#but if he knows it's all bark no bite... i can see him taking the opportunity to fuckin relax

[bodhiscurls]

exceptional. ( bodhi durran )

you should've known that xaden riorson would've come after you after attacking violet sorrengail. but what xaden should've known is that bodhi durran would destroy the earth and everything in its existence than have someone lay a hand on you. based off of xaden saying "he's my cousin of course he's exceptional"

pairing: bodhi durran x marked fem! reader (ice signet), xaden riorson x violet sorrengail.

themes: angst, violence, wholesome but deadly bodhi.

in all fairness, violet sorrengail was a bitch who had it coming.

it had been a week of the nightly shifts being dumped on you and maybe you were letting the lack of sleep get to you. or maybe it was the extra funny stares that came your way from standing guard at her door or most likely it was the fact that you had hardly seen your boyfriend this week. the thought of being in his vicinity felt far too impossible and it tore at your heart through scrapped edges.

you had another hour left of this shit before your friend liam would take over in the morning and with a single glance into the distance, you felt the yearning stretch your mind.

fucking xaden, you grumble under your breath. with you watching over violet and bodhi on the drop offs, the loneliness crept on you closer it felt as though you'd been caged in.

you feel a creak and instantly shift in alertness. a scan across your surroundings confirms your suspicion that it must be violet awake in her room. nonetheless, you knock lazily.

"sorrengail, shout if you need help," the slumber draws out your speech and the door rips open too quickly you think it may fall off its hinges.

"fuck you," she angrily meets your gaze and your brows furrow in confusion.

"i'm taken sorrengail and even if i wasn't," you scan her head to toe dressed in her night attire, "hard fucking pass."

she storms past you, deliberately brushing into you and the thin thread of patience holding your sanity together snaps within a second.

"hey," you snarl ridden of all your usual composure, "watch it worm." she meets your low warning with a scoff.

"or what huh? you can't even bark unless your master orders you to," and she faces you, stance hardened as steel. you stick your tongue into your cheek, biting back the retort and rising above the pettiness radiating from her.

"you're brave tonight," you level, edge and warning laced in your tone and she scans her eyes down to the daggers laced at your hips. not that you need them given the fact that violet sorrengail the first year who should have been a scribe is not well rehearsed in anything other than being a naive fool. "when you're done playing child, get back inside," you order.

"you're not the boss of me," a glint of defiance shines and by each second you grow more and more annoyed by the minute. "matter of fact, why don't you call your boss down here i've got plenty to say to him to."

and a flash of a milisecond is all it takes for you to rip a dagger from its holder and slice it in her direction. she's caught off guard, backing herself into the wall where the edge of the blade gently cuts her temple upon landing. she knows you could've striked her dead in the forehead but she knows that you also know the importance of her life being tethered to xaden.

"you will put some fucking respect on his name when you speak of the wingleader," you warn softly. violet however, feeling the surge of lightning ripple through her veins has decided that no, tonight she will not listen to anyone. she will not be ordered or babysat, she can and will carve her own way into this world. she pulls back, gently tapping to feel the crimson streak prickle from her temples to her fingers and thats when all she can see is red.

she runs to you, its sloppy and lazy like her steps are too large for her small feet to carry and so you let her knock into you. its not enough to take you to the ground but enough to cause a little stumble. if that destroys her confidence in anyway she only lets it show through wrinkle in her brows and moves on to throwing punches.

she's out of sync and it'd be awful if you really showed her what you're capable of- this likens to kicking a poor defenseless puppy so you let her throw (and miss) more heavy punches that lack force and drive. you catch her fist lazily "you're embarrassing yourself sorrengail, give it up," there's no malice in your tone, slight amusement but mainly annoyance. really, she couldn't save this energy for liam?

"oh yeah?" she's out of breath, "look at you so high and mighty huh, you weren't even enough to save your mother," she spits and your brain doesn't have time to catch up with your fist slamming her to the ground. you're seething, the anger radiating off of you in waves and if you had the right head space or enough time to stop and think you would have actually stopped and thought.

a kick to her side that will have her seeing blue and purple tomorrow makes her scream out in pain but the sound is not enough to stop you, it only fuels your fire. punches on punches, you lift her frail weak body into the air and slam it back down to the earth. somewhere in the distance a streak of lightning threatens the sky, drawing closer to you but like first year squabbling underneath you- its out of sync and misses you by yards.

you pull back, chest heavy in deep breaths as she lies shuddering.

"the next time you even think let alone speak of my mother, remember how your skin feels on this ground, because next time you'll feel it again six feet below," you swear with a hiss. she croaks out a futile apology but the blows have landed and the damage has been done.

its five am when you leave violet sorrengail bloodied and bruised in her hallway. not dead, not even unconscious, but alive enough to remember this lesson and live to seek retribution.

...

its fifteen minutes past five when you're lifted off the ground.

black shadows enclose around your throat, around your arms strapping you in an entrapment only capable of xaden riorson. his eyes mimic the streaks of onyx that menacingly threaten to cut off your oxygen supply and end your existence right here and there and for a second, you still.

you weren't stupid enough to kill violet knowing the effect it would have on your leader but you were stupid enough to disobey his blatant order-

"she was not to be touched," he whispers into the stillness of the early morning, cutting your thoughts clean. its a promise he swore, an oath you took and broke and a valid reason for punishment.

"she went too far xaden- wingleader riorson," in this moment its futile bargaining with your closest friend. right here right now, gone are the memories of running free at riorson house with grass in your hair and suits of cardboard armour. gone are the laughters that come from mischief and sneaking in on your parents discussing battle briefs and running silly after thieving from the kitchens.

what takes his place is him and you, a chain of command and a promise of death distinguishing the two.

"you took it too far, cadet," he spits. "i saw how you left her- not even a scratch was supposed to touch her. she was failed under your protection, by you." each word is a deliberate articulation laced with malice and control and he was right, you let your feelings get the best of you.

"riorson, stop," you gasp through ragged breaths, if you just could create enough room to wiggle and let your hands break free then-

and they do. for a split second, you wrestle and use your signet of ice wielding to freeze at his ankles, his hands and slowly by slowly the cold waters rush up his body.

its working you think, he faulters slightly but he's still got a strong hold on you as he dangles you in the air and its a dangerous bet fighting with xaden riorson- no one has lived to tell the tale but it gives you a slight satisfaction to know you're not the only one hurting. it's either he kills you or you kill him and if you weren't so damn focused on surviving maybe you could've figured out which option was less scarier.

until you're not floating anymore and a pool of water splashes from the air and bounces off the cool tiled floors.

your hands clutch your throat as your body is thrown across the floor with a vicious thud. dark splotches overtake your vision in a fit of dizziness but you can make out the shape of another figure you know well and love completely.

where you've hit the floor not so gracefully, bodhi durran has his hands at his cousins throat pushing him so far into the stone walls that you're sure he's going to leave an indent of the shape of xaden riorson.

it's been a week since you've last seen your lover that in your dazed haze you lie on the floor with a manic smile settling on your lips. you marvel at the softness of his curls that are a stark contrast to the stoic stillness he exudes at a height slightly shorter than his cousin. his black tee is soaked with your icy water and compresses all the muscles you have memorised underneath as his tan skin shines in the white streaks of morning light peaking through the windows. goodness, the skies above must feel how hard you have missed bodhi durran.

"you laid your fucking hand on her," he seethed, and you've never heard bodhi's voice dip this low of an octave as if the timbers aim to reach the very core of the earth. xaden pushes him off slightly but bodhi's got a death grip of his chest, holding him so close.

"she disobeyed an order," xaden makes out the words with a perfect stillness as if being flung halfway across the room hardly has any effect on him and as you stand there clutching your hip you decide that you hate him more than you hated violet in that disastrous moment. "she suffers the consequences," he tries to make an indifferent shrug but bodhi barrels him to the floor. they engage in a silent combat albeit a few huffs and growls. bodhi moves with the same deathly stillness as his cousin. each move is calculated, deliberate, designed to strike where it hurts the most. it's high risk high reward between the two of them, almost cathartic as bodhi slices his dagger alongside the length of xaden's neck.

"she hurt violet," xaden hisses as the metallic smell of blood fills the air. he twists his form and traps bodhi to the ground with his hips locked firmly. "yield," he orders. its a moment of silence, defiance in stares before bodhi uses the momentum of his lower half to completely knock xaden over and dives into a firm headlock.

"she is my violet, she's more than violet could ever be" he breathes heavily, voice straining with the thick of emotion. "and you laid your hands on her," between every breath is a flare of nostrils and for a moment you can no longer recognise the man that you love. you've known him capable to be the most skillful rider and soldier of your generation but you've never known his capable to kill his own blood.

"yield," a pause. "or it will be a damn shame to kill my last living relative," his whisper is a solemn swear into the darkness as he counters any chance of xaden using his shadow signet- xaden should have known how exceptional his cousin is and it's a shame he had to find out through advanced hand to hand combat.

"no," xaden's voice is firm and you roll your eyes, wincing through the pain in an effort to stand- or rather sway.

"bodhi," you call out and he softens, relaxing slightly at the sight of you and its enough for xaden to break free. you are however quicker and aware of how dirty of a fighter xaden riorson is and chain him through ice glaciers to the wall.

bodhi dusts himself off like this ordeal was an inconvenience and meets you at your side as his cousin is half frozen into a wall. matching limps and bruises you really were soulmates. he uses his free arm to grip your waist and haul you against him, carrying most of your numbed weight. you slump against his frame gratefully, resting your head on his bruised shoulder.

"you were right xaden," you meet his betrayed gaze. "i disobeyed your order and violet sorrengail was hurt under my protection. i will die fighting for you and for our cause and i carry the burden you accepted for all of us marked ones. however, i am entitled to honour and respect- both of which sorrengail tested this morning."

xaden bows his head at your testament, tongue threatening to poke a hole through the skin of his cheek as he ponders his next words.

"i will gather violet's account and decide the next course of action. however, violet sorrengail is not to be touched," he reemphasises and grits out to the two of you.

a scoff leaves bodhi and he pulls you closer to him. "you keep your fucking hands to yourself riorson or next time you won't be so lucky," he promises and a small smile works its way onto your lips.

"come on," he mumbles into your hair with a soft slow kiss. "lets get you mended up," as you two limp away into the distance.

"wait," you pause, "maybe we should let him go," you think of xaden cuffed in ice and whatever ridiculous banishment he will sentence the two of you tomorrow. worst case, he never speaks to you again and you've lost your childhood friend for good. best case, he never speaks to you again and you'll never have to do the night shift of watching over violet sorrengail and bodhi will never have to do the drop offs again. you both could spend each day wrapped in eternal bliss and ugh it could be soooo good.

"nope," bodhi doesn't even grant xaden the grace of looking back. "let him suffer, stubborn ass."

"you know he'll never let this go right?" you meet his stormy gaze. the chocolate orbs soften gently as he stares at you in adoration. you've never felt more safer than in bodhi durran's existence.

"tough, because i'm never going to let you go," he returns. "but as hot as you are when you go batshit crazy, please leave violet looking a little more alive next time."

you react to his tease with a shove to his shoulder and he winces. it takes him less than a second to catch up to your stomping frame because the limp hurts a lot more in the aftermath and you need his strong hold to shift the weight but more importantly because there's no where you could be where bodhi durran isn't right at your side.

note: its one am and i miss my man, this one goes out to the losers who think bodhi is all soft and no edge. he is that guy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he can and will kill you !!!!!!!! he's survived wars with just a shoulder in a sling do not underestimate him !!!!!!

[gummiesaretough]

I’ll Bark and Bite

Dark era dazai and chuuya x reader

Yokohama's underbelly stank of sweat, gunpowder, and betrayal.

You'd just killed a man in broad daylight.

Well—technically speaking, he wasn't really a man. More like a rabid dog with an identity. One of the gang that used to "own" you. Sold you, conditioned you like a weapon, then cast you aside when they believed they'd broken you.

Big mistake.

The street behind you was a battleground of bodies, and the sole one living was you. One bullet in your shoulder, bruises breaking beneath your skin like pus, blood clotted on your jaw. But you were standing. Again.

You breathed and glanced at the clip in your gun. Almost gone.

"Should have stocked up," you muttered. "Shit."

You stepped to move away.

And someone was there.

Not just a man—but him. You didn't know his name yet. You only saw a smaller-than-you imagined man dressed like a hellborn mob boss. Red hair. Gloved hands. Funeral director hat like a damn thing.

He was standing over the dead corpses like he didn't care.

"Got a permit to kill on our turf ?" he asked smoothly.

You blinked. "Your what?"

He stepped in close, and you could feel the atmosphere shift—like gravity was heavier around him.

"This is Port Mafia territory. That crew you just murdered? Dumb enough to step over a line. You?" He tilted his head. "Dumber for not knowing you were in the middle of a war zone."

Your mouth went dry. Port Mafia?

You knew that much. Everyone did. You didn't want to be here. Not anymore.

"I'll leave," you growled, shoving your gun back into your waistband. "Didn't know. Wasn't seeking trouble."

He laughed harshly. "Oh, you found it."

You glared and tried to shove past him.

A blur.

A fucking blur.

The next thing you knew you were being pushed against the brick wall of the alley, his arm around your throat. You struggled him—he didn't flinch. He was muscular, as if his bones were rock.

"I'm going to leave," you growled, picking up your gun again.

"Go on," he replied in a dead voice. "I'd like you to."

And another voice came back at us down the alley.

"Easy, Chuuya. Don't hurt her until we get to the paperwork."

You both turned around.

A man stood against the fire escape, tan bandages, trench coat behind him blowing back like he pictured himself in a noir film. His eyes were half-lidded, in a warm smile. Dazai.

"Look who finally crawled out of whatever sewer he sleeps in," Chuuya growled. "Don't you have a bridge to jump off?"

Dazai gave a tough smile. "Still compensating for being five foot nothing, I see."

Chuuya's eyes flashed.

You were stuck between a wall and a mafia executive about to lose his temper, and even you winced.

"Say it again, asshole."

"I would, but I don't speak small dog."

"I'll kill you."

You coughed, still wheezing. "Uh, hello? Dying here."

Chuuya released you with a growl, taking a step back as if you weren't even worth the trouble. "She's cocky."

"She killed six men with great shot placement," Dazai replied, now kneeling to examine one of the bodies. "All center mass. No hesitation. That's not cocky. That's trained."

You rubbed your sore throat and scowled. "I'm not trained. I was owned.".

Both of them looked at you now. Dazai's smile faltered. Chuuya's face contorted into something unreadable.

You spat on the ground. "They bought me. Broke me. Fed me bullets and threats until I started shooting for them."

Chuuya rolled one of his cigarettes. "And now you're trying to kill yourself out?"

"No. Already did it."

You started walking again, stepping over a corpse. "I don't want your gang. I don't want anyone. I just want the rest of them dead. Then I'll vanish."

Dazai was in your way this time. "Doesn't work that way."

You glared at him. "Why? Gonna shoot me for trespassing?"

"No," he said. "We're gonna make you an offer."

You tensed up.

Chuuya's voice deadpanned. "Join the Port Mafia. Or become part of the pavement."

".Seriously?"

Dazai shrugged. "You can go. Sure. Just not breathing."

You slowly grasped your gun again.

Chuuya stood stock still. "Draw it, and I'll break every bone in your arm."

You paused. Then slowly put it away.

"I don't bow to anyone," you said.

Chuuya moved forward, cigarette orange in the dim light. "Good. We don't want dogs. We want monsters."

You seethed at them both, anger roiling behind your ribs.

"…What do you want me to do?"

Dazai grinned again, all jagged edges. "Trial run. One night. One job. You survive, you stay."

"And if I just leave now?"

Chuuya dropped his cigarette, crushed it.

"You won't."

⸻

Twelve Hours Later – Port Mafia Trial Grounds

You were issued a new gun. Sleek. Heavy. The clip was full. You fired once.

Clean.

Chuuya stood in front of you, arms folded, trench coat blowing in the wind like a damn movie poster.

"These guys?" he said, nodding toward the warehouse across the lot. "The same gang sold you out to. They never learned. Camped out on our turf."

You blinked. "Wait. These fucks?"

He grinned. "Consider this a present."

"Fuck," you gasped. "You should've begun with that."

You didn't request permission. You ran.

The warehouse had been lit dimly—perfect. You took out the first sentry with a silencer to the jaw. Then two more inside. Quick, clean.

Then it all went crazy.

Shouting. Gunfire. You crouched behind a crate and fired back—quick, brutal, pitiless. You hadn't killed out of necessity. You killed to show.

When you came out, your hands shaking and spots of blood showing on the sleeves of your jacket, you'd got twelve kills.

Chuuya was waiting.

"So?" he asked.

You dropped the unloaded gun at his feet. "When do I get paid?"

He smiled.

Dazai, appearing out of nowhere beside him, chuckled quietly. "Told you. She's fun."

You gave him the finger.

Chuuya shoved something into your palm.

A black ring.

"Welcome to the Port Mafia."

You stared at it. Then set it on your finger in silence.

You didn't grin. You didn't say thank you.

You just stood a little taller.

And for the first time in your life…

You belonged.

(Cooked this up when coming home from school, call me Shakespeare) also repost because I didn’t proofread!

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

I just want to remind everyone that Wallace is canonically the worse one to sleep in the same bed with.

Scott can be a bad roommate in every other aspect but GUYS Wallace is the one that canonically snores and kicks in his sleep.

Scott sleeps like a princess with his back against the sheet lying perfectly straight (and also taking all the covers) and Wallace sleeps semi-on-his-side and apparently just fucking punting Scott in the leg every so often (not to mention he talked in his sleep too) and I don’t know why this is important to me but it is.

Because when people draw them cuddling in their sleep it’s always Wallace being normal and Scott turning and snoring and shit but you’re missing out on sleepy-cuddly Wallace turning and snoring on Scott. Let that cringe-fail 25 year old be annoying. Istg.

I’m talking to the Mobillace people too btw. Not that I’ve seen anyone draw them cuddling in bed (which is a CRIME btw. Draw that. For me.) but like imagine how funny it would be: Mobile stays the night for the first time and the hot-weirdo is a bed-menace, snoring and kicking and tossing and turning and suction cupping for warmth and Mobile is like “I want him to be my boyfriend” THATS FUNNY! LIKE-

[lamefish]

when fratboy!satoru takes your virginity you kind of expect him to be an ass about it. he's cocky as it is, and has a habit of gassing himself up too much when it comes to his... skills in the bedroom. if you're not listening to him talk about how he's the strongest, you're listening to him talk about how he's the biggest.

being the only virgin of your friend group was starting to grate on you and... a small part of you might've wanted to find out if there's any bite to satoru's bark. it's not like the two of you were dating or anything, but you felt comfortable enough to walk up to him one day during lunch and ask, in front of his best friend:

"will you take my virginity?"

maybe you expected him to blush. or freeze up. or at least trip over his words. but instead, the stupid white-haired prick looked up at you with the most relaxed expression possible and shrugged.

"okay."

and that's how you ended up here, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his messy dorm-room bed with his tongue halfway down your throat. a few empty cans of beer and abandoned cheat sheets lay strewn over his floor, and you hate yourself for letting this be the backdrop of your entry into the sex-having life.

but you can’t hate yourself for long because as he runs a hand up your thigh and under your skirt, you start to feel more excited than you thought you’d feel. he pushes you back, slots his knee between your thighs and bites at your bottom lip before trailing down to your throat.

still, it’s satoru, so when he pushes your panties to the side and feels just how wet you are for him, he laughs. “you get this wet when you touch yourself or is all of this just for me?”

“shut up,” you groan as he nips at the skin of your throat and gently runs his finger through your folds and up to your clit. you’re surprised he knows where your clit is, even.

and he’s not wrong—you’ve never been wet like this before. you can feel just how damp the fabric of your panties are you as satoru pulls them down your thighs and hikes your skirt up to get a clearer look at your soaked cunt.

“pretty,” he licks his lips. “wannna taste her, that okay baby?”

his eyes search yours for consent and you’re stunned for a moment as he waits for ‘enthusiastic consent’. you didn’t expect this sort of check-in from a frat boy. your nod seems enthusiastic enough to him, but just for clarity—“use your words.”

“yes. please, gojo.”

“satoru,” he corrects you. “want to hear that name when you cum on my tongue. cant believe no ones tasted her before.”

the use of referring to your pussy as ‘her’ is odd but quickly overlooked when he delves into your pussy like he’s dehydrated. tongue flat against your heat just to flex and circle around your clit. he sucks and bites a little and pulls you to your first orgasm in nasty speeds.

you cum on his tongue whilst his eyes bore into yours from between your thighs. white hair pulled out of his face by your hand as you tug the strands in hopes that he’ll stop licking at your overstimulated clit. it takes until you’re shaking for him to finally pull back and free his angry cock from his pants.

you think you gasp when you see it. he said he was big but you didn’t think he was a truthful man in the slightest. his cock is so heavy it doesn’t even stand at full mast—it fights gravity. satoru sees the look on your face and instead of sporting a shit-eating grin like you expect, he climbs over you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“let’s stop here?” he asks. “we could watch a movie. oooh what about die hard?”

you giggle, your nerves melting a little at his words. “i’m okay, i want this. i am not graduating as a virgin.”

satoru snorts and, after rolling a condom on, gently pries your legs apart enough for him to slot his wait in between them. he guides your ankles to link behind his back and slowly runs the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he says. “just relax. i’ve got you, baby.”

you actually manage to relax a little, focus on the feeling of being stretched as satoru slowly pushes into you until his tip is completely hidden in your cunt. it’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. “keep going.”

one of his long fingers dips down to rub soft circles over your clit to relax you a little more as he pushes deeper. you’ve never felt so full, so sore yet desperate for more… you wonder if it’s always going to feel like this, or if it’s just because satoru is the one breaking you open to find pleasure in your insides.

he lets out a pretty moan as he bottoms out inside of you, the weight of his heavy balls resting against your ass as he stills and catches your lips in a wet kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes against your tongue as he slowly draws out of you and then, with a grunt that you taste, snaps his hips forwards into you.

that hurts, but there’s an odd stitch of pleasure in the way he’s broken you open. “sorry,” he speaks against your lips. “it’s better that i just got it out of the way, it can start feeling real good soon. gonna make you cum on my cock, baby. you want that?”

you nod, eyes staring into his as your foreheads meet. satoru nods back, licking his lips and smiling. “yeah? you wanna be stuffed full, huh? always knew you were filthy. but i’m the only one that gets to see it.”

his arrogance pulls at your lips. “until i fuck the next guy.”

snap. his cock splits you open at that, and though you wince and screw your face us, you’re letting out moans made for porn too. his finger on your clit starts working a little faster as he draws back again just to drive into you even harder.

“no,” he dips his head down to bite at your neck. “not until you fuck the next guy. i mean you can try, baby, but it’s not happening.”

“ngh, what do you mean?”

another thrust into you sends you further up the bed. you’re sure you look a mess but satoru looks down at you with such wide blown eyes that you could be convinced you’re from the heavens. “not giving you up that easy,” he groans. “you know, i fucked someone last week just because they had your name. got to moan it without being slapped. again.”

your hand flies up to his chest, almost in an attempt to slow his now mean pace. “wait you—ngh god—you like me?”

“i’m far fucking past like,” he moans, hips starting to stutter. any discomfort has faded into glorious pleasure. your stomach starts to tighten again and you know you’re close enough that he’s going to try and time your orgasms. “you’re so perfect. so much better than i imagined.”

your eyes roll back a little at the thought of satoru fucking his fist late at night to the thought of you. how nonchalant he was when you asked him to take your virginity, you wonder if he went home last night and stroked himself to the sheer anticipation of being inside of you.

“satoru i’m gonna—”

he cuts you off with a deep kiss. it’s sex and want and lust, but it’s also soft in a way you can’t describe—maybe even a little anxious after his confession. it might just be his pending orgasm, but you swear his lips tremble between yours.

his cock throbs as he drills it into you, hits your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. it’s like he already has you mapped out, because you’re both cumming in tandem with each other before long.

a part of you aches to feel his cum spill into you instead of the condom he wears, to be claimed and filled by his seed over and over. would he fuck it back into you? clean you off with his talented tongue? would he plug you with his cock until he’s ready to overfill you with a second load?

he moans into your mouth and pulls back a little to revel in your fucked out expression. your legs still wrap around his waist, boxing him in and keeping him close. you worry that in typical frat boy fashion he’ll make an excuse and run off to recount the fuck with his friends. but satoru pecks at your lips, then your chin, then down your neck again.

“what are you doing?” you ask, vision slightly blurred from the intensity of your orgasm.

“gonna make you cum again,” he smiles against your skin. “didn’t you hear?”

“hear what?”

he pulls back to look at you, a soft smile pulling at his pretty lips. “that if you cum at least five times when you lose your virginity, you’ll fall in loooove.”

[apatheticsunday]

Single Dad Dead on Main

AKA "Danny is the ghost-equivalent of a foster parent for de-aged Dani and Dan. Jason's just wondering who the hell these two feral meta children are." prompt idea!

Danny thinks he's doing an okay job at being a single dad of two. They're living in a quaint two bedroom apartment in Park Row, he's managing his Ghost King money well, and the kids haven't died (again). (He's definitely not getting a "World's Greatest Dad" mug anytime soon, but, hey, at least the house hasn't burned down yet!)

...Until he wakes up from his nap to an eerily silent apartment.

If there's one thing he's learned over the last few months, it's that silence is not good. He's scrambling off the couch fast enough to give himself a headache, practically flying down the hallway so he can get to the kids' room. Ellie is wedged halfway under her bunk bed. Dan's also squished under the bed but quickly squirms out when he realizes Danny's standing in the door way. He's holding... a socket wrench??

"...do I want to know what you two are doing?" Danny deadpans.

Ellie scrambles out as well, smears of something oily on her cheek. For a seven and eight year old, they have surprisingly convincing I'm innocent! expressions.

"I dunno," Ellie singsongs while Dan simultaneously barks, "Nothing!"

Danny squints. The kids squint back. Yeah, there's definitely something under the bed that's not supposed to be there. Since Dan's holding a wrench (and where the hell did he get that?? Danny doesn't even own any tools aside from maybe a little rubber mallet he found in the hallway closet), Danny hopes thinks it's not an animal.

It takes a minute of arguing in which Danny promises not to be mad, let them eat ice cream, and let them stay up an hour later than curfew for the kids to even let him near the bed without biting him. (Jokes on them, the ice cream is sugar free and Danny's going to reset the clocks to an hour before. Check and mate, bitch! Parenting is so easy.)

And then Danny pulls out... a tire. No, a rim. Two tire rims. Oh, Ancients. Engraved on the tire rim is a red Bat symbol. His stomach nearly drops to the floor; everybody in Crime Alley knows what the Red Hood's symbol looks like. "Eight Heads in a Duffle Bag," Crime Prince of Gotham with a gang big enough to take over all of Park Row. And yeah, Danny could easily beat the guy, but that doesn't mean he wants to. He doesn't want to uproot Dan and Ellie from their schools, move cities, run from yet another organization that wants them dead.

"How did you get this?" Danny asks, utterly dumbfounded.

"I dunno," Ellie says, just as Dan's saying, "Nowhere."

(Danny takes it back. Parenting is definitely not easy.)

"Danielle. Daniel. Where did you get these tire rims?" Danny asks again, more stern this time, to which he only gets shrugs. And that's when he notices the window is open and the screen his missing. "You're kidding me. Did you climb out the window? We're on the third floor!"

"We flew, duh." Ellie rolls her eyes, only shooting a wide-eyed, guilty look to Dan when he elbows her with a vicious shuddup!

"I-okay. Here's what we're going to do. We'll... just return the rims. It's not like the Red Hood saw you two steal them-," Danny stops when Ellie and Dan give each other a side-eye. He knows that look. It's the same look he and Jazz used to give each other when they had a silent agreement about something. Oh, no. No, no, no.

"...he didn't see you, did he?"

Another side-eye look. Oh, Ancients. At least there's no way the Red Hood knows where they are, right?

(Jason stares at the kids playing with his bike. He's not stupid enough to think they couldn't have been paid to sabotage it, but the way the little girl hikes herself up onto the seat and pretends to rev the engine makes him think otherwise. It's cute. The boy mostly seems interested in the engraved bat symbol on his tire rims, scraping at it like it's a 3D decal.

"I wanna be a bicycle-rider when I get bigger. I'll wear the jacket and everything!" The little girl laughs, deepening her voice before saying, "I'm a bicycle-rider! I'll beat you up!"

Jason snorts. He's leaning against the fire escape balcony overhead and it's dark enough for them not to see him, but they both freeze at the soft sound. When nothing happens, the kids relax again.

"It's a motorist, stupid. C'mon, help me take this off and I'll build you one."

"You wanna take the tire? Why?"

"'Cus of the symbol! It's the Batman symbol, do you know how scared people are of 'em? Show 'em this and nobody'll mess with us."

The kid's got a point. Crime Alley knows Red Hood's symbol like the back of their hand, but somehow Jason doesn't think rolling around a tire rim is going to have the same effect. Jason's about to step in when the kid bends the fucking metal with his bare hand. His fucking bike. It looks like the kid barely broke a sweat, too; just wiped his hands on his jeans and started prying apart front of his motorcycle.

Jason's voice is more biting than he means for it to when he shouts, "Hey!" He swings over the fire escape, landing with a heavy thud, before hauling ass towards the kids. Almost immediately the boy yanks the girl behind him and snarls... and his eyes go Lazarus-green. Jason stops abruptly. His voice is softer, gentler, when he tries again.

"Hey, kid. Don't you know not to go tearing apart people's bikes? C'mon, at least do it the right way."

That makes the boy pause, looking momentarily baffled and the green turning into bright blue. Jason takes that as an in and says, "Y'know, it's a lot faster when you use tools. I've got a wrench in my bag. If you use it like this..."

Jason spends the next thirty-five minutes helping the kids steal his own damn rims. He shouldn't. But he's curious about who these meta kids are and they're almost painfully easy to talk with, they just blabber like they've never heard of keeping a secret before in their lives. They talk about their dad, school, their favorite tv show. And then they talk about "the bad men" and Jason's stomach drops. "The bad men" who drive white vans, capture people, and experiment on them. And that sounds an awful lot like a meta-trafficking ring in his city, dead set on coming after the kids and their dad.

Then he's very, very grateful he's letting the kids take his rims home. After all, what Bat doesn't put GPS trackers in their symbols?)

[batsandbirdbrains]

Pls just imagine how dramatic a young justice fic would be if it was like

The one where Batman and Robin are magically de-aged to when they first started working together

So now you’ve got a very paranoid and over protective Batman who hasn’t actually met any of the other justice league members yet and an itsy bitsy Robin who looks like he’ll tear someone’s head off. The Justice League has them quarantined in the Watchtower, they’re not letting them go home to the batcave or anything, and Batman is arguing with Green Arrow while holding a flailing Robin by the scruff of his neck. He looks like a feral kitten.

Now keep in mind, no one in this scenario knows Batman and Robin’s secret identities. They’re not even really sure if they’re father and son, brothers, uncle and nephew, or maybe strange mentor and protege picked off the streets, they’ve no clue. So seeing what is now clearly a young twenty-something Batman trying to wrangle in a wriggling eight year old is both highly entertaining and totally baffling. Where the hell did these two even come from. And how has that tiny kid been around longer than some actual adult heroes.

“He bit me!” Kid Flash cries, running away from a glowering Robin.

“Don’t try to touch me next time, asshole!”

“Hey!” Batman barks, holding Robin up by an arm and dangling him in front of him. “We don’t bite super-powered strangers. Who knows what kind of radioactive germs they might have.”

“But B!” Robin’s voice is so high and whiny, Conner is starting to feel dizzy. “He tried to pick me up! He called me cute! I’m not cute I’m terrifying.”

And the two just keep bickering back and forth, Robin eventually hanging with his ankles and hands hooked around Batman’s arm. Batman is trying to shake him off like a bug. They are both still arguing with each other as this happens.

“Did Batman just accuse me of having radioactive germs?” Wally is gaping at the scene in front of him.

As is everyone else. This is a total mindfuck. Who let Batman be in charge of a kid.

The two of them do eventually, reluctantly, start to trust the league. And they’ve been told they have to stay on the Watchtower until their magic expert gets back from a mission. Four days from now.

There’s one point when most others stationed on the Watchtower are sleeping or taking a break, and Batman is holding a drowsy Robin close to his chest and looking out the windows of the observation deck. Someone brought them some casual clothes to wear during their downtime, but they both have domino masks over their eyes. Those who see them like that can’t quite comprehend just how young Batman looks without the cowl.

“The moon looks so big,” a sleepy Robin mumbles, his cheek squished against Batman’s shoulder.

“That’s ‘cause it’s so much closer here,” Batman tells him, his voice incredibly soft. “Can you see where Gotham would be?”

Robin’s head turns just slightly, looking toward the Earth, and he hums, a fist moving up to scrub at his eye.

“S’over there,” he points. “With all the clouds ‘n stuff.”

“Looks tiny from up here, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Robin mouth opens in a comically wide yawn, then he shoves his face in Batman’s neck.

“S’not gonna fall from the sky, is it?”

“Nah.” Batman shifts his arms, holding Robin a little tighter. “This place is in orbit, kinda like how the moon is. It’s not gonna fall.”

“Would you catch it if it did?”

“I’d steal us a ship from here so fast, I wouldn’t need to catch it.”

“Kay.”

Batman presses his cheek to the top of Robin’s head, stray curls tickling his nose.

“Do you wanna practice your flips and shit in the morning? I’ll spot you.”

“Yeah,” Robin mumbles, “And I wanna scare Green Lantern by poppin’ outta the vent again. He screamed like a little girl when I landed on the table.”

“Do a flip when you do it and I’ll smuggle you an ice cream bar from their kitchen.”

“Deal.”

Batman has to twist his left arm funny so he can shake Robin’s hand, his right arm occupied by holding Robin up, and they shake on it.

Batman lets out a snort of a laugh, looking at Robin with an incredibly fond look on his face.

For everyone else, it’s a very long four days of them being menaces and encouraging each other to do more and more odd shit.

When they get turned back, they act like nothing was out of the ordinary. They’re not even phased when they’re reminded of some of the things they got into.

[specsthesecond]

Being a waitress/bottle girl at a club that caters to monsters.

While serving a table of orcs their drinks you hear whistling from behind you and turn towards the table of werewolves calling you over,

"C'mere Doll, why don't you spend some time with us? It'd be better than looking at those ugly green faces."

The rest of the table barks out laughter and all you do is look back at the table of orcs to gauge their reactions, just incase you have to call the bouncer to stop another brawl.

"Aw yeah? Cus your slobbering snout's much more attractive, ain't it?"

One orc yells and the others hurl their chosen insults across the table as well. The werewolves grumble and snarl insults back and you just stand in the middle of this, trying to think of an escape.

"Maybe she ain't at your table for a reason!"

One of the orcs claims boldly and all the other orcs voice their agreement while the wolves clearly disagree.

"Why don't we let the lady decide." A wolf with greying fur suggests with a smirk and both tables seem to agree on this being just a wonderful idea.

"Well love? Who's better then? Us or the mutts?"

"Aye! The real question is who can treat her better, isn't that right, Doll?"

The attention of the two tables are now on you, waiting for your answer with baited breaths and half hard cocks probably.

"....I prefer minotaurs."

This deadpan response takes a few seconds to sink in before a chorus of disagreements and further arguing commences, but you're already making your way back towards the bar, you're sure they don't mind watching your tiny skirt bounce as you walk away.

That answer wasn't random, it's actually been the only thing you could think of all day. Your Minotaur coworkers cock reaching deep into your stomach while he pounds you into next week. That might be why so many customers have been extra forward with you today, maybe they can smell the need on you.

You finally make it back to the bar, getting ready to end your shift and finally get some relief.

"You causing trouble?"

You whip around to meet just the monster you were so desperate to see. He stands at the edge of the bar in his bouncer uniform, his sleeves hug his biceps very nicely and you nearly purr imagining what that arm would feel like around your throat, while he pounds you from behind. He gazes down at you with a knowing look.

"Me? Oh, I would never."

You look up at him and play with the collar of your shirt, successfully drawing his eyes to the generous amount of cleavage your uniform provides.

He huffs in amusement.

"They don't seem to think so."

He tilts his head and massive horns towards the two tables you just left where the occupants are all peering over one another to see the interaction between you and the bovine beast in front of you.

You scoff, take his arm and turn him around so that he's only focusing on you.

"I'm off. You're off in 15...maybe you could come by my place again....or something?"

You nervously bite your lip and he doesn't know why you're getting nervous.

You weren't nervous when you sent him that video of your stuffed cunt clenching around the Minotaur themed dildo you've had since before you were seeing eachother. You definitely weren't nervous when you sent him another video 6 hours ago of you stuffing said dildo into your perfect pussy in the employee bathrooms before slipping your tiny panties on over it, keeping the silicone deep in your cunt.

He pulls out his keys and leans down closer to you,

"Be ready when I get to the car."

You nearly squeal in excitement as you grab the keys and reach up to kiss his cheek. As you skip out the door to his car he looks back at the two tables just to revel a little in the disappointed grumbles and huffs emitting from the two groups as they go back to their drinks.

𓄀

[buckyalpine]

40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

-

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

-

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

-

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[shotmrmiller]

simon who can afford a better flat than the budget friendly flat he lives in but won't move. johnny doesn't understand. he wants to blame it on simon being the enigmatic, intentionally perplexing man he tends to be but he has a flat.

he doesn't have to. he's got no significant other, no kids (that he knows of, god only knows if simon's got a bairn somewhere. it makes him heated thinking about it. he's it's uncle, damn it.) why does he rent here when living in base is free?

the question answers itself when he's over one evening, empty beer bottles on the table, amber glass reflecting the warm glow of the lone lamp overhead. the television is on, volume turned down, blending with the other sounds of the night— the distant barking of dogs, the quiet hum of simon's fridge, the occasional car passing by outside.

the conversation had died down already, not like they don't spend almost every waking breath with each other at work and they'd been sitting in a comfortable silence when there was a sudden, sharp knock at simon's door.

it startles johnny, reaction instinctive as he reaches for his hip, hand curling around the grip of his holstered gun but simon seems relaxed. he pins him with a look and mutters, "s'alrigh'."

what does he mean it's alright? it's 'witchin' hour'' as his mam calls it, who could possible be at his door? he cranes his neck to look and—

it's you, standing up here with a flour-dusted apron, small hands holding a warm pastry, the steam twisting and curling off of it. you're exude homely charm, soft face glowing from the corridor's light (or maybe it's at the sight of seeing simon, who knows?) he can smell it in the air, sweet, inviting.

what johnny finds interesting enough to send a quick text to kyle is how simon is looking at you. as if you're handing him more than just a custard tart, but also a little piece of heaven, a fragment of a dream he hopes to have one day.

"'m sorry, simon. i wasn't aware you had any company. i just really needed to stress bake or i would've gone off the deep end and end up in prison."

violent little bonnie. he can see the appeal.

simon cups his hands over yours (he definitely did it as an excuse to touch you) as he takes the treat. if you make food to unwind and give it to your neighbors, johnny oughta move in next door too. he'll never turn down free food.

"don't worry about it." johnny's eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the softness in his tone, bottle halfway to his lips.

clearly more than a passing fancy.

"i'll just uhm, if you're friend wants some too—" but simon gently interrupts you before he can ask for some of that sweet comfort too.

"he's not hungry."

cruel, cruel bastard. he'll remember this day, jot it down in his calendar. when he gets a girl of his own, he'll be sure to do the same.

johnny wonders if you've got a crick in your neck from looking up at simon as you speak hushed words, meant only for him. can he get at least a nibble of that tart?

you shoot johnny a shy ㅤsmile before turning around and simon closes the door, turning back to the warming beers, golden tart in hand.

even the plate it's on is cute.

"ah can see the hearts in yer eyes, lt."

johnny can practically hear the air parting as simon's fist cuts through it, aimed at his head. he avoids it with practiced ease. "ooh, touchy. ah'll leave ye be if i get a bite o' tha'."

he doesn't gets not even a crumb because simon is selfish.

(simon moved here purposefully because he knows you live here and can't be at peace without knowing where you are at all times. there's a tag inside your favorite pair of shoes you left out in the hall once to dry after a hard downpour. the bakery you work at is down the street, if he looks out the south facing window, he can see you going in and leaving work. he likes to let himself in your home and smell your cushions. took one of your shirts too but at least made sure it wasn't one of your faves. he has to wash it every other day)

[iixch]

☆ iixch production

He’s family! He’s a dog.

synopsis: I just really love Titan (everyone’s favorite Great Dane!) and Simon’s dynamic, so here’s more of it!

warning: cursing

more Titan shenanigans: Pt.1 - Pt.2

Titan was usually a dick to Simon. He still was a dick to him, but less of one as of late, and Simon couldn’t tell why but- thank god almighty! You know how tiring it is to be knocked behind your knees, get your ankles nibbled on, with constant scratching and barking? Hell. It’s hell.

The only thing that sedated Titan was you, and because you and Simon have taken the next step in your relationship and you’ve moved in- Titan has been over the moon, because you spoil him tooth achingly rotten.

“Get the damn mutt down my bed.” Simon growls when he comes into his bedroom- he’s tired. exhausted from days work and just wants to sleep when he sees the devils hell hound on his side of the bed.

“But he wants cuddles….” You say cuddling into Titan side.

“He also wants to occasionally eat shit.” He huffs as he walks over to his side of the bed and tries to push the Great Dane down. Titan doesn’t budge.

“Baby you gotta ask him, nicely.”

“You’ve lost your goddamn mind, I am not asking him anything.” He tries again, Titan just smiles.

“Si, ask him.”

“Y/n, baby, no.”

You sigh at his stubbornness and decide to put aside your hope of him asking. “Titan, can you please lay to the foot of the bed?” You ask him motioning to the spot. And as if he spoke English the dog shifts down to the end of the bed.

“What has the world come to? I have to ask the mutt permission to lay in my own bed.” He mutters as he scoots under the sheets.

——

Simon started to notice the way you treated Titan, like he was a person or something, and it drove him crazy.

“One piece for me,” You whisper before taking a bite of bacon. It was noon and you and Simon… and Titan, were having a lazy Saturday. “One piece for you,” You give Titan a strip of bacon. He sat under the table head peaking between your thighs as you secretly fed him.

Simon’s the twitches as he knows your feeding hells hound. “Y/n, stop feeding it.” He says as he eats his eggs.

“First off, it is a he,” You say pretend you haven’t been dealing under the table, “and i’m not feeding him.”

“I can feel his tail slapping my legs with every piece you give him.” He says unimpressed. “He has dog food.”

“Just a little spoilage. He’s all muscle, he’s not fattening up anytime soon.” You say defending your cause.

Simon groans.

——-

Your lazy Saturday day consisted of cuddles, conversations and snacking. You’ve been in pjs all day. Simon was currently in the kitchen popping popcorn on the stove when he peers to the living room to see you.

“Y/n, that’s too far.” Simon says suddenly.

“What?” You ask taken back.

“You’re letting him rest his head on your tits!”

“I let you rest your head on my tits.”

“That is not the same.”

“I can make the argument that you’ve been down bad like a do-”

He shoots you a glare and you can’t help but laugh out loud.

——-

You both decided that you both needed to get some vitamin D, so you two were currently in the crisp Autumn air, arms linked and Simon holds Titan leash.

“How long have you had Titan?” You ask Simon as your head rest against his forearm, his arm protectively around your waist.

“Master Evil? I’ve had him since he was a pup. He was better than, back then he wasn’t a hellion. It’s been five years since I got him.”

“Yeah? You guys have been together for a while.”

“Eh, I guess after five years you gotta.” He thinks, “There was this one time, before I had him trained, I was out, and he ran out the back gate and when I got back it was so late and I couldn’t find him. Scared the shit out of me. Was out on the streets like a damn fool, random ass shoes on my feet as I find and chase him.”

You laugh and watch as Simon glances at Titan with melancholy and memories.

“He’s part of the family, huh?”

“Y/n please-”

“He is! You love him, despite all your complaints.”

“I don’t love him. I tolerate him.”

Titan suddenly stops walking and Simon runs into him, grunting as he trips.

“Never mind, take it back. He’s a bitch.”

“But he’s ours.”

[saltwaterburns]

Hi:)!! I love your writing, but just wondering if ya'd do some dick Grayson smut, like with the sex pollen stuff just making him all needy,

Fem reader? Even nb reader o_O?

Like ur real good at writing man^_^.

And I mean if you'd add some of your own kinks? I'd love to see him acting like an lil whiner it's cute in a way, feels so odd to ask lmfao please laugh LMFAO 💔..

pretty bird

Summary: Dick gets hit by a new Poison Ivy pollen, and there's only one way, or rather one person, to get it out of his system.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ SMUT - sex pollen but explicit consent is given, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding, praise/degradation, sub!dick, biting (lmk if i missed any)

Author's note: The fact that this took me over 3 months to finish is embarrassing and I'm sorry and please don't hate me and fuck how I love bottom Dick. I also fear that you can kind of see my kind of worryingly high ao3 screen time in between the lines, because I am not ashamed to admit it that omegaverse is one of man's best creations. Enjoy !!!!! No beta we die like Jason (Todd and/or Grace)

Word count: 2,4k

You wake up with a jolt. Somewhere, a door slams shut, but the noise comes from someplace a lot closer than you'd like when living in Blüdhaven. A string of soft curses float through your apartment, something falls and breaks, and by then you’re sat up atop your mattress, reaching for the knife Dick always insists you keep nearby. It could be him, it probably is, but since when does your acrobat make this much noise when coming back home in the middle of the night?

Dick stumbles through the doorway, one of his hands resting on the wall, seemingly to keep him upright. The lights of the city that bleed in through your bedroom window illuminate his face, and you know instantly that he’s been hit with something, whether that's a gas or some pollen, you’re not sure. His skin is glowing under a sheen of sweat, his cheeks flushed pink. He growls in frustration when a strand of inky black hair falls on his face and he pushes it away with a bit more force than necessary, chest heaving up and down with short and shallow breaths. 

You push the blanket off your legs, ready to stand up and walk over to inspect him for any injuries, possibly force him to take a bath with you when a throaty whine makes you stop in your tracks. He shakes his head and you look at him with furrowed brows, tilting your head in confusion.

“Ivy hit us with a.. ah, a pollen. Bruce sent me home right after, but that was before…before the effects showed up.” He rests his head against the doorframe, eyes squeezed shut. He swipes his tongue over his lips, the pink muscle heavy in his mouth which went dry the second he spotted you on that bed, waiting for him.

“What effects, exactly?” You ask him, the little crease of displeasure between your brows that Dick has a habit of soothing over with his thumb making an appearance. You cross your arms on your chest, both to show off your worry and to protect your body from the chill of the bedroom. “Are you in pain?”

As if on cue, another wave of something hits him and he lets his head fall back, his Adam's apple bobbing before he lets out another one of his drawn out whines. The sight of him like that makes something turn inside your gut, a dull ache in between your legs making itself known. “In pain, yes. Just not in the way you might, fuck!..think.” He claws at his Nightwing suit, seemingly desperate to get it off his heated skin and that's when it clicks. Ivy, pollen, not letting you come near him, sweaty and flushed as if…

Dick Grayson is currently standing in the doorway to your room, desperate to get his dick inside you and fuck his brains out. 

The sheer absurdity of the situation almost has you barking out a laugh, but it dies down in your throat when a soft plea leaves his lips, now slick with spit, reddish pink from his teeth abusing the soft flesh.

"There isn't an antidote for this. Not yet, anyway. 'N I was wondering if you'd maybe, shit, help me uh, get it out of my system? If you'd want, of course. 'S all good if not, sweetheart. Not really sure it'd be safe for you if I can't really, ngh, control myself."

His eyes stay locked on you, the usually light hues of blue tinted dark as the flush on his skin deepens, the worst of the pollen only starting to take effect. You don't say anything, but instead take a few quick steps towards him and before he has a chance to open his mouth to protest, you cup his cheek with your hand, other one laying flat on his chest. His heart is practically vibrating inside his ribcage from the sheer speed of it beating but that quickly leaves your mind at the absolutely obscene sound that leaves Dicks mouth at the feeling of your skin against his. It's a sob of pure relief mixed with agony because somehow even more blood pools at his groin, making him harder than he has ever been in his life. He turns his head and nuzzles his face into the palm of your hand, his heated lips nipping at your skin like flames of fire.

You coo at him, moving your hand up so you can run your fingers through his hair, now curly from the moisture of his skin. You grab a handful and gently pull his head back, letting your lips leave a trail of open mouthed kisses all over his jaw. His mouth has fallen open, spewing out soft pants and incoherent sounds.

"Wait, wait, baby," he hiccups softly, pulling away from you. "Don't know if m'gonna be able to control myself. Promise me that you'll tell me to stop if it gets too much 'n if I don't listen you'll punch me in the face?"

"Promise, Dickie." You nod, letting your other hand fall down to rest on his waist. You can feel the muscles of his core flex at your touch, and you gently drag the tips of your fingers through the divots of them. His eyes never leave yours and he's looking at you so earnestly, so devotedly it makes you feel sick for a moment. It's as if you are a god, a divine creature who has seized his ability to think, to breathe, and who he needs to guide him, tell him how to do the simplest things in case he even dares to think about doing them in a way you dislike.

You pull him down into a kiss, one slow, sweet and earnest. He has your face cradled in his hands, not daring to let them wonder in case it gets him punished later on. You gently guide him backwards with you, pulling him along by his hip, until the back of your legs meet the edge of the bed, and you fall back on it, pulling him with you. It's as if a switch has been flicked - the once languid and adoring kiss now turned messy, needy, desperate. His mouth is hot as it parts against your lips, tongues brushing against each other in an erotic dance. He tastes sweet, he always has, like honey and mint from the gum he seems to chew at any given moment.

He pulls away to catch his breath but somehow his hands have wandered under your shirt and are now tugging it over your head, throwing it over his shoulder. Your chest is bare in front of him, skin glinting under the light of the night, and he mewls, desperate. He brings his mouth down on your collarbone, leaving open mouthed kisses down until he reaches your breast, and before you can react, his sharp teeth have pressed down into the supple flesh. It hurts, and you keen off the bed with a soft cry.

He slides his tongue over the bite in a soothing manner, pressing a kiss on it as well. Despite the initial pain, by the fifth bite (which has your breasts positively red), your back is arching off the mattress for a different reason, and you're sure that if he'd try to slide your panties off, they'd stick to your cunt in the most obscene way possible.

Your insides are aching by now, desperate to be filled to the brim by his cock. You let him know by tugging on the top half of his Nightwing suit, pulling it over his shoulders. His hair is sticking up in every direction after that and you can't help but giggle, his lips silencing you with a playful kiss. He gets the lower half off by himself and is left just in his boxers, the visible tent in them making you unconsciously part your legs further.

Dick, however, decides that he needs something and he needs it now because another wave of pollen is tugging on his insides and the pain of it makes his stomach cramp up. He starts to slowly rut against your thigh, riding it like he has many times before as a punishment for being bratty. Each movement of his hips has him panting out soft ah! ah! ah! 's and his face is pressed against the crook of your neck, where he's desperately mouthing at the skin, drool soaking it up. You coo at him, masking the degrading terms of endearment under the guise of your sweet tone, but it's still just egging him on, and before he can realise that he's close, he's already come inside his boxers with a high pitched whine. His whole body shakes as the orgasm crashes over him in waves, and his arms give up, making him fall on top of you. You slide your arms over his bare back, pressing small kisses around his hairline.

"You did good, baby. So good for me, aren't you? Gonna fuck me now, pretty bird? Get your cock inside me, fuck yourself stupid 'til all the pollen is gone?"

He keens again, baring his neck to you in an act of submission. His head is fuzzy and he can't really understand what you're saying, but he heard "pretty bird" and "fuck" and suddenly his cock is all hard and leaky again, desperate to be surrounded by something warm and wet and tight. The pollen is making his skin itch unbearably and he needs you to bite him just like he bit you, marking you with pretty shapes and colours. You lean down and do just that, digging your canines right above his pulse point, sucking on the flesh until its angry and purple and so, so pretty, just like the man in front of you.

His body goes seemingly more lax at that, though his hips are still squirming. Somehow, you manage to tug your panties down and off your legs and you slide your fingers into his curls, harshly tugging on them to bring him back to the real world.

"Fuck me, Dickie." You purr, bringing him into a kiss. He can't seem to catch up with your pace, but his instincts speak for themselves, and although the kiss is way sloppier than it should be, all the happy noises he's making makes it worth it.

He cages you between his arms and you help him guide his tip to your opening, clenching around nothing but air. You hadn't noticed when exactly he'd gotten rid of his now soiled boxers but there's nothing exactly to complain about. Your arousal mixed with the cum thats covering the length of him make it easy for him to slide fully inside you with a single thrust, the feeling of so suddenly being filled to the brim punching all the air out of your lungs.

He starts fucking into you like a madman, incoherent whines and pleas and moans spilling from his swollen lips like wildfire. You can't understand anything, but you hold him close, pressing kisses on top of any strip of skin you can reach. "Good, birdie, just like- fuck! that. Fucking me so good, you're the best boy."

You wrap your legs around his, digging your heels into his thick thighs, letting your head fall back in bliss. You can feel a few droplets fall onto your skin and then trail down, and you can't help but giggle e. "Is my pussy so good that it's making you cry, baby? You're so pathetic, Dickie, it's embarrassing. Just look at you."

Your voice is sickly sweet in his ear and he just cries harder, cheeks burning red from embarrassment, but it's as if his body has a mind of its own, continuing to fuck into you like a dog, a dog in heat. He doesn't want to feel stupid and incompetent, and he hates the fact that you're laughing at him, making him feel like he isn't doing a job good enough, but despite your cruel jokes, you're choking on moans of your own, and he also knows by the wet sounds of your cunt that he's fucking you better than anyone ever has and anyone ever will.

He brings one of his hands between your two slick bodies and starts to rub aggressive and tight circles on your clit, eyes locked on you as your face scrunches up, mouth falling apart at the mind numbing pleasure. He knows you better than anyone, so when your muscles start to tense and the pitch of your moans is getting higher and higher, he knows you're close. He picks up the pace of his hips, the sound of skin slapping echoing all around the bedroom. One, two, three snaps and you're coming on his cock with a loud cry, body convulsing painfully. He follows you not even a moment later, coming in the tight heat of your stomach with a loud whine, his whole body shuddering. Despite your vision swimming, you let your hands wander all over his skin, pulling his shaky body to your chest, where you shower him with kisses, touches and soft praises.

"Good, good boy, birdie. You did good, fucked me so good. How are you feeling?"

He just, whines softly on your chest, looking up at you with glassy eyes, blinking owlishly. You pepper his face with tiny kisses until he comes back, and when you feel his nose scrunch up under your lips, you know he's with you once more.

"Talk to me, baby. Are you good? Do we need to go again?" You run your fingers through his hair, letting your nails scratch over his scalp. He leans into your touch and you're pretty sure that if he could, he'd be purring.

"M'okay, I think. At least for now. I feel good, but I can tell that it's not completely gone from my system. Might need to do another round later." His voice is scratchy, and you reach for the water bottle on your bedside table, making him drink half of it. He thanks you with a soft kiss and settles back down on your chest, arms curled around your body.

You can't help but smile at him, heart overflowing with affection. "We should take a shower, pretty bird. You're sticky and I'm sticky, and we could do another round there. That sound good?"

He perks up at the mention of showering together and you laugh, pulling him up with you.

"Come on, then. If you're good then I'll use my mouth on you."

[hanniebaeee]

Tease me

Hyunlix x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

Summary: Hyunjin is on a work trip, leaving you and Felix alone at home. And when he video calls, Felix is an absolute menace, and it leads to some fun over the call.

Hyunjin had been gone for two days. Two. Long. Days. And you and Felix were starting to feel it - life was just not the same without his constant dramatics and flopping around.

And now Felix was stretched out on the couch with you, scrolling through his phone while you absently ran your fingers through his soft dark hair.

“I miss him,” you sighed, letting your other hand flop to the side dramatically.

“Same,” Felix mumbled, but he quickly looked up at you, grinning. “But his whines are still echoing in my ears.”

“You love his whining. Admit it.” You laughed, poking him in the cheek.

“I do, but I love making him whine even more.” Felix said, and just then, your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Oh finally, there it was - Hyunjin’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hehe I was waiting for this,” Felix murmured, sitting up and pulling you closer to him.

“Behave,” you warned, picking up the phone, knowing the kind of drama that was about to unfold.

But Felix was already wrapping an arm around your shoulders, nuzzling his face into your neck like the needy little devil he was. The video call connected, and Hyunjin’s beautiful face filled the screen.

“Baby!” he whined, his voice immediately breaking into that soft, needy tone that made your heart clench. “I miss you both so much - what are you doing?”

“Hi, Jinnie,” you said warmly, smiling as he ran his hand over his short hair. “We miss you too.”

“Do you?” His eyes narrowed suddenly as he noticed Felix’s smug face next to yours. Felix, who was now draped over you like a human blanket, had the audacity to smirk at the camera.

“Hi, Hyunie,” Felix purred, his voice deep and playful. “We miss you sooo much. But, I’m taking good care of our baby while you’re gone.”

“Felix, I don't remember asking you to do that! Get off of her!” Hyunjin bit out, his cheeks turning pink.

“Oh, I don’t think she minds, do you, love?” Felix grinned wider, pressing a kiss to your temple just to rile him up more.

You snorted, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered to Felix, who winked at you.

“Yah! Don’t encourage him!” Hyunjin barked, his pout turning into a full-blown glare. “Felix, I swear to god, I’m coming home tomorrow, and I’m not leaving either of you alone for a second. You hear me?”

Felix leaned closer to the camera, filling the screen with his playful expression.

“Aww, you sound jealous, Hyunjinnie. Don’t worry, I’ll save some cuddles for you. Maybe.”

“You’re so annoying!” Hyunjin groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Then, his tone softened as he looked at you, his eyes literally begging. “Babyyy, tell him to stop hogging you.”

“I don’t know,” you teased, leaning back against Felix just a little more. “He’s being pretty sweet to me right now.”

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh, slumping against the headboard.

“This is torture. Absolute torture. I’m calling the airline to book an earlier flight.” he whined and Felix burst into laughter and he kissed your cheek obnoxiously loud for Hyunjin to hear.

“Fine. Enjoy your little Felix cuddle-fest while you can. Because when I get back, it’s my turn, and I’m not sharing.” Hyunjin glared at the two of you through the screen, but his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Felix quipped, smirking devilishly before his head dipped, and his lips landed on your neck.

“Felix, I’m going to murder you when I get home,” Hyunjin growled. “Baby, don’t let him do that to you. Tell him you’re mine!”

“Oh please,” Felix scoffed, pressing a slow, teasing kiss on the crook of your neck. “But right now, she’s all mine.”

“Don't do this to me!” Hyunjin said, his pitiful look going straight to your core.

“Jinnie, you’re so cute when you’re jealous.” you laughed, leaning into Felix’s chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“I’m not cute!” Hyunjin shot back, his cheeks bright red. “I’m serious! When I get home, I’m keeping you both in bed for a week. No, two weeks!”

Felix chuckled, his hands slipping down to your thighs as he pressed his face into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses just to push Hyunjin a little more. “Sounds like someone’s desperate, huh, baby girl? Should we keep teasing him?”

“Felix, stop it!” Hyunjin groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I can't take it anymore!!”

“Good,” Felix said smugly, nipping at your earlobe. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice about leaving us alone for so long.”

Hyunjin peeked through his fingers, his dark eyes burning with frustration and longing.

“You’re both evil. When I get home, you’re not going to know what hit you.” he said, and you smiled at him, your heart aching and racing all at once.

“So, how was your day?” You asked, hoping to change the topic of discussion, while Felix was all over you like a lazy cat.

“Was fine. The meeting went really well - Felix, I’m serious!” Hyunjin’s voice cracked as he pointed at the camera, his tone caught between desperation and a growl. “If you don’t stop, I swear -”

“Oh?” Felix cut him off, smirking, his finger slipping down your chest.

His voice dropped into a sultry, teasing purr as his lips grazed your skin and said, “Like this?”

“Felix!” Hyunjin barked, slapping the table next to him. “I'm catching the next flight home!”

“Good.” Felix smiled, his freckles crinkling as he kissed your shoulder, his lips deliberately lingering. “Come home and stop me, Hyunie. I dare you.”

Your cheeks were hot, your head resting on Felix’s chest as you tried to contain your laughter. Hyunjin, however, had completely lost it. He leaned in closer to the camera, his pupils blown wide with possessiveness and lust.

“Baby,” he said, his tone pleading as he locked eyes with you. “Why are you letting him do this?”

Felix tsked, shaking his head. “Because she likes it, obviously.”

“Lix! I’m going to -” Hyunjin’s voice caught as Felix’s hand slid up your thigh, and disappeared under the little nightdress you were wearing.

“Oh, keep going,” Felix drawled, his eyes flicking to the screen. “What are you going to do, Hyun? Talk me to death?”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched, his eyes fixed on Felix’s hand, which was definitely slipping into your panties now.

“I'm gonna kill you.” Hyunjin growled, feeling his own desire going straight down there.

Your gasped, heat rushing to your face as Felix only laughed, dark and deep. He was absolutely thriving on Hyunjin’s unhinged energy. And you gasped as his fingers slipped into your folds, dripping with arousal (no surprise there).

“Promises, promises,” Felix murmured, leaning down to kiss your jawline. “But for now, baby girl’s mine to play with. Isn’t that right, love?”

You let out a nervous laugh, caught between the intense tension between the boys.

“Hyunjin…” you started, but he cut you off, his voice low and commanding.

“Watch and learn.” Felix’s voice couldn't be any more smug, as his fingers rubbed small circles on your clit. “She's so wet, Hyunie.”

Hyunjin felt himself go harder by the second. He couldn't deny that this was one of the most delicious things he's ever witnessed - the two people he loved the most putting on a show for him.

“Are you just gonna keep touching her?” He whispered, and Felix's brows shot up before his eyes met you as if asking for permission. “You know what she likes-”

And you glanced between him and Hyunjin, who was now palming himself through his pants. You swallowed and gave Felix a little nod.

That's all it took for him to quickly pull your panties down and toss it aside. And with a grin thrown at Hyunjin, Felix was off the sofa, and on his knees on the floor in front of you.

He angled the camera perfectly for Hyunjin to be able to see what was happening. Seeing the look on Hyunjin’s face, Felix wasted no time. No build up.

He went straight to lick a long strip from your slit to your clit, and it had you shaking and shivering.

“Felix…” you whispered, your heart racing.

Hyunjin let out a low, guttural groan, his hand slipped into his pants and gripped at his length. He stroked himself as he watched Felix’s tongue glide through your folds lazily.

You could barely breathe as Felix closed his lips around your clit and sucked almost harshly. Your fingers slipped through his soft hair, pulling slightly as he continued to lick through your soft lips noisily. Your body quivered with the wave of pleasure coursing through you.

Hyunjin’s breathe came out raggedly as he watched Felix's tongue slipping into you, and the soft whimpers spilling out of your lips driving him insane.

“Felix,” you hissed, biting your lip to stifle a moan. “Baby I'm so close.”

“Good,” Felix whispered, his lips returning to your clit as he slipped two fingers into you. “You good Hyunie?”

“So close-” Hyunjin whispered, his eyes darkening.

“Let go for me, love,” Felix prompted, feeling your body tense. “Let go, Hyunnie.”

Hyunjin was unraveling before your eyes. Through the screen, you saw his pouty lips were parted, his breathing heavier now, his hand moving faster.

“Oh fuck,” He moaned, and your own orgasm came crashing down as Hyunjin came hard, spilling all over his stomach and hand. “Oh my God.”

You whined as Felix continued to lap up all your release, before sitting back and smiling at you like he's won the lottery.

“Oh my God, Lixie-” You mumbled, your head falling back. “I swear you two-”

Felix started to laugh and you couldn't help but join him. You both giggled so hard, Hyunjin had to join in. And it was absolutely a mess.

“Hyunjinnie,” you murmured softly, trying to breathe as your giggles subsided. “I miss you baby, come home already!”

“Taking the first flight back. I'm done here.” He said, grabbing some tissues to wipe his hands.

Felix chuckled, joining you on the couch again.

“You better sleep with one eye open, Lix. Gonna make you regret every single second of this. And baby girl?” Hyunjin said, before turning his gaze to you, his tone softening but no less intense. “I’m going to remind you what you really like.”

You giggled again and Felix grinned, clearly thrilled by Hyunjin’s reaction.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “I’ll be waiting for you, Hyun. But until then…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, letting his actions speak louder than his words as his lips captured yours in a kiss so deep and searing. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it just made everything more hot.

“You’re the worst, Felix,” Hyunjin groaned, though he was smiling. “I hate how much I love you right now.”

Felix laughed, winking at Hyunjin.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Felix, baby,” Hyunjin said, lifting his head to glare at the two of you through the screen. “You’re both dead when I get home.”

And from the heat in his voice, you knew he wasn’t lying. And you couldn't wait.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun

[melodyofmbaku]

Her House, Her Rules (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Warning ⚠️: They're a trio.

Preview: Annie was the center of their world, their matriarch, sun, moon, stars and the fucking sky where they were concerned.

Word Count: 1.94k

A/N: Ya'll gonna have me writing a fic a day and I kinda love it. Keep the requests coming 🤠💁🏾‍♀️

____

“Now you know she ain’t like you doin’ all that in the house Stack.” Smoke warned his brother as he saw him light up his cigar.

The boys were laid up on different couches opposite each other in just their boxers. It was a sticky southern summer day and they were taking no chances in the hot ass sun. They were both men of the night now. 

Stack had convinced his brother to join him in his world of eternity shortly after he turned. And his brother didn’t decline. Living in a world without his brother was unfathomable. 

When they told Annie, she struggled for a while - she didn’t want that life for herself but still wanted them in her life. Annie chose to love them anyway. She married them anyway. And that’s why she was the love of their life.

Annie was the center of their world, their matriarch, sun, moon, stars and the fucking sky where they were concerned. So when she expressed her dislike of them smoking in the house, it wasn’t a question of if the boys would smoke in the house. The boys, wouldn’t smoke in the house. 

Smoke's warning caused his younger brother to roll his eyes as he took a drag. 

“Well, this my house too.” Stack replied back with an impish grin. 

“Ion want no trouble. You not bouta fuck up my chance of getting some tonight cuz you wanna be smart Stack. Put it out.” The older commanded the younger. 

He shook his head.

“It’s just this one time and she ain’t here so she ain’t gon’ know. Unless you tell her.” Stack stared pointedly at his twin.

“You gon tell her?” He asked with a raised brow before sucking on his cigar once more. The flavour filled his dead lungs and swirled about for a bit before he exhaled. That was one thing he liked about being undead. The mechanics of his body worked differently. There’d be no choking over here. 

“We took vows man why, you always wanna rock the boat?” Smoke asked highly annoyed at his brothers antics. 

“Yeah yeah, I ain’t cheatin’. Just smokin’.” he took a hit of his cigar obnoxiously once more.

“I’m here bored as hell man. Can I live? You want some?” he asked his older brother cheekily.

He received a glare in response. Smoke still — smoked — obviously but just out on the porch, adhering to the rules his lady had for the house. The boys may have been undead, but her potted plants were not.

“I married her too Smoke. So if we gotta problem I’ll take it up with her myself.” 

And that was the thing with Stack, he was all bark and no bite because when his lady pulled up to the house earlier than expected he started singing a very different off key tune.

Annie's melodic laugh carried from the front porch into the house as her footsteps sounded on the wood, getting closer and closer to the door. 

“I’ll see ya’ll later! Next time bring a towel!” She yelled back at the girls whose car squealed off down the dirt road. 

“Shit.” Stack exclaimed frantically trying to stow away the evidence of his crime. 

She wasn’t supposed to be back yet. She said she’d be hanging out with the girls at the lake and coming home in the evening to make dinner. Stack's eyes found the clock, it was not time for dinner. 

The speed in which he ashed the cigar would’ve been comical if it hadn’t left a burn mark on the couch. 

“Fuck!” he spat. He flapped his arms about looking for a solution. 

The front screen door creaked open. She was here. 

Smoke glowered at him before rising to greet their wife. “Hey baby, you had fun playin’ in the water?” He’d angled himself strategically to block her view of Stacks soiled couch. He rubbed his hands on her arms, still a little damp from her dip. 

The move gave his twin enough time to throw a blanket over the mark and kick the cigar box full of evidence under the couch. 

“Yeah. Mary forgot her towel, so we had to cut it short.” 

She stretched up and kissed her husband long and deep before orienting herself around him to find her other one. Once her eyes landed on Stack she grinned. 

She tapped her lips expectantly and Stack closed the distance between them and ducked down before giving her a quick kiss.

She frowned at the small display of affection before she began unpacking her bag and recounting the events of her day. She covered everything from the moment she left the house until the second she landed back on the porch.

The boys typically liked hearing about her days, especially because they didn’t really experience them anymore. They barely saw the people they grew up with now, unless it was in the dark of night. A juke, a party, a hang… then they’d show, because that’s the only time they could.

“I missed y’all.” Annie said before collapsing back into Smoke’s lap on the couch. 

“We missed you too princess.” Smoke responded stroking her arm once more. He was always touching.  

“What’d you guys get into while I was gone?” She asked, beaming across the room at Stack. It was their turn to share with her the events of their day. 

Stack spoke up quickly. 

“We was thinking we change up the sitting room. These couches bout old as hell, I bet Mr. Chow got the connect on somethin’ nice and new for us. What you think?”

She looked around her and she scrunched up her nose.  “What’s wrong with what we got right now?”

“Nothin’!” Smoke replied alarmed and eyes wide.  

Annie furrowed her brow. Maybe they could use a bit of a refresh across the house stylistically. She shared her thoughts contemplatively. 

“Ion know bout somethin’ new. But maybe we could ask the girls at the shop for some new fabric, maybe change that. She’ll be good as new. No need to spend all that extra money.” She gestured to their fully functioning, not that old couch. 

“We got more than enough money.” Smoke reassured her as he always did, rubbing her back. He was the bookkeeper of their little family. He handled the money stuff, he made sure they were always good. Budgets, projections, the whole 9. 

Smoke didn’t wanna get involved in this play at all, but he saw the potential and it could work.  They’d replace the couch, Annie would be none the wiser and he'd still get to draw moans out of her that evening. It was a win-win. He chimed in. 

“Nah mama, we wanna make sure it’s nice and new. Chow got some styles from up North. Lemme talk to him.” Smoke bent down and placed a kiss on her temple once more.

“Let us handle it baby.” Stack said from across the room. 

She hesitated before nodding. 

“Ok.. I’ll leave y’all to it.” She said as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep in her lovers arms.

Smoke had stepped out that evening. Had to go check in on some business things and he didn’t want to be in the house right now, he was a bad liar and the more he could avoid Annie the better. 

Stack stayed home and kept Annie company but unfortunately the couch incident was steady on his mind. He didn’t like lying to Annie; it didn't sit right in his stomach. That evening she kept smiling at him, feeding him and loving him and it was all too much for him. Why’d she have to be so good? 

She had resigned herself to her room to wind down before bed. Stack couldn’t do it anymore. He had to confess. 

He marched himself over to her room and knocked on her door. The boys made sure the second bedroom was just for Annie. There she could make herself up, or just have a space away from them whenever she needed it. There was only 1 Annie and two of them, they never wanted her to be overwhelmed.

“Come in.” her voice travelled across the room and through the door. 

“Hi baby.” She beckoned him inside. She was laying on her bed, reading a book. He stepped inside the room and shut the door quietly. He stayed at the door though.

One thing Stack couldn’t deal with was anxiety. Annie helped him with that, and alot of his other emotional regulatory issues. He bit his lip. “I can come over there?” 

Annie looked at him funny. “Of course.”

He walked over and kneeled beside the bed. 

“I have something to tell you. Promise me you ain’t gon be mad.”

Her lip quipped up. “That depends on what you bouta tell me Elias.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Her hand shot out to stroke his face lovingly. She had the sweetest spot for him. Elijah was daddy, but Elias? Elias was baby. 

“I promise sweet boy.”

Elias hung his head low before blurting out:

“Ismokedinthehouseandfuckedupyourcouchandimsorry.”

Annies face was deadpan. 

“You wanna say that again, in a language I can understand?”

He took a deep breath and tried again. Eyes still squeezed shut. 

“I was smoking in the house and fucked up the couch and I’m sorry.”

The room was silent for a moment before Annie broke it with her response.

“I know.”

“Now I know you mad —“ he stopped. His face scrunched up and his shoulders dropped the stress leaving his body like a waterfall.

“You know?”

She nodded her head. A small smile tugging on her lips. 

“Smoke told you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then how you know?” He asked bewildered.

“I checked it out when I woke up from my nap on the couch. I lifted up the blanket you threw over the burn when y'all thought you were being slick conspiring in the kitchen. You never use a blanket.”

And it was true. Stack ran hot. Sweaty all the damn time. The fluffy fabric being draped all over his couch was uncharacteristic of him.  

“You not mad?”

“I ain’t happy that you lied to me, but it was creative and I wanted to see how long you could keep it up.” she wore an amused smile on her face. 

He huffed before admitting.  “I been feeling bad all night.”

“Who's fault is that?” She asked raising a brow. 

“You right.”

He paused before her spoke up again. “So you not mad?” He asked to clarify once more. 

“No. I’m not mad Elias. Plus, y'all wanted to replace my couch with no fuss. I ain’t complaining… just know I’ll want new carpets too.” She responded, looking pleased with herself. 

“Good luck explaining that one to your brother with his budgets. Time for you to go Elias. Shut the door on your way out.” she said before turning her back to her husband.

He rose from her bedside and smiled before heading towards the door. 

“Night Annie.”

“Elias?” she called out.

He stopped, hand hovering over the doorknob. He was so close. 

“No more smoking in the house. Next time I won’t be as forgiving.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He responded before closing the door quietly and assessing himself. 

He was relieved for a second because he was no longer lying to his wife and she wasn't mad. His chest puffed up. See? Wasn’t nothing to worry about. 

That was before he realized the predicament he was in and he deflated quite shortly after.

He done traded one problem for another. 

New fucking carpets too?

Smoke was gonna whoop his ass. 

---

Taglist

@sarcastic-sunshines @chaneajoyyy

[wendichester]

and when i say the people want witch reader fic with sam!! maybe her and dean don’t get along at first bc they hunt her kind usually, but then they become frenemies… and eventually bffs who bicker for fun

i feel like she grew up around bobby a lot bc her mom didn’t want her seeing darker witchy stuff when hunting darker evil witches, so dean lightens up, but reader knows bunch of psychics and other witches so he’s always a little creeped out but sam adores every part of her

lol can you tell i’ve been thinking about this for a minute.. tehee

i’m absolutely obsessed with your work btw, i’m always in the front row when you post YOURE SO TALENTED AND AMAZING!!!

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ hocus pocus,

summary. for a man that pretends to be so cold, bobby singer has a thing for taking in strays: you... the winchesters... and boy, when you meet it's anything but ordinary.

pairing. dean + sam winchester x witch!reader genre. fluff

wordcount. 663

notes / warnings. