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mwphisto · 2 days ago

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I’m not sensitive!

Pairings include: Xavier x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Sylus x Reader | Caleb x Reader

Warning, this post includes: breast play, nipple play, breast kissing, nipple kissing / licking / and biting

A/N: as a girlie that was convinced her boobs we’re not sensitive, I present you this lmao. Of course, it is totally normal for your breasts to not be sensitive and for you to not be into breast play!!!! I am just writing based on my own experiences, and even then, it can be a 50/50 for me lol. Bigger chest = less sensitivity from what I've heard, but it's different for everyone! Much love!!

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Xavier

A lazy weekend afternoon, comfy clothes, lots of snacks, and some cheesy horror movies playing on Xavier's TV screen. You were more engulfed in each other than anything else, the conversation flowing naturally as you lounged against the armrest of his couch.

"I'm serious, they're not sensitive." Your feet rest on his lap, his long fingers gently stroking up and down the skin of your calf. "I highly doubt it." Xavier countered with ease, blue eyes sparkling as a smirk curled his lips. "I just think you haven't met the right person."

Some way, somehow, the conversation had turned towards intimacy. What parts of you were sensitive, what parts weren't, the whole nine. Tension had been growing, but neither of you were willing to bite just yet. Even as you fought the urge to squeeze your thighs.

"The right person, huh? You're saying you can prove me wrong?"

You boldly proclaimed your breasts were not sensitive, your nipples not all that appealing to yourself when you had time alone. You didn't really touch them, like ever, even when masturbating.

"I believe I can give it my best shot..." Xavier started, using one finger to trail up towards your knee. "... that way, we can be positive that it's not... user error." He grins, something boyish and full of mischief and dammit you're a goner. "Well, you have my permission, Xavi."

Just like that, he's tugging your legs as he lunges. Crushing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. The hand that had been playing with your ankles and calves now splayed over your exposed thigh. Sneaking under your lounge shorts and reaching up towards your underwear.

His other hand snuck under your hoodie - one you had stolen from him - and didn't stop until he cupped one bare breast. "No bra?" a murmur against your lips, he didn't give you a chance to answer before his tongue was slipping into your mouth.

You arched into his touch, the warmth of his hand against your skin making your lips tremble as you tried to keep up with Xavier's needy kisses. He squeezes, not hard enough to hurt but enough to elicit a gasp, a triumphant smirk already curling his lips.

"See... you needed the right person." Saliva keeps you connected as he pulls away, blue irises nearly devoured by his dilated pupils. "The right person with the best touch..." His thumb and pointer finger find your nipple, squeezing it a few times experimentally.

A gasp flees you, body jerking away from the shock of pleasure that zapped up your spine. You'd tried this before, when you had been so convinced that playing with a woman's chest was a key part of her arousal, and you had been so disappointed when nothing really... happened.

Now, Xavier was doing all the things you had tried and quickly given up on, and he was getting the reactions you craved. "Xavier h-how... oh!" You're panting as he rolls the bud between his fingers, adding more stimulation by sucking along your jaw. "You just needed the right person to prove you wrong." it's muffled against your skin, a sigh of annoyance leaving him a second later.

"Take this off." All at once, he leaves you. Just long enough to yank the hoodie up and over your head.

“Let’s try this…” Xavier wasted no time, not bothering to tease you by lingering his kisses. The cool air of his apartment caused your nipples to harden, and Xavier was quick to pull one of the buds into his awaiting mouth.

Your head fell back, hands shooting to grab his head as a feeble cry of his name fled your lips. Heat pooled deep in your belly, leaking slowly and ruining your underwear. You didn’t think it was possible for your breasts to feel this way, never mind for it to cause such a reaction to the rest of you.

“X-Xavier, fuck me, please.”

“Someone’s eager.” He lets go of your nipple with a slick pop, a cocky grin now sneaking up his lips. “I’ve barely got to have my fun, you need to be patient Ms. I’m not sensitive.” You want to punch him and kiss him all at once.

Rafayel

A study of anatomy, sketching various bodies in various shapes, colors, and sizes. You couldn't even pinpoint how or when the conversation switched to personal weak spots, but... "What about your chest? Most people list their chest as a sensitive spot."

"Not me." You pout a bit, hands coming up to cup your chest before meeting Rafayel's eyes. "Maybe I'm just broken."

Your chest had never been all that sensitive from what you could tell. You'd tried a handful of times to make it feel as good as it looks, books, movies, and even porn videos put so much focus on stimulating a woman's breast that you assumed it had to feel good.

And when it fell flat? You had concluded your breasts were simply less sensitive than others. "You're certainly not broken." Rafayel sets his sketchpad down, pushing up from his seat on the floor to stalk towards where you had been lounging on his bed.

"Your body is way more responsive to someone else's touch opposed to your own." You feel your eyebrows raise, glancing between where he towered above you and where his hand was heading. "Can I show you? Or perhaps, prove my theory?" Your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip, nodding a little to fast for your liking.

Rafayel sits himself down on the edge of his bed, a hand sliding over the thin material of your tank top. "You get too lost in your own head, of course, you won't be able to focus on how good it can feel." And your breathing stutters as his hand gingerly cups your right breast.

"Just relax, I've got you." As Rafayel speaks, he gently kneads the pliant flesh, silently noting that your nipples harden under his touch. "I-I just see these girls that can't go braless because their nipples are so sensitive and it just doesn't ma-oh!" Rafayel cuts you off by using his pointer and middle finger to squish the prominent bud.

"Ah-ah, what did I say about relaxing? Just enjoy..." Heat is starting to seep into your cheeks, your hand coming up instinctively to clutch Rafayel's wrist as he toys with your breast.

"They're so pretty, can I lift this up?" he's using his free hand to tug at the elastic material of your tank top, smirking when you nod your approval. "Atta girl, let me see these beauties...shit." His cheeks are turning pink, pupils dilating wide as he uses his other hand to cup your neglected left breast. "Fuck, they're so perfect."

You want to open your mouth and retaliate, but you think they are far from perfect. But you swallow it, knowing better than to dare contradict him when it comes to statements about your beauty. "And so responsive, see what happens when you listen to me?"

He seals the deal with a pinch, tugging both of your perked nipples between his thumb and pointer fingers before leaning down to kiss your sternum. "So damn beautiful." Another kiss, one closer to your right breast. "And so not broken, don't ever say that again."

This time, the kiss lands on your nipple, and you're mewling, cheeks burning hot as you clutch his wrist just a little tighter. Rafayel doesn't pull away this time, instead he removes his hand completely so he can suck the now-sensitive bud between his lips.

You're not sure how long he stays on you like that, but you know your panties are drenched and your nipple is swollen by the time Rafayel finally eases up. "Can I?" he swallows, chest heaving as he looks at your chest. He needs to mark them first and then sketch them.

"Can I fuck these after I show you how sensitive they can be?"

Zayne

You loved watching him type his reports, finding his meticulous typing to be both adorable and hot. Maybe it was just because you were so deeply in love with him, but dammit you could watch Zayne work all day. So, when he dragged over a human anatomy chart while typing on a patient file, you felt the need to pop the question.

"Zayne?" You sounded hesitant uttering it, so naturally, Zayne's attention was immediately focused on you. "Is something wrong?" Immediately, you wanted to swallow your words. "I-Uh, no, but I just kinda... had a question." You feel like you're going to die.

"Go on." He relaxed a bit, a telling sign that he could see your anxiety and wanted you to feel comfortable. "Ah, well." You look away, swallowing the lump in your throat before trying again. "I was just wondering if it was normal for... for breasts to not be sensitive."

The surgeon's eyebrow twitches upwards at that, and now you really want to melt into the chair you had been lounging in.

"Well, medically speaking, yes. It depends on the person. Sometimes chest size factors into sensitivity; sometimes it really doesn't. But, overall, it's pretty normal and fairly common...why?" Concluding his answer, Zayne seemed to really process what you were asking.

You felt a tad relieved upon hearing that it wasn't a one-in-a-million chance that you deemed your chest to be lacking sensitivity. "Oh, well, my breasts aren't all that sensitive, I kind of worried it wasn't normal, you know?" Zayne nodded, ears turning a shade of red. "Many forms of media have set unrealistic expectations."

"Tell me about it. I really felt self-conscious." You were ready to resume your lounging, but Zayne was still eyeing you.

"Would you like me to perform an exam?"

You swallow, eyes widening in surprise, but your head is moving faster. A nod escapes you before you can stop it, clearing your throat, you add, "That would be great, actually. I'd appreciate it."

Somehow, you're shirtless and braless on Zayne's exam table. The cool air of his office makes your nipples pebble. "They look perfect." He states it plainly, leaving no room for debate, even as your cheeks begin to burn. With skilled hands, the surgeon cups both of your bare breasts in his hands, kneading and squeezing meticulously.

The sensation sends a shrill of arousal straight to your tummy, and you find yourself gripping the edge of the exam table. "It's also quite common for your brain to pick a side. If you squeeze your own breast, your brain may focus more on what your hand is feeling rather than your chest." He squeezes them both to send the point home.

"And..." Zayne's head lowers, a gentle kiss placed on the top of each breast before he squeezes your nipples. "... different forms of stimulation can really shake things up."

In the blink of an eye, your back is against the cool leather of his exam table. The same table is now creaking as Zayne climbs up on it with you. "Z-zayne, what are you-" But his mouth descends on your breasts again, and suddenly all words die on your tongue.

His nose drags along your skin, inhaling your scent before suckling on one of your nipples. His hand comes up to toy with your other breast, determined to not let it go neglected during his exam.

"Some women find breast stimulation to be more effective when..." he swallows, angling himself so his free hand can slide down your stomach and towards the waistband of your pants. "...vaginal stimulation is provided at the same time."

Sylus

"Your chest is pretty sensitive, huh, Sy?" Your fingers dance lazily across his pecs, watching his expression for any signs. Sure enough, his brows pinch together briefly before relaxing again. "I guess you could say that." A gentle murmur, one that is full of exhaustion despite his eyes scanning over the pages of a book.

You were both supposed to be sleeping, but some days this was the only time you two could really spend time together. Snuggled into the crook of his arm, you found your brain wandering.

"Why are you asking, anyway?" his finger marks the spot he left off on, carmine eyes sliding to look down at where you peered up at him. "I just wish my chest was as sensitive as yours." You said it almost dreamily, as if you didn't realize what that statement did to him.

"Your breasts aren't sensitive?" Sylus countered, the book in his hand being tossed onto the nightstand so he could focus everything on you. "No, not really. I've tried but... nothing really works. I don't get how girls get so worked up when their breasts are touched."

He seemed to think it over for a moment, a small smirk curling his lips. "Do you care if I try something before you come to such a conclusion?" He turns towards you, his free hand resting on your shoulder and pushing you to your back. “You know what? Sure, go ahead. I doubt the outcome will change what I said.”

A little bit of defiance, sure. But Sylus caught the hint of sadness too. Now, he was even more determined.

"Don't be so quick..." His hand cups your breast through the silk of your nightgown, eliciting a small gasp. "...to doubt me, kitten." He's warm, hands that are honed to kill are now gentle as they massage your breast tenderly. "Just relax, let me take care of you."

Your lips are wobbling as he tugs the silky material down, letting both of your breasts spill out for his viewing pleasure. "If it doesn't work, if this doesn't feel good..." he pushed upwards, hovering above you slightly so he could lower his head and begin kissing your chest. "...I'll make it up to you in a way I know you love."

He tugs a nipple into his mouth, and you're arching off the mattress, the sudden sensation making your eyes water. The idea of not being sensitive has simply given Sylus the green light to be rougher.

"Sylus!" Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging as he bites down on the pebbled bud. His tongue lathers your nipple a moment later, soothing any pain from his bite. He lets go a second later, saliva connecting him to your breast even with the new distance.

"Let me..." he's tugging at your nightgown again, instead of your neckline, he's shoving the bottom hem up towards your stomach. "...fuck you while I do this. Nothing but the best, right?" Fuck, your head was spinning, legs parting as you welcomed his offer.

"I'll make you feel so good, promise." Sylus' lips are back on your breasts, kneading and sucking as he fishes his cock out with his free hand. "Sylus, I need you, now." dammit, maybe he was right. Your mind was going fuzzy from the attention he was giving you.

"I know, and you have me. Just..." he's nudging your entrance, sending you into a spiral as he bites down on your nipple and pushes himself inside. A shrill cry leaves your lips, hands gripping his biceps in a feeble attempt to remain grounded.

"Stick with me, Kitten. We've got a long night ahead, I need to be thorough with my research."

Caleb

You were lying on Caleb's bed, phone held high as you scrolled mindlessly. Caleb lies beside you, reading through some pilot magazine you had picked up at the convenience store earlier. A video on your feed has your mind going, chewing on on your inner cheek as you ponder your question out loud.

"I wonder what it's like to have a sensitive chest?"

"You uh... You asking me that, pip?" Caleb was caught off guard, one eyebrow twitching upwards as he turned his head just enough to look at you. Realizing your mistake, you can't help but laugh out of embarrassment. "More so talking to myself."

"Your chest isn't... sensitive?" Caleb jumps right to the point, suddenly more intrigued with your answer now that the initial surprise has worn off. "No, not really. I mean, I've tried like everything and it just doesn't... do all that much."

"Like doesn't feel good at all? Or just not what you expected?" The magazine is long forgotten, Caleb is rolling onto his side to really study you. "I guess... not as good as I hoped? I just feel like they're not as sensitive as they could be." You attempt to shrug it off, but Caleb doesn't seem to want to let it go.

"Can I... give it a shot, pip?" And suddenly it all clicked into place. You click your phone off, tossing it to the side and sighing. "By all means, Caleb. Have your fun." Like a dog who just got praised, Caleb is quick to get to work. Not bothering with touching you over your shirt. In one motion, he has tugged the clothing up and over your bare chest.

"Let's see..." calloused fingers are running up your stomach, his eyes focused on the way your nipples harden due to the exposed air. "...it's not odd for breasts to lack sensitivity." Even as he speaks, goosebumps erupt over your skin. "But sometimes, you just need the right touch to prove you wrong."

Gingerly, your right breast is cupped in his warm embrace, earning a sharp inhale as you flicker between his hand and face. "And hands aren't always what is needed." His head is descending on your chest before you can process it, a shrill cry of his name leaving your lips as he nips at the fat of your chest.

"Different sensations invoke different responses." A lick to soothe the bruise he had made. His tongue is wet and warm as it trails up to your nipple. "Some prefer ice..." a lick "...some prefer heat or wax" a kiss directly on top of the pebbling bud. "Others like tickling." His nose nuzzles it before pulling back. "And others like pain."

Caleb's teeth sink into your nipple, and your back arches off the mattress. "It's all up to you, whatever you deem best." You're seeing stars, a whimper leaving your lips as you guide his hand over to your neglected breast. "Just make me feel good, please."

"At your service, pip."

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starl1ght444 · 3 days ago

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jason todd x reader

── .✦ PT.2 fluff

PT. 1 link HERE — PT.3 link HERE

[you and jason have a kid together, making bruce a grandpa]

[ 8.5k word count ]

* ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

february sneaks in with cold mornings and quiet afternoons. your apartment smells like cinnamon from the candle jason insisted on lighting last night, and the windows are fogged from the heat of the shower you just stepped out of.

you’re still in your robe, fingers curled around a mug of tea you haven’t sipped yet. your other hand rests over your stomach—not dramatically, not in a movie-scene way. just… gently. like your body already knows something your brain’s still trying to process.

you hadn’t been trying.

not really.

not yet.

but lately your body’s felt just a little off—tired in a different way. hungrier at odd hours. your favorite coffee suddenly smelled like motor oil. and this morning, after staring at the little box on the bathroom counter long enough to forget how to breathe… the second line appeared.

positive. — and now everything is still.

you hear the front door open, the familiar shuffle of boots, the soft creak of your floors as jason walks in from his morning run.

“babe?” he calls. “i brought you that muffin you like—blueberry. they only had one left, so i fought a grandma for it.”

you laugh quietly, setting the mug down and stepping into the hallway just as he kicks his shoes off.

he looks up at you and instantly pauses. something in your face must give it away—something soft and shining and a little breathless.

he tilts his head, concerned. “hey… everything okay?”

you nod slowly, taking a step closer. “i… yeah. i think everything’s about to be.”

he sets the bag down. “what dose that mean?”

you reach into your robe pocket and pull out the test, holding it in your palm like it’s made of glass. — jason stares… and stares.

and then blinks. “is that—?” his voice catches. “are you—?”

you nod.

his whole expression crumbles. the kind of shift that only happens when something hits too hard and too beautifully to be fully understood in the moment. his mouth opens, like he wants to say something clever or brave or perfect—

but what comes out is small. raw. “you’re pregnant?”

you smile, a little teary now. “we’re gonna have a baby.”

jason stumbles forward and wraps his arms around you so tightly it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. one hand cradles the back of your head, the other trembling slightly as it presses to your lower stomach.

“holy shit,” he breathes into your hair. “we’re having a baby.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes wide and wet, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks like he’s scared you’ll fade.

“are you okay? like—really okay? you feel alright?” he asks quickly, too quickly. “is anything hurting? should we call someone?”

“i’m fine,” you promise, laughing a little through your tears. “i’m okay, jase. really.”

he nods, but you can see the way his thoughts are spiraling—half joy, half panic, all love.

“you’re gonna grow a whole baby,” he whispers, voice full of awe. “you’re… incredible.”

you cup his face with both hands. “we are.”

he leans into your touch like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “you’re sure you’re not scared?”

“i am,” you admit. “but it’s the good kind. the kind that means this is real.”

he presses his forehead to yours, breathing deeply. “i’m gonna take care of you. both of you. whatever you need—i’ll do it.”

“i know.”

“i’m not gonna be perfect,” he says quietly. “but i swear, i’m gonna love this baby more than anything in the world. and i’m gonna love you even more for giving them to me.”

your heart swells so full it aches. “we’re really doing this,” he whispers.

you nod, blinking away tears. “yeah. we are.”

and then he kisses you, soft and slow, like he’s memorizing the beginning of a brand-new chapter. his hands cradle your sides like he’s holding something sacred.

because he is. — because now, there’s three heartbeats in this little apartment. and jason’s daydream? it just started coming true.

“we need to make a doctor’s appointment,” jason said his head over filling with questions, incredibly nervous to mess up.

“i’ll make one for next week.” smiling down at his hands, holding you steady in place.

and you did, you made an appointment later on for next week. they got you in fairly quickly. the waiting room is too bright.

soft jazz plays from a corner speaker like it’s trying too hard to be soothing. the walls are covered in pastel posters and diagrams of smiling cartoon babies that don’t make any sense unless you’re already half asleep.

you’re sitting in a stiff plastic chair with jason next to you, his hand laced through yours. he’s been silent for the last five minutes—too focused, too still. but it’s not nerves. it’s something else. a quiet intensity, like the kind he gets before patrol, when every thought is narrowed to one single moment.

except this time, that moment is here— and it’s you.

you nudge his leg with your knee. “you good?”

he turns to look at you and softens instantly. “better than good. just trying to stay calm.”

you smile. “you’re squeezing my hand like you’re about to disarm a bomb.”

he loosens his grip but doesn’t let go. “sorry. can’t help it. you’re… you’re in there growing an actual person. i still haven’t wrapped my head around that.”

before you can reply, a nurse pokes her head through the door and calls your name. “ (y/n)—“ jason stands with you, helping you out of the chair like you’re made of glass, his hand on your lower back the entire walk down the hall.

the exam room is colder than expected, and the paper on the bed crinkles under you as you lie back.

the nurse is kind. she asks a series of routine questions—when was your last period, are you taking prenatal vitamins, any morning sickness? jason answers half of them for you, the kind of eager that would normally make you laugh if it weren’t so endearing.

when the gel is squeezed onto your belly, his hand finds yours again. he strokes your hair back behind your ear without even thinking about it. he keeps watching your face instead of the monitor like he’s searching for any sign that you’re okay.

and then— a soft fluttering sound fills the room. your heartbeat stills.

the nurse turns the screen toward you both and points. “there’s baby,” she says gently. “and that—” she increases the volume slightly, “is the heartbeat.”

jason stiffens like someone just knocked the air from his lungs.

his grip on your hand tightens. and then he’s crying. quietly, but undeniably.

his free hand covers his mouth, shoulders shaking with the kind of silent, overwhelmed happiness that only comes once in a lifetime. his eyes stay fixed on the tiny flickering image on the monitor—unbelieving, awestruck.

“that’s our kid,” he whispers, like it’s a secret, a prayer, a dream coming to life in front of him.

you can barely see through your own tears, but all you can do is nod and squeeze his hand back.

he turns to you, eyes red, face glowing in a way you’ve never seen before. “you’re amazing,” he says. “you’re so amazing. you’re doing this. you’re making life. i’m just—i don’t know how i got this lucky, im so so proud of you sweetheart.”

you laugh through a sob, and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, then one to your damp cheeks.

“you okay?” he asks, brushing your hair back again.

“i am now,” you whisper.

jason just stares at you a little longer, like he’s committing this moment to memory. because he is.

because this feeling? this overwhelming, impossible joy?

he never wants it to end. and in his arms, with you beside him and the sound of your baby’s heartbeat echoing in the air— he knows he’s never been happier.

“so who’s gonna be the one to tell your fami— nose goes!” you shout quickly bringing your finger to your nose laughing with tears still in the corner of your eyes carelessly dangling.

