, even if your life depended on it. What, a gust of wind gonna blow you over, fag?"

The girls laugh sporadically, forcing a chuckle just to try and relieve the tension. But as the words leave Levi’s mouth, a hot, uncomfortable sensation ripples through your body, and out of nowhere, you feel a tightness push itself against your pale skin. You glance down and your eyes widen—your biceps are swelling, your pecs thickening themselves into two smooth mounds of man meat. Muscles you’ve never even fathomed having in your life start to form, bulging out of your once-slender frame. Your shirt strains at the seams as your chest broadens to it’s sides, your chest pushing forward until they’re massive, rock-hard slabs, rivaling the tits of your girlfriends.

"Whoa, dude... what the hell are you saying, man?" you mutter, your voice suddenly much, much deeper, almost as deep as Levi’s.

The girls gasp, their eyes widening in shock, but Levi just keeps going, pretending to be unaware of what’s happening to the poor boy.

"But you know what?" Levi grins, his tone dripping with smugness. "I bet you’re the kinda guy who’s so obsessed with looking good that you wouldn’t even know what it means to get truly dirty, huh? Probably shower three times a day, all prim and proper. Nah, man. A real dude doesn’t give a shit about smelling fresh.  Real men smell like bulls.”

As soon as he says it, a wave of heat rolls through you again. This time, it’s not just gonna stay inside yourself, no. It’s... in your gut. A thick, rumbling pressure builds up more and more inside you, and before you can stop it, a loud, wet burp escapes your mouth. 

BRRRRRRRP!!

The girls squeal in disgust, but it doesn’t stop there. A loud, long fart rips through the air, and the smell is rank—sweaty, cheese, and 100% pure man odor.

PFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT!

Your armpits start to sweat profusely, staining your rapidly shrinking tank top shirt, and the once-fresh Polo cologne you had on is completely overpowered by the raw, animal scent of your dick stink. You can feel your skin getting greasy, and when you scratch your balls—without even thinking about it—they itch more, like you haven’t showered in days and you can’t help but touch it more and more.

"Ugh, gross!" one of the girls groans, wrinkling her nose. But as she pulls away, her eyes, they…change. Like she can’t stop glancing at your new Adonis body, completely disregarding, maybe even enjoying the smell. And she’s not the only one. All your former “gal pals” are starting to shake and whisper amongst themselves, their giggles turning into flirtatious murmurs, their shirts opening up as if he thermostat had been turned up to a hundred.

Levi leans in closer, his grin growing wider. "But hey, it’s not just about the looks, right? I bet this little fucker still can’t get laid to save his life. Probably jerks off to Tumblr stories every night instead of actually getting some pussy. Pfft. Bet he couldn’t handle a real girl if he tried."

Something snaps in your formerly gold star brain. You’ve always been gay, but now, that feels... weird. Incorrect.  Immoral.  Suddenly, the thought of even just hugging another guy seems wrong, as if you were worried you could catch gayness. Your eyes flicker over to Jessica and the others, and a new heat ignites inside your groin. Your mouth waters at the sight of your friend’s curves, their massive cleavage, their clean shaven legs. You want to be inside them. You need to be.

Memories shift. Nights spent dreaming about guys and writing fanfictions about male celebrities blur and twist into hazy recollections of fucking girls—lots of girls. So many, you couldn’t even remember one of their names.  You can taste their pussies, hear their moans. Your cock twitches in your pants, straining against the fabric of your newly materialized gym shorts as you stare at the girls who used to be just your friends. Now, they’re more than that. They’re... opportunities.  Sluts, ready for the taking.

"Fuck you asshole, I get laid all the fuckin’ time," you hear yourself shout, your voice deeper, more arrogant, your words rolling out in laughter like they’ve always been true. The girls giggle, blushing and shooting you lingering glances, clearly wanting your dick in their mouths. All of them. And in the pit of your stomach, you know they’ll all be yours by the end of the night.

Levi laughs, clapping you on the back. "Now that’s more like it, stud!" He steps back, crossing his arms, admiring his work "But let’s be real, this guy just thinks far too much, huh? He’s always overanalyzing shit, worrying about dumb stuff. A real bro doesn’t waste his time thinking. Just acts. Bet this guy’s head is still full of that nerdy fag crap."

You feel a sharp, dull shot of pain go through your head like a bullet, as if half of it is being yanked out. Your vision swims around the transforming frat room of breasts, and suddenly, it’s hard to think—like there’s a deep fog settling over your brain, clouding everything, mushing it into a few simple desires. The things you once knew—your studies, your hobbies, your passions—fade away, replaced by simpler, more immediate thoughts. Working out. Fucking. Drinking beer. All the things that matter to a real man.

The last thing to go is the memory of who you used to be. That skinny, smart, gay kid? Gone. Replaced by the image of you as a dumb, horny jock, the kind of guy who lives for the gym and pussy. The kind of guy who doesn’t need to think—because he already knows he’s the shit.

You blink, grinning stupidly at Levi, feeling the last vestiges of your old self disappear. "Yo, bro, I ain’t no faggot. Hey, where the fuck’s the beer at? We gotta get shwasted, man."

The girls are all over you now, practically throwing themselves at you. And why wouldn’t they? You’re hot as fuck, and you need to dump your cum in their needy holes.  You’re gonna make these formally open-minded liberal intellectuals into perfect American mothers.

"That’s my boy," Levi laughs, handing you a beer. "Welcome to the team, bro."

[vaginalvr]

can you write about gf who is really insecure about her body so she hadn’t had sex with spencer yet but she has given him bjs and stuff, but she’s still needy and horny not being touched so one day spencer unintentionally catches her touching herself and she’s terrified but he’s really sweet about it??

aw stawp ill cry yes absolutely

cw: insecure reader, mutual masturbation, accidental voyeurism, emotional smut, praise kink, first time sex, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), slow and soft, aftercare, reassurance, established relationship

REQUESTS OPEN!

You weren’t ashamed of wanting Spencer.

Just… ashamed of yourself.

Your soft stomach, your stretch marks, your chest that didn’t look like the girls he probably had posters of as a teenager. He never made you feel unwanted — not once — but sometimes you caught yourself wondering if he’d ever actually seen you, body and all. If he’d still love you when he did.

So you’d kept the lights off. Stuck to blowjobs, kisses, sleeping with a tank top on. Spencer, being the patient saint he was, never pushed. Never even hinted. He just held you close at night and whispered how much he loved you. How beautiful your mouth was. How good you made him feel.

Still, need had a way of building. And lately, when he wasn’t around, your hands wandered more often than you cared to admit. It wasn’t the same — not even close — but it was better than nothing.

You just didn’t expect him to walk in on you.

It happened on a Sunday morning.

You thought he was out getting groceries. He said he’d be a while. So you stayed in bed, warm under the blankets, one hand between your thighs, the other squeezing your pillow as you whimpered into it.

You imagined it was Spencer’s voice whispering in your ear. Spencer’s hand on your body. Spencer’s cock between your thighs instead of your fingers. It didn’t take long to get desperate — hips rocking, toes curling, your breathing ragged.

So you didn’t hear the front door open. Or his footsteps down the hall.

Didn’t hear him call your name.

Didn’t even notice the bedroom door open until you looked up, gasping — only to meet Spencer’s wide eyes across the room.

“Shit!” you yelped, yanking the covers up to your chin, eyes welling instantly. “I—I didn’t hear you—Spence, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

But Spencer didn’t look grossed out. Or mad. Or even surprised.

He looked… stunned. Flushed. Breathless.

His voice cracked. “Were you… thinking about me?”

Your cheeks burned. You couldn’t even answer.

He stepped closer, slow, gentle, like you were a frightened animal. “Hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to hide. You looked… really beautiful.”

You laughed bitterly, curling into yourself. “Don’t say that. I know what I look like.”

He frowned, heart breaking. “So do I.”

You shook your head. “You’ve never even seen all of me. Not really.”

“I’ve seen you,” he whispered. “And I want you. All of you. Always have.”

You blinked at him, vulnerable and trembling. “But I don’t look like—like what people expect. I’m not skinny. My stomach—”

“—is gorgeous,” he said firmly. “Soft and real and yours. I’ve been dying to touch you. But I didn’t want to push.”

He hesitated. “Can I touch you now?”

You swallowed hard. Nodded.

Spencer crawled onto the bed like he was approaching an altar.

He kissed your cheek first, then your collarbone, your shoulder. His hands never wandered too fast — just brushing your waist, your hips, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

When his fingers finally slipped beneath the blanket and found you soaked, he gasped softly. “God, you’re wet.”

“Thinking about you,” you whispered, still breathless. “Thinking about your fingers.”

His eyes darkened. “I’ll give you everything you want. Just let me love you.”

You nodded again. “Please.”

He kissed down your stomach — the part you always tried to hide — and he lingered there, mouthing at the softness, whispering praise like a spell. His hands held your thighs open, spreading you gently, reverently.

“Let me eat you,” he breathed. “Let me make you feel good.”

You whimpered, already nodding, already so needy you could cry.

Spencer’s tongue was magic — soft, slow, teasing, until your hips were rocking up into his mouth and your hands were in his hair. He moaned when you came, when your thighs quivered, when you said his name like it meant salvation.

And when you looked down, teary and flushed, he looked proud. Worshipful.

“Still okay?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded, tugging him up. “Want more.”

You let him undress fully, finally taking him in — his flushed cock, his trembling hands. He was just as nervous as you. Just as soft.

He lined himself up, barely pushing in, then pausing. “Still okay?”

“Yes, Spence,” you whispered. “I want you so bad.”

He groaned when he pushed inside — slow, deep, eyes locked on yours.

“You feel like home,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

You moaned, arms around him, legs around his waist.

He rocked into you gently, whispering the sweetest things — how beautiful you looked spread out for him, how good your pussy felt, how he never wanted anyone but you.

When you came again, he followed with a desperate moan, burying himself deep as he whispered your name over and over again like a prayer.

After, he held you close, stroking your arm, voice soft in your ear.

“I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to hide from me. Not your body. Not your needs. I want all of you. Every inch.”

You smiled into his chest, heart full.

“I think I finally believe you.”

[reywritings]

The View from Here

A chance meeting on a balcony might just lead to a new daily routine.

Jason Todd x Reader, No use of Y/N, Gender Neutral Reader

This is my first time posting. So here goes, I guess?

______________________________________________________________

In all honesty, you were pretty sure your neighbor hated you.

Nobody got particularly close with their ‘neighbors’ in this apartment building, but you wouldn’t have exactly minded getting close in this one instance.

Your recently new neighbor was… big. ‘Built like a tank’ big. ‘Built like a brick house’ big. He wore those worn, leather jackets and had a strikingly beautiful face, with soft scars across his cheek bone. And yet... he had this quiet air about him. A mystery, and you did enjoy a good Agatha Christie novel.

You barely interacted other than waves in the hall, but you could swear he picked his pace up when you were in the hall, alone together. He definitely wasn’t afraid of you, not when he could probably throw you at the nearest wall and leave a you-shaped hole like some looney toons bit.

So, the obvious choice was that he simply disliked you. Which wasn’t a big deal at all! You don’t even know him, why would you care?

…you cared SO much.

It was around the fourth month of you being neighbors, when it happened.

Jason had been having a rough night. A rough week—a rough life. He could still feel the bruises on his side from the previous night. He hadn’t seen the tail swinging his way– and when he hit that cement wall, he swore he heard something crack. Next time, Dick can call Tim or Cass to help him reign in Killer Croc.

Ultimately, his typical ruminating, and now sore side, led to lack of sleep—so here he was, the next afternoon, on his balcony for a smoke break. What a view—an overlook of the turnpike, an old Denny’s and NJ Transit tracks. Yeah, definitely worth the balcony prices.

He hears a sliding door open and glances over to see—oh shit. His neighbor. They were standing there holding some books, a mug of either coffee or tea, presumably, and a surprised look on their face.

…he wasn’t sure if this was an upside to his day or not.

Don’t get him wrong, he liked his neighbor. A bit too much.

So, when you gave a small, stilted wave and took a seat on the old, plastic chair that came with the apartment balcony, he nodded back. And that was it.

…Although, he was a bit curious as to what you were reading. Maybe a peek couldn’t hurt. If that peek didn’t turn into him turning his head to try and read the title, which was turned at just an angle that he can’t see it.

He sighs, looking back up to see you already glancing at him. Did you see that?

Okay. Embarrassing, but it’s fine. It’s not like he had outright made a fool of himself in front of you.

“I like books.” Why did he have to say that?! He blinks as you look up from your book, eyes widened at his sudden proclamation. “...I have a big collection…also...”

There’s a singular beat and he ponders if a fall from this height would kill him.

“Really?”

The question isn’t mocking or in disbelief, just… almost an undertone of excitement to it.

You glance around; a bit nervous—but this was your chance.

“...do you have a favorite boo—” You cut yourself off. “Sorry, dumb question. I mean who can pick ONE favorite. Okay, what are some of your favorites?”

And suddenly, it was like Jason’s tension left his body.

“That’s for sure. I appreciate a lot of the classics. The Count of Monte Cristo is a great one, Frankenstein, too.” He was deeply aware of how ironic his choices were, not that you knew.

“I love Mary Shelley.” You blurt out and then realize you might have been a bit TOO excited. “…I appreciate her literature and overall gothic nature…”

Jason laughs at that. Of course you had good taste. This… this wasn’t good. He should pull away again. Put his cigarette out, go back inside and pretend this never happened. Right?

“So what are you reading now?” He hears himself ask.

“Anna Karina. I just started it.” You smile at him, and God, was it devastating.

He feels himself give a soft smile back. “You’re gonna love it.”

“…So.” You decide to take your chance. “Aside from your ‘big book collection’, what else do you enjoy?”

You can’t help but notice how quiet he gets and curse yourself for being so forward.

Please don’t be scared away, please don’t be scared away—

Meanwhile, Jason’s mind blanks as he racks himself for a hobby aside from vigilantism, sparring and training for said vigilantism, cleaning his guns—

“I cook.” He says, albeit a bit stilted.

Oh. Oh. Really? He’s charming, handsome, smart, reads and cooks? You come to terms that you’re already long gone.

“So that’s what smells so good? I think our vents are connected… and I can smell something good cooking from somewhere. Now I know.” You grin. Okay, maybe the words were a bit flirtatious, but hey—seemed like tonight was all about uncharacteristically taking chances.

“…you think so?” A compliment. A genuine one. Jason wasn’t sure how to take that... but if you kept smiling like that when you said them, maybe he could get used to it.

“Is that what you do for work? It sure smells professional.” You say, fully buttering him up at this point—but also not lying. It did smell like a Michelin star restaurant from the vents on your shared wall. You wondered where he learned that.

“Ah, no. I do security work.” Jason lets his usual cover slip out, and kind of wishes he hadn’t. It seemed too suspicious—what if you thought he worked for Penguin or someone? That surely would drive you away… not that what he actually did was any safer.

“...like at bars?” You question.

“Yes. Bars, clubs… the like.” Yes, that sounded better. Jason pats himself on the back, although it was you who proposed it unknowingly.

“Yikes, that would freak me out. I mean—running security in Gotham?” You joke a bit, but there’s a serious hint of concern in your tone. It’s touching. You barely knew him and yet…

Jason smiles, shaking his head as he puts out his now stub of a cigarette.

“Nah, I can handle myself. Don’t worry about me.”

You eye him, and he internally squirms under your gaze. His job had him reading people all the time but… he seemed at a loss when it came to you. You and your deep, understanding gaze.

“…I’m still going to. But thanks for the reassurance.” You say, softly.

Oh. Jason is at a loss again, and he sees you move to stand up, your face only illuminated by the glow from within your apartment, behind those sliding glass doors.

“Oh wow, when did it get so late?”

He hears you ask as he drags his eyes away from you, letting them fall onto the turnpike and train tracks below. Eyes following the ashes of cigarette, chasing the after essence of the burn. The earlier commute traffic dwindled. The dim roads, illuminated by streetlights now.

“Yeah, it is late…” Jason frowns. “I have work soon.”

You look back with an understanding nod. He swears he sees a hint of disappointment in your eyes.

“That makes sense. Night shift and all…” You trail off a bit. “…I oughta get inside anyways. Can’t read in the dark, anyways.” He watches you open the sliding door again, pausing to glance back at him. Jason can study the way the light falls in soft streams from behind you. He finds himself wishing he had a photographic memory in that exact moment.

“…stay safe for me?”

He blinks and then feels himself nod. “Yeah. Will do.”

The guilt of the empty promise is soon replaced when those words earn him that saccharine smile.

“See you tomorrow…?” You ask, rather hopeful. A wishing of ‘let this be the first of many’ hidden under your plain question.

In that moment, Jason decides maybe his promise wasn’t so empty after all. He’d make sure to be extra careful tonight.

“See you then.”

After all, he had something important tomorrow. 

[spaceshipkat]

“How would you feel about Buck moving back in?”

The question’s out of Eddie’s mouth before he even knows it exists. It’s just—Maddie sent a picture of Buck passed out on her couch, wrapped up in his pillowy duvet, sprained ankle elevated on the armrest, broken wrist in its cast draped over his eyes. And Eddie feels his chest squeeze just looking at it, at the tousle of Buck’s curls over the pillow and the red scrapes on his cheek from when the building dropped on him, and he can’t really breathe through the ache of it all.

He wanted Buck to stay here after he got out of the hospital, but Buck had just mumbled something about Maddie and hadn’t even asked Eddie to pick him up when he was discharged. He’s frankly not even sure how Buck got home. An Uber, probably. Never mind that Eddie is still an Uber, at least until he’s rehired by the LAFD.

But Buck isn’t here, under this roof, and it just feels … wrong. Empty, despite the fact he and Chris are still surrounded by moving boxes and furniture.

“Fine,” Chris says, and Eddie yanks himself back into the living room, to looking at Chris where he sits on a dining chair, playing with his phone.

“Fine?” Eddie repeats, just to be sure he heard right.

“I mean, yeah.” Chris shrugs one shoulder, not even bothering to look up. “It’s his house, too, isn’t it? I heard you muttering in your sleep about his name being on the lease.”

Eddie blinks. They’d slept in sleeping bags on the floor since they moved back, too tired to set up their beds after the chaos of the past few days of hospital visits. Besides, the mattresses are still wrapped in plastic. It’s hardly the best nights of sleep he’s ever gotten, but he’d chalked that up to the fact it had been spent on the floor.

He doesn’t remember dreaming about Buck.

“Still don’t get why you kicked him out,” Chris mutters, quietly enough Eddie’s not entirely sure he’s supposed to hear him.

But he does.

“I didn’t kick him out. He asked Maddie to take him home.” Probably. Eddie didn’t actually witness that, but why else would Buck have chosen to crash on her couch? It’s been days now, Buck’s furniture moved into a storage unit until he can find a new place. Eddie certainly wasn’t the one who organized those movers. He’d just answered the door one morning in his pajama shorts and tank top to a bunch of sweaty men with a moving van.

Chris’s eyes flick up. “I was right there in the hospital room, Dad.”

“I—” Eddie stops. Did he kick Buck out? The last few days have been such a blur—between rescuing Buck from the collapsed building, telling Captain Morales he wouldn’t be taking the job, organizing the movers in El Paso so he wouldn’t have to return there himself (he was done with that town, done with his parents calling the shots—and he knew they’d have tried to stop him), visiting Buck in the hospital with every spare second he had.

When would he have had time to kick Buck out?

Chris heaves a sigh. “You’d fallen asleep on Buck’s hospital bed. Like, your head was on it while he was in it. And Maddie came in and you woke up when Jee told Buck good morning, and you mumbled something about packing Buck’s bags for Maddie, and then you fell back asleep. Buck was right there. He heard the whole thing. It’s the only reason I let him win Uno, ’cause he looked so sad.”

Eddie’s heart sinks into his stomach. He doesn’t remember any of that, but if Chris says it happened, it obviously did.

It’s just—Eddie’s hands haven’t stopped shaking since he watched the building collapse on the TV screen in Buck’s living room, the newscaster’s yammering a dull drone. Since he broke every law that exists to drive there in time. Since he found his turnouts, left in the rig like someone knew he’d need them, and rushed in to help. Since he found Buck—“like a bloodhound to a perp,” Athena had said—and hauled him up out of the concrete and dust, their bodies crashing together from the force of it, the kiss that wasn’t a kiss smeared across their mouths, Eddie’s lips eventually finding themselves pressed to his birthmark. Since Eddie gasped out, “Don’t ever do that to me again,” and Buck had muttered something about tenements and building codes.

Eddie hadn’t thought Buck remembered much of that. Eddie had asked—or at least tried to ask—but Buck had just blinked his big blue eyes at him from the hospital bed, not quite pleading the fifth but also not quite not pleading it.

So Eddie had tucked that kiss that wasn’t a kiss away. It was a fluke, however much he didn’t want it to be.

“Why did I kick him out?” he says now, and Chris scoffs.

“That’s what I asked. Buck just said something about you being a ‘nester,’ or whatever.”

Eddie looks back down at his phone, tapping the screen so it doesn’t go dark. Buck is still there, still asleep, still thinking Eddie doesn’t want him here, still believing he doesn’t have a space in Eddie’s house—in their house—while Eddie’s in it.

Still under the impression that Eddie doesn’t dread setting up his bed in his room because it’ll be too damn empty without him.

Clearing his throat, Eddie tucks his phone into his pocket and says, “What kinda cookie should we get Jee?” while crossing the room for the sleeping bags where he left his keys. “From Starbucks on the way, I mean.”

“That Bullseye one,” Chris says, already reaching for his crutches. “Also, Buck isn’t sleeping on the couch. He snores.”

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles, that ache replaced with heat. “He does.”

look idk i haven't stopped thinking about the bts vid of eddie and chris back in their house but with all buck's furniture out of it. so behold! have a ficlet. 🫶

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

Part 1.

MEDIC ;; You have healing powers and get recruited by the GDA. It changes your life, for the better or for the worse. Crack, short fic.

04.03.25 Masterlist

You’d call yourself a normal person—well, as normal as someone can be when they wake up with the ability to heal people. Blessed? Maybe. Cursed? Probably. Your powers are pretty straightforward: you can patch up yourself or someone else, depending on how wrecked they are and how much energy you’ve got left in the tank. Which usually comes down to how well you slept the night before. Real thrilling stuff. Straight out of a budget comic book.

You don’t show off. Never had the urge to. You’re not the selfless type who goes around healing strangers on the street out of some burning sense of justice. You’re not a saint. You're just a person who happens to have something useful and very little motivation to use it unless there's a reason.

Unfortunately, one day, you got soft.

Some guy in a half-torn grey suit was pulling civilians out of rubble after some villain decided to make the downtown district a crater. He looked government—probably fed. And you, in a rare act of generosity (and partially hoping there was a tax break involved), healed him. Just a quick fix-up, no big deal. He looked like he’d been through hell, but he still managed to check on you. Like he was worried you were the one bleeding out.

So you returned the favor. No words, no thanks needed.

Before he could get your name—or ask how the hell you just did that—someone screamed for help and he was off again like his shoes were on fire. But not before giving you one last look. Memorizing your face. You saw it in his eyes. He locked you in his mental files.

You hoped that might help you someday. Court, taxes, jury duty—who knows. Probably wouldn’t. But you like to dream.

And yeah. That act of goodwill? Came back to bite you.

Turns out the guy you saved was named Donald. Big-time GDA agent. As in Government. As in Cecil’s inner circle. And the moment he was back on his feet, he reported you. They tracked you down like you were some kind of loose end—well, politely. The kind of politeness that comes with a folder, a contract, and a clipboard full of benefits.

You said no at first. Obviously.

Then they said dental. And threw in hazard pay.

So yeah. You signed your fate.

Not because you believed in the cause. Not because you wanted to help humanity. You signed up for a paycheck and stable benefits in a world where buildings get leveled weekly and your rent doesn’t come with insurance.

And honestly? You don’t regret it. Not really.

Being with the GDA threw you into situations that could only be described as straight-up horror shitshows. You’ve seen things. Touched things. Reassembled people who should’ve been dead five different ways. Superheroes, the ones people worship, bleeding out on stretchers while you try not to throw up or pass out.

You got used to it fast. Maybe too fast.

Your name started floating around, being whispered throughout the headquarters and mentioned in passing. You cringe every time people give you some type of nickname, get this one, “Miracle Medic”. Yeah, wrap it up.

You kept your distance from the supers. Professional. Cold. You were the healer, not their friend, not their emotional support. You patched them up, maybe muttered a sarcastic remark if you were tired enough to forget the filter.

“Damn. I would've retired after that one.” It helped you stay sane. A little.

And you don’t do the whole corporate professionalism thing. You keep things functional—you’re not out here making friends, but you’re also not about to censor yourself for the sake of workplace etiquette. You know you’re irreplaceable, and that kind of job security comes with privileges.

Like being as blunt and disrespectful as you damn well please.

“The fuck happened to you? Yikes. I don’t even want to touch that.”

You do touch it, obviously. But that doesn’t mean you have to like it.

Unfortunately, this job throws you into more bullshit than you thought humanly possible. It’s not just GDA calls anymore—you’ve got superheroes pounding on your door at ungodly hours, begging for help. Sometimes for themselves. Sometimes for a friend, a coworker, or some half-dead civilian they barely managed to scrape off the pavement.

It got so bad that Cecil had to step in. Too many capes showing up at your apartment was bound to get somebody killed. So, congratulations. You now have dedicated break rooms in the Pentagon, all for you. You practically live in them with how much the GDA needs you. And it was not out of kindness—Cecil just didn’t want to deal with the nightmare of if someone tracked a superhero back to your place and blew it to hell.

Well, life could be worse. Yes, it does get worse.

A/N ;; I intend to extend this to have multiple parts and include actual interactions and more writing, but only if its well received. I'm lacking motivation to write, sorry!

[jakeswifeyyy]

hii! could i request a jake x reader smut, reader is heeseungs younger sister plsss🥺 i loveeee brothers best friend trope sm ANYWAYS FEEL FREE TO IGNOREE LOVEYOU THANKS

JUST THE TWO OF US

(I could never ignore you guys' request ♡)

It wasn't always like this no,your brother Heeseung's best friend Jake ,that tension between you two It wasn't always there,and the goddamn situations it put you in you wanted to die right then and there.

For example,how before they met when Heeseung joined high-school, you were comfortable in your home ,carefree cause well heeseung was just your brother he could never see you in any inappropriate way. Being a girl has its disadvantages which leads me to:

1.You always used to walk around the house braless ,be it under your hoodie or crop top or tank top ,but catching you wearing a bra at home ,was as impossible as waking up and finding a damn leprechaun waiting for you with a bag of gold when you wake up.But then Jake sim,happened ,he practically LIVED with you and heeseung,since your parents worked abroad you two lived together alone and Jake seemed to be bothered with that somehow because he was 24/7 occupying your guest room as If he wasn't extraordinarily rich.

Since he became friends with heeseung at first you decided you'd ignore him and put your comfort first and keep walking braless,it was skimpy yes,but it was summer i mean come on ,you were sweating like shit with just that on. but no,that man's eyes never feared anything.

Everytime you walk in his eyes will shamelessly first look at your chest not even your face, and smirk at you before looking away and biting his lip.

Yes that's how you stopped walking around braless

2.Always going swimming in the afternoon at the house pool on summers.

Well honestly this one is partially heeseung's fault because before you could swim whenever but now him and his stupid friends threw damned pool parties every fucking day ,you had to look like a puppy and go beg your friend's to use their pools because no way in hell would you swim in a pool with 4 guys

Among other stuff which ruined your perfect routine for that summer.

It was around 1am ,Jake and heeseung came back home an hour ago you wanted to go for a late night swim as it had been a particularly hectic academic week for you and it was so hot you had already soaked 3 pairs of pajamas in sweat,deciding to head down you took a shower again and wore a dark blue string bikini your bestie gifted you for your 19th birthday saying you needed to get laid sooner or later ,that was two years ago and you'd barely worn it.Grabbing a towel you headed downstairs to the pool tying up your hair in a bun occupied you as you walked dressed in only your bikini.

The moon hung low, casting silver ripples across the surface of the pool as you slipped silently into the water, the coolness licking over your skin like a secret. The air was heavy with summer heat and something unspoken.

Jake was already there, leaning against the pool's edge, arms spread wide, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. His smile was lazy, dangerous.

You planned on not acknowledging his presense but then he spoke up.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, voice husky and low.

You shrugged, wading closer. "Neither could you."

The tension was building up thick in the air .

He tilted his head, eyes dragging down your body slowly, shamelessly. "Maybe I was waiting for you."

The water lapped gently as you moved toward him, your heart thundering louder than the soft splash of your steps. He didn’t move, but the tension crackled between you like static.

When you were close enough to feel the heat of his body through the water, he reached out, fingers curling around your waist, tugging you gently to him. Your hands found his chest—warm, wet, sculpted—and you let yourself linger.

That was when you thought to yourself, "Fuck it,"

"Your brother’s asleep inside," Jake murmured, voice brushing your ear. "If he knew—"

"Then we better be quiet," you whispered, lips grazing his.

That was all it took.

His mouth crashed into yours, hot and hungry, hands gripping your hips as he pressed you against the cool tile. The kiss was urgent, full of all the nights you'd both pretended not to notice the tension. Your fingers twisted into his damp hair, pulling him closer, tasting every inch of his lips, the slow slide of his tongue against yours dizzying.

His hands roamed—up your back, under the water, down to the curve of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly so your legs wrapped around his waist. Your bodies moved together in slow, heated rhythm, water rippling around you, the night air thick with the sound of your breathing and the occasional soft moan you tried to stifle against his mouth.

"God, this is so wrong but i can't help it" he groaned, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. "I want every damn part of it."

"So do I,fuck,"you moaned as his lips touched a sensitive spot.

"Yeah baby,I wanna take the damn risks so bad right now baby,"he murmured into your skin.

You arched into him, gasping as his lips found the hollow beneath your ear. "Then take it."

Jake’s eyes darkened, jaw tightening like he was holding himself back. But only for a second.

He surged forward, capturing your lips again—harder this time, more desperate. His hands gripped your thighs underwater, holding you flush against him, the heat between your bodies shocking in contrast to the coolness of the pool. You could feel everything—the way his chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, the unmistakable hardness pressed between you, his fingers digging into your skin like he couldn’t get close enough.

Your hands roamed over him—wet, smooth skin, taut muscle, his body built from years of sun and sport and everything your imagination had teased you with for months. You let your mouth travel to his neck, biting softly just below his jaw, smiling when he groaned low in his throat.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice hoarse, lips brushing your temple. “Keep doing that and I’m not stopping.”

“Good,” you whispered, grinding against him, slow and deliberate. “I don’t want you to.”

A growl rumbled in his chest as he pushed off the edge of the pool, carrying you through the water effortlessly. He pinned you against the far wall, your back against the cool tile, his mouth exploring you like he’d dreamed about this just as often as you had. Tongue, teeth, lips—all claiming, teasing, worshipping.

Your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his swim trunks, just enough to draw a sharp breath from him. He hissed through his teeth and bit your bottom lip.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned.

“I’m already burning.”

His hands slid up your torso, water beading over your skin as he tugged the straps of your swimsuit down, baring you inch by inch in the moonlight. He paused, eyes raking over you, reverent and ravenous at once. Then he leaned in, mouth hot and possessive on your chest, kissing and tasting like he couldn’t get enough.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispered against your skin.

Your moan echoed in the quiet night as his mouth moved lower, teeth grazing just enough to make your toes curl, the water sloshing gently with your every movement. You were lost—utterly and willingly undone—by the boy you weren’t supposed to want, in a moment that felt like breaking every rule in the best possible way.

And you knew you’d never look at him the same again.You'd already crossed the boundary,but that didn't matter at that moment,you would let the regret kick in later.

The world outside the pool didn’t exist anymore.

Not the house, not your brother asleep inside, not even the stars overhead. There was only the water wrapping around your bodies, the slick heat of Jake’s skin against yours, and the delicious, dangerous throb of wanting him where no one could know.

"Say it again," he murmured against your collarbone, voice like velvet and smoke.

"Take it," you breathed, threading your fingers through his soaked hair, tugging him back to your mouth.

He kissed you like it was the last thing he’d ever do, hungry and full of restraint on the verge of snapping. His hands roamed freely now, no more hesitation—he was memorizing you, claiming you in touches that made your knees weak even in the water. You gasped when he pulled your hips tighter against his, his body grinding into yours with purpose.

“You feel what you do to me?” he growled low in your ear, lips brushing your lobe.

"Every inch," you whispered back, breath hitching as your hips rolled together, the friction unbearable and electric. “Jake... I—”

He swallowed your words in a bruising kiss, backing you against the shallow steps. His hands swept down your waist, gripping under your thighs again as he guided you onto the submerged ledge. The position shifted—more open, more exposed—but neither of you cared. The way his body pressed into yours, his mouth claiming every inch of your skin, you were past the point of no return.

Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, his chest heaving. "You sure?"

you nodded, eyes blazing. “I’ve never been more sure.”

His lips curled into something wicked and reverent all at once, and then he was on you again—pressing, exploring, making you his. The rhythm built between you, slow at first, teasing and grinding in the water, but soon the kisses turned breathless, sloppy, the need too overwhelming. Every movement was a promise, every moan swallowed by another kiss.

His hand moved between you, finding your clothed core with a knowing touch. You choked on a gasp, body arching into him as your legs tightened around his waist. "Shh," he whispered against your throat, chuckling darkly. “Gotta be quiet, baby... or he’ll hear you.”

That should’ve scared you—but it only made the heat between your thighs flare hotter.

Your fingers dug into his back, nails raking as he touched you, stroked you, until your head dropped back against the tile and you were trembling, falling apart in his arms under the moonlight.

And then he kissed you again—deep, slow, filthy—

And you never wanted it to end.

You were still reeling, legs trembling around him, heart racing like it was trying to punch through your chest. But Jake wasn’t done. Not even close.

“You think I’m letting it end there?” he whispered, lips trailing hot and slow along your neck, your collarbone, back up to your ear. “Not when I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”

Your breath hitched as he shifted you slightly on the submerged step, his body sliding against yours, slick and hard and completely unrelenting. The pool water swirled around you both, cool and innocent in contrast to the wicked things his hands were doing under the surface.

One arm cradled your back while the other slid beneath the water again, between your thighs, his fingers confident and slow, teasing just enough to make you squirm.

“Jake—”

He hushed you with a kiss, tongue brushing against yours in a deep, languid stroke. “You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?” he murmured into your mouth.

You bit your lip hard, nodding, barely able to breathe as he slipped his fingers inside you, working you open with careful, devastating control. The water rippled gently with every slow movement, masking the wet sounds of your body giving in to him. Every nerve was on fire, your back arching, nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to stay quiet and failed miserably.

Jake watched you like he was obsessed—his lips parted, pupils blown wide, breathless with how undone you were becoming beneath him. “So fucking good for me,” he groaned, dragging his fingers out only to grip your hips and pull you down flush against his length.

You both stilled, breathless.

The stretch of him as he slid inside you—hot and thick and deep—sent a gasp ripping out of your throat that he barely caught with his mouth. The moment he was fully seated in you, you wrapped around him tighter, desperate and greedy, like your body had been waiting for this exact moment forever.

And he gave it to you—every inch, every slow, aching thrust beneath the water, driving into you with steady, purposeful force. Your bodies moved together, slick and perfect, water rising and falling with each motion, the moonlight turning your skin silver as he worshipped you with every touch, every thrust, every groan he buried into your neck.

“You’re mine now,” he growled into your skin, voice shaking with restraint. “He can never know, but fuck, you’re mine.”

You clung to him, legs tightening around his waist as he drove deeper, faster now, his hands gripping you so tightly it bordered on possessive. The tile against your back, the cool water on your skin, the hot, thick slide of him inside you—it was all too much. And not enough.

“Jake—God—I’m—”

“Let go for me,” he whispered, holding your jaw, forehead pressed to yours. “Come on, baby. I wanna feel it.”

And when you did—when your release hit like lightning underwater, making your whole body tighten and shake—he buried his face in your neck and followed you over that edge, groaning your name like a prayer and a curse.

The water settled around you, gentle again. His arms stayed wrapped around you like he couldn’t bear to let go.

Neither of you said anything for a long moment.

Just breath.

Just heat.

Just you, and him, in the middle of the night, like a secret too good to stop and think of the consequences.

Jake was still inside you, both of you suspended in the warm, quiet aftermath, your bodies pressed close in the water. His breathing was rough against your skin, and your fingers stayed tangled in his hair like you were afraid if you let go, the moment might dissolve.

Then he lifted his head.

His eyes found yours in the moonlight—dark, intense, but softer now. Like something shifted. Like whatever line you crossed couldn’t be uncrossed. His hand slid up, brushing wet hair from your face, thumb lingering along your cheekbone with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

"Come here,” he whispered.

And when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t frantic or hungry—it was slow. Deep. Like he was tasting you now instead of taking. Like he wanted to make sure you knew this wasn’t just about heat or lust or secret pool hookups while your brother slept.

This kiss was different.

It started soft, his lips brushing yours once, then again, slower. Then his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in as his mouth opened over yours and he kissed you like he had all night to do it. Tongue slow, deliberate, stroking against yours in a way that made your whole body melt again. Like you were drowning in him, and he was perfectly fine letting it happen.

Your fingers gripped his shoulders, your heart thudding so hard it echoed in your ears. He pulled back just slightly, forehead resting against yours, his breath mixing with yours in the space between.

“You okay?” he asked, voice hoarse but gentle.

You nodded, blinking up at him. “Yeah… more than okay.”

Jake smiled, just barely. “Good. Because I’m not done kissing you yet.”

And he wasn’t.

He kissed you again, and again—long, slow pulls of his lips on yours while the water lapped at your waists and the rest of the world stayed locked away in silence. His hands stayed on your skin like he needed to keep touching you to believe this was real. And every time he pulled away, it was only to come back again—deeper, rougher, sweeter—like he couldn’t help himself.

You didn’t want him to anyway.

[spongebobiscool]

Summary After receiving an injury from a villan named Boom while working on the job, you were ordered to bed rest for the next weeks. You assumed you’d be spending those weeks alone, but from the knock on your door and the person behind it, you couldn’t be anymore wrong.

Pairings Katsuki Bakugou x reader

WC/ 942

A knock came to your apartment door and you walked up to answer it. To your surprise, it was the Katsuki Bakugou behind it. He had a muscled arm against the doorway, straining all of his muscles. You felt your breath hitch at the sight.

“Well, if it isn’t the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” You said sarcastically. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He rolled his eyes, painting his usual scowl across his face. “Listen extra-“ oh, here we go, “I just wanted to apologize for today.” He began, his face becoming serious.

Before answering the door, you were busy honing your wounds due to today's villian. He called himself Boom. Boom wanted to be just like Bakugou, a copycat in a way. And he was a tough one, having the power to send explosives kind of like Bakugou’s quirk but a little bit of a cheap knock off. That didn’t mean it was any less painful when he directed explosions your way and sent you flying to the nearest building.

And it really didn’t help when Bakugou took charge of the operation and because of it, the next harsh explosion was sent your way. A quick trip to the hospital later and you were told that you had a sprained ankle, a couple broken ribs and that you’d need to stay off the job for the next few weeks. You didn’t blame him for what happened, you were heros. It happens.

You could see the guilt behind his vermillion colored eyes. It was hard to pick you but you could see it. You shook your head at him, “You don’t need to apologize for anything. Things happen,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

“But I’m a hero, and I put you in danger. I’m sorry,” he bowed his head to you and you nearly smiled. Who knew Katsuki Bakugou could have so much compassion for others?

With as much as you could, you moved to the side to show him the door. “Would you like to come in?” You asked. He seemed unsure but continued to walk through the door. With your sprained ankle, it was hard to take a step back. Especially because you limped toward the door and left you crutches against the couch.

You couldn’t stop yourself from realizing just how tall and big Katsuki Bakugou was. He wore a black tank top and sweatpants but converted himself off with a jacket. “I have tea if you want some,” you choked out. He nodded and watched you closely.

To get away from his hard stare, you turned on a heel and started walking. “I’ll make you some,” you said, limping out of his way but it took one chord to nearly send you to the floor. Thankfully, strong arms and a hard body grabbed onto your waist to keep you upright.

“I’ll make the tea,” he grumbled. “Now sit ya’ ass down,”

You rolled your eyes and did as he said while he went into the kitchen to make the tea. It didn’t take him long to figure out which one you liked the most. You only had 2 boxes of both you really liked. While the kettle was running, Bakugou went to sit by your side. “What’s all this?” He asked.

You looked down at the bandages and felt your cheeks heat up. “Nothing. I was just cleaning myself up-“

“Let me do it,” the shock hit you like a slap in the face. He wanted to do what? You watched him grab the alcohol and gauze, realizing that he was indeed serious. The wound was a slightly deep cut that hadn’t healed yet. “Where are you hurt?” He asked.

Hesitantly, you turned your back to him. The wound was on a lower region on your shoulder blade and it would require you to nearly remove your top. You pushed your hair out of his way, revealing your naked back to him and the harsh bloody slash that laid in your back.

You winced as he began working on your shoulder, cleaning up as much blood as he could. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant for you to get hurt.”

Wow, you never thought he would felt this guilty for a mistake. Things happen for us heros. It’s never one person's fault and it definitely wasn’t his. You shook your head again. “You don’t need to blame yourself.” You said. “It’s not your fault so please.”

He didn’t say anything after that and continued to clean your wound until he finally bandaged it up with another piece of gauze and a big ass bandaid. You felt his hand hovering over your back and you swallowed hard. The tension was so thick. “Why do you care so much?” You mustered up the strength to ask.

He scoffed. “I’ve always cared-“

You pulled up your shirt and turned to face him. You would’ve cowered from the intensity of his eyes if it wasn’t for the adrenaline rushing through your body and the alcohol you drank earlier. “Not like this,” you countered.

For the first time, you think you’ve might’ve broken him. Bakugou clears his throat and stands up. “I’m gonna check on the tea,”

You stood with him, calling after him, “Katsuki-“

He stopped. He stopped and turned around to face you. “Say that again,” he breathed. His chest rising and falling at a thunderous pace. His eyes, those vermillion colored eyes never left you.

“Say what,”

“My name,” he said. “Say it again,”

All the air left you, “and what if I don’t?”

He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips as he walked over, towering over you. He pulled you close and you could just then tell the reason as to why he wanted to hear his name so bad. Yep, definitely big. “I’m okay with spending the rest of this night making you scream it,”

[takumiraine]

Once upon a time chapter 12

Something something the writer’s curse

<first> <prev> <next>

Danny was…. Nervous wasn’t exactly the right word, but it wasn’t exactly wrong either. He wasn’t sure why. He had spent time with Jason, a lot of it, before.

Maybe it was because everything was out in the open now. Maybe it was because there was nothing stopping Danny from possibly considering a future for the first time since he was fourteen.

Maybe it was because Jason probably knew he had a crush.

Danny scrubbed at his face and turned on the water in the bathroom for a shower. The pipes rattled and squealed. The shower head itself came to life in dribbles and spits. The water never got properly hot, but his ice core made him more partial to cold showers anyways.

He stood there, letting the water beat down on his back and the back of his neck. There were so many ways their little reading not-date could go. Jason’s siblings show up. Bat-dick shows up. Ghost attack. Rogue attack. Government attack.

Or worse. Nothing happens but he reads and they make small talk.

Small talk was the worst.

Danny thunked his forehead into the cold tile of the shower wall. He just had to have dropped the book. Taking a deep breath in, Danny held it for a few moments before letting it out slowly.

Logically he knew it would likely be fine. But the part of him that had been on increasingly high alert for the last five years was hard to convince. He took another breath. Held it. Exhaled slowly.

Focus on things you can control, Danny, he told himself. He pulled away from the wall, grabbed the washcloth and cheap body wash, and got to work scrubbing. Not that he was dirty usually by any means, but he was going to be hanging out at Jason’s apartment on purpose and he wanted to at least smell passable.

Not that Jason should be close enough to smell him but…

He finished scrubbing and rinsed off, squeezing some body wash into his hair and scrubbing that as well. Once clean, Danny got out of the shower and dried off, carefully walking across the apartment to the kitchen. He didn’t have that many dishes so the cabinet space was being repurposed to a makeshift dresser. He pulled clothes out and shoved them onto his body, not particularly caring if they got wet. By the time he walked to Jason’s apartment they’d dry off. It was, after all, as sunny as it got in Gotham today.

After having a snack - some honey roasted peanuts in one of those single serving dollar store snack packs and a fruit roll thing- and brushing his teeth, Danny left his apartment. The door was locked with a hand quickly phased through the shitty wood.

The walk was uneventful. Most daytime walks were. It was only the bolder rogues that operated in broad daylight. He remembered the address well enough, and it was somewhere he had walked by before. The closer he got to Jason’s place the slower he walked, anxiety clawing at his ankles and anchoring his feet to the cement. By the time he made it to the building though, he could feel the hot pulse of Jason’s core inside.

Danny pressed the buzzer for the right apartment. A minute later, right around the time Danny was starting to wonder if he pressed the right one, Jason came down wearing sweatpants and a tank top.

Danny blinked at him, mouth suddenly dry. He offered a shaky smile, nervous for reasons he was no longer entirely sure about. Jason was definitely attractive. In that ‘could kill him (again) on accident with how muscular he is’ way. The scars that were visible did nothing to hinder that at all.

Jason gave him a nod and pushed open the door from the inside, letting Danny in. Danny knew from their shared classes that Jason was just as much of a morning person as he was. Granted, it wasn’t morning anymore, but Jason could have slept in. He knew how ‘quiet nights’ could go.

“I’m not too early am I?” Danny asked as they made their way up to Jason’s apartment.

“Nah. Just slow to get started. B stopped by to fuss last night.” Danny paused, though only for a second because Jason kept going down the dimly lit hall of doors.

“You want to cancel?”

“No. Just going to make coffee. I trust you won’t be obnoxious.”

“I won’t. I don’t know if you’ve met me, but I’m dead, serious.” Jason groaned at the joke, making Danny laugh.

“Remind me to never introduce you to my younger brother….” Jason let them into the apartment and gestured to where the book was perched on the arm of a cozy looking chair. The one Tim often took over when he visited.

Danny slid off his shoes and padded over to the chair, tilting his head to look at the cover of the book. “You can sit there if you want. It won’t bite. My brother says it’s comfortable.”

“What?” Danny looked over, “oh. Right. I know. Furniture never really got contaminated enough to attack, but I still flinch if the fridge hums when it opens. Too many attacks from random food in Amity.” Jason looked at Danny to see if he was joking, but either the man was too deadpan in his delivery or he was serious. Jason wasn’t sure what was worse.

Danny did sit though, nestling into the chair like he belonged there, and grabbed the book. “I hope it’s half as interesting as the cover makes it look.”

“You’ll have to let me know what you think.” Jason had read Gulliver’s Travels in middle school, but he wasn’t going to tell Danny that. Danny had missed out on so much because of his own vigilante shit. Bruce had at least forced him to finish school and get his homework done.

Not for the first time since hearing those messages and seeing the videos, how much Danny had missed out on being alone out there. Obviously, Danny was smarter than every adult in his life had given him credit for. Even in English, which Danny said was his weakest subject, Danny still had insights that were deeper than most.

Jason looked over at him again, and saw Danny was already reading, feet tucked up under him in a way that made it seem like he belonged there. Jason remembered what Danny had said about his Pit apparently being a ghost core, and wondered if that had anything to do with it.

Jason brought Danny a mug of coffee and set it on the table next to the chair, before settling himself on the couch with his own mug and book. He did lay back so he had a good vantage to observe Danny, but this was the first time he had seen Danny actually relax without having people watching his every move. Jason drank his coffee and opened his book, watching Danny absently grab his coffee mug and take a drink before putting it back, digging through his backpack for his notebook and a pen and beginning to make notes.

They sat in silence like that for a couple of hours, the only sounds between them were the turning of pages, the scratching of Danny’s pen in his notebook, and the occasional drink from their respective coffee cups. It was domestic in a way that Jason had to frown at.

He wasn’t the type for domesticity. It wasn’t his life. Never had been. Even the romantic relationships he had had weren’t domestic. They were either PR or just as rough and vicious and fleeting as he was. Never once had he even fantasized about it.

It was almost as if…. As if…. Oh…. “Fuck” he murmured, while the realization hit him like the Joker’s bomb.

Danny looked up, confusion and concern etched on his features, while Jason was surely staring back like a deer caught in the high beams of a semi truck. He, Jason Todd-Wayne, the Red Hood, was falling for Daniel Nightengale in the most romantic way possible. No visions of fucking him in every position their bodies would allow. Okay, there were those too, but they were there first. Jason wanted to wake up next to him and cook him breakfast. Wanted to take him on vacations and walk along the beach. Go camping and talk about every star in the sky. Wanted to see Danny’s smile light up brighter than the sun.

“You alright Jason?” Danny asked after what must have been an eternity of silence.

Jason nodded. No, he wasn’t. “Yeah. Just… the book. Foreshadowing.” He was so fucked.

“Oh. Maybe I should read it next? I’m…. This isn’t a bad book, but I’m not so sure it’s for me. Yknow?” Jason nodded dumbly. Held the book up so Danny could write down the title. Some Austen era book that he hadn’t absorbed a word of.

“Yeah. Makes sense.” Jason’s answer was robotic, but seemed to satisfy Danny as he went back to reading. Jason had no idea what he was going to do. He had no idea what he should do. Danny felt safe enough around him to sleep. For someone that had spent the last half decade running from a very real threat, that was a big honor.

God. Jason was so fucked.

[confuzing]

hi your apartment au has been haunting me the the whole day. i love it very much. on a scale of 1-10, how NormalTM would Bingge be about SY? How would the other tenants + heavenly demons feel about it?

oh gosh and not to mention Airplane, should we light incense for him or nah?

Bingge is soooo normal. So so so normal!

Just the normalest! He's not spending all his free time at this weird little... Village? in the middle of nowhere. He's just helping them set up a water wheel because he's neighborly like that! Oh and he's helping some of them with their cultivation because he's a nice guy! Definitely not because the other heavenly demons won't let him slip Shen Yuan some of his blood and Mu Qingfang says once SY hits a high enough level of cultivation he'll be able to wrangle his own faulty immune system.

Real talk though everyone in the apartment is extremely nice to Binghe and it kinda weird him out. Like genuine nice. Not nice because he's powerful nice. The only thing they aren't nice about are his so far fruitless efforts to quiet-kidnap Shen Yuan and they aren't really mean about that either. The grandmas, led by Granny Xue are always interrogating him about his intentions and wives... it's like they think he isn't good enough for SY or something?

Zhuzhi-lang and Tianlang Jun clock what's going on with Bingge pretty quickly and have a Conversation (and fight) about how these are their humans. They saw them first. None of them are leaving with Bingge unless they (the human) expressly say they want to go.

So Bingge just has to convince SY to come away with him. How hard could that be?

When Binghe and Mobei Jun first show up they're investigating the suspicious gathering of wandering cultivators, and then they're investigating the building and people from another dimension... But since the boys look like their dead counterparts Bingge clocks who exactly SY is pretty quickly. It doesn't help that SY absolutely pats Bingge on the head the very first chance he gets.

Airplane Bro is having a time. Mobei Jun is right there! In the flesh! Such sexy sexy flesh! He could reach out and touch him! And then Mobei Jun would probably break his arm! But he could!

(Someone mentions Airplane looks like Shang Qinghua in front of Mobei Jun and the ice demon glares at him for a solid minute before declaring "No this Shang is taller." And then he never brings it up again.)

Airplane would dearly love to shoot his shot with that glorious ice sculpture of a man but he's just... *gestures at all of himself* There's no way Mobei Jun would be interested.

Meanwhile, Mobei Jun is the first one to arrive at the apartments, sent to investigate by Bingge. He arrives in the middle of summer on a ridiculously hot night and is, while sweaty and uncomfortable confronted by a scantily clad young man (Airplane in shorts and a tank top) and a gaggle of children making ice cream in one of those hand crank machines.

Airplane of course knows exactly who this stranger is and that the ice demon is not looking to good in this heat and before Mobei Jun knows what's happening he's been ushered inside to an air conditioned room and been fed ice cream while he's questioned about being an ice demon by a bunch of very small children who's parents apparently trust him with them?? While the scantily clad man fusses over him more than his mother ever did??? This is... Nice? He is ... enjoying himself?? What is happening??? (Do humans do bridenapping? Can he just ...scoop the scantily clad man up and take him away? Not now of course, it would frighten the children. But later ...)

[purple-obsidian]

miscommunication; option 2 (18+, dick grayson x fem titan reader)

⭓ !PLEASE READ! this is part of a choose-your-ending story. it will not make sense unless you start from here.

"No! Dick, please!" You stand from your chair, cloth napkin falling to the floor, watching him stalk past you towards the exit of the restaurant, anxiety filling your stomach with dread. "You're not even going to let me explain?" You call after him, ignoring the weird looks you're getting from the other guests enjoying their food.

Not about to let him leave things like this, you rush after him, finding him waiting at the valet stand outside. "Dick! You're seriously going to just walk away like that? What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" He sounds taken aback, crossing his arms and glaring at you. "What about you? What's your problem, huh? You really think I would take you somewhere as nice as this, if all I wanted to do was get into your pants? You really think that low of me?"

A loud crash of thunder echoes against the tall buildings surrounding you, but neither of you pay any mind to it, even as a light drizzle of rain begins to fall. The valet, obviously uncomfortable with the exchange that's happening, slips away to retrieve Dick's car.

"No! That's not what I- I didn't even-"

"This was a mistake. I never should have asked you-"

"DICK GRAYSON!" You shout, unable to hold back your own anger now. "You are going to shut the fuck up and let me speak, or I swear I'll-"

"You'll what?" His tone is low, and he uncrosses his arms, hands clenched into fists at his side.

You close your mouth, seething in anger at being interrupted yet again. You feel the tears coming. You can't help it. You cry when you're angry. It's something you hate about yourself, and the last thing you want to do is cry in front of him. Luckily, the rain that's slowly starting to fall helps mask it just a little.

"I didn't realize this was a date!" You finally shout, hands shaking with how worked up he has you.

Dick scoffs, looking you up and down. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are trying to backpedal now, or something? I very clearly asked you out, we have the texts to prove it."

You take a deep breathe before speaking. "I thought you were asking me to work. You've done it before, haven't you? Just last month, you texted me, last minute, asking me to help you tail that arms dealer. I thought this was something like that."

Dick's angry expression morphs to one of confusion, now second-guessing himself. "Are you being for real?"

"Yes!"

More thunder. A loud clash, and the rainfall grows heavier, slowly soaking both of you as you glower angrily at one another.

Dick finally pulls you aside so you're both standing under the awning of the Italian restaurant, safe from the oncoming downpour. He feels something hard strapped to your upper arm when he does so. "What's this?" He asks, feeling the object through the wet fabric of your sweater.

"What do you think it is? A knife." You explain, hoping he's finally starting to believe you. "I told you. I thought this was Titan's business. You didn't tell me what we were getting into, so I came prepared." Shrugging away his hand, you reach down to pull the damp garment off over your head. You're left in just your tank top now, giving Dick full view of the weapons you had concealed, along with the comm wire you two and the other titans will wear on missions.

Any trace of anger left on his face is gone. He opens his mouth to speak, stammering a little. "You mean.. but I thought… my texts…" He looks mortified. Dick isn't a man that finds himself speechless very often, but now is one of those times.

A long exhale escapes your lips, releasing a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You glance around you, and wring out the excess water from your sweater a little before pulling it back over your head, not wanting your knives to draw too much attention. "Do you understand now? I fucked up, okay? I should have clarified with you, I misunderstood what you were asking me. That's my fault. But I did not agree to this with the intention of fucking you all night. I promise."

"Fuck." Dick runs his fingers through his shaggy hair, which was styled neatly earlier but is now wet and messy from the rain. He looks at you and says your name in an apologetic tone. "I really just made a fool of myself, didn't I?"

"Yeah, no shit." You cross your arms over your stomach, rubbing your hand up and down your arm to fight off a chill. "Dick, you are one of the most amazing people I've ever met. I care about you. You're a great leader, and an even better friend. I could never just see you as someone to hook up with. Even if…" You lose your confidence at that last sentence, trailing off a little, hesitating to finish the thought.

"Even if what?" He takes a step closer to you, his hand resting on your shoulder. His eyes search yours, looking you over, trying to read you.

You swallow the lump in your throat, and reply, "Even if you're, like, the hottest guy I've ever seen." You look off to the side, avoiding the intensity of his gaze.

Finally, a smirk appears on his lips. "So… you do think I'm hot?" His embarrassment would surely be relieved somewhat, if he could confirm you did reciprocate some of his feelings.

"Objectively, yes. But I promise, that isn't what's most important to me." You see the valet arriving in Dicks car. Looking towards the bright blue vehicle, then to the dazzling eyes in front of you sporting the same hue, you try and find the right words to express what you feel. "The last thing I want to do is to make you feel objectified. Please, Dick, could we just start over? I'd love to continue our date, now that I know it is a date."

Guilt is tugging at his heart. Your sincere words have diffusing any remaining doubt or irritation that may have been lingering in the back of his mind. The hand that is on your shoulder snakes up to tangle in your hair, close to the base of your skull. "I'd like that." His tone is softer now that he's closer to you. "And I'm sorry, too."

"You don't have to apolo-"

Dick cuts you off, yet again. But not with words. This time, it's with a kiss. You freeze for a moment, not expecting the forward affection after how upset he was with the idea of you just wanting him for his body. But it only takes a second before you relax into him, hands snaking around his broad frame, relishing the feeling of his strong arms pulling you tight against him. His body heat is welcoming, but even more so are his lips, eager and assertive against your own.

The valet exits the flashy car once its parked in the loading zone. He retrieves an umbrella, but stops short when he sees the couple that were yelling at each other just a few minutes ago, now making out, soaking wet, zero regard for who's watching. He looks to Dick, then behind him to the running vehicle, unsure of what to do next.

"Sir? Excuse me, sir? Your car is ready!"

Dick ignores him. And so do you. His kisses are quelling the guilt and frustration you feel towards yourself. Its like he's pouring his love and reassurance into you with every movement of his tongue, every brush of his lips against your own. You never imagined that Dick Greyson, son of Batman, leader of the Titans, former Robin, the one and only Nightwing, would be clutching you and kissing you so passionately in a place so public. The valet continues to awkwardly try to get his attention, but Dick doesn't care. His focus is on you, and he doesn't intend on stopping until he's made this right.

⭓ go back ⭓ masterlist ⭓

what ending did you choose first? let me know here, or leave a like/comment.

don’t steal my work. don’t repost it somewhere, upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

[jmagnabo92]

Sirius Vs Remus last interaction with Harry in POA

With all this conversation about who's the better parent, the better guide to Harry, I'd like to address the LAST MOMENT in POA with Sirius vs Remus and WHY Harry ends up closer to Sirius and it has NOTHING to do with his 'status' as godfather and everything to do with their behavior directly after Harry discovers their relationship to his father.

Long Post under the cut.

First, Remus' last moment with Harry:

A shadow fell across them and they looked up to see a very bleary-eyed Hagrid, mopping his sweaty face with one of his tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs and beaming down at them. "Know I shouldn' feel happy, after wha' happened las' night," he said. "I mean, Black escapin' again, an, everythin' -- but guess what?" "What?" they said, pretending to look curious. "Beaky! He escaped! He's free! Bin celebratin' all night!" "That's wonderful!" said Hermione, giving Ron a reproving look because he looked as though he was close to laughing. "Yeah. . . can't've tied him up properly," said Hagrid, gazing happily out over the grounds. "I was worried this mornin', mind. . . thought he mighta met Professor Lupin on the grounds, but Lupin says he never ate anythin' las' night. . . . " "What?" said Harry quickly. "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er -- Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'. . . . Thought everyone'd know by now. . . Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night. . . . He's packin' now, o' course. " "He's packing?" said Harry, alarmed. "Why?" "Leavin', isn' he?" said Hagrid, looking surprised that Harry had to ask. "Resigned firs' thing this mornin'. Says he can't risk it happenin again."

Let's stop here - I included this part because it tells us something EXTREMEMLY important - Remus was going to LEAVE without even talking to Harry. He had NO intention of talking to Harry or explaining what happened. He had NO intention of following up on their relationship and build on it - he was just going to leave after ALL that.

Harry scrambled to his feet. "I'm going to see him," he said to Ron and Hermione. "But if he's resigned --" "¨C doesn't sound like there's anything we can do --" "I don't care. I still want to see him. I'll meet you back here."

This tells us that Harry wanted a relationship with Remus, and expected to have one. Only for Remus to disappoint him.

Lupin's office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The Grindylow's empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin was bending over something on his desk and looked up only when Harry knocked on the door. "I saw you coming," said Lupin, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over. It was the Marauder's Map. "I just saw Hagrid," said Harry. "And he said you'd resigned. It's not true, is it?" "I'm afraid it is," said Lupin. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

Here we have proof that Remus knows that HARRY would reach out to him - yet, he doesn't reciprocate. He sees Harry's upset about it and he just ... keeps packing. Using the Map to see Harry do just that.

"Why?" said Harry. "The Ministry of Magic don't think you were helping Sirius, do they?" Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry. "No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives. " He sighed. "That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he -- er -- accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast." "You're not leaving just because of that!" said Harry. Lupin smiled wryly. "This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents. . . . They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you. . . . That must never happen again." "You're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!" said Harry. "Don't go!"

Here Lupin simply answers the question matter-of-factly and in fact, seems to expect that Harry would be affronted on his behalf. What's interesting here is that Lupin KNOWS that Harry has formed this bond with him and still makes what happened about him. Even though he ENDANGERED the kids ALL YEAR, here he focuses on the night before which was the most dangerous moment, and while he's doing the responsible thing but resigning and making it about the parents reaction to his condition feels like a ploy to make Harry feel sympathetic towards him. He didnot want him to feel like he screwed him over by not telling him about his parents, Sirius (and hiding something if it Sirius HAD been after him would've gotten him killed), and by slipping up the night before.

Lupin shook his head and didn't speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then, while Harry was trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Lupin said, "From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything I've done this year, it's how much you've learned. . . . Tell me about your Patronus." "How d'you know about that?" said Harry, distracted. "What else could have driven the Dementors back?" Harry told Lupin what had happened. When he'd finished, Lupin was smiling again. "Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed," he said. "You guessed right. . . that's why we called him Prongs."

Okay. Here's Lupin's opportunity to talk to Harry - an orphan and his best friends' kid - about James and he doesn't take it. He just said - oh yeah, that's what he turned into.

Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers, and turned to look at Harry. "Here -- I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night," he said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak. "And. . . " He hesitated, then held out the Marauder's Map too. "I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel guilty about giving you back this as well. It's no use to me, and I daresay you, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it." Harry took the map and grinned. "You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would've wanted to lure me out of school. . . you said they'd have thought it was funny." "And so we would have," said Lupin, now reaching down to close his case. "I have no hesitation in saying that James would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle."

Here, this feels very manipulative. Of course, if he didn't give the map/cloak back to Harry, James and Sirius would be pissed - that's his birthright. But It's pretty obvious that just like the other times that Remus uses James against Harry (Like when he discovers the Map - months previously - and he says 'I don't think your {dead} parents would appreciate you gambling their sacrifices for a bag of magic tricks'), that this time, he's using him to stay in Harry's good eyes. Especially given his parting statement.

There was a knock on the door. Harry hastily stuffed the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket. It was Professor Dumbledore. He didn't look surprised to see Harry there. "Your carriage is at the gates, Remus," he said. "Thank You, Headmaster. " Lupin picked up his old suitcase and the empty Grindylow tank. "Well -- good-bye, Harry," he said, smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we'll meet again sometime. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage. . . . " Harry had the impression that Lupin wanted to leave as quickly as possible. "Good-bye, then, Remus," said Dumbledore soberly. Lupin shifted the Grindylow tank slightly so that he and Dumbledore could shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry and a swift smile, Lupin left the office.

Now, finally, the end of his last moment in POA - note that he says goodbye, says he was pleased to teach Harry, and THEN SAYS:

"I feel sure we'll meet again, sometime."

What does this tell us? That Lupin - Despite being around for a WHOLE YEAR & creating a relationship with Harry - DOESN'T WANT to continue the relationship. He "feels like" they'll see each other - he doesn't say anything about 'I'll write you' or 'you can write me' - he basically makes it SO FREAKING CLEAR that he's done. He came into Harry's life and plans to disappear. There's no excuse for this (especially given book 4) and THIS is exactly why Remus isn't a "Parent" - he's not a "honorary godfather" and he's TERRIBLE.

Harry can tell in this interaction that he's just a professor, just Lupin, nothing else.

It just makes it obvious that he doesn't really care for Harry, so he wouldn't be a parent and doesn't deserve all of that 'Lupin was a better option', Lupin 'should've been godfather', etc.

***

Now, Sirius' last moment with Harry:

Harry picked up the letter. It was addressed to him. He ripped open the letter, and shouted, "It's from Sirius!" "What?" said Ron and Hermione excitedly. "Read it aloud!" Dear Harry, I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post. Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job. I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted. There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt --

Let's stop here. First, Sirius makes sure to send Harry the letter when he's alone. I bet he's thinking Harry's going to do exactly what he does with regards to Aunt/Uncle because he KNOWS based on Harry's quick acceptance of moving in with him & the runaway situation at the start of the book.

Then, he immediately tells him that he's safe because he knows that Harry was worried about him enough to go through time, so he assures him that he's fine.

Next, he tells him that he's thinking about him and the affect of everything that's happened and how he plans to fix it SPECIFICALLY so that HARRY is safer after he put him at risk. He takes responsibility and does whatever he can to make up for it.

And while Remus acknowledged that he was at fault, he also put it off on 'Snape let it slip and I have no choice'.

THEN knowing that Harry was probably wondering about the Firebolt - he tells him what he did. Proving that he's been watching over and caring for Harry even from a distance.

"Ha!" said Hermione triumphantly. "See! I told you it was from him!" "Yes, but he hadn't jinxed it, had he?" said Ron. "Ouch!" The tiny owl now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way. Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather. I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you. I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable. If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me. I'll write again soon. Sirius

Now, for the rest of the letter.

Sirius explains about the Firebolt and how DESPITE being in prison, he immediately wanted to make up for missing 13 years of Harry's like buying the Firebolt (which is noteworthy because Remus ALSO missed 13 years, and does nothing - and he could've done OTHER things besides a gift like pictures or letters or stories...).

Anyway, then, even though Harry probably didn't even remember that night he ran away, Sirius points out that the FIRST thing he thought of on getting out of prison was to CHECK ON HARRY.

He's been tortured for 12 years and has a mission to get the rat and his priority is check on his kid! And if he could do it - so could Remus. Anyway, he TELLS Harry what he did and what he wanted - just a glimpse to make sure he was okay - and then *apologies* - he's one of the few adults that does.

Then, lastly, he tells Harry's he's been paying attention by enclosing the Hogsmeade slip and ASSURES him that he WILL be writing soon and that Harry SHOULD write to him.

This IS SO OPPOSITE TO REMUS!

Sirius - I'm here for you, I'll write, you should too.

Remus - Eh, bye I'll see you around.

Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there. He read it through quickly and felt suddenly as warm and contented as though he'd swallowed a bottle of hot butterbeer in one gulp. I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends. "That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!" said Harry happily. He looked back at Sirius's letter. "Hang on, there's a PS. . . . " I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat. Ron's eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly. "Keep him?" he said uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to Harry's and Hermione's great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff. "What do you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?" Crookshanks purred. "That's good enough for me," said Ron happily. "He's mine. " Harry read and reread the letter from Sirius all the way back into King's Cross station. It was still clutched tightly in his hand as he, Ron, and Hermione stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. Harry spotted Uncle Vernon at once. He was standing a good distance from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, eyeing them suspiciously, and when Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry in greeting, his worst suspicions about them seemed confirmed. "I'll call about the World Cup!" Ron yelled after Harry as Harry bid him and Hermione good-bye, then wheeled the trolley bearing his trunk and Hedwig's cage toward Uncle Vernon, who greeted him in his usual fashion. "What's that?" he snarled, staring at the envelope Harry was still clutching in his hand. "If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another --" "It's not," said Harry cheerfully. "It's a letter from my godfather. " "Godfather?" sputtered Uncle Vernon. "You haven't got a godfather!" "Yes, I have," said Harry brightly. "He was my mum and dad's best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though . . . keep up with my news . . . check if I'm happy . . . " And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

And Lastly, Sirius proves that he thinks of Harry's friends, too, by providing Ron an owl, as well as knowing that Harry's needs his form.

Also, it's worth noting that Harry was so touched by the letter that he kept reading and rereading it AND given that he'd run away after blowing up Marge & what happened with being locked in the year before, it's entirely possible that the Dursleys planned to lock him up again and Sirius gave him an adult that he could use against the Dursley's (WHICH IS APPARENTLY ALL THEY NEEDED TO BEHAVE) - and that means that despite reneging on the whole 'live with me' deal, he still provided protection that Harry desperately needed.

Which is what a PARENT does.

THUS, Sirius is the Proper Parent, the Best Choice, and did the BEST HE COULD DO for Harry, while Remus dropped the ball.

Also, worth noting the differences in the last POA interactions sets up the next few books nicely with regards to Sirius&Remus with Harry. Harry turns to Sirius when he needs someone, despite knowing Remus for more time. He writes to him, he lets Sirius reassure him and support him, he expects him to be there - and he is. Remus isn't. And he never planned or wanted to be.

That much is obvious from the get.

So, in conclusion, Sirius is a GOOD GODFATHER, and Remus can suck it.

This has been properly tagged, so don't come at me, but feel free to discuss nicely.