“nos—damnit!” jason sighed “i hate that game.”

the sun is still high when you and jason pull up to wayne manor.

the engine cuts off with a low purr, but neither of you move right away. your hands stay folded in your lap, heart thudding in your chest. jason glances at you from the driver’s seat—eyes soft, mouth twitching with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“you ready?” he asks, voice quiet.

you turn to him and nod. “are you?

he huffs a laugh, fingers reaching across the console to gently take yours. “nope. absolutely not.”

but he squeezes your hand anyway, and the look on his face says everything. he’s ready in the way that counts. terrified, maybe—but glowing with it.

the front door opens before either of you knock. dick waves from the threshold, wearing a smile and an apron dusted with flour. “you guys are late. dinner’s almost ready.”

“we were, uh, taking our time,” jason says, helping you out of the car like you’re suddenly fragile china, even though you’re not even showing yet.

dick raises an eyebrow. “is that code for something?”

“we’ll explain inside,” you say, smiling softly as you head up the steps.

inside the manor — the smell of garlic bread and roasted vegetables wafts through the massive foyer. you can hear tim and damian bickering in the distance, steph’s laugh cutting through the noise. alfred passes through the hallway with a wine glass in one hand and a towel draped over his shoulder, nodding to you both with a kind smile.

“you’re just in time,” he says. “i’ve made enough for ten. though, knowing master grayson, that may only cover seconds.”

“appreciate you, alfred,” jason says, patting his shoulder.

you walk through the manor side by side, surrounded by the easy chaos of family. and the longer it takes to get to the dining room, the more the nerves grow. it isn’t fear, exactly. just… weight. the kind that comes with sharing something real. permanent. world-changing.

jason’s thumb brushes yours. “we’ll do it after dinner. once everyone’s in one place.”

you nod again, your stomach fluttering for reasons that have nothing to do with morning sickness.

at the dinner table — by the time the entire family is seated—bruce at the head, alfred near the kitchen doors, and the rest of the siblings scattered down both sides—it’s noisy, messy, and full of laughter.

dick tells a story about stephanie beating him in a sparring match, and she doesn’t even try to deny it. damian rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smirk creeping across his face. tim’s already halfway through his second helping, duke close behind. cass and barbara are on either side of him, teasing them between bites.

you’re tucked beside jason, his arm brushing yours every so often. and the moment feels golden.

but jason hasn’t stopped glancing your way, and you haven’t stopped feeling the secret burn beneath your ribs.

“we should tell them,” you whisper to him between bites of garlic bread. “before dessert.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, eyes flicking toward bruce. “before someone starts guessing.” — as if on cue, bruce glances your way, then jason’s, with that subtle, unreadable batman stare.

“you two are unusually quiet,” he says mildly.

“just thinking,” jason replies smoothly. “about how to say something important.”

the table quiets just a little—not fully, but enough for the tension to thicken.

you press your hand lightly against jason’s knee beneath the table.

he clears his throat. “so. uh. we’ve got news.” — cass is the first to go still, eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.

tim glances up from his plate. “what kind of news?”

you look around at the people who have become family in more ways than one—people who have fought beside each other, bled together, laughed together.

and now, you were about to hand them something fragile. something that meant everything.

“we’re having a baby,” you say softly, voice shaking just enough.

silence. full, pin-drop silence. then—

“NO WAY,” dick shouts, practically launching out of his chair.

“holy crap,” steph yells right after, hands flying to her mouth. “are you serious?”

barb’s eyes go wide. “you’re pregnant?”

jason grins like he can’t hold it back anymore. “yeah. we are.”

chaos breaks loose. tim drops his fork onto his plate and just stares at you both, jaw slack. damian blinks once, then twice, trying to process it. barbara claps her hands together in pure excitement. and dick? dick practically vaults over the table to hug jason, nearly knocking over a pitcher of water in the process.

“DUDE,” he says, squeezing him tight. “you’re gonna be a dad?!”

jason laughs, hugging him back. “apparently.”

“i’m gonna be an uncle!” he yells, turning to you with wide eyes. “you’re gonna be a mom?!”

you laugh, covering your face with your hands as he pulls you into the hug next. “yes! i am!”

steph runs around the table to tackle you both next. “your glowing!” — cass gently nudges steph aside to wrap her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder.

tim finally finds his voice. “wow. just—wow. congratulations. seriously.”

and damian—stoic, sharp damian—leans back in his chair and stares at you both for a long, unreadable moment. then, with a quiet nod: “i suppose this means the next generation of vigilantes is on the way.”

everyone groans. “not even born yet and you’re already recruiting them?” tim mutters.

“shut up, drake,” damian replies, though there’s no real heat in it.

at the head of the table, bruce hasn’t spoken yet. but when you look at him, his eyes are wet.

not enough to spill. just enough to shine.

“you’re really going to be parents,” he says, voice low.

“yeah,” jason says again, a little quieter now. “we are.”

bruce nods slowly. “i’m happy for you. for both of you.”

then—so softly it nearly gets lost in the noise— “i hope i’ll be a good grandfather.”

the table falls quiet again. jason’s breath catches.

and in a rare moment, one almost no one would believe unless they saw it with their own eyes—

jason rounds the table, hugs bruce, and holds on for a full five seconds.

just five. but it’s enough. it says everything.

after dinner but before the dessert is cut, you and jason slip away from the dining room. not for long—after the laughter and the hugs and the congratulations, the manor slowly starts to breathe again. jason squeezes your hand and leans close to your ear, his voice quiet beneath the hum of voices around the dining room.

“come with me?” he murmurs. “want to talk to alfred, just us.”

you nod, heart full. he doesn’t flinch when you enter. doesn’t turn around with surprise. he just speaks in that warm, knowing voice: “i wondered when the two of you would find me.”

you smile gently and walk up beside him, standing close enough for the soft scent of bergamot to curl around you. jason steps behind you and rests his hand on the small of your back.

“we didn’t want to tell you in front of everyone else,” you say softly. “you deserved something quieter.”

alfred finishes pouring the hot water, then finally turns to face you both. his eyes are kind, his hands still, waiting. “we’re having a baby,” jason says. simple. honest.

and that’s all it takes. — alfred’s face shifts in that slow, subtle way only he can manage. not dramatic. not surprised. just… reverent. like the words have landed somewhere deep in his chest and are still echoing there.

“i thought as much,” he murmurs, voice velvet and pride. “but to hear it confirmed… what a gift.” he reaches for your hand first, holding it between both of his, fingers gentle and steady.

“you will be a remarkable mother,” he says. “i can already see it in the way you carry yourself. with warmth. with care.”

your throat tightens. then he looks to jason, and the silence between them stretches—not heavy, just full. thick with unspoken history and all the moments that led to this one. “and you,” alfred says quietly. “i have never been more proud of you than i am right now.”

jason blinks. his jaw tightens, like he’s trying to hold something back. “you mean that?”

“with every fiber of my being.” alfred moves forward and rests a hand against jason’s cheek—something he hasn’t done since jason was much younger. “you will be a kind, strong, devoted father. the sort of man you once feared you could never be.”

jason’s eyes shine, and he nods once. “i’m scared,” he admits.

“good,” alfred replies with a small smile. “that means you care deeply.”

he pulls them both into a hug. tight, long, grounding. — you think maybe it’s the best moment of the night.

but you haven’t seen what’s coming in the living room yet.

the couch cushions are sunken with the weight of so many bodies. duke has claimed the arm of the chair like it’s a throne. steph and tim are tangled up in a blanket on the floor. barbara perches near the fire, her eyes full of light. cass sits quietly on a cushion with a faint smile on her face, watching the room with quiet happiness.

you’re curled up next to jason on the couch, your knees tucked under you, his arm loose around your shoulders.

and that’s when you hear the soft thud of paws. — titus enters the room slowly, sniffing once, then twice, before making a direct line to you. his tail wags just slightly.

“hey, baby,” you say softly, reaching down to scratch behind his ears.

he steps closer, then gently rests his heavy head right on your stomach. jason freezes beside you, watching like he’s afraid to breathe. you smile, petting titus gently, your fingers threading through his fur. “he knows.”

titus lets out a deep sigh, then pushes himself a little higher—climbing halfway onto the couch before resting one massive paw across your thigh and his head against both you and jason.

“hey—” damian’s voice cuts in, sharp. “titus. get down.” titus ignores him entirely, clearly thrilled with himself.

“he’s being protective,” barbara says with a laugh. “he loves them.”

“he loves me,” damian says, visibly scowling. “he was trained to respond to my commands—”

“he’s got priorities now,” duke says with a grin. “he’s got a baby to watch over.”

“he’ll still love you, d,” steph teases. “you’re still the firstborn in his heart.”

damian doesn’t dignify that with a response, but the tips of his ears are pink. you laugh gently as titus shifts again, now practically in your lap, his chest pressed to your belly and nose nudging under jason’s arm. “he’s not going anywhere,” you murmur, hand still stroking his fur.

“good,” jason says softly, kissing your temple. “i want the baby to know him.” there’s a pause as the fire crackles softly.

then— “wait,” tim says, suddenly sitting up straighter. “does anyone remember the bet?”

steph gasps. “the baby bet from the barbecue!”

duke whistles low. “oh, yeah. we all threw in guesses for when they’d announce.”

barbara points a finger in the air. “i said christmas.”

“i said summer,” duke adds.

“thanksgiving,” tim mutters.

steph holds up her hand like she’s in court. “i said mother’s day!”

all heads turn toward bruce, who sits quietly in the corner armchair with a glass of something dark in his hand. he doesn’t smirk. doesn’t gloat. just lifts his brow like he already knows what’s coming. “new year’s,” dick says, groaning. “he said new year’s is when you’d announce, so technically he’s the closest”

“so… bruce wins?” steph says, groaning.

bruce sips his drink. doesn’t say a word. “ugh,” tim groans, flopping backward onto the rug. “of course the batman wins the baby bet.”

“he wins everything,” duke says, pointing at him.

“wait you guys made a bet on when we’d get pregnant?” you say, sitting up for a second grinning at the family while jason fake gasped, not entirely surprised by the family’s decision, more surprised someone didn’t offer him to help them out on the bet to get you pregnant sooner.

“well.. duh. did you see the way jason had that baby craving at the barbecue? we all knew someday soon it was gonna happen.” tim poked a joke and some half humming in agreement, others laughing.

“baby craving and barbecue don’t sound right together, i just can’t believe bruce won though! ” you laughed laying back down on jason,

jason grins, eyes flicking toward you. “he’s probably been planning his grandpa debut since the barbecue.”

“i can neither confirm nor deny,” bruce says, finally letting the corners of his mouth tilt up.

then barbara leans forward, eyes shining. “so… when are you due?” you glance at jason, who’s already smiling. “october thirty-first,” you say softly.

there’s a beat of silence. then— “halloween?!” dick laughs. “you’re having a baby bat on halloween?!”

“that’s the most gotham thing i’ve ever heard,” tim says.

“no capes for the baby,” steph says. “not until they’re at least walking.”

“i’m designing the first onesie,” barb adds. “it’ll have a tiny utility belt on it.”

damian glares at the room. “you’re all ridiculous.”

you sigh against jason, heart full, his hand resting over your stomach again—right where titus still snoozes contentedly. laughter and warmth fill the air like golden smoke. and for a moment, the world outside doesn’t matter.

just this. your family. your baby bat. and all the love waiting to meet them. the days pass like a soft breeze—gentle, slow, golden.

you blink and it’s august.

you stretch and it’s september.

you exhale and suddenly october is whispering around the corners of your apartment.

the light is different now. golden and low. afternoons spill through the windows like honey, and the air tastes like cinnamon and cool breeze. leaves have started to fall outside, painting the sidewalks in deep reds and soft golds.

your belly has grown, round and lovely, full of life. your skin glows with it. your body moves differently, gently, carefully, but your laughter still comes easily when jason is near. he doesn’t let you carry anything anymore. not a grocery bag, not a folded blanket, not even a mug of tea.

“you’re carrying a baby,” he says, brushing your hair back one night as he tucks a pillow behind your back on the couch. “let me carry everything else.”

he’s serious about it. borderline obsessive, even. but you let him fuss. mostly because it makes him happy. and maybe a little because you like seeing the way his eyes go all soft and focused when he’s looking at you. — especially now.

jason wakes up early—earlier than he needs to on a weekend—but he moves quietly, careful not to wake you. the second he hears you stir, he’s back at your side, pressing a kiss to your temple. “breakfast?” he asks, rubbing your shoulder gently.

you nod, still sleepy, and that’s when he leaves to meet alfred at the manor.

you found out from bruce that jason started asking for cooking lessons. just a few things here and there. mostly your favorite comfort foods. especially the ones that still don’t trigger nausea. “gotta keep her happy,” jason told alfred, scratching the back of his neck. “baby too.”

they make a list. soups. light pasta dishes. herby potatoes. the exact way you like your toast. how to time it so you don’t smell it cooking too much, just in case the scent turns your stomach.

he writes it all down. bruce catches him once, leaning over the stove with a furrowed brow, stirring something with absolute focus. “you’re taking this very seriously,” bruce had said.

jason just shrugged, a towel slung over his shoulder. “it’s for her. and the baby.” and then quietly, under his breath: “i don’t want to mess this up.”

your family comes into town for the weekend, the baby shower just a few days away. your little niece—is bigger now, walking stronger, speaking more words. and the second she sees jason again, her face lights up like a sunbeam. “jayjay!” she squeals, arms flung wide as she waddles toward him.

jason is toast. he crouches instantly, catching her mid-run and lifting her high into the air, spinning her gently with a laugh.

“there she is,” he grins, kissing her cheek. “my favorite partner in crime.”

she babbles something incomprehensible, then grabs his face in her little hands and squishes his cheeks. he lets her. he just laughs, holding her like she’s the best gift in the world.

you watch them from the doorway with your hand on your belly, your heart aching in the best way. you and jason don’t want anything over the top. so it’s simple. a mix of both families. your parents help set up in the backyard of the manor. your aunt brings homemade pies and little favors. cass helps hang streamers. steph handles the playlist. dick handles the jokes.

your niece follows jason around like a little duckling. she insists he sit next to her during cake. insists he play with her in the leaves scattered across the yard. she even tries to share her juice box with him, which he pretends to sip from with a grin. “you’re gonna be such a good dad,” you hear barbara whisper to him when she catches them sitting on the lawn together, the toddler’s tiny hand in his.

he doesn’t say anything at first. but his smile grows—quiet, proud, a little overwhelmed. “i really hope so,” he murmurs. “i really want to be.”

the manor gets quieter, cozier. sunday dinners become a routine again—alfred always insists you sit with your feet up, and bruce somehow always ends up next to you, asking quiet questions about how you’re feeling.

cass sits close, brushing a protective hand over your shoulder now and then. damian keeps sliding books about parenting across the table to jason like he’s passing secret files. and every week, someone brings something for the baby—booties, blankets, soft clothes in soft colors. — you swear even titus has started lying a little closer to you than normal.

you and jason spend your nights curled up on the couch, watching old movies, his hand always on your belly. sometimes feeling for movement. sometimes just needing to touch you, to remind himself that this is real.

that this dream is alive and growing. “how’s our little bat today?” he whispers, kissing your bump one evening.

you smile, carding your fingers through his hair. “kicking me all day. strong little thing.”

he smiles. then kisses again. then rests his cheek there, eyes fluttering shut. “can’t wait to meet them,” he murmurs.

“me too,” you whisper back. — you’re almost there.

that’s what everyone keeps saying.

“you’re so close.”

“any day now.”

“you’ve got that glow.”

you smile when they say it. or at least, you try to.

but god—if they only knew.

if they knew how your feet throb just from standing. how you haven’t slept more than two hours straight in weeks. how tying your shoes is officially impossible without assistance.

you’re not glowing—you’re sweating. you’re swollen. you’re exhausted.

and worst of all…

you’re hungry. all the time.

but everything makes you nauseous again.

your favorite meals? suddenly your stomach’s worst enemy.

things you craved just last month? now send you running for the bathroom.

you cry about it once at two in the morning, sitting on the kitchen floor in one of jason’s hoodies, staring at a piece of toast like it’s betrayed you.

he finds you there, bare feet cold on the tile, eyes wet and tired. he doesn’t ask what happened. he just sits next to you, pulls your legs over his lap, and wraps his arms around your middle.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, wiping your face. “i know i’m being dramatic.”

“you’re growing a human,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder. “you can be as dramatic as you want.”

you don’t even realize you’re shaking until his hand starts rubbing slow circles into your back. your forehead leans against his neck and you just… breathe.

jason.

he’s the only thing making this bearable, the only thing not making you nauseous or upset. only makes him you cry because of how understanding he’s become.

years ago a different version of jason would be incredibly impatient, and tried all the time. but growing with you for so long and filling in all the gaps of his personality has made him a better person for you, and your baby. gratitude on both sides of the story.

your body hated everything but him

he helps you out of bed in the mornings, kneeling at your side before you even ask. your ankles ache. your back hurts. there’s pressure—so much pressure—deep in your hips, and some days your belly feels too heavy to even carry. “you’re doing so good,” he says, easing your weight into his arms.

“i feel like a elephant,” you mumble.

“a very cute elephant,” he grins. you swat at him halfheartedly.

he helps you into the shower. sits on the closed toilet lid while you rinse off, just in case you feel dizzy. he wraps you in the biggest towel you own, kisses the crown of your head, tells you how strong you are. tells you how beautiful you are. tells you he’s proud of you.

you cry again one night when you try to roll over in bed and can’t.

you’re stuck.

actually stuck.

you groan in frustration, tears prickling at your lashes from how uncomfortable you are. your legs feel like lead, your belly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, and your pillows are all wrong. “babe?” jason mumbles, half-asleep.

“i can’t move,” you whisper, feeling defeated.

his eyes snap open. “okay—hang on, i got you.”

he’s gentle. careful. strong in the ways you need him to be. his arms slide under your back and legs, easing you with such softness that it makes your chest ache. once you’re shifted, he cups your face.

“better?”

“a little,” you breathe.

he grabs an extra pillow, fits it behind you just right, and kisses your temple. “you need anything else?”

you shake your head. and your voice cracks when you say, “just stay close.” his hand finds yours beneath the blanket, fingers intertwining. — “always.”

you hit thirty-nine weeks on a thursday

the doctor says everything looks good. baby’s strong. heartbeat steady. but you? you’re ready. so ready.

“how are you feeling?” your OB asks kindly.

“like my ribs are being karate-chopped from the inside,” you deadpan. she laughs, and jason does too—but his hand never leaves your back. his thumb strokes your spine. his other hand is braced on your thigh like he’s anchoring you to the earth.

you feel so worn thin. so… done. but when you look at him—messy hair, tired eyes, t-shirt wrinkled from worry—you feel a little less overwhelmed. after the appointment, you don’t feel like going home. you sit in the car in the clinic parking lot, both of you quiet.

then jason reaches across the console and gently places your hand on your belly. “you know what i think?”

“hmm?”

“i think they’re gonna be kind. like you.” his voice is soft. so, so soft. “i think they’re gonna have your eyes.” — he kisses your palm. “and i think i’m the luckiest bastard in the world.”

you turn your head, lean into his shoulder, and for the first time in days—maybe weeks—you don’t feel so tired. just full.

full of love. full of something so big and gentle it makes you forget about the pain for a little while.

the final week creeps by

jason starts working from home more, just in case. he puts together the bassinet with dick. tim installs the car seat. duke helps you organize baby clothes. cass leaves post-it notes with hearts and smiley faces in every drawer. damian makes sure titus is trained to stay gentle and close.

and bruce? bruce quietly offers to be on-call for anything.

“day or night,” he tells you both. “whatever you need. just say the word, there’s enough room for you to stay at the mansion too.. don’t be afraid to ask.” silently hoping you’d take him on the offer.

alfred checks in with food daily. he starts prepping snacks you can stomach again—things he knows won’t trigger nausea. small containers left in your fridge. teas that soothe your heartburn.

“you’re almost there,” he says kindly, helping you into a chair one night at dinner. “and you’ve done wonderfully.” you glance at jason—already sitting beside you, already moving to rub your aching back—and you smile softly.

“we’ve done it,” you whisper.

it’s quiet. too quiet, almost. but not in a bad way.

the whole world feels like it’s holding its breath. like time has slowed just for the two of you. outside the windows, the sky is painted in gentle blues and sleepy grays. the wind rustles the early fall leaves, and there’s a softness in the air that only comes in the stillness of the night.

jason’s hand is warm in yours as you walk down the hallway helping you after dinner, just the two of you. no family tonight, no phones buzzing, no background noise. it’s just him. you. the soft rhythm of your hearts.

you stop in front of the nursery. — the door is open just a crack. golden light spills out from the small lamp inside. the room smells like fresh cotton and baby soap. faint hints of wood polish and lavender from the drawer sachets alfred insisted on tucking into the dresser.

you take a slow breath. and then you step inside together.

the nursery feels like a dream it’s not overly fancy. not too perfect. but it’s yours.

there’s a soft, plush rug under your toes. calming colors on the wall. a bookshelf already half full with bedtime stories and soft-spined fairytales. a rocking chair in the corner that dick and barbara had fixed up themselves. and right there in the center of the room—the crib. the crib jason built with bruce, over a weekend in early september, hands calloused but careful, sanding the edges to perfection.

you both stand in the doorway for a long moment. not saying anything. just looking. “we did good,” you finally whisper.

jason lets out a breathy laugh. “we did great.”

you turn to look at him—his face lit gently by the warm lamp light, his expression soft and full of something so open and vulnerable it makes your heart squeeze. “come here,” you say gently.

he follows without hesitation, wrapping an arm around your waist, his hand settling right where your belly curves. your baby kicks once—just a soft flutter—but it makes both of you smile.

“they like your voice,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

“they like you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “they’ve got good taste.” — you stand there a while, just holding each other

then jason leans down, hands on your belly, voice barely above a whisper. “hey, little bat,” he says. “we’re ready for you. whenever you’re ready to come meet us.”

you feel your throat tighten. your chest swell. there’s so much love in this room it feels impossible to hold all at once. and when jason stands again, you reach for him. cup his face between your hands. trace your thumbs over his cheekbones. and he just—melts under your touch.

your voice is quiet but steady. “jason peter todd, i love you.”

his eyes soften instantly. “i love you too.”

you shake your head a little, laughing through the tears starting to prick your lashes. “no—i mean i really love you. like… i didn’t even know a love like this existed until you. you’ve been everything i’ve ever needed without me even knowing i needed it.”

you take a shaky breath, thumb brushing under his eye. “you take care of me like it’s second nature. you protect me without ever making me feel small. you make me laugh even when i feel like crying. and you’ve made this—this whole thing—feel like the most beautiful adventure, even when it’s been hard.”

his jaw tightens. eyes glassy. “you’ve made me feel safe in my body when it’s been the most uncomfortable it’s ever been,” you continue, voice thick with emotion. “and not just that—you’ve made me feel beautiful. powerful. like i can do this. because you believe in me so deeply that sometimes i forget to be afraid.”

you pause. smile, small and teary. “you’ve always been my home, jason. and now… we’re about to build one. with our baby. and i couldn’t be more grateful that it’s with you.”

you don’t expect the tear that spills down his cheek—but when it does, you’re there. kissing it. holding him like he’s held you through every ache, every sleepless night, every emotional spiral. he pulls you into his arms, careful of your belly, careful of your everything, and just breathes you in.

“you’re my safe place, my homeland,” he whispers into your hair. “you’ve bewitched me, and im so honored to make you feel these ways” he leans in to deeply kiss you “i will love you permanently….endlessly…until we’re both dead in the dirt, and even then, i will find you in the next life…i will find my way home to you.”

the two of you stay there until the moon’s high

rocking slowly in the chair. your hand in his. the soft light of the nursery casting shadows that dance gently on the walls. the room is quiet. safe. sacred. you don’t know it yet, but you’ll go into labor in the morning.

but tonight? — tonight is soft. and warm. and full of everything that matters.

you and jason.

in the nursery.

wrapped in each other’s arms. waiting for your next adventure to begin.

you wake up to sunlight— it slips through the curtains in long, soft beams—painting gold across the floor, the blankets, jason’s cheek. you lie still for a moment, soaking it in.

the apartment is quiet. still. warm. and jason is right beside you, deep in sleep.

he’s on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other hand still curled loosely in yours. his chest rises and falls with a steady rhythm, and there’s a softness to his face you rarely get to see outside moments like this. no tension. no shadows. just peace.

it’s rare—so rare—that he sleeps this deeply. without jerking awake from a nightmare. without the haunted edge to his breath. without flinching from invisible memories. and it makes you feel warm inside. honored. protective.

he deserves mornings like this. he deserves every good thing. so you try not to wake him.

you shift slowly, carefully easing his hand from yours. your belly is heavy—so heavy—and the ache in your back reminds you you’re nearly at the finish line. the baby is still. calm. and for a moment, so are you.

you swing your legs over the edge of the bed with a quiet breath. your slippers are just a few steps away. you’ll just get up, stretch, maybe make some tea. let him sleep a little longer.

you press your hands to the mattress, count to three in your head, and push yourself up— and then you freeze. the first thing you feel is the pop—a subtle, strange sensation deep in your lower abdomen.

and then comes the warmth. sudden. unmistakable. soaking down your legs and onto the floor in seconds. your breath catches. you stare down, stunned. “noway…”

you whisper it under your breath like saying it softer might make it untrue. but it’s true. you know it is. your water just broke.

you freeze for a second—then panic sets in “oh my god—oh god—” you reach behind you blindly, grabbing the edge of the bed for support.

jason stirs at the sudden shift in movement. you try to stay quiet—try to breathe, to stay calm—but your hand’s already shaking when you reach out and whisper his name. “jay…?”

he hums, half-asleep. “mm?”

“jay—baby—i think it’s time…”

his eyes snap open. and the moment he sees your face—wide-eyed, tearful, panicked—he’s up in a heartbeat. “what—what’s wrong? what happened?”

you swallow thickly, gesturing to the growing wet spot on the rug. “my water broke.” — he stares. blinks. processes. then moves.

the switch in him is immediate. he helps you back onto the bed with practiced, gentle hands, brushing damp hair from your face. his voice stays calm—steady—but you can see the storm in his eyes. “okay. okay. we’re good. i’ve got you,” he says, already reaching for his phone. “i’m calling the doctor. don’t move. breathe.”

you nod. trying to. your heart is racing. your hands are clammy. it’s too early. it’s real. it’s happening.

you blink away the nerves, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of sensation rolls through your belly. not quite pain. not yet. but pressure. the kind that makes you feel like everything is beginning to shift.

jason’s voice is low as he talks to the OB’s office, repeating things back with mechanical calm. “yes. yeah—contractions haven’t started yet. water broke just now. no blood, no pain yet. we’ll head in right away.”

he hangs up and turns to you, dropping to one knee at your side.bhis hands are on your thighs, grounding you. “we’re okay. you’re okay.”

you stare at him. wide-eyed. overwhelmed. “you were sleeping so soundly,” you whisper, guilt creeping in despite everything, a tear wanting to form.

“baby—i don’t give a shit about sleep right now.” he smiles through the nerves, voice thick with love. “you’re about to have our baby. of course you wake me up.”

your laugh is watery. tired. real. brushing his sleepy hair with your nails through his scalp. “you’re not scared?”

he looks at you for a long moment. and his eyes are gentle when he says— “i’m terrified. but i’ve never wanted anything more.”

everything becomes a blur after that. you change into the softest clothes you can manage. he lays towels on the car seat. grabs the hospital bag. calls alfred. calls bruce. tries to keep from pacing holes into the carpet when your first contraction hits in the hallway.

it’s mild. more pressure than pain. but it stops you in your tracks—and jason is right there, supporting you with both arms. “breathe,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you. just breathe.”

he keeps whispering to you the whole car ride. rubbing circles into your hand. kissing the back of it at red lights. promising you that everything is going to be okay. and somehow—you believe him.

by the time the hospital comes into view, the sky is a perfect watercolor soft pinks. sleepy oranges. the kind of morning light that makes everything look a little sacred.

you close your eyes against the sun filtering in through the windshield, resting your hand over your belly. jason glances over and sees it. he doesn’t say anything—just reaches for your hand and links your fingers together. he lifts them to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. then your wrist. then the ring on your finger. you meet his eyes. and he smiles, teary-eyed and full of everything he doesn’t know how to say.

“we’re gonna meet them soon,” he whispers. you nod.

“we’re gonna be parents.”

the hospital room is quiet. soft beeping. the sound of nurses moving gently behind the curtain. the monitor beside you blinking in slow, steady rhythm.

your hand rests over your stomach, and jason hasn’t let go of your other one since they settled you in. he sits in the chair pulled close to the bed, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on you like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

but there’s a knock at the door. gentle. polite.

and when it opens, bruce steps in first, tall and still in his long dark coat, followed by alfred—warm-eyed and careful, holding a small thermos in his hands. “sorry,” bruce says softly, his voice lower than usual. “we didn’t want to intrude.”

you sit up a little, smiling tiredly. “you’re not, please, come in.”

jason straightens beside you, glancing over. there’s that flicker in his expression—still not used to this side of things. to being cared for by the people who used to only see him bleeding or bruised.

but they’re here now. and that means everything.

bruce steps closer, settling near the edge of the window. his eyes flicker from the monitor to your stomach, then to jason.

you expect him to look stoic. but instead, he looks… proud.

“i know your parents are on their way,” he says after a moment, voice quiet, “but if anything happens before then—i want you to know you’re not alone.”

you blink slowly, heart tight. “thank you,” you whisper. “they’re trying their best. flight leaves in a few hours but… they’re pretty upset they can’t be here for this part.”

“we’ll take care of you,” alfred says softly, stepping forward and setting the thermos down on the little side table. “your mother asked me to tell you she packed extra socks in your go-bag. and your father wanted me to remind you not to forget your phone charger.”

you smile at that, feeling your throat tighten. “they really did try to plan for everything,” you laugh, teary-eyed. “they’re so nervous.”

“as they should be,” alfred says gently. “it’s no small thing, after all. your world is about to change.”

you nod slowly, swallowing hard. bruce steps forward now, one hand resting on the rail of your hospital bed. “i’ll be right down the hall,” he says. “if you need anything. if jason needs anything. just press the button and i’ll be here.”

you glance at jason—and he’s just staring at bruce like he’s seeing him clearly for the first time. “thanks, bruce,” he murmurs.

bruce nods. then does something unexpected.

he reaches out and clasps jason’s shoulder. a firm grip. full of meaning. “you’re going to be a great father.” — jason swallows. hard.

his jaw flexes like he’s trying not to fall apart from just those words alone. bruce lets go. steps back. gives you both a final, warm look before slipping quietly out of the room to give you space.

alfred stays behind for a moment he sits carefully at the end of the bed, his hands folded in his lap, eyes soft.

“may i?” he asks. you nod. and he gently takes your free hand between his. his palms are warm and familiar, worn from years of care. “when jason was little,” he says slowly, “and he first came to live with us… he used to ask me to read him bedtime stories. not every night. not at first. but once he felt safe enough. once he knew i wouldn’t leave.”

jason shifts beside you, blinking hard. “his favorites were the ones with found families,” alfred continues. “ones where broken boys were loved anyway. where someone stayed. where someone always came back.” you feel your eyes sting.

“and now,” alfred smiles, eyes shining, “he gets to give that story to someone else.” you reach out with your other hand and squeeze jason’s knee. — he squeezes back, too overwhelmed to speak. “you’ll do beautifully,” alfred says, looking between you both. “i know it.” you nod, voice thick with tears.

“thank you for everything, alfred.” he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. the same one he’s given a hundred times to the boys who grew up under his care. “always,” he whispers.

then he stands and quietly excuses himself—leaving you and jason alone once more. — you sit in the silence for a while

your head tilted against the pillow. jason leaning closer, resting his forehead against the back of your hand.

“they love us,” you whisper.

“yeah,” he says, voice hoarse. “they really do, they love you so much… you brought us together again.. ”

and for a while, that’s all you need. your family is on their way.

the family you chose is right here.

and the one you’re building?

is just about ready to meet you.

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

:3 yayay!!! im not gonna leave you on a cliffhanger, i hate them so much so im currently writing pt.3 rn!! lmk what you’d like to see more of in it!!

also what do u think the gender will be :o

THANK U SM FOR READING MWAAHH right on the forehead <3 also i see the comments, u guys are so sweet ☹️ lemme just smother you with hugs, or give you a solid high five that echos yk! haha

have a good day / night wherever you are!! 🫂

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 3 days ago

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SO WHY DO GOOD GIRLS LIKE BAD GUYS ?! - the biker's route ☆ !

synopsis : leather jackets, motorcycles, a nasty attitude—and a smart ass mouth !! but it's just somethin' about him, y'know ??

an. route 3 is here after making yall wait !!! sorry yall exams r comin up but i hope yall enjoy this part >_<!! also i make a sneaky lil aphmau reference his here bc im very unfunny, enjoy!

when you wake up today, it takes you about 5 minutes to actually get up.

you look to your left and your right, half expecting to be met with another katsuki; maybe this one would be a merman or something?! and yet, nothing.

so you stare at your ceiling and wait. maybe this one will come blast through your bedroom wall like the dragon again..!

nothing, nothing and a whole lotta nothing.

so you finally decide to get up and start your day, things were actually back to normal today. you decide to ignore the slightest twinge of disappointment in your gut but you cheer up a bit when you remember the study date your boyfriend had not so graciously promised you.

you're just about done dressing up, about to tie your uniform tie when there's a knock on your door. katsuki is here to pick you up (despite saying he wouldn't anymore like two days ago, typical.) early and on time as usual, or maybe just a bit too early.

"coming !" you call out, pulling up your socks to line them up comfortably, hobbling towards the door to let your boyfriend in.

you swing the door open, already anticipating to be met with your boyfriend, "you're here ear..ly ?"

you stand corrected, it is him. no horns, no ears or tails..but still...a bit different.

first of all, he's not wearing his uniform, no book bag either. instead he's decked out in a black leather biker jacket, baggy black ripped jeans and silver jewellery around his neck, you catch some rings (and bandages) on his fingers when he reaches up to place a hand against his neck, groaning when it pops. and black combat boots. basically, the whole nine yards for a school day.

"oh." is all you can say, part impressed and partly, mostly, confused.

"thought you were gonna keep me waitin' forever." katsuki said, and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. he leans in, tugging you forward by your tie to finish tying it for you.

"wha—i—you just got here." you stuttered "and also, not that i mind, but shouldn't you get dressed for class ?"

your boyfriend looks you up and down, tightly pulling the knot of your tie up properly. you can't help but feel a bit shy at how he's so openly scanning over you.

"nah, fuck that." he shrugs.

okay, now this was strange.

your katsuki with the perfect grades, the stickler, the secret goodie two shoes with perfect attendance wants to skip class?? something was very wrong.

he stands back like nothing happened, shoving his hands in his pockets "anyway, you ready to get outta here or what ?"

"huh ? where are we going ?"

"wherever we wanna, you got anything in mind ?" and he's already turning around, grabbing you by the arm with a smirk.

huh ?

"...is something—"

you can't even finish your question before you hear your name being called loudly, by katsuki. your katsuki, ready for school, book bag and everything just on time to pick you up.

ah, you knew he'd gotten here too damn early.

"dude, this is so creepy."

"how'd this even happen ?!"

"i wonder what type of quirk did this...."

you can catch the beginning of midoriya starting up on his nerdy rambling before sighing. you try tuning your classmates out with a sigh and turn your music up louder in your earbuds.

your homeroom teacher, who had clearly had enough of the surge of bakugou's appearing before him, had allowed this new edgy katsuki (as denki called him, somehow it managed to stick) to attend class. he looked normal enough and didn't look like he'd cause too much trouble, as long as he was attended to, that attendant being you, of course.

"there's another one ?!" you hear mineta cry, surely still traumatised from his experience with the wolfish katsuki almost having him as his early morning snack. the thought makes you laugh. you turn to look at the crowd of your classmates gathered around the twin katsuki's.

kaminari is the first to try and cause mischief, taking his chances since your homeroom teacher was taking a while, and had started a "spot the real bakugou!" contest. the contest was a bit flawed since they were both convinced they were the real original, but you decide not to step in on their fun. (and you have to admit it was a bit entertaining.)

"okay, everyone quiet down please! let's get back on track! " kaminari bellowed, wrapping his hands around his mouth to project his voice.

"gentlemen, whoever can answer this next question will receive..." he sings, drumming his hands on his desk in anticipation, neither katsuki's seem very amused.

kaminari jumps up, dramatically revealing a snickers bar "ta-daaaaa!! a free snickers bar from yours truly! though it's been sitting in my bag for a couple days.." he mutters quietly.

"i don't want that shit." both katsuki's say at the same time.

your entire class errupts into laughter and chaos. you shake your head in amusement and decide to scoot a bit closer to keep listening.

"um..could i request a question ?" midoriya pipes up, raising a hand.

"mister midoriya wishes to request a question ! what do you say, kacchan ?" kaminari the announcer encourages.

"fuck off, nerd!" both katsuki's say again, it's really starting to look like some kind of circus act now. you can't help but laugh along with your classmates.

"midoriya, you have the floor." kaminari giggles, leaning his makeshift fist microphone to your green-haired friends lips.

"how do you feel about having a clone of you ? is it scary ? do you feel connected in a way ? is it—"

kaminari interrupts before midoriya can go full blown geek "please, keep the questions to a minimum, sir !" he energetically spins back around, his chair squeaking loudly as he turns back to your boyfriend and edgysuki. "well, your response ?"

your boyfriend pipes up first with a scoff "like i care, i'm not scared of shit, let alone this dickbag. and no, i don't feel connected to this creep—don't ask me these weird fuckin' questions !"

your boyfriend almost takes this like a real interview, yelling at his childhood friend but diligently staying close to kaminari's fist like it was an actual mic. edgy katsuki seems to think the most important part had been said and doesn't add anything else, although once he spots you in the 'crowd', he makes sure to keep his eyes fixed on you. you quickly look away, your ears burn when you hear him chuckle.

soon after his response your classmates pipe up with more and more questions "oh, oh me ! i have a question !" and "can i go next ?!"s sound inside your class. you're just about to request a random question when sero beats you to it. you kick your legs excitedly, knowing he was always the first one to mess with your boyfriend.

"my question's for both the baku's, actually." he drawls, smirking lazily. he leans back in his chair like he knows he's about to start some shit.

"out of the both of you; who do you think likes yn the most ?"

....

huh.

"wha.." you wheeze, the noise stays stuck in your throat . you feel your ears burn, and it's most definitely intensified by the chorus of "ooooo's" overtaking your class. your class rep tries to save the situation, stating it was surely against the rules to ask such an inappropriate question. you nod to him in appreciation.

"i checked the rule book and this type of question is totally fine actually !" kaminari says.

"what rulebook ?!" you pipe up, embarrassed.

he grins at you, pointing to himself "this rulebook."

fuck, you should've seen that one coming.

"now, an answer if you may..." kaminari snickered bouncing on his chair excitedly, barely able to keep his excitement in check.

your boyfriend's eyes flit to you, likely sensing your embarrassment, his ears turn pink and he scoffs. crossing his arms and readjusting in his chair he grumbles. "this is stupid. m'not answerin' that—"

"—i do, obviously."

....

silence. pure silence after the other katsuki speaks.

"i obviously like her more." he repeats, this time making sure he looks at you while he speaks. he's so sure of himself, arms crossed as well and leaned back so casually with a smirk panting his face.

"...hah?" your boyfriend growls in warning "the fuck you just say..?"

"you got a hearin' problem or somethin' ? quit making me repeat myself, dick cheese." the other katsuki sneers back.

"ya think you like my girl more than me, jackass ?!"

"i know i like my girl more than some extra, shit stain!"

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLIN' AN EXTRA, YOU PIECE OF SHIT ?!"

"WHO ELSE WOULD I BE TALKIN' TO BUT YOU, YOU FUCKING MORON ?!"

it's chaos. shouting and howling and absolute chaos. but before things can break out into an all out fist fight, your homeroom teacher finally walks in. barely sparing any of you a glance and setting up his sleeping bag on the floor. until—

"you better all get in your seats by the time i'm finished or so help me..."

you have never moved faster in your life. you're sure you unlocked a hyper speed quirk with the way you zoomed back to your seat, head fixed down on your desk. your homeroom teacher sighs in exasperation, introducing the new katsuki you'd all managed to get very familiar in the span of a few minutes. he makes sure to warn you all with a "behave yourselves." kaminari gulps as he feels the teachers eyes very obviously fixed on him.

safe to say the lesson goes on without a hitch, everyone afraid to breath a little too loud.

you quietly scribbling in your notebook. you hope your teacher can't hear the way your heart hammers against your ribs.

you'd managed to survive your class day under the watchful eye of three people;

mister aizawa, who was already in a bad mood from your earlier predicament with your classmates.

your boyfriend who kept glancing back at you...

...probably because of the third hawk carefully watching you, bad boysuki,( or should you probably call him bullysuki) who was very subtle in chucking paper balls at you while the teachers were looking away. the entire day.

he was seated behind you in the back of the classroom, which gave him plenty of opportunities to kick the back of your chair and look oh, so innocent when you turned around to glare at him. during present mic's english class, he'd dropped his pencil inside the collar of your shirt and barely covered his snort when you shrieked in surprise.

truly, a fucking nuisance. too bad for him, you'd been dating said nuisance for more than a year now and this couldn't phase you in the least.

—before you can reach for your bag, you're brought out of your thoughts by katsuki, the all black one, snatching your bag and throwing it behind his shoulder casually. "you ready to blow this joint or what ?"

"i'm not blowing anything with you, jerk. m'starting to think being insufferable is how you breathe."

"aww. you mad at me, sweetheart ?" he coos, leaning down closer to you. you try not to show your surprise, curling your lip up and rolling your eyes at him. his eyes flit down to your mouth for a short moment. "m'just messin' with you a bit. s'all in good fun."

"it's not funny if you're the only one laughing." you counter. he rolls his eyes playfully. pulling you closer by your arm and leaning in way closer than he needed to.

"fine, s'my bad or whatever. how bout i make it up to you by takin' you out, hm ? got someplace in mind ?"

before you can speak, you're interrupted by your boyfriend snatching you back, causing a surprised noise to clog in your throat.

"she's not going anywhere with you, weirdo." katsuki readjusts his grip on your arm, his palms slightly sweaty. you can already feel he's whole body practically heating up.

bad boy katsuki's smirk is immediately replaced with a scowl, tilting his head back to mean mug your boyfriend. he has a few piercings in his ear too, you notice.

"hah?! s'far as i'm concerned, she hasn't said she was gonna go with anywhere with you."

"she doesn't need to tell you anything. besides, we already have plans. so, fuck. off." katsuki growls, putting extra strain on the fact you and him had a study session planned. the other katsuki doesn't seem to take the news well, cracking his bandages knuckles with a scowl.

"huh, that reminds me. we got interrupted before i got to kick your ass, huh?"

"if you wanna go all you gotta do is say when, pussy—"

before the both of them could start trading blows in the middle of your classroom, you stretch your arms, putting distance between the both of them and surprising them both.

"okay, boys. let's cut it out and use our big boy words okay ?" you sigh, irritated. "since, apparently, you're both toddlers, how about i call the shots here, yeah ?

i'm not going anywhere with either of you if you can't behave yourselves." you turn to look at edgysuki "i had a study date planned, so i unfortunately won't be going out with you. if you wanna come along, be my guest. i have a test coming up so if you test me, i will fuck your life up."

"and you," you turn back to your boyfriend, who's wide eyes are fixed on you "behave, okay ?" you warn, swatting at his chest. he jumps like the action snapped him out of his trance, and looks away with a scoff.

he grunts in agreement but grumbles about it, "should tell that other bastard that..."

that was more than enough for you. "alright, off we go." you usher the boys towards the hallway. your boyfriend moves with quickness, snatching your hand and pulling you away before the other katsuki can get a word in. while walking though, the other katsuki leans in to whisper hotly in your ear.

"that was hot as hell, sweets."

"be quiet." you whine.

"of course you'd get us kicked out of the library—of course of cou—how could i not have known ?!"

currently, you're trying your best to not lose your mind.

the difference between a half human hybrid katsuki and a shoujo bad boy male lead katsuki ? one was wild and untameable and it was definitely not the one you're thinking of.

you're honestly surprised the fucking wolf and dragon were easier to deal with than a biker jacket wearing delinquent.

it had started..okay ? maybe ? then again with any amount of katsuki's, going from 0 to 100 wasn't a hard task. you think maybe bad boysuki had started teasing you too much for your boyfriends liking. as protective as he was, and it sort of would've been flattering(you've always had a think for the delinquent type, okay ?!) if they hadn't started trying to have a showdown for your affection in the middle of a library.

and with the way they'd acted, it wouldn't be a big surprise if you were banned for life.

"i didn't even do shit but he—"

"he swung at me fi—"

"both of you shut the fuck up or so help me..." you groan, rubbing your temples. "i love both of you very much, unfortunately, but i'm only human and right now i'm having to hold back the very human urge of wringing your necks out like geese !" you shriek.

your boyfriend looks at the ground, kicking the toe of his shoe against some rocks, he never liked getting scolded after all. you'd almost feel bad, almost. (you still feel a little bad.)

"he—"

"quiet."

"yeah, quiet, loser." bad boy pipes up.

"you be quiet, too." you point, eyes wide. "you know what ? do whatever you want. fight to the death in the middle of the road like buffoons all you want, i do not care. do not come talk to me until you figure it out or...!" you splutter, trying to think of a fitting punishment "no smoochies for a month!"

your boyfriend's head shoots up, looking at you like you'd just admitted to torching his precious signed all might card "w-what the hell ?! that's basically only punishment for me!"

"figure. it. out." you conclude, turning your nose up and walking away and ignoring your boyfriends calling out for you. god, it was like dealing with two big baby's, and dealing with one was already more than enough!

but even if you are pissed off, your katsuki does have an extremely kissable face, and you don't know if you could hold up your end of the punishment.

you're sitting in your room now absentmindedly thinking about your predicament, study sheets splayed out around you. when you hear a knock at the door. you quickly get up, eager to leave your notes behind and stretch your legs. you're greeted with bad boy katsuki, looking down at the ground clutching something in his hand.

"you left this in the library..." he mutters, looking away and handing you your pencil case. you blink in surprise—you had no idea that you'd left it—but you manage to keep calm.

you clear your throat before responding "oh, thanks."

"should thank that other guy. he's the one that found it an' told me to bring it to you." he admits "even though i was gonna do it too, fuckin' bastard ordering me around..." he grits out, bitter.

your heart warms, your boyfriend was an idiot after all.

"where is katsuki anyway? well, my katsuki that is."

katsuki scoffs a laugh, finally looking back at you "m'right here, sweetheart."

wow, talk about déjà vu.

"but if you're looking for him he went off somewhere, said i should go see you first or whatever."

you sigh in relief "well, i'm glad you guys managed to get along."

"tch. i ain't getting along with that bastard. don't lump me in with him."

"kinda hard to do considering you are the same perso—."

"yeah, whatever—just—look." he steps closer, walking in your space and closing your door behind you. he backs you up until your knees hit the bed and you slump backwards with an "oof!". he has you where he wants you now. quickly shrugging off his jacket, revealing a tight short sleeved shirt (perfectly accentuating his muscles, mind you) his arms placing themselves on either side of your head. you lay there looking up at him speechless, wide eyed.

"it's stuffy in here. should open a window." he explains, eyes locking with yours.

"right..." you gulp.

"your room's a mess, too."

"okay, you can get it out if it bothers you." you snarked, squinting at him.

his eyes soften and he looks down at you seriously again. "look," he repeats"i don't—i'm not good at shit like this. but..." he looks off to the sound, grumbling. you catch how his ears bleed pink.

"i don't like you being mad..or whatever." he knocks his forehead to yours "...so stop it."

you snort "wow, so smooth." you chuckle when he shifts to shove his head into your shoulder with a quick "shut up."

his hands search and feel around until they get to yours, intertwining them. "don't..." the rest of his sentence is muffled into your shirt. "i can't hear you." you say curiously, he groans loudly.

"s-stop making me say embarrassing shit." he pulls his head out to look at you, your noses bump against each other. his lips oh, so close to yours.

"don't go...thinking that other guy likes you more than i do, got it..? and don't go liking him..more than me..." he trails off. eyes locked to yours, he waits for your response. you swallow harshly. you want to lick your lips, but he's so close you're worried they'll touch.

"well, i like the both of you just the same. so you don't need to worry about that." you say, managing to gather your thoughts you wrap your arms around him to pull him into a hug. he grunts, surprised, but melts into you quickly enough.

"guess that's good enough..." he whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck. he laughs when you squeal in surprise.

"i still like you more than him though."

and then, as soon as you blink, he was gone.

katsuki let's out a high pitched gasp when you surprise him in the common room kitchen, wrapping your arms around him.

"bwu—wh—what the hell?! don't just sneak up on me like that, dumbass !" he splutters, trying to make up from the cute little noise he let out. you giggle, squeezing his waist while he groans. he can't pull you off him as he's doing the dishes and that'd cause one big mess. (and since he's already on thin ice and doesn't wanna get his boyfriend privileges revoked, he'll stick this one out.)

he sighs, defeated "did that fucker fuck off yet ?" he asks.

"potty mouth," you laugh "and yeah, he's gone now. thanks for finding my pencil case for me, by the way."

he reaches to pinch you and you groan at the wet feeling on your skin, wiping your arm on his shirt. " keep having to pick up after your forgetful ass. should be more careful instead of having a hissy fit at me."

"don't start with me right now, katsuki."

he chuckles and shrugs, resigned. "you still mad ?"

"i wasn't anymore, but your little remark just made me re-mad at you."

your boyfriend stiffens and whips back to look at you, frowning. he squints, you squint back. after a heated stare down match he concedes and rolls his eyes.

"...sorry."

"meh. 2 points."

"what the hell?!" he groans, his hands splash around in the water causing soap bubbles to fly. you laugh and lean up to press a kiss to his lips. his mouth closes abruptly, surprise filling his features.

"well, i won't be taking away your smoochie privileges, at least."

"don't sneak up on me like that.." he scowls "and you better not. would've become your worst fuckin' nightmare till you gave in."

you snort "yeah, right. more like you'd become the whiniest baby."

"fuck off." he scoffs.

you giggle to yourself quietly. swaying lightly as your boyfriend silently does his job, the clinking of the dishes filling in the silence.

until katsuki decides to speak up. "hey."

"hm?"

"love ya."

your heart jumps, looking up at him as he keeps his back to you. your face heats and katsuki shows no sign of being bothered by your silence, if only the way he slows down just slightly in his washing.

smiling, you press a kiss to his back "i love you, too."

he stands straighter, almost electrocuted by your words. he huffs, shifting on his feet.

"hmph...i win, then."

curious, you look up at him again "what are you talking about ?"

he finally looks back at you, a feral grin forms on his face "that face stealing bastard can like ya all he wants, but i still love you more!" he snickers evilly.

your boyfriend was, truly, the biggest idiot.

taglist ! ( if your name is in bold i couldn't tag u :< )

@jastoo46 @cecelia77 @erenstitanweave @closehereyes @stoned-anime-babe @taxavoider @yannvi @sugurusmoon @allurearia @kaerotica @wonubby @cupidsblonde @catsoupki @ita606 @andysdrafts @omitea @lili-of-the-vally @serpent-hearted @ghostorchidd @shewki @pirana10 @witch-craft-works @kanvis @okkotsuus @dragonscribble @emmiesarchive @screaming-dough @napbatata @cacaandweewizzsstuff @redollface @meowsannie @katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba @moonshuul @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam @aspiringwriter1111 @redvelvetstan1 @niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia @qyuin @bakugouswaif @themultifandomgirl @icey-wonders

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lacyblades · 2 days ago

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౨ৎ ceo!satoru doesn't have time for romance.

as much as he'd like it — and sometimes, late at night in his ridiculously oversized apartment, he really would like it — it's just not in the cards. doesn't help that every so-called date he's endured felt more like an interview for his bank account than a genuine connection.

but then there's you. freshly employed, radiating a kind of unassuming prettiness that hits him like a punch to the gut. smitten doesn't even cover it.

he's in love. truly, madly, deeply. he swears it's not just some fleeting infatuation, not just limerence. this feels… different. real.

you're gorgeous, an actual angel who seems utterly oblivious to the effect you have. he catches himself just staring sometimes, a dumbfounded look on his face.

satoru's not entirely sure who hired you. some faceless name in hr, he supposes. whoever it is that works below him and handles the grunt work. because, and he hates to admit it even to himself, you're… well, you're not exactly competent. not that he cares, not really.

important documents vanish into thin air. work emails somehow end up in the inbox of the company's biggest rival. entire tasks seem to just… slip your mind. it's almost comical, if it wasn't so baffling.

and yet, he's obsessed. utterly, completely gone. maybe it's those big, naïve doe eyes that seem to hold a universe of innocent confusion. or the way you unconsciously nibble on your lower lip when you're trying to concentrate, your delicate brows furrowed in the cutest way.

you're always perky, though, a little ray of sunshine bouncing through the office, ready to tackle… well, whatever you manage to remember needs tackling.

could also be that skirt you insist on wearing. far too short for a professional environment, riding high on your thighs. he’s not even slightly ashamed to admit he’s “accidentally” dropped his phone more than once, the screen cracking a small price to pay for a glimpse of the lacy sliver peeking out from underneath. he could buy a new phone. or seven.

satoru tells himself he’s not a pervert, but the truth is, every morning when you greet him with that bright smile, his gaze lingers a little too long on the gentle swell of your breasts beneath your blouse.

he’s practically drooling, a shameful heat pooling low in his belly. you just don’t seem to notice, or maybe you’re just too sweet to say anything.

so, he’s doing you a favor, really, when he promotes you to his personal assistant. it’s a step up, right? except there’s nothing you actually have to do. he has a perfectly capable secretary for all the actual work.

your main job? looking pretty. being near him.

double the pay, all the fancy benefits, and absolutely none of the tedious labor.

well, unless you count being bent over his expansive mahogany desk, getting thoroughly, mind-numbingly fucked, as labor. not collapsing from exhaustion; that’s a different kind of hard work entirely. especially when your boss seems to possess the stamina of a goddamn marathon runner fueled by pure lust.

papers are scattered like fallen leaves, cascading onto the plush carpet. his grip on your hips is possessive, digging in, promising bruises that will bloom beautifully on your skin. a trail of your drool glistens on an unsigned contract, a testament to the utter control he has over you in this moment.

his thick cock fills you completely, each powerful thrust sending jolts of pure sensation through your body, making your head spin. “hah, feel that, precious? you’re squeezing me s'tight,” he groans, one hand leaving your waist to slide down and firmly cup your ass cheek, his thumb pressing insistently into your slick heat.

“mmm— sir,” you hiccup, your eyes rolling back in your head. holy shit, you can barely breathe, his thick tip bumping against your cervix with a deliberate twitch that makes your core clench involuntarily.

he’s told you, countless times now with this newfound intimacy, not to call him sir, but in this raw, primal moment, he finds it… surprisingly arousing.

his heavy, aching balls slap against your backside with each deep rut of his hips, your cunt a wet, messy testament to his relentless assault.

tears stream down your flushed cheeks, and breathless moans tumble from your lips, pleas and whimpers all blurring together. “i— i think i’m gonna come!”

“yeah? is that — fuck — right?” his voice is thick with want.

you whimper, your fingers digging into the polished edge of the desk, anything to anchor you in the storm of sensation. a broken agreement spills from your lips, your jaw slack with the intensity.

the only coherent thought left in your ravaged mind is his name, and it spills from your lips in desperate, repeated chants. it’s music to his ears, inflating his already considerably large ego.

“i’m close too, precious,” satoru grunts, his breath hot against your neck. it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s unloading another thick, syrupy stream of his seed deep inside the slick walls of your cunt, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

he pulls back slightly, panting, his forehead resting against the back of your head. “remind me to give you another bonus,” he murmurs, his voice still rough. “actually, just jot that down. notepad’s on the left, i think.”

dazed and confident, you look to the right.

#jjk smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru smut #precious!reader #professionally yours <3

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dimicul · 3 days ago

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°☆.。. | unedited sorry yall D:|

nanami with reader whose had to be her own supporter, parent, sibling and best friend all in one.

you don’t even question it, it’s a second nature at this point; driving your little brothers to their practices when your parent couldn’t, carrying the quiet burden of trying to help your mom, sitting through an argument with your sister who you know should be handling it herself but you can’t help it; there’s a part of you that needs to be there for them.

nanami doesn’t think you even understand the word boundaries when it comes to yourself- always giving, even in friendships where you know they clearly don’t value your time the same way as you. it always ticked the man off, being someone of orderly fashion and who analysed people the same way he would the broad spreadsheets on his screen everyday, it was a blessing and a curse to be able to read people so clearly. he just didn’t understand why you couldn’t do the same - if the edges blurred when you saw it from a different perspective, or if you were choosing to be ignorant.

it’s not until you move in with nanami you realise.

“Yeah, I can try and squeeze in time to pick him up, but are you sure you can’t— No, no I get you’re busy but I’ve also got to pick up my package halfway across town-” you’re speaking into the phone with your mother, phone wedged between your cheek and shoulder, blowing a strand of your hair out your face as you scrub the dish in front of you, frowning as she explains how she can’t pick up your brother again for the third time this week. You’re slightly irritated, the clothes on your body feeling too tight, soap suds on your forearms, and the deadline for your work is creeping slowly and you hadn’t even started it yet—

“Sweetheart, I’m home.” A quick, swift shut of the door brings your attention to the tall blond by the doorframe and you’re about to apologise for leaving the room a little messy, but your gaze falls on the pink package tucked in his arms.

Your package.

He doesn’t say anything, effortlessly hanging his grey coat up and sliding his shoes off, cool honey eyes studying you. You’re still blinking in surprise when he’s managed to get you sat on the couch, knees scooted up as your mother’s voice droned on through the line.

You didn’t even tell him you had a package, you think, staring at the broad expanse of Kento’s back, the muscles shifting under the blue material of his work shirt as he washed the dishes.

And it didn’t even stop at that. You’ll catch yourself attempting to complain but there it is - the keys you needed on the desk he settles down with a curt nod, a sweet kiss to your cheek before he leaves for work. The laundry pile growing in the corner of the room? Done and folded by the next day. Your friend group were acting strange? It’s fine, he’ll draft up a message for you to send. One night you’re sighing over the deadline and there’s a mug of tea in your hand, large hands massaging your shoulders. You ease into it so comfortably. It’s like you’ve forgotten how it feels to be taken care of.

“Shoot— Sorry, Ken, I was gonna make dinner for us— Oh.” Your shoulders slump, the weariness and fatigue from work leaving a little when he enters the door again with a bouquet of roses in his hand, and a takeaway bag in the other.

How? How the hell does he just know?

“It’s alright, honey. Here you go, I bought these from the new florist in town. Thought you’d like them.” The sweet, deep tone of his voice fills the room, and you feel it sink and sweep into your veins, a weight lifted off. A light pink dusts your cheeks when you take the bouquet in your hands, and when you’re looking up at him, studying the subtle quirk of his lips, it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time.

For the first time in months you feel shy around your boyfriend.

“How the hell do you even have time for a relationship nowadays? I swear I come off my shift and I get annoyed if my man breathes near me,” Your friend is scoffing with an eye roll and she sips from the matcha on the table. You usually agree, reply with a quick quip of ‘Yeah, men suck’, but you’re just smiling a little to yourself, shrugging, a newfound glow to your face that she catches. It only amplifies when you stare at the text message he sends you.

Kento 🩷 : Hope you’re having fun, sweetheart. Just letting you know I’m picking up Ethan for his game, don’t stress about it. I love you.

“Oh, you’re so whipped,” she laughs at you, leaning back in the sun chair and you don’t even care, a grin growing over your face as you hunch over the screen, typing away with the manicured nails he paid for.

With his efforts and the small kisses he drops everyday, you manage to multitask working and your deadline in time. You find it in yourself to cook him a dinner, wear something pretty and wait patiently till he comes home but the next thing you know you’re having a screaming match with your mom on the other end of your iPhone.

Nanami’s day at work goes by smoothly. Being a salesman had honestly become the worst part of his day but it was manageable. It got a bit easier as he sipped his cup of coffee at his desk, every now and then glancing to the lock screen of you both. It gets easier when he hears your voice through the panicked, rush voice note you send throughout the day. He imagines your smile and eyes during certain parts and works just a little harder.

It gets a lot easier when he steps out his car and unlocks the apartment door. Except you’re not standing by the fridge, or laid out on the couch. There’s two plates of smoked salmon and hors d’œuvres surrounding the ceramic plates, a bottle of wine unopened.

It didn’t feel easy though when he pushes the bedroom door open, a frown bracing his features as you, his dear sweet girlfriend, perched on the end of the bed, hastily wiping your tears. His heart lurches, eyes dropping from the iPhone to the little milkmaid dress on your hunched over form.

“Oh, Ken — ‘m so sorry, I just—“

“Enough.”

Your wide eyes peer up at the blond man who shifts down beside you, kneeling, dark brows lowered over sharp honey, holding a deep affection. You sniffle, cheek hot under his cool fingertips that wipe away the tears. You can’t help but wonder why he was so insistent on being with you, someone so easily distracted by everyone else around her, someone who couldn’t even do something nice back—

“I’m sick of seeing you being pushed around. Do you understand what I mean, my love?”

You shake your head but he raises a brow and you shuffle before nodding. The subtle hints of his cologne intrude your space and you melt when he sighs, his large hand framing your face.

“What happened? Did you argue again?”

“Yeah— I just, I’m so sick of it, Ken. It’s like I’ve got to do everything, and I know I can do it but they— they don’t care. They don’t care.”

“I care. I see what you do. For everyone.”

You don’t realise you’re still crying until he presses a kiss to one of your tears.

“And that is more than enough. You can’t push yourself too much. You have a limit. And honestly, Im getting a little tired myself watching you do everything.”

“You don’t have to.. You’re just saying that because you have to.” You mumble, lashes dark and slick with tears. Nanami hums.

“Have to what? Support you? Love you? Please, sweetheart. It’s my job.”

“Ken—“

“Take a few days off work. We’ll just relax together, yes? What do you call it — bedrotting? You need to put this all behind.” The warmth of his voice bleeds into your veins again and you nod slowly, subconsciously leaning into his touch when he strokes his thumb against your cheek.

“I love you. Im sorry I’m a mess.”

Nanami chuckles, and there’s no malice behind it, light and warm, encasing you in its briefness.

“I just want you to understand I’m here. Okay?”

Teary eyes meet oak brown, resilient and deep. And you got it. It hits you. You understand you didn’t have to do it all on your own.

#jjk #nanami kento #nanami x reader #fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk kento #jjk smau #jjk angst #jjk blurb #older sibling

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no-144444 · 2 days ago

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꩜ summary: he doesn't listen...

꩜ pairing: carlos sainz x fem! reader

Can’t wait to get you home tonight. You look fucking gorgeous preciosa.

You couldn’t help the goosebumps jumping up on your skin. You didn't even know he was here but, of course he was. He was here, like always, and you would run back to him, like always. Your eyes lifted to the dance floor in front of you. You scanned the faces, searching for him, hoping you’d spot him before he found you. You couldn’t find those familiar brown eyes, at least, not with the lack of light and amount of people in there.

Carlos was great, he was nice when he needed to be, a good fuck, and a guy who was into a bit of aftercare. He was… yeah. It was fine. You were looking for a relationship and had landed yourself into a fuck-buddies situation, which was fine. It just wasn’t what you wanted. And he didn’t want anything else. He just wanted someone to fuck casually, and you wanted a boyfriend who would listen to you, who would hold you, who would care. That wasn’t Carlos. Men like him didn’t settle for a girlfriend, much less you. He didn’t listen at the best of times, he only put the effort in when he was getting something from you, and it made you feel like shit. So, you kept planning on breaking it off, but then it kept going. You both kept going. You kept running back. You just wanted it to be over and bile rose in your throat every time you realised you’d actually have to try and speak to him about it, that you couldn’t just ghost him and have him leave you alone. He wouldn’t go so easily.

The music in Jimmy’s was loud. Too loud. It always was. The lights were strobe, Lando was probably on the dj deck, and you really just wanted to go home. You stared down at his message again, and typed your own out, despite the bodies pushing up against you.

Not feeling well. Raincheck?

He didn’t respond right away. You didn’t expect him to. It was usually him cancelling or calling, and you just followed. But tonight was different. You felt it. It was over, for real. You couldn’t take not being listened to. You were nearly at the door when he texted.

Have something that could make you feel better. Wait for me.

And you did. Stupidly, you waited a full twenty minutes for him to come out of the club, walking with you back to his apartment as your stomach twisted with regret. You didn’t hold hands. You didn’t smile at each other. You looked every bit the strangers you really were.

You knew what he wanted by the looks he was giving you, by the way your ‘catch-up’ (he’d asked about your day) went in one ear and out the other. You could’ve screamed and he still wouldn’t have heard you, and it only broke your heart more, because you cared. You were there for him when Ferrari dropped him, you sat there with him for a whole weekend and held him close, listening to every late-night rant and early-morning sob session. You did it for him, and he didn’t want to do it for you. You were nothing to him. You were just a body. Something to be used.

Carlos’s apartment was cosy. He had a big kitchen (which he never used), a big couch, and he was allergic to switching on the big light, so the small lamps placed around the rooms only added to the ambience. You liked it there. It smelt clean and he kept it tidy, though you wished you were coming for a date night, rather than a booty call.

He surged forward and kissed your lips as you pulled your jacket off. His hands immediately ran to grope and grab at anything he could. He pulled down the front of your dress, revealing your purple lace bra. His favourite. Your favourite too, but he never seemed to care. He smirked against your lips. “Missed you,” he hissed. “It’s been shit without you. Want you to come to Miami-”

“Carlos,” you breathed out, pushing him back, hard. He stumbled into the counter with a surprised look. “I don’t want this.”

Both of you were quiet. He just stared at you as you fixed yourself up, feeling every bit the idiot you thought you were. You had let it go on too long. You had no idea what you were going to say, but you knew you needed to say it.

“What’s wrong, preciosa?” he asked, taking a tentative step towards you. You took one step back. He stilled.

“This is what’s wrong. Us! I don’t want this anymore,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “I’m fucking sick and tired of you just using me for what you want, without ever thinking about what I want!” you took a deep breath. “And I feel so fucking stupid because I keep running back! And I don’t know why! I guess I think that if I show you that I could love you like I want to, that maybe you’ll care too? Which is so fucking stupid, because you don’t love me. You’ll never fucking love me unless I’m on my knees.”

And the air sucked out of the room, replaced with a thick atmosphere. You’d said it. He had to respond.

He cleared his throat. “Where is this coming from?” he asked, his eyes wide and surprised, he took another step towards you slowly. You didn’t step back this time. “You’ve never said this before?”

“I have,” you shook your head, a sad smile on your lips. Of course he didn’t remember. Of course he didn’t care. “I have asked you a thousand times to be my actual boyfriend, and every single time you just say that we’re ‘just having fun’. Carlos, I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me, and you don’t want me.”

“I want you,” he shook his head. “Of course I want you, preciosa-”

“What does that even mean?” you scoffed. “You want me, you call me ‘precious’ , and yet you’d rather die than let me meet your friends or family, you won’t call me your girlfriend, and all we do is fuck.”

He looked down. “It’s complicated-”

“Is it though? Charles does it. Oscar does it. Esteban does it. Max does it. Liam does it. Kimi does it, for fuck’s sake Carlos. You don’t love me, just say it-!”

“I love you!” he shouted and you flinched. Suddenly his hands were gripping your waist, and hugging you. His chest was heaving “I love you,” he whispered again, his voice small. “I love you, of course I love you.”

You shook your head. “You don’t love me.”

“I love you,” he shook his head. “I love you so much.”

“You don’t listen to me,” you cried, choking up against his chest, but making no effort to move him away. “You refuse to be seen with me in public. You don’t hold me. You don’t love me unless I’m warming your cock.”

He shook his head again, his grip tightening again. “I don’t- I love you. All the time. I love how when you smile, your nose creases a little bit. I love how you look in the mornings when the sun is coming through the windows. I love how smart you are. I love hearing you speak-”

“Tell me what happened in my day,” you demanded, a test to see if he listened. To see if he cared. You pulled back to look at his face.

“You woke up late,” he started, you were already pleasantly surprised. “You went for a walk down at the marina, you went grocery shopping because you wanted to make cookies. You got some work done and got a call from one of your friends, and you met her for lunch. Her name is Freida. You had lunch at Café de Paris Monté-Carlo. She paid even though you tried to. You went home and got some more work done. Then Lotti, your friend, invited you out to Jimmy’s for a mid-week pick-up. And now you’re here, with me,” his eyes were wild as he answered your demand with perfect execution. Your mouth dropped open.

You were quiet for a moment and he reached up and wiped away every tear that fell. “So why don’t you ever make me feel like you’re listening?”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. I love you and I’m sorry. I’ll change. I’ll do anything, I just… I cannot lose you.”

“I just…” you pushed back, his hands dropping from your figure. His face hardened. “I need time to think.”

And you left, because what else were you meant to do?

so close to what masterlist

pop queens mixtape

navigation for my blog :)

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paucubarsisimp · 2 days ago

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surprise gone wrong pt.2 (alternate ending)

pairings: oscar piastri x reader, ex!lando norris x reader

summary: in which you move on... with his teammate

warnings: mentions of cheating

a/n: so oscar didn't actually win the poll but i didn't actually agree with lando since he did cheat and cheating is not okay!! so i decided to make this and the lando one.

prev || alt ending

it was nearly a week before you heard from him.

a message. a simple text. just his name at the top of the screen. but the seconds before you opened it felt like hours. and when you saw the words, a bitter chuckle escaped you. "can we talk?"

no. you didn’t want to talk. not yet. maybe not ever.

but you couldn’t ignore it. not completely. you were still tangled up in him, in what you thought you had with him, even though the wound was fresh. so, you replied, terse but polite, "what do you want to talk about?"

the response came quickly: "i’m sorry. i messed up. i need to explain."

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. you didn’t want to hear his explanation. you didn’t want to hear anything that might make you feel like it was still salvageable.

but you couldn’t bring yourself to delete the message either. you stared at it, fingers frozen on your phone, mind a mess of conflicting thoughts.

you couldn’t keep living in the past, though. you couldn’t keep waiting for someone who no longer seemed to care. so, you didn’t answer. you left him on read, and for the first time, that felt like a small victory.

instead, you’d been finding solace elsewhere.

oscar had been there. quiet, patient, and understanding. he didn’t ask questions about what had happened in melbourne or why you’d gone there in the first place. he just let you be. he shared your silence, your grief. sometimes, he would crack a joke to lighten the mood, but he never pushed. and when you finally let your walls crumble, when you finally talked about lando—about the heartbreak, the betrayal, the way it felt to be forgotten—oscar just listened. without judgment. without expectation.

the two of you started spending more time together. at first, it was just small outings. a quiet coffee here. a walk around the city there. oscar didn’t rush anything, didn’t ask you to open up faster than you could handle. it was a slow burn. but somehow, in the midst of the heartache, he became a constant presence.

oscar was different. he had a steadiness about him. the kind of calm that made the world feel less chaotic when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control. when you’d spent so much time looking at lando, trying to understand him, trying to hold onto a love that wasn’t meant to be, oscar made you see that maybe there was something else. something real.

it wasn’t love. not yet. but it was something that felt more like a foundation. and for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like you were drowning.

but even with oscar’s quiet support, you still couldn’t escape the shadows of your past with lando.

the moment you ran into him again—at an event oscar had invited you to—it felt like the earth shifted under your feet. you had barely even expected to see him. the gala was supposed to be a night for celebration, for oscar’s achievements, but it was hard to ignore the uneasy feeling when lando walked into the room.

he wasn’t the same as he was in melbourne, his eyes searching for someone—maybe you, maybe anyone who could make him feel whole again. you didn’t want to look at him, but he found you, anyway. there he was, across the room, eyes wide as he locked onto yours. it was like a magnet pulling at your chest, dragging you back to a place you couldn’t afford to visit again.

you felt your breath catch, just for a second, before you reminded yourself that you weren’t that person anymore.

oscar, sensing the shift in your mood, slid his hand gently over your back, offering comfort without a word. the touch, the steadiness of him, helped you hold it together.

“do you want to go?” oscar asked quietly.

you shook your head, forcing a smile. “no. i’m fine.”

oscar’s grip tightened just a fraction, and you knew he was only asking out of care. he wasn’t pushing you, but he could tell the air between you and lando was thick. but instead of shying away, you stood your ground. you weren’t running from him anymore.

lando, sensing your resolve, slowly made his way over, his expression unreadable. when he reached you, he paused, his gaze flicking between you and oscar.

“hey,” lando said, his voice quieter than you remembered. “can we talk?”

oscar’s hand didn’t leave your back, a silent protector, a reminder that you didn’t have to do this alone. you wanted to tell lando that there was nothing left to talk about. that the time for explanations had passed. that the person he had kissed on that rooftop was a reminder of just how little you mattered.

but instead, you looked at him, emotion swirling within you, threatening to choke you. “what is there to talk about, lando?” you forced the words out, cold and sharp. “you already made your choice.”

he flinched, and it cut deeper than you intended. but it didn’t matter. you weren’t the one who needed to apologize.

his voice faltered, guilt and regret swimming in his eyes. “i never meant for it to happen like this. i—I thought you weren’t coming, and i was confused…”

“you were confused?” you repeated, your laugh bitter, hollow. “you thought i wasn’t coming? what was i supposed to think, lando? you kissed her like it was nothing. like i wasn’t even real.”

oscar’s hand slid from your back to your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent show of solidarity. you squeezed his hand, drawing strength from his presence.

lando’s face crumpled, and for a brief moment, you saw a flash of the man you used to love. but it was fleeting, and the ache of that realization only made your heart feel heavier.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “i should’ve waited. i should’ve told you what was going on. i should’ve…” he trailed off, looking helpless.

but you didn’t need his apologies. not anymore.

“no, you shouldn’t have. you shouldn’t have kissed her in the first place,” you said, your voice steady, but the pain in your chest was real. “i don’t need your excuses. i just need you to understand that i’m done.”

there was no satisfaction in the words. no catharsis. you just felt… empty.

oscar’s grip on your hand tightened. you could feel the quiet support, the strength in his quiet presence. and you realized then that he wasn’t just offering comfort. he was offering a future. a future that lando couldn’t be a part of.

“come on,” oscar said, giving your hand a gentle tug. “let’s get some air.”

you turned away from lando, walking with oscar toward the door. there was a lump in your throat, but you held your head high. you didn’t look back. not even once. you had no need to.

oscar’s soft chuckle broke the silence as you stepped outside, the cool night air feeling like a welcome balm against the heaviness that had been suffocating you inside.

“guess i’ll have to fight for your attention now, huh?” he said, his voice playful, but there was a warmth there that you hadn’t realized you needed.

you smiled, just a little. “i think you’re already winning.”

oscar stopped walking for a moment, his hand gently brushing your hair from your face. when his eyes met yours, there was something there that wasn’t just friendship. something new. something real.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it. you believed in the future, in the possibility of moving on.

“i’m here,” he said softly, his voice a promise.

and this time, you didn’t feel the need to look back at the past. because with oscar by your side, the future was already beginning.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @oddends, @mimisweetz, @theselilwonders, @superlegend216, @shigarika, @executioner-s, @fastandcurious16, @landofotographyy, @star73807-blog, @staple-your-mouth, @milkysoop, @ashopeworld, @ilovemeni, @shininfate, (i hope i got everyone!)

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m4rybb · 1 day ago

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THIS.

Booktok has basically become a synonym for "trashy" because apparently people forgot that books can just be fun. Not everything needs to be some profound, life-altering experience. Some of us just want to enjoy ourselves without being judged like we're on trial for crimes against literature.

If I had a coin for every time someone told me to "read something age appropriate" instead of fantasy, I would be richer than all the sad old men whose books they worship. And no, they don't even try to be polite about it. They mock you. Like being excited about magic and dragons is some kind of moral failing. Fuck you and your petty literature, go outside, touch some grass, and get a breath of fresh air, the dust you constantly breath while reading your old novels might have reached your brain.

These "book snobs" really read one depressing novel written by some miserable Russian dude, and suddenly think they’ve transcended humanity. Congrats, Fëdor. Enjoy your misery. Meanwhile i’ll be over here, reading about my strong female protagonist that defeats her enemies all while serving, and that inevitably falls in love with the shadowy fae that was supposed to be her sworn enemy. Because I enjoy it. Have you become allergic to happiness after reading that sad little book?

And don't get me wrong. I've read classic literature. I actually LOVE IT. BUT I'M NOT AN ASS ABOUT IT. But some people just don't enjoy reading it. AND THAT'S OKAY. What if all the funny little books disappeared? You know what would happen? Some people would just stop reading and will never open a book again. It's what you really want? Because from the look on today's society people should really read more.

Just because I like a different genre doesn't mean I don't deserve basic respect, they don't teach you that in your "intelligent people" books?

Actually, All this hate is rooted in deep internalized misogyny. Men have always hated when women have fun. Boybands? ridiculed. Twilight? ridiculed. Romantasy novels? ridiculed.

If women like it, it must be mocked. It must be shallow.

And no, it’s not a new phenomenon, look at "Madame Bovary" written in 1856.

A whole book basically blaming a woman’s dissatisfaction with her miserable life on the fact that she dared to read romance novels. When she was literally a teenager stuck in a convent. What the fuck was she supposed to do!? Pray all day? Count the bricks on the wall?? Maybe the problem wasn’t the books. Maybe the problem was that her life sucked.

And yet somehow women have always been the ones punished for wanting more. For wanting passion, excitement, emotion, joy.

I’m so done. Let everyone have their silly little books. Let everyone have their silly little fandoms. Just be happy and shut the fuck up if you don't have anything nice to say.

it’s so funny when people online act like women reading trashy romance novels is like. a new phenomenon and a sign of the downfall of society bc this has never been a thing before. this has been an extremely popular genre of book for ages. the only difference now is that they’re written by women who wanted to fuck kylo ren. which i guess is annoying. out of every man in star wars like be so serious. they had harrison ford in those movies

#reading #fantasy romance #rant post #rant #classic literature

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jordiemeow · 15 hours ago

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i love ur preacher’s daughter x dodge! thinking about them doing everything *but* actual sex cause it’s “not a sin” that way

warnings: smut, 18+, f!receiving oral, handjob, everything but fucking tbh, mentions of religious guilt, reader watches him touch himself, a little bit of manipulation...

notes: not proofread i’m nauseous and horny ab cowboys so here x

Dodge knew what he was getting into when he started dating you. That sweet girl that blushes and sputters when he suggests anything more than a kiss. Even a peck on the mouth had your cheeks hot to the touch and eyes averted at the start of your relationship.

But you're getting there. Or rather... he's getting there. Slowly but surely, you're growing more receptive to his subtle demands for more. You stop protesting when his tongue slips into your mouth, or his hand slides a little too far up your skirt. No more making excuses to go when your goodnight kiss in his truck gets a little too heated.

He takes it as his sign to push a little further. As far as your daddy knows, you're at Bible study with your friends. Not sitting with your knees planted on either side of Dodge, his tongue exploring the warm cavern of your mouth as his hands massage up and down the back of your thighs under your dress. There's a movie playing from his TV—Pride and Prejudice borrowed from his sister, because you dubbed the rest of the DVD sets under his bed 'too inappropriate.' Bless your poor little heart.

It's clearly long forgotten. The pair of you are more focused on swallowing each other's soft moans to care about the quartet playing behind you. And then, suddenly, you feel a finger glide over the front of your white underwear, and you jolt forward, forehead bumping against his.

"D-Dodge—"

He hardly flinches at the collision, smiling so innocently at you that you're almost convinced it never happened. "What?"

"You can't—" You take a moment to collect yourself. Swallow thickly. "Too much."

"Why?" His head tilts.

"Because it's a sin," you reply, as if he's stupid. "You can't touch me there. The... the good Lord's watchin'!"

"He watches everything else we do. Why's this any different?"

He has to swallow back a laugh when he watches the way your brows pinch together as you think that through. Logic is very hard to come by when his hand is still resting on the inside of your thigh.

"Well, it's almost—" You pause, lowering your voice to a hushed whisper, "—sex."

Dodge smiles. How cute.

"It's not sex, sweetheart," he says, mimicking your hushed tone. His other hand moves up to pet the back of your head as if to console you. "Don't count unless there's penetration."

You eye him warily. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what's the Bible say about it? No sex without intention to procreate 'n' all that bullshit?" He ignores your pout at the way you call the teachings bullshit. "Can't even be sex if my cock—"

"Dodge."

"What else am I supposed to call it?"

"Just don't say it at all!"

He sighs. Starts over again. "What I'm tryin' to say is that a little bit of touching ain't a sin. No penetration. Not even like our..." He pauses to search for the most appropriate word he can think of. "Parts... will be touchin'."

You frown a little, mulling that over in your head. Well, it makes sense to a certain extent. Besides, if touching in any capacity is a sin, you're already going straight to Hell for how many times he's had a calloused hand cupping your breast or squeezing your ass. It still just seems like a little much though...

"But the sin is lust, not the actual— oh—"

His fingers brush over you again, and the innocent smile from earlier isn't so innocent anymore when you meet his eyes. "Stop worryin' your pretty little head, darlin'. I promise you it's not a sin. Right hand up to God." Funny, considering his right hand is currently the one snuck under your dress and touching your clothed cunt.

You try again. "But Dodge—"

"But what?" He says, fingers dragging back and forth against you in a way that has your thighs pressing together instinctively. "You don't trust me?"

You shake your head. "No, no, I trust you."

He hums. "So, what, you don't want it? Is that it?"

The truth is, you do want it. He's hardly doing more than lazily rubbing you through your panties and there's already an unfamiliar stirring in your gut. Like the build-up of something that could be absolutely explosive. The Big Bang, your brain traitorously supplies. Now you feel even worse. You've never even tried to touch yourself before—considered it, sure, but any time your hand ended up toying with the inseam of your sleep shorts it was quick to retract. You've had to apologise to the picture of Mary overlooking your bed a few times for the almost-slips.

"... No," you lie, straight through your teeth.

But he laughs. He's no idiot. He can see the way your gaze is fixed on his forehead rather than his eyes. Can feel the way your thighs clench tighter with each drag of his fingers, your cunt pulsing a little too eagerly for someone who doesn't want this. "No?" He repeats mockingly. His mouth moves to hover right by your ear, and you shiver at the warm puff of air against it. "Then why are you so wet?"

"Well, that's... that's natural!" You insist weakly.

"Is it?" He muses. "You always walk around with your panties damper than a horse's back on a summer's day?"

You wither under the amused look he gives you. You know he's just being an ass now. But there's a glint in his eyes—not quite mischief, something a little darker than that. Something that makes any thoughts of the fiery depths turn to mush.

"... Promise it's not a sin?" You ask tentatively.

Dodge offers you the pinky of his other hand, and the one between your legs stills for just a moment. Your lip catches between your teeth, indenting the soft flesh as you weigh up the truth behind his words. Deep down, a part of you knows that he's just bullshitting you to get his way. You could be about to commit the most heinous sin imaginable and he wouldn't give two shits.

... But then his hand starts back up again, and before you know it, your pinky is looped through his.

It doesn't take long before your dress is hitched up and you're on your back, hair spilling over his pillow. Your panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, a leg hooked over his shoulder as his mouth laps at your sensitive parts. What started as kitten licks and gentle circles of his fingers quickly turned into something else.

Now you feel as if he's trying to devour you.

"S’that good, sweetheart? Feel nice?"

"Nggghh, yeah. Oh my goodness—"

There's been a few times where he's been tempted to slip a finger in. Ease you open, feel the way you tighten around his digits when you climax for the first time. But he'd said no penetration, and Dodge has a feeling you'd be on his ass about semantics. He'll work you up to that eventually, he's sure of it.

So he sticks to working you over with his mouth. Eagerly lapping up the sweet juices your cunt provides him with every time his thumb flicks over your clit just right, his other hand threaded through one of your own. Thumb reassuringly rubbing over the back of your knuckles despite the faster pace his other hand is taking.

And despite the fact his mouth is mostly occupied, he doesn’t stop talking you through it the entire time. "Just like that, angel. Keep makin’ those pretty sounds for me. Y’sound so sweet. Taste so sweet."

Or he tuts. "Keep your legs open. That’s it, uh huh. That’s my girl."

A groan this time. "Fuck, can’t believe I waited so long to do this. S’heavenly, baby."

Neither of you even notice the credits of the movie rolling. All you can hear is your own keening moans and the lewd sound of his tongue lapping at your pussy. The feeling is foreign, unfamiliar, but the peak of ecstasy you're approaching has you thinking life in eternal Hell might not be so bad if this is what you get to experience down there.

That thought is quickly cut off when your orgasm crashes over you. Sudden, overwhelming, your back arching up off the bed as your entire body jolts with pleasure. You swear you black out for a minute, and he takes great pleasure in the way your lashes flutter and your eyes roll back.

The greatest part of all is the cry you let out. "Yes, Dodge, God, yes, yes, yes!" It's blasphemous, the way you worship both him and the Lord in one breath.

He works you through it diligently. Not a drop goes to waste, and he's still moaning against you when your own whimpers die down. When he's fully sated and some of the trembling in your body has subsided, a firm kiss is placed against your inner thigh before he rises back up your body to tuck your hair behind your ear.

All you can manage is a dopey smile, and he grins crookedly. "Worth it?"

"I think so," you say breathlessly.

When you drop to your knees by your bed that night, Rosary beads threaded through your fingers and head bowed, you apologise profusely. But you haven't been smote down yet, maybe you'll be okay.

... Maybe.

It becomes a bit of a routine after that. Whether it's in his truck with your leg hitched up on the dashboard or when he has the house alone, Dodge just can't get enough of eating you out. And every time, you go back to pretending it never happened. You're still daddy's little angel.

There's a pleasant buzz running through your body as Dodge tugs your underwear back up for you, looking just as smug as ever. Dimpled smile, chin still slick with your wetness, as he eases your skirt back down for you. One would think it'd get less intense over time... but God, he has your toes curling and legs trembling each time his mouth descends on your cunt.

"Y'know," he starts, sitting up on his knees and giving your dishevelled state an approving once-over. "I think I might go a lil' insane if I don't get some attention of my own."

It's enough to give you pause. Fair enough—he's spent the last few weeks nestled between your folds and never once asked you to return the favour. But you've never touched a man like that before.

He catches your hesitation. Reaches out to thumb at your cheek, gaze softening a little. "Ain't gotta do nothing, sweetheart. But the blue balls are killin' me."

Blue balls. You almost roll your eyes. "So... what, then?" You ask, shifting to sit up as your fingers curling into the soft fabric in your lap.

He doesn't reply right away. Tilts his head, gauges your expression. "Can I show you? Won't take much. You ain't gotta touch me or nothin'."

Don't even have to touch him... you cast a cursory glance to his door, even though there's nobody home. Your lip is already bitten raw from stifling sounds all evening, but you're back to biting at it.

"Okay."

"Okay?" His eyes light up. He leans forward, a hand braced on your knee. "You sure?"

"Doesn't count if there's no penetration," you parrot the words he told you weeks ago. He smiles. "And... you said I don't have to do anything, right? Bit of watchin' can't hurt."

"Just lookin'," he affirms. For now, anyways.

His hand leaves your thigh to undo the buckle of his jeans, and your eyes follow the movement. There's a lump in your throat and you know you're going to be repenting for this one tonight. Maybe it's time to find some other church to confess at. Certainly not your father's, but you need to get this off your chest somewhere.

His jeans are pulled open, the tension easing off the bulge that seems to be straining there every time he gets his mouth on you. It doesn't take much for his cock to be freed, jeans and boxers down just enough to put him on display.

You swallow. You're definitely going to Hell.

You've seen pictures of them in passing. Dicks, cocks, penises. Whatever vile name the youth has come up with these days. The kind of pictures shared between a few girls at a sleepover, or a cock shown during a movie your father wouldn't approve of you watching. You've never been close enough to see one like this, though. Aching and leaking under the weight of your darkened eyes.

He takes note of your expression. The lust mixing with guilt.

"A little different in person, huh? No camera lenses?" He teases.

"Dodge, shut up. Just... just get on with it, please."

He rolls his eyes but obliges. Can't have you suddenly changing your mind because he gets a bit too cheeky. A firm hand wraps around him, and he begins to stroke himself. Slowly at first, watching the way your lips are parted and the breaths you take seem sharper. The quick rise and fall of your chest doesn't go unnoticed to him.

Feels real fuckin' good to be watched, though. Each jerk of his palm smears pre-cum down his throbbing length, the slick slide obscenely loud in the quiet of his bedroom. A low moan escapes him. Rough, completely unrestrained, so loud it almost makes you jump.

Your gaze snaps up to his face to watch the way his brow pinches with pleasure. You've never seen him like this—is this how you look when he's between your legs? The thought makes you flush. God. He's pretty like this, head tilted back and eyes half-lidded as he watches you absorb every second of his pleasure like it's your own. It's beautiful. It's wonderful. Breath-taking, staggering, perfect—

Sacrilege. Blasphemous. Impious.

You swallow thickly, but you can't take your eyes away.

"You, uh, sure you don't wanna get in on this?" He asks, his voice rough in a way you've never heard before. You find your thighs clenching again as you look back down to the filthy way he's started to fuck up into his fist.

"Dodge."

"What?" He asks innocently, a breathy note to his words. "I'll let you in, sweetheart. Just a little touch. Wouldn't have to do nothin'. Let me do all the heavy-liftin', eh?"

You shouldn't. You've done enough sinning for a lifetime over the last few weeks. Cried yourself to sleep a few times, too. And yet you go against every value that's been instilled with you for years to just touch.

A tentative little brush of your fingers against the underside. It's careful, hesitant and soft. His breath grows ragged. "That ain't so bad, is it?"

You shake your head. "And the... the white stuff. That's a good thing, right?"

"Real good," he laughs. He can feel himself tensing up; you aren't doing much to help, not physically, but with the pressure of his own hand and the way your eyes are on him... Lord, he won't be lasting much longer.

There's a pretty pink flush to his cheeks now. Eyelashes fluttering with each heavy breath, and the way his neck is exposed is giving you the strangest desire to lean in and kiss it. Bruise it, even. Your eyes avert guiltily, hand back in the safety of your lap.

"No, no, no. C'mon. Eyes on me."

"I can't, this is—"

"Please," he rasps. The hint of desperation catches you by surprise. "Want you to see it happen."

Heavenly father, please forgive me. Your eyes are on him again, watching the way his hips lift off the bed. It creaks with each movement, each glide of his hand down his cock. And that little flicker of scrupulosity in your eyes is what sends him over the edge.

"Fuck, yeah, I'm gonna— ah, ah, ah—" His cock pulses, white ropes coating his hand and the hem of his shirt. Face contorted in pleasure, eyes screwed shut as he makes a sound you've never heard from him before.

A whine.

You shuffle back a little—disgusted or intrigued by the sight of the cum spilling out of him, you aren't sure. But you're completely enraptured by the look on his face and the gasps that escape his parted lips. The only sound in the room for a few moments is his heavy breathing as he strokes lazily through the last of his orgasm, pleasure still buzzing faintly through him.

And when your eyes finally meet, you both laugh. Dodge's is hoarse. Yours is a little tentative. And then your sides are shaking and eyes twinkling. God, you can't believe that just happened.

"That's never happening again," you tell him. He grins, like he knows you're lying.

You are. You do it again. And again, until you're bold enough to be the one doing the stroking. It's only a matter of time before his little no penetration excuse goes out the window.

taglist: @gracelynnx @tacobacoyeet @blastzachilles @cha11engers @magicalmiserybore @newrochellechallenger2019 @coolgrl111 @artspats @peachyparkerr @stanart4clearskin @misswrldd @kaalxpsia @downtwngrl @s0ftcobra @strfallz @dazedandconfusedlvr @turnerrst @m4lodr4ma @artdonaldsonmalewife @challengersism @elsieblogs @artstennisracket

#jo asks ⋆˚࿔#jo writes ⋆˚࿔#rahhh need him #dodge mason #panic (2021)#dodge mason smut #dodge mason x reader #mike faist #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader

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iamthatonefangirl · 3 days ago

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personification - nsfw fatws bucky barnes

i’m trying out different posting times to see when works best lol here’s an early one because i’ve been waiting in a line for a store for two hours

i still don’t know how to title my works

~~~

"oh, she's absolutely purring for me, isn't she?" he asks, poking fun at you. you bring your hands to cover your face, smiling and gently laughing at the way he's talking.

"laugh all you want, baby," he says, laughing himself, "but you know I'm right. and I know you like it."

so what if he's right? it's stupid, but god, if he's the one saying it, somehow he makes it hot.

"your pussy is absolutely begging for me to do something, anything, isn't she?" he taunts, running his thumb up and down, gathering the wetness that pools in your folds that you're entirely powerless to stop.

his words continue to humiliate you and make you laugh at the same time. your face heats, blushing pink, in your amusement and desperation for more.

you never knew it could be this fun, but it's exciting, enjoyable, with him. anything with him always is. you're so deeply in love with him.

he's your best friend, you realize.

"I can see her drooling for me, baby, just asking me to fill her up with anything I please, ain't that right?"

god, he's gonna pull secrets from you that you never thought you'd admit to if he keeps talking like this.

"ought to fuck her full o'my cum and then plug her up, don't ya think, baby?" he asks, complementing his nasty words with a smack against your cunt.

you can't help but moan and cover your face further.

"nuh-uh. look at me babydoll. look at me while I talk to you."

you do. you drop your hands and give him a look of astonishment at how utterly ludicrous he's being right now.

"nah, doll, don't look at me like that," he laughs, finally filling you with two of his fingers, making your face fall as you gasp at the sudden intrusion. "that's it, that's how you should look at me from now on, all the time, baby."

you grunt in dissatisfaction. he's joking, but it's such a far-fetched idea when you really think about it–

"oh, I'll make sure of it, doll," he continues, "maybe I'll leave a little vibrator up here, make sure you always have that look on your face, make sure everyone knows who's keeping you satisfied. bet you'd like it, beg for it like a little whore, even."

he's literally gonna be the death of you. you laugh again, spurring him to laugh, too.

"come on, doll," he says through tears, "can't make you come if you're too busy laughing."

"is that a challenge?"

~~~

masterlist

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bucky tag list:

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thebitsandblurbs · 3 days ago

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Silver Fox

Prompt: College!Reader x Jack Abbot

Warning: violence, gun, trauma, age gap

Author’s Note: Another blurb! Had to do it- also not beta read. This one might evolve into a multi-ship, but I’m not sure yet. Also can we get a shout out for MLIS Students

If this situation couldn't get any more embarrassing, it just did.

Nevermind your friend in extreme hysterics, trying to make sure that you were comfortable and constantly asking if you were okay. And you should be freaking out, but you’re not.

That is until you saw him.

That one night stand - the one you fled from before he even woke up - was accompanying you to a trauma room. He was surprised as much as you were.

A little bit of your soul just died for a moment, replaced with the raging fires of embarrassment. You wanted to sink into the gurney.

“We can’t go to another hospital, can we?” You muttered to your friend.

“Of course not! Why woul-“ She gasped in surprise and… delight? “Oh! Silver-“

“Fox, yep.” You gritted your teeth as the gurney was lowered to the ground, and when it finally touched down. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph!”

Even before the paramedics could say anything to Jack, your friend launched into the full story.

Evidently- as it turns out- it wasn't a smart idea to take on a robber solo, and throwing something at him was an even worse idea. However, when your friend's shop is broken into by some wannabe thug, but you just had to act.

The guy came in with a knife, one that was easily disarmed with a haphazardly thrown vase of roses. You hissed at your friend to run, pushing her towards her back office where there was another door that led to a nearby alley.

The gun - one he was reluctant to use in the first place- was tucked in his pocket and drawn out as an instinct. All he wanted was the money in the register, just enough to pay off that last bit of debt.

That robber didn’t intend to have a witness, and two- well, that’s just unacceptable.

One gun shot wound to your left shoulder and a partly grazed right ear later, the robber had you cornered when police arrived. The thrown vase served as the perfect distraction for your friend to flee and get help.

The long rant, which lasted from ambulance to Trauma 2, ended with your friend being sent to the Waiting Room so you could have some peace. That was a saving grace if anything.

"I guess this is karma for leaving your apartment early,” you say to the good doctor as he approached your bedside.

Dr. Jack Abbot, ER Doctor and silver fox.

Your face burned even hotter as you remember the events leading up to you and him. He gave you a smile at the bar, and you just melted. You aren’t the type of person to have a one night stand, but something about him felt different.

And Jack could have said the same as well.

Robby just had to bring him to the bar, something about a celebratory drink for another year spent in the Pitt. To him, it was just another day; but to Robby, these type of achievements should be celebrated.

Needle in hand, ready to numb your shoulder, Jack offered you a smirk, “ If I had known you planned on sneaking out, I would’ve left you a cup of coffee…” First injection. “Thought you said you were a librarian, not a vigilante.”

“Neither- just an idiot studying Library Science,” you winced as you felt the needle pierce your skin again. “I said I wanted to be a librarian.”

A moment passed before you piped up again, “Are we on a first name basis, Dr. Abbot?”

He snorted, “Right now? No, but we could be later.”

The nurse in the room had originally given him a stunned look, but now she was just ogling at him. He, however, appeared to remain unfazed. Though, if anyone looked close enough, the back of his neck seemed a little more redder than usual. In his mind, he could have sworn you said that you were a librarian.

The age difference was substantial. Some of the nurses would certainly see this as scandalous. Hell, even Robby might have a word or two. It would be one thing if you were 30, but this might be a bit much.

Regardless, he still felt drawn to you.

“Dr. Abbot,” another nurse popped her head in, “Dr. King needs some assistance in Trauma 3.”

Oh, thank God.

He nodded, moving to stand, “Right, well-“

“It’s alright, Dr. Abbot, I can take over!” Someone said from the hall.

You only caught a glimpse of his bearded face before he rounded the corner. He seemed familiar- you recognize him as the person that gave Jack the nudge in your direction. Robby… you think his name was.

You guessed that Robby must’ve seen you come in. He let Jack take the lead on this one.

“And it looks like you’re stuck with me,” Jack said, almost smugly. Clearly, he was amused.

You two talked for a awhile, getting to know each other a little more. This was far more talking than what was done at the bar.

You found out he was a veteran and the backstory to his leg. He preferred night shifts and rarely worked day shifts. The only time he breaks eye contact is to perform a task. If he was still, then all eyes were on you. Even in a calm environment, the eye contact was intense.

He found out that you recently transferred to the University of Pittsburgh after a brief semester at PennWest University. While online classes were convenient, they weren’t for you. You lived alone, and the only friend you have is a small business owner of a nearby flower shop. She was more than happy to lend you a room above the shop as long as you were able to help out around the shop.

The following morning he spent in your room. Your clothes from the night before were beyond salvaging and thus discarded without a second thought. Your friend couldn’t afford to miss a day of work. Jack was kind enough to grab a couple of things in your size, after subtly checking the sizes on your original clothes before he threw them.

When they discharged you the next day, Jack met you at the patient bay. He was dressed in casual clothes, sunglasses on, camo bag slung over his shoulder. The sun was hitting his face just right. He certainly was a rugged silver fox, "Heard you didn't have a ride, figured I take you home rather than sitting in a grungy cab."

“And if I like grungy cabs?”

“Then you need to seriously reevaluate your tastes.” He opened the car door, “Come on.”

The car ride was riddled with a comfortable silence, every so often you would break it to give him directions. But then-

“So a… Vase?”

“What? You want me to hit him with flower power?”

“No,” he chuckled, “just a vase?”

“I’m clearly a lover, not a fighter.”

“So this is what happens when you mix both.” He sighed, “Just so you know- what you did, that was brave. Stupid, but brave.”

You scoffed, “Yea… I could’ve gotten myself killed.”

“Sure, but you put yourself in the line of fire to help a friend. That’s more than what most people would do today.” He pulled up to the curb. The car lurches to a stop. “This… is you.”

“This is me,” you echoed distantly, looking at the flower shop. You could see your friend inside, sprucing up the place. It didn’t even look like there was an accident. There was a newly installed camera by the entry way though, and what looks like a keypad.

He helped you out of the car, careful to mind your injured shoulder.

“Thanks- em- for giving me a ride home.”

Jack smiled, giving you a small nod as you passed him.

You got all the way to the door before you paused. Something tugged at your chest, your throat feels tight. You should ask him.

He was almost to the car door when he heard it, “Did you want to come inside?”

“Yea,” he locked his car, “I got time.”

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #the pitt #the pitt fan fiction #cw age gap #age gap romance #michael robinavitch

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sturnsblogs · 2 days ago

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SPIRALING DEPRESSION

Loser!Matt X Popular!Reader

—

Matt had never been the way he was being right now with you. He had never been this sad in his life. Usually, he wouldn’t give two fucks about girls. It was just how he was — careless, nonchalant, always the first one to stop caring. But you? You were different. You weren’t just some girl who would fade out of his life after a couple months. You were it. You were the thing he thought about when he woke up and the thing he wished he could dream about when he went to sleep. Losing you felt like the entire world dropped out from under him, like he couldn’t breathe right anymore, like nothing even mattered.

He didn’t go to school for a couple of days. Didn’t text anyone back. Barely even touched his phone except to scroll mindlessly until he felt sick. He didn’t leave his room. Didn’t eat. Didn’t even get up to shower. The only thing he did was smoke — over and over and over again until the air in his room was thick and heavy and the walls practically dripped with the smell of weed. His sheets smelled like it, his hair, his skin. It was all he could do to feel anything, even if it just made him feel worse afterward.

Nick would sometimes knock on his door, trying to sound casual, but he always ended up getting frustrated when Matt wouldn’t answer.

“Dude, seriously? Get your fucking act together,” Nick said one afternoon, standing with his arms crossed, his face twisted in a mix of worry and irritation. “You’re gonna ruin yourself over this shit? Over her?”

Matt didn’t even look at him. Just pulled the blanket further over his head, mumbling something that didn’t even make sense.

Chris handled it differently. He would sneak in quietly, set a plate of food down on Matt’s desk, and sit there for a while without saying anything. Then eventually, when Matt still wouldn’t move, Chris would sigh and come sit on the edge of the bed, nudging his shoulder gently.

“C’mon, Matt… please?” Chris said one night, his voice soft like he was talking to a little kid. “You gotta eat, bro. You’re scaring us.”

Matt shook his head, sinking deeper into the mattress, his voice hoarse and low.

“M’not hungry…”

Chris stayed sitting there for a minute longer, staring down at his brother, not knowing what else to say. What could he even say? That it was gonna get better? That Matt would forget about you? They both knew it would be a lie.

Matt didn’t want to forget you.

He just wanted you back.

And it was eating him alive.

Chris sat there quietly for a while, not moving, not saying anything else. He kept glancing at Matt out of the corner of his eye, his heart sinking with every second that passed. It wasn’t like Matt to shut down like this. Yeah, he could be distant, closed off — but never like this. Never so completely… gone.

Finally, Chris shifted closer, carefully lifting the blanket and sliding under it next to Matt like they were little kids again. He didn’t say anything at first, just laid there, wrapping an arm around Matt’s shoulders, pulling him close. Matt stiffened for a second, like he was embarrassed, but he didn’t pull away. He just let Chris hold him.

Chris tightened his hold slightly, resting his chin lightly on Matt’s head.

“You’re allowed to not be okay, you know…” Chris murmured, his voice so soft it barely made it over the sound of Matt’s shaky breathing. “You don’t gotta pretend with me.”

Matt didn’t answer.

He didn’t even nod.

He just laid there, eyes burning, throat tight, chest heavy like he couldn’t get enough air no matter how hard he tried.

Chris squeezed him a little tighter, trying to get something out of him — a word, a sound, anything.

“Talk to me, Matty,” he whispered. “Please, man. Just… say something.”

But Matt couldn’t.

He couldn’t even move.

It felt like if he opened his mouth, he would just start crying and he wouldn’t be able to stop. It felt like if he let himself speak, he would fall apart completely, and maybe he wouldn’t ever be able to put himself back together again. He was so tired. So angry. So heartbroken. It all just sat in his chest like concrete, heavy and cold.

Chris felt him trembling a little, felt how tense he was, and it made his stomach twist painfully.

“You don’t have to fix it all right now, okay?” Chris whispered. “You just gotta let someone be there for you.”

Still, Matt stayed silent, his hands fisting the blanket tightly. His jaw was clenched so hard it hurt. His heart was pounding in his ears. He wasn’t okay.

And he didn’t know how to be anymore.

Chris stayed.

Held him tighter.

And didn’t leave.

Later that night, Chris sat on the edge of his bed, his phone burning a hole in his hand. He kept thinking about Matt — the way he barely moved, barely breathed. It made him sick. It made him angry. He didn’t even care if it wasn’t his place. He couldn’t watch Matt be ripped apart like this and stay quiet.

His fingers moved faster than his brain could catch up.

He opened your contact and started typing.

He didn’t even stop to think.

Chris: “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

He barely gave you time to respond before another text came flying through.

Chris: “You think it’s funny? You think it’s cute how you broke him?”

Chris: “You have NO idea how bad he’s been. He’s not eating. He’s not sleeping. He’s not even talking.”

His hands were shaking with how pissed off he was.

Chris: “You don’t even care. You’re so wrapped up in that fake piece of shit you don’t even see what you did to him.”

Chris: “He would’ve given you the world and you picked that!?”

He took a second, breathing hard, seeing the little “typing…” bubble pop up for a second — but he didn’t care what you were going to say. He wasn’t done.

Chris: “He’s fucking broken. Because of you.”

Chris: “And what’s sad is he STILL would probably take you back.”

He tossed his phone on the bed, running his hands through his hair, pacing because he couldn’t sit still. His stomach twisted up in knots, guilt biting at him but anger pushing harder.

Because Matt didn’t deserve this.

Not even a little bit.

And if no one else was gonna say it, Chris would.

Your hands were trembling as you read the messages. Every single word felt like it was slicing straight through your chest. You couldn’t even breathe properly, your heart hammering against your ribs. Without even thinking, you typed back fast, your fingers shaking.

You: “chris pls let me come over. please.”

There was no hesitation in his response.

Chris: “No.”

Just one word. Cold. Harsh. It made your stomach drop. Your throat tightened as you typed again.

You: “please. i’m begging you. i never meant for it to be this way.”

You: “i didn’t know he was hurting this bad. i didn’t know.”

You: “please chris. i need to see him. please.”

You stared at the screen, willing him to answer. Every second felt like it stretched on forever. You wiped your eyes harshly, holding your breath — until finally, three little dots appeared.

Chris: “Fine.”

Chris: “But if you come over and make it worse, i’m kicking you the fuck out. i’m serious.”

You didn’t even wait to respond. You grabbed your shoes, slipped them on with fumbling hands, and practically ran out the door.

Your mind was spinning the whole way there.

You didn’t know what you were going to say.

You didn’t even know if Matt would want to see you.

But you had to try.

You had to fix this.

Somehow.

You barely even knocked on the front door before Chris was yanking it open. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at you. He just jerked his thumb toward the stairs, his face hard and tired.

You whispered a tiny, “Thank you,” but he didn’t respond.

You didn’t expect him to.

Your legs felt like they were made of lead as you climbed the stairs. Every step felt heavier, slower, the air thicker. When you got to Matt’s door, your heart just about broke. It was cracked open a sliver, just enough to see the dim light spilling out from inside, and you could hear the faint sound of music playing from his phone. Something soft and low and sad.

You pushed it open a little more.

There he was.

Curled up in his bed, hoodie pulled up over his head, blanket wrapped around him like a shield. His whole room smelled like weed and sadness. His back was facing you. He didn’t even turn around. He must’ve thought it was Chris again.

You swallowed hard, blinking back tears.

You took a slow, tiny step inside.

Your voice barely came out.

“Matt…?” you whispered, so gentle, so soft, like you were scared you might break him even more if you spoke too loud.

He froze. His whole body stiffened under the blanket.

Slowly, so slowly, he peeked his head out from under his hood, his red puffy eyes meeting yours.

The second he saw you, everything just dropped. His tough guy act, his anger, his walls — it all crumbled in one second.

His lip trembled just a little. His chest rose and fell in a shaky breath. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

You crossed the room without thinking, barely giving him a second to stop you. You sat down right beside him, your hands so, so careful, so delicate, like touching him wrong might shatter him completely.

You brushed your fingertips against his sleeve, a question in your touch.

He answered without words — he grabbed onto you.

Desperately.

Like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Like if he let go, you might disappear.

Matt buried his face into your shoulder, dragging you into him like he needed you to breathe, like your presence alone could fix the giant hole in his chest. His hands fisted the back of your hoodie tightly, squeezing you against him like he was scared you’d run.

You could feel how fast his heart was beating. How tense he still was.

You whispered against his ear, “I’m here, Matt… I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out the tiniest, broken noise. His arms wrapped around you even tighter, his nose nudging into the side of your neck, breathing you in like you were oxygen.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, voice raw and hoarse. “Missed you so much. Needed you…”

You just held him, your fingers tangling into his hair, gentle and slow.

You didn’t tell him it was going to be okay — because you didn’t know if it would be.

You just let him cling to you.

And that was enough.

You sat with him like that for a while — no words, just quiet breathing, the weight of everything between you pressing down but not crushing you yet.

Eventually, you felt him start to shake a little.

It wasn’t from crying.

It was weakness.

You pulled back just enough to see his face — pale, drained, his eyes barely staying open. Your heart twisted painfully.

“Matty…” you whispered, brushing the hair out of his eyes, “you need to eat something.”

He immediately shook his head, stubborn, like a little kid.

“M’not hungry,” he rasped, voice scratchy from days of barely talking. He buried his face back into your neck like he could hide from the world there.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him tighter.

“Please? For me?” you murmured, your voice so gentle it almost didn’t even sound like yours.

He hesitated.

You felt the way his body sagged, the smallest bit of his fight leaving him.

Finally, with a tiny, reluctant nod, he gave in.

You kissed the top of his head softly, whispering, “Good boy…”

He blushed, hiding even further into you, but he let you tug him out of bed.

You kept your hand laced with his as you led him downstairs, slow and careful, like he was made of glass. Chris and Nick watched from the living room but didn’t say anything — they just exchanged a look. Relief, maybe.

You grabbed a bowl of fruit, the softest thing you could find, and sat him down at the table. You knelt in front of him, holding up a piece to his mouth like you were taking care of a patient.

Matt gave you this tiny, almost embarrassed glance — but he opened his mouth and let you feed him.

“Good,” you whispered, smiling softly.

You fed him slowly, piece by piece.

Every time he chewed, you whispered little praises under your breath.

“You’re doing so good, Matty…”

“I’m so proud of you, baby…”

“Almost done, okay?”

When he finished, you kissed his hand and smiled up at him, and for the first time in days, his eyes didn’t look so completely dead.

—

Later, you helped him back upstairs.

You could tell he still felt gross and heavy, his skin clammy, his clothes reeking of smoke and sadness.

Without thinking, you whispered, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

He blinked down at you, confused — like he wasn’t sure if you were serious.

But when you tugged him gently into the bathroom and turned the shower on warm, he didn’t fight you.

He just stood there, staring at you with wide, exhausted eyes.

You helped him pull off his hoodie, your fingers delicate, like you were undressing something fragile. His shirt next.

You glanced up at him — he looked almost shy, almost vulnerable in a way you had never seen him before.

You smiled sweetly, stepping back a little. “Go ahead, baby. I’ll wait right here.”

Matt nodded, stepping into the shower. The second the warm water hit him, he sagged against the wall, like he could finally breathe.

You sat on the floor outside the tub, leaning your back against the door, talking softly to him the whole time so he wouldn’t feel alone.

When he got out, you wrapped a towel around his shoulders and dried his hair carefully with another.

He didn’t stop looking at you the whole time — his eyes wide, almost glassy with emotion.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbled, voice breaking.

You cupped his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks.

“You deserve someone being good to you, Matty,” you whispered back.

He leaned into your touch like he needed it to survive.

After you finished drying him off, you knelt there for a second, just holding the towel around his shoulders, breathing with him. He looked better already — the warmth back in his skin, the slight pink on his cheeks from the steam.

You stood up carefully, grabbing one of his hoodies from his dresser — an old faded one that you knew was his favorite — and a pair of clean sweats. You turned back to him, smiling softly.

“C’mere,” you whispered.

Matt obeyed without a single word, stepping closer to you like he was in a trance. You helped him into his clothes, your fingers brushing against his skin in the softest, most careful touches. Every time he flinched or shivered, you would just pause, rubbing small circles into his arms until he relaxed again.

Once he was dressed, you tucked him gently back into bed like he was something precious.

But you didn’t stop there.

You looked around the room, your heart sinking at the state of it — the overwhelming smell of smoke, the mess, the thick heaviness in the air.

Without needing to be asked, you cracked open the window, letting fresh air in.

You found an old candle on his desk, lit it, and placed it on his nightstand.

You picked up the empty bottles, the dirty clothes, quietly making the room feel livable again — a safe place instead of a graveyard.

Matt just laid there watching you, eyes glassy, chest rising and falling slowly under the clean hoodie.

“You didn’t have to do that…” he rasped out when you finally sat back down on the bed.

You just smiled at him, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes.

“I wanted to,” you whispered.

For a second, it felt okay.

Better.

Like maybe — maybe — everything could be okay again.

But then Matt spoke again, his voice small and shaky.

“I don’t trust him,” he mumbled, almost like he was scared to say it out loud. “Noah. I swear, Y/N…he’s not who you think he is.”

You felt your heart tighten.

You hated seeing him like this — so broken, so worried — but you also knew how messy everything was, how complicated.

You reached out, squeezing his hand softly.

“Matt,” you said gently, “I know you’re just trying to protect me. I get it, I do. But…Noah’s been good to me.”

Matt’s jaw tightened, his whole body going tense.

“I swear to God, if he hurts you—”

“He won’t,” you interrupted, voice still soft but firm. “Please…please just trust me on this, okay?”

He looked like he wanted to argue — so badly — but when he saw the look in your eyes, something in him just crumbled.

He nodded stiffly, looking away, biting at his lip to keep the words in.

You crawled back into bed next to him, pulling the covers up around both of you.

Without even thinking, Matt wrapped his arms around you, holding you against his chest like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart again.

And you let him.

Because you needed him too, more than you wanted to admit.

—

A/N- Her calling him baby makes me wanna die even tho i wrote it.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo

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rotapathetic · 2 days ago

Text

˒ HIMBO .ᐟ RAFE teaching reader to skate . · . .

not beating the mini him allegations 𓈀 ⟡ he doesn’t get hurt in this one! 𓈀 ⟡ himbo introduction

rafe runs over when he sees you about to fall backwards, grabbing you by your waist and holding you above the ground as the board continues to roll in front of you. you huff, arms down at your sides in defeat. “why does it keep leaving me?”

rafe shakes his head, “that thing is nothing like me. i would love you on top of me.” you giggle as rafe sets you down.

“well, what did i do wrong? i tried it like you showed me.” rafe had been showing you a few tricks, trying them on the board with you, then letting you do them by yourself. this was the first that didn’t land.

race shrugged, poking at your pout, “i didn’t get it the first time either. it’s like you’re just like me. . what a coincidence,” he teased. you slightly pushed at him, “okay, dude. just say it.” rafe frowned innocently. “say what. .” he headed towards the skateboard, then whispered in your ear as he passed you, “. .mini me.”

he didn’t bother hiding his smile as he retrieved the board then returned to you. “want to try a different one? i don’t want you getting hurt. not that i doubt you can do it, but if you get a scrape, we’re leaving.”

you shook your head, “no, i want to do it. can you do it with me on the board again?” rafe rose a brow, “i get to hold you again? of course,” he placed down the board, assisting you on top.

he stepped on behind you, pushing you two forward. “now, when i kick it at the back, jump up and switch sides, okay?” you nod, holding onto rafe’s arms wrapped around you.

and when he did, and you did as he said, and the board landed, rafe pushed down on the back to stop the board. you squealed, turning to face him. “i’ve totally got it, can i try again?”

rafe wouldn’t be able to say no to anything you asked him as long as you kept smiling up at him like that. “you can ask me to bang this board over my head repeatedly and i’d say yes. yeah, go ahead,” he stepped back and gave you two thumbs up with a smile like he didn’t say the first part of his sentence. you doubt he even realized he said it out loud.

you focused on the board, gave yourself momentum, did what rafe did and kicked up the back of the board, and landed back on it, facing the opposite direction you started in. stopping the board, you looked back excitedly to see rafe punching his arms in the air.

“yeah, she did! she’s a natural and the crowd is losing their crap right now,” he mock announced.

you picked up the board, running back to rafe who picked you up in a spin. you were grinning as he sat you down. his face suddenly turned serious as he held a nonexistent microphone up to his mouth, “miss cameron, how do you feel about landing that trick?” he held the ‘mic’ out to you.

you smiled up at him, “amazing. with the help of my incredible boyfriend,” you spoke to his hand. rafe glanced to your side, brows raising, “i think i see him heading over.”

he stepped to the side of you, raising his hands in a double high five, “good job, baby.” you both were grinning silly as you returned the high fives.

#い himbo ✶ ⛓️ rafe ㅤ⁝ㅤ is online ⌕ .. ༝#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x y/n

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akkaweo-akkaweo · 2 days ago

Text

Better choices

Naoi Rei x M!reader

Tags: softdom, jealousy, post-orgasm torture

WC: 7.2k

—————

The little digital watch on your wrist beeped on the hour: 10PM. You carried with you a battery-powered mosquito lamp, a bag of nacho chips, and a jar of salsa. Your destination, barely a hundred meters from the door of your house, was a quaint playground in the roundabout-cum-cul-de-sac in your village.

To be more specific, your destination was Naoi Rei, seated on a big, decorative rock near the edge of the playground.

"You're late," she pouted.

"By less than a minute, hello?," you rebutted, setting the mosquito lamp right by her legs. In shorts, she needed it more than you.

"Hmph," she pouted harder.

"Don't fret now," you said, as you reached out to grab her shoulder, which she grumpily pulled away from you with a huff.

You clicked your tongue. "Alright, guess I'll just have to eat these nachos alone," you muttered, emphasizing the last word. In a snap, Rei moved a bit to the side to give you space.

"Apology accepted," she rolled her eyes.

As neighbors for the majority of your life, Rei had always been like this with you; this meeting spot was hallowed ground for your friendship, and talking time like this an inviolable agreement. Even when you both went to different colleges, got jobs, or experienced any manner of trouble in the dead of night, the rock remained the rendezvous point.

"Lemme guess," she said, forcefully grabbing the bag of nachos from your hands, "Sooyoung." You sat down, opened the jar with held breath, and took a loud sigh.

Tonight's agenda, as it had been maybe 3 or 4 times now: Sooyoung, a girl you met at work. Well, "met at work" is a loose description, considering you "met" for the first time when she asked you about chips at "work," in the convenience store nearby.

"Usual opening question," Rei asked, a mouth full of nachos. "You still wanna do this?"

"I'm not wasting any effort, okay?," you rebutted. "It's not over 'til she says it's over."

You've been trying to woo Sooyoung for nearly a year now. Successes include a meaningful chat over coffee, a fairly uninteresting movie where you held hands, and a less-than-stellar bar crawl.

"Okay," Rei said with a groan. "Here's a thought: offer to go with her clothes shopping?"

"Clothes shopping?," you remarked. "I mean, doesn't that come off... weird?"

"You're literally the only person I know who'd say that," she replied. "Unless you wanna stare at her tits in the dressing room like a perv, no, it's not weird."

"Bruh, what the fuck?," you reacted. "No, I meant it'd be weird to buy her clothes."

"Again, you're literally the only person who'd say that," she replied. "Women would never pass up an opportunity to get more stuff for their wardrobe."

You grumbled as you sat on the rock, back against Rei. This rock used to be big enough for the two of you; now both of you were more leaning on to it and using each other as ample support.

"It's not that, it's... she's not reciprocating, and I would be offering to give something material. Out of my own pocket. That's a waste of effort." You scratched your head, irritated.

"Well, you're not wrong there, though I'm pretty sure you've spent on her more than once," Rei said with a mouth full of nachos, still holding the bag hostage. "I mean, let's look at it now: you've taken her to the movies, you've had a café date, you've gone drinking without sex..."

"Rei," you groaned, remarking at the aside.

"You've offered hiking which didn't materialize, you offered a blackbox theatre date... That's as much as anything you can offer in this boring ass town, and you spent on those too," she continued.

You slicked your hair back in frustration. "I just wish I could get a clearer sign with her, you know?," you added. "That's it. I want to know if I should even...," you trailed off.

Rei let out another exasperated sigh. "Dude, obviously you don't want to stop chasing after her, so why wait for a sign? You could always just read into it that she's waiting for you to do the right gesture. Or offer the right date. If she's intentionally playing hard-to-get, play harder."

"That's why I need you here," you replied. "I have no idea what that would be or how else."

"So quit your bitching and just offer what I said," she retorted. "The worst that can happen is that she says no, and you'll beg me to come here for more plans. Big fucking deal."

Now, you and Rei are best friends without question, but you know when she gets worked up. An imaginary klaxon rang in your head: she was in that territory, and that was a first.

"Alright, sorry," you relent. "I'm just paranoid, I suppose."

Silence – rare even for Rei and her usual side comments about your questionable decisions. All you could hear was the quiet munching of nachos.

"Any nachos left?," you asked, and Rei shook the bag as audible proof it was close to empty.

"So, uh," you asked, "how's that guy you've been trying to ask out?"

"Gave up," she said coldly. "Unlike you, I know when to quit when I'm not wanted."

Silence again, no less awkward. So much more awkward that you're patting your thighs and tapping your foot silently, trying to resist the urge to walk away. But the sinking feeling in your chest wins out.

"Well, thanks for the advice. Keep the salsa," you said. "I'll... leave you to it then."

You slowly get up, trying to feign leaving, when Rei started sniffling. "I really wish you'd get the hint," she whispered.

"Wait, Rei, wh–"

"I said I wish you'd get the fucking hint, you doofus!," she hissed as she stomped her feet, looking back at you over her shoulder. "It's always Sooyoung this, Sooyoung that, or maybe even Vicky this, or Jen that, it's always gotta be someone else!"

You stayed frozen. "Rei–"

"And here I am, crawling to you every single time you need me because I want to be with you, hoping you're gonna realize it one day," she cried, almost bawling. "And all you ever do is just fuss over more women who will never give you what I can!"

You're not just frozen now; you're shellshocked. Sure, you always had a nagging feeling asking Rei about other girls would be a bit awkward, but you never assumed she'd ever take it personally. More than that – that she had any feelings for you to take it personally.

"Rei–," you tried to speak, more firmly, but Rei had already gotten up.

"No. I don't want to talk to you," she responded. "Not about work, not about your life, not about other girls. Just leave me alone." She walked briskly into the darkness; you sat there, surrounded only by the screeching of cicadas, the lamp and a jar of salsa on the floor, and the ringing silence in your ears.

The hundred-meter walk home felt more like a kilometer, the excruciating length of it fraught with rewinding to every single time you were with Rei.

"I wish you'd get the fucking hint."

There was this one night when you asked Rei for help when you were seeing a singer-songwriter who was very into Laufey, an artist you'd only heard by name before then. Rei made you an entire playlist even before you got to the playground. You spent the night listening to the music, and she would tell you all about the "lore" of her: her twin sister, her ethnic background, the jazz inspiration, etc.

"What's your favorite song of hers?"

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger pensively. "Maybe this one," she said, cutting the song to her choice.

One day, I will stop falling in love with you,

Some day, some will like me like I like you,

Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie, pretend that we are more than friends,

And of course I'll let you break my heart again.

"Wow," you reacted, "it has such an old sound you don't hear anymore."

"Hmm," Rei reacted, staring up into the black sky, even though there were no visible stars in your neighborhood.

"What do you like about it?," you asked.

She looked at you, her eyes glistening from the halogen streetlights. Her blank expression turned into a smile you'll never forget, only because you've almost never seen it on her: her eyes scrunched up until you could question if she could still see, her grin nearly ear-to-ear, hiding a deep chuckle.

"I guess I just relate to it a lot."

You laid quietly on your bed, tears welling in your eyes as the song blared in your headphones, staring up at the ceiling of your pitch black room.

You were worse than a doofus. You were a dumbass.

=====

"I think we should stop seeing each other," you said sternly to Sooyoung.

"O-okay, um," Sooyoung responded. "W-well, if that's what you want..."

"I just need you to answer me honestly," you added. "You were never into me, were you?"

"I mean...," Sooyoung scoffed, trying to find the words. "Look, you're a great guy and all, and I really enjoyed the dates, I really did. But... you're just not my type. And to be really honest, I was trying to let you down easy. I thought you'd never take the hint."

That stung, a little. Maybe a lot more than you ever ought to have felt.

"Then... before we call it quits, can I just ask you something? I need your... advice," you sighed.

"Okay? Go ahead, I'm listening," she said, turning the chair around for you. "You're taking this a lot better than I thought."

"Thanks. Uhh...," you scratched your head, trying to figure out a proper way to explain everything. "So, I've been talking to someone else to get advice. About our dates and stuff."

"Sounds like a great friend, if they suggested all those things we did," Sooyoung remarked.

"They did... she did," you corrected yourself. "Actually, more than just us. About a lot of personal stuff. But girls and dating in particular. Ever since we were kids." The more you explained it, the more ashamed you felt. "She... told me the other night she was hurt by me asking for help about the girls and dating part."

Sooyoung rubbed her neck. "Yikes. I sorta figured where this was going halfway through your story. I suppose you've figured out what that means, right?"

"Yeah. admittedly a little late," you paused. "But... am I too late?"

"What do you mean by that?," she asked.

"Let's say I wanna... try and date her," you continued. "Am I too late to ask her out?"

"Honestly?," Sooyoung replied, "It's not so much if you're too late or too early if she really likes you. But, if this girl were like me and I was in her shoes, I'd want some form of assurance that I'm wanted by you. I mean, you've literally told them you were interested in other people. Other girls. Girls that weren't her. It'll take a little bit more than 'trying' to date. You need to want her, choose her."

You fell silent. Sooyoung likely saw the gears turning in your head.

"Maybe start there. If you wanna take her seriously, why would you? What's there to like about her?," she continued. "You're a sweet guy, really. You don't need to change a thing about yourself, for now at least. But you gotta make all of that choose her, or she'll never believe you."

Sooyoung's phone started ringing. "I'm so sorry," she remarked, "just remember what I said. Do it with purpose, and with someone who can appreciate you more thoroughly." She then stepped out, both literally and figuratively.

"Goodbye," you whispered to the empty seat in front of you.

=====

The little digital watch on your wrist beeped on the hour: 10PM. You were sitting on the rock in the middle of the neighborhood playground, an unopened bag of potato chips in hand a battery-powered mosquito lamp by your feet.

You shook your foot anxiously, and checked your phone again, probably the 12th time in the past 10 minutes.

You looked at your text to Rei: "Meet at the rock, 10PM" – the same message you've been sending her when you ask to see her, and the same unanswered message you've sent after that night. This was night #4.

A part of you wanted to leave it with finality, to accept Rei was fully done with your shit. She had every right to be, and you didn't think she was wrong for it. But you remembered Sooyoung's words: act with purpose.

10 minutes passed. Then another 10. You thought you heard someone heading to you, but it was just a lone night jogger. Then another 15.

A hooded figure suddenly walked up to the streetlight, wearing a pair of light pink pajama pants with a still indiscernible cartoon print and chunky rubber slides. Her face was obscured, but you didn't need to see it to know who it was. You stood up in... excitement? Frantic? The feeling didn't matter.

When Rei was finally right next to you, she had no makeup on, her eyes very puffy and reddish. Her face was scrunched into a scowl, but softened as you looked at her.

You reached out to hand her the potato chip bag. Without words, she grabbed it gingerly before taking a seat on the rock. You sat the same way, back against hers.

You struggled to find the words to say, the right ones at least. You wanted to say everything right away, that you were sorry and you were insensitive and self-centered.

Rei heaved a heavy sigh. "You can say anything you want," she replied. "Stop overthinking it."

You tried to angle your body a little bit more towards Rei. "Remember that night after the school play?"

Silence, though you heard her breathing sound shaky.

---

"Um... I want to leave the Science club."

You dropped your sandwich. "What?! B-but why?"

"Because... I just got into the school play," she said with a subdued smile.

You slammed your hands on the table excitedly. "Oh, forget the Science club! That's amazing! When's the show?"

"End of the year," she replied, loosening up to your cheer. "But I need to quit to focus on rehearsals and all."

"Yeah yeah, totally," you said, and hugged her tight without thinking. "I'm so happy for you!

---

"Hey Jen," you asked your cute friend in the Science club, "what's a good color of flower to give someone?"

She looked at you, puzzled. "Color?"

"Yeah," you continued. "Or type. Design? I don't know, I've never learned about flower names."

"Design?!," she replied incredulously. "So you've never heard of poinsettia? Chrysanthemum? Geranium? Jasmine??"

"Um... violets like the color? And roses!," you replied excitedly.

Jen slapped her forehead. "O-kay. And here you are in the Science club."

"I'm a chemistry guy, okay?," you defended yourself. "Please help me."

---

At the end of the show, you waited by the backstage with a handful of three white roses and three violets. You didn't have that much money, but you wanted to get Rei her favorite flowers – fortunately the only flowers you knew. Rei stood out well, delivering her lines with clearly and making everyone laugh with her witty lines. She deserved these flowers.

5 minutes passed. Then another 5. Then another actor came out, noticing you.

"Oh, you looking for Rei?," he asked. "She went out with her friends in the other direction. Sorry."

Without thinking, you texted her right away. "Meet at the rock, as soon as you can."

---

"I waited for you that night," you continued, "even if you'd left. I ran to this rock and waited, even if you were late, like actually late. Even if I was tired, and sweaty, and full of mosquito bites."

You heard Rei sniffling.

"Rei, I'm sorry," you said. "I wasn't... attentive. I was selfish. Or self-centered. Whatever the word is. I wasn't looking at what was right in front of me." You paused, trying to gauge if Rei was still capable of listening.

"I hope you believe me, but before everyone else it was you," you said, holding back your own tears. "That was almost 10 years ago. I'm not going to pretend that I currently reciprocate your feelings for me, but I want to try to bring back what I felt a long time ago."

Rei paused and sniffled. "I still have them."

"Huh?"

She pulled out her wallet and pulled out a folded piece of paper, with one rose and one violet dried up and pressed on it.

---

It was almost 11:30PM. You'd been waiting at the rock for almost 40 minutes. You'd rushed to the rock, no snacks or mosquito lamp or flashlight; just you.

Your legs were shaking. You felt your heart race only slightly slower than how it was waiting outside the backstage. You felt your fingers get cold, even when your palms were sweaty. You barely could sit still.

Of all the classmates you've ever liked, this feeling was the first you attached to one – and it was Rei.

You heard and saw a car drive up to her house, and saw a figure step out of it. You stood up, wanting to see the figure better, but there was no need – the figure started running hurriedly to your direction.

"Rei! You were–" you tried to say, before all of her crashed into you at full speed. You almost got knocked off your feet, if not for the rock catching your fall. Which hurt a bit, but you ignored with Rei's tight hug.

"I'm so sorry! My friends just whisked me away, I was actually looking for you, and–," she frantically replied.

"No, it's no bother, really! You were great! I got you these–," you said at the same time, before stopping and pushing Rei away in shocking realization.

"Ow! Hey, what was – oh no!," she exclaimed.

In your excitement, you hugged with the bouquet between you, the paper wrapping ripped apart by the moisture and the flower petals bent out of their original shape. When you let go of each other, it had fallen to your feet.

Rei looked at you, tears suddenly starting to well up. "I'm sorry...," she said softly, "I didn't–"

You picked up the flowers, offering it to Rei anyway, feeling your cheeks flush with heat and your heart thumping in your ears.

"I got you these," you said softly. "Sorry it's a bit... yeah."

She went in to hug you, making sure the flowers stayed in your hand and away from you while she did. She held you in a hug for a long while, both of you calming down.

---

You held the paper in your hands while Rei spoke.

"That night, when I got home, I remember pressing the flowers one by one," she explained, "and I remembered that with every flower I did, I was extra careful and extra giddy. And that's when I knew I liked you." You folded up the paper the way she did.

"I didn't really... have a crush on you or anything either," she continued, her body starting to face yours. "But a part of me kept thinking, 'if he asked you out, I'd say yes right away.' So I waited."

Rei looked away again. "Then you started going out with Jen," she added, her face more distraught. "Then that didn't work. Then there was that girl you met at your freshman mixer. Then it was... I don't know how many girls you talked to me about. But every single one felt like there was one thing I had but two things I didn't."

You started anxiously biting your nails. How had you not noticed this sooner? How could you completely have ignored someone who you ran to incessantly?

"But I stayed because you meant a lot to me too," Rei said. "I don't regret any of it. I don't hold it... no, I did hold it against you for a bit. A while. A long while. Maybe I still do, just a bit."

She fell silent. She wasn't crying anymore, but you could imagine her face looking very close to weeping.

"I guess all there's left to say is," she added, "I wanna give you a chance."

You didn't quite have the words, but your body was telling you to move, to act.

Grabbing her into fireman's carry, you lifted her with all your energy to sit onto your lap. "Whoa, hey, what are you doing?!," Rei reacted. You were now both face to face with each other, foreheads and cheeks pressed up. You felt the warmth of her breath, and paused.

This was it, the feeling that was missing. You went through every single time you went out with Sooyoung, then all the times you went out with Rei. You thought about all the places you'd gone with Jen, then remembered all the times you went there first with Rei. You remembered every single date you've been on, then brought yourself right back to this moment. Rei was the missing piece – the yearning for reciprocation, for recognition, for a sign, and like a puzzle she belonged right there, in your embrace.

You didn't even think too hard about what to do next. You planted your lips on hers, briefly — and everything felt right.

When you parted from her, she looked at you, stunned, for a whole second, before she closed her eyes and dove into your lips, for twice as long.

"Finally," Rei smirked, "thought you'd never figure it out."

You kept on kissing, the screeching of crickets and birds around you interrupted only by the smacking of your lips against one another. Rei's lips softly cushioned yours as your heads twisted, trying to push each other in more deeply than physically possible; but such was your appetite for her, and hers for you, yearning to dig deeper for everything that was just unearthed.

You released your grasp on her and she looked at you, her scowl dissipated by a more sincerely warm and toothy smile. She didn't have to explain anything further, all her feelings told by the smile plastered on her face.

"Rei, I'm–," you started, but silenced by a single finger on your lips.

"Stop," she butted in. "Save it for later. Just hold me first."

You brought in your thighs under her to hold her more closely, still cradling her like a baby. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder and nuzzled her face on yours, releasing all the aggression she had pent up.

Every time you shifted your position, she used her other hand to fix it back in place with a light slap. "Stop ruining my moment," she hissed, though her tone gave away that it was less hostile and more clingy.

She released you from her grip and stared at you again. "I'm ready to forgive you now," she said, a hint of sass audible in her voice.

"What an honor," you replied, rolling your eyes. She grabbed your face between her fingers, squeezing your cheeks.

"Shh," she rebutted, "you're not off the hook yet." She stood up, offering a hand to you.

You held it, though looked at her puzzled. "Wait, where are we going?"

"My room," she replied, starting to pull you towards her house.

"Wait, but your family–"

"Not home," Rei said curtly. "Just trust me."

You dropped your hesitations and let her pull you in, following her into her house, up the stairs, and into her room. The lights were off, and before your hand reached the switch, she stopped you.

"No," Rei said firmly, "I wanna do this in the dark." Your mind started racing – was this really happening? You've never gotten this far with a girl, you've never prepared for it either mentally or materially, but you weren't against the pace things were going. Maybe you were even excited.

In the shadows, you saw Rei take off her shirt, her silhouette only accented by the plain white walls and cabinets in the room. You saw the curves on her body, the way her breasts rested on her body, her bare legs and thighs smooth and slightly toned. She stood a bit awkwardly, but with purpose.

"I don't just want you to like me back," she replied firmly, "I wanna prove to you I'm better than all of them."

Rei stepped closer, her body only slightly illuminated by the moonlight streaming from her window.

"Do you want me like this?," she asked, her voice shaky.

"Y-yes," you stammered, still shocked at the pace of things.

Your heart raced. You knew Rei to be competitive, or at the very least petty enough to do the most out of spite. You couldn't possibly imagine how she was going to utilize that burning passion in the moment.

"Rei," you said, "are you sure you wanna do this right now?"

She stepped forward until she was face to face with you, her breath warm just inches from your face. She removed your shirt and pants, letting them fall to the floor. Her eyes pierced into yours.

"Yes," she said with determination, "I'm gonna make sure you never forget me."

Rei pushed you down by your shoulders to sit you on the bed, and knelt by your feet. She pulled down your underwear and let it sit by your feet, then crawled up in between your legs until her mouth was right up to your groin.

"Look at me," she spoke sternly.

Keeping her hands on your legs, she dipped down to catch your dick in her mouth, held in place in between her lips. With her lips almost vacuum sealed against the tip of your erection, she shoved her head into you, forcing your length in as if her mouth were immovably tight.

The feeling of her lips grazing against your length, lubricated by her tongue swirling around your shafted continuously, was incomparable. When you let go of her gaze to throw your head back in ecstasy, she dug her fingernails into your thighs to grab your attention.

Rei sucked you off with almost mechanical pace; she covered your length from base to under the tip with consistency, not so fast that she was ramming herself into you, but definitely slow enough the you weren't writhing and ramming yourself into her in chase of stimulation.

"Fuck, Rei, fuck," you reacted, watching her eyes stare unmoved from yours. Even when your legs trembled, her hands held you firmly in place. She even moved her hands down to your ankles and heels, wrapping her forearms behind your calves.

"Fuck, Rei, that's so good," you continued, her pace only slightly picking up. "Holy fuck, holy shit."

As you approached your climax, you started uncontrollably bucking your hips, as if chasing after her. Yet Rei continued at her pace, unchanged even with your disruptions. It was almost torturous keeping yourself from finishing.

"Rei, please, I wanna cum, I'm so close, faster," you begged.

"Mmm-mmm," she said, shaking her head. Still Rei continued at her pace, your head now fully facing up at the ceiling. Your eyes were wide open, even rolled up as you approached climax.

"Rei, Rei," you called out her name. "I'm gonna, I'm gonna–"

Then she stopped, popping her mouth out from your cock. You twitched for a few times, then your hips started bucking in search of her mouth, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Rei stared at you with a devilish grin, as if mocking your current state.

"Are you okay?" she asked, rubbing your thigh. You didn't even know what to reply; it felt good – amazing, even – up until that moment she denied it from you. You just stared at her, wide eyed, confused.

"Great," she replied with a smile. From her bedside table, she pulled out a lip tint, applying it to her lips until it glistened in the moonlight.

"Okay, let's mark that... one," she remarked, gingerly tracing a single, horizontal line on the inside of your bare leg with the tint. "Ready for number two?"

"Hold up, what do you mean number–" was all you could utter before Rei took your cock in her mouth a second time. She engulfed your dick in its entirety in one go, until her painted lips landed at the base of your groin.

She kept the suction in her mouth as she slowly – very slowly, almost dragging her lips across every vein on your shaft – lifted her head. When she got to the bottom of your swollen head, she released her lips and took your length in again, repeating the process.

You've never felt the sensation before: you were sensitive, still close to your orgasm; but you could feel something still pooling up within the base of your cock, even adding to what was already there just before she stopped sucking you.

After three more slow and gentle bobs of her head, Rei's lip tint left a faint stain around the base of your cock, wet from saliva and very much visible – like she had wanted to leave it there. She teased you a bit more, sucking only the half inch right under your head, before releasing it with a pop. Your mouthed barely formed a coherent sentence, overwhelmed still by the ticklish sensation on the underside of your shaft.

She released you briefly to purse her lips, keeping them moist, before resuming back at the same consistent pace she was at just earlier. Rei stared at you with unmoving, almost dismissive eyes; you felt her soft, luscious lips press up against your groin as they landed at the base of your dick. Her tongue pressed up on the underside of your shaft, the tip just barely tickling frenulum. All that, and you felt her pace pick up, her face slamming a tad lighter onto your body.

"Fuck, I wanna cum so bad, Rei," you groaned. "God, you're good at this." Rei chuckled with your dick still in her mouth, the vibrations adding stimulation.

Again, you neared your breaking point. Your breathing turned into loud gasping and moaning, until all you were saying was her name over and over again: "Rei, Rei, Rei." The suction on her lips broke as she smiled, now shoving your dick as far deep into her throat.

Except it didn't reach the back of her throat, Rei's face and nose instead slamming into your hips. Even when it was practically buried in your pubes, she still stared at you with hungry, lustful eyes.

"Rei, I'm gonna– fuck, I'm– hah, fuck–," you bumbled, your torso rocking back and forth as she continued to suck harder and faster. You could feel the swelling tide of cum in your shaft, ready to burst, and you bucked your hips in the air...

Then Rei stopped, again, releasing you from your grasp. Your hips stayed in the air, chasing after her mouth, and you groaned aloud in frustration. One, two droplets of white spilled from your tip, which Rei watched as it slid down your shaft. You reached a hand for your cock, intending to stroke yourself to completion, but Rei suddenly lunged at you, shoving you fully onto the bed.

"I told you I wasn't gonna make you forget me," she said mischievously. "But you owe me for making me cry my eyes out the whole week."

You gasped for air, out of breath from being denied a second orgasm, but you didn't move as proof of submission. She grabbed a long ribbon from a drawer and sat you up, tying your hands behind your back. She made you sit with your back to the headboard of her bed, reapplied her lip tint, and drew another line down from the previous one on your thigh. "That's two," she cooed.

Now you felt a pain in your groin, like from the denial. You still felt a load ready to come out with the right amount of coaxing, but judging from Rei's treatment that wasn't going to come easy.

She took you in her mouth again, this time going even slower than before. Unlike the second time, where she was more frantic and hasty, she returned to her pace from when she started – mechanical, consistent, tantalizing.

But this time the sensation on your dick was different. It tickled, almost painfully, but in a stimulating way – you wanted it to keep going and end right now.

Still Rei sucked on, her lips covered in spit. She started to spill so much drool from her mouth that it began coating your shaft, slowly dripping over your balls and onto the bed. The trails left behind were cold in the air, even when it started spilling onto your taint.

Now you were seated completely on the bed, legs splayed outwards, while Rei laid on her stomach. You could see her ass in the dark, not wide but definitely sizable, like you could grab a whole handful of it. You've never noticed these features on Rei – not her boobs or her butt, maybe her thighs the few times your hormonal teenager self ogled at all the girls in your PE class – but you realize now that she was just as hot as a lot of the girls you've dated.

She let go of your cock to flick it with her finger a single time. "Ow! What the fuck was that for?!," you whined.

"I said, look at me," Rei growled, swallowing your dick whole right as she said it. The sharp pain from the flick actually made the load welling up in your shaft retreat, and now you weren't sure if she was grabbing attention or keeping your orgasm delayed again – maybe even both.

That delay never came. She picked up her pace again, the pain in your balls increasing as you could feel them trying to squeeze out a third one. Though it welled again at your base, you now felt all of your cum fill up your length, from base to tip. As Rei's sucking continued, you felt yourself twitch, and you swore that the trails of saliva she left started turning whiter.

"Rei, please, I'm so close," you begged. "I wanna cum so bad..."

"Keep begging," she muttered, as she picked up her pace yet again.

"Rei, you suck me so well, holy fucking shit," you praised, hoping that would encourage her to let you actually finish. "Your face looks so fucking hot while you take me whole."

Rei started moaning at your words, and you notice one of her hands, while the other was wrapped firmly around your base, was in between her legs. Each moan she made only brought you closer to finishing.

"Please, Rei," you begged, "I wanna cum so bad, I wanna cum for you so bad..."

Rei let her mouth go of your dick and started licking your frenulum vigorously. The extra sensation was enough to start breaking the dam, and your mouth blubbered to make sure she knew that "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum– agh!"

With one final thrust in the air, you burst, as Rei's hand around your base let go. For a split second, you swore time slowed down as you saw your cumshot burst into the air – which you've never, ever seen – then another, and another, and another. The sudden ecstasy of your release made you increasingly lightheaded, almost blanking out

After what felt like minutes, you came to, and Rei's face was completely drenched in white, viscous globs of cum, dripping onto her chin. Her mouth, agape as she caught her breath, bore strings of cum that spanned her lips, trembling with every pant she made.

You stared at each other. She smiled in satisfaction, licking her lips and lapping up all the cum she could with her tongue. You finally found the presence of mind to laugh, your high fully felt as it coursed through your bones. "Holy fuck, that was amazing," you remarked, and Rei gave you her toothy smile in pleasure.

She pulled out her tint again to mark your leg – a single line right next to the second, now looking like T mixed with an F. "That's three," she chuckled, "you're crazy, you know that?" You breathed heavily, gasping for air, still laughing.

Without warning, Rei gobbled up your dick again, now doubly aggressive than how she sucked you prior. Your eyes widened, your abdomen crunched, and your hips tried to retreat into the bed, only being stopped by said bed against Rei's relentless bobbing.

You writhed and laughed as the sensation turned more ticklish, as your shaft felt every ridge on Rei's lips rub against it. You laughed, groaned, even yelped as the sensation blended into the pain in your balls from being wrung dry.

"Rei– hah, stop! Fuck, stop!," you begged. Rei groaned her rejection of your request, replacing her mouth with the quick stroking of her hand.

"Come on, take it," she taunted. "You owe me all of it."

Your body twisted and contorted from the extreme sensation. But surprisingly, you could still feel something welling up in your shaft – your release merely held back by the ticklish sensation.

Rei rubbed you faster, scraping off some cum from her face onto yours until it was slick, sliding, and squelching with her grasp.

"One last," she reassured, "give it to me. I want it all over my face. I want it all over my mouth. I wanna feel your seed all over me. Make me yours. Mark me. Claim me."

Your writhing was frantic and aggressive. If not for Rei's weight on your legs you would have shaken yourself free, but your arms were still held back. No amount of retreat stopped Rei's unrelenting stroking.

"You're mine," she growled, taking your whole length in one last time. That last line of dirty talk was all you needed, and you cum another – a fourth? – time. It disappeared into Rei's mouth, but when she let go, a few streaks of drippy, clear fluid left a trail around your tip.

You panted, eyes heavy from exhaustion and ecstasy and head buzzing. You felt Rei trace another line inside your thigh. "Four," she teased, "if only we could make that five." Worn out as you were, you felt your dick twitch still, the prospect of being used by Rei surprisingly a turn on.

Rei clicked her tongue at the sight of you, slowly kissing your sensitive cock. Each one was light and cold at each touch, making you twitch and shudder harder and harder as she continued. She giggled as she continued, picking up the pace.

You heaved to catch your breath. "You're... very... pleased... despite... being sad..."

Rei paused her kissing. "Sad? I wasn't sad," she replied, dragging her tongue from the base of your cock to your tip, with a slow, dick-achingly long drag. "More frustrated. I've wanted you for so long and you kept wanting others. Now that you're mine, I'm never letting you go."

You laughed in panic. "Okay, I'm sorry... Fuck, I've never... never had a blowjob... like that.."

Rei giggled as she made another long stroke on your dick, your groans even louder behind hard-gritted teeth.

"You sound like you're in pain," she cooed, her tone seemingly mocking you. "You want me to stop?" she dragged her tongue once again, intent to continue until you stopped her. But you said nothing, merely groaning and gasping for air, eyes almost watering at how sensitive you felt. And Rei loved watching you squirm.

Like the end to an elaborate ritual, Rei took your dick in her mouth fully, wrapping her lips tightly around your head, forcing it through her mouth, and keeping the seal tight around your shaft – the same way she started. Inside her tongue did most of the work, stroking the full underside of your dick as she bobbed her head gently up and down the lower half of your shaft.

Painfully, you squirmed, feeling something pool at your base. "Fuck, stop! I'm gonna– fuck!"

Before you realized it, you squirted into Rei's mouth – squirted, meaning you felt a sharp jet of liquid spray out of your dick. Rei had let go of you just before you did, the fluids coating her face, your torso, your thighs, and the bedsheets.

With that, you let out a single laugh, and felt the ringing and the blackness in your field of view take over.

=====

When you woke up, the sun was almost about to rise. On Rei's bedside, her alarm clock read 5:39AM.

You tried to get up by propping yourself up with your hands – revealing that your bindings have been removed. Your groin ached and your member felt sore and sensitive, and you groaned to summon all the strength you had in you to get up.

Hobbling to the bathroom, you realize your skin felt surprisingly clean. You had been sweating and drenched in all manner of ejaculate last night, yet you felt like you'd taken a clean shower.

When you got to the bathroom, you turned on the faucet and rubbed your face, trying to wash the grogginess out of your system. When you opened your eyes, however, you found a little surprise: Rei left her lip tint counter on your thigh, the lines now forming the character 正. Around the base of your dick was a pink stain, the same ones caused by Rei's lips.

You grinned instantly – she accomplished her mission. "God damn," you muttered to yourself, "definitely the best blowjob I've had."

"Good," Rei replied, suddenly waiting at the door. You jumped, instinctively hiding your crotch in your hands. Rei tossed you your underwear and pants, and you swiftly put them on. She however wore your shirt, which fit her nicely – stretching down just past her hips that she was fully, but just barely, covered up.

She held your hands in hers, swinging them playfully. "I think I went... a little overboard last night..."

"You think?," you laughed at her.

She tilted her head and looked away. "Well... maybe I planned to go overboard..." She could barely hide her smirk.

You rolled your eyes. "I sure hope I've apologized sufficiently then."

"Hmmm," Rei replied cheekily, "take me out on a date first. Then we're even."

You embraced Rei tenderly, rubbing your hands on her back as she rubbed her face into your chest. Things felt right – for once you weren't just giving, but receiving twice over.

"I'm sorry for taking you for granted, Rei," you said softly into her hair.

"It's okay," she said, her face squished into your bare chest. "Don't go."

You held Rei by the shoulders and stared at her. She smiled from ear to ear, her eyes squished so much she looked like she couldn't even see. That's the Rei you liked.

"So," you replied, "how about we go clothes shopping?"

—————

#kpop smut #girl group smut #ive smut #rei smut #male reader

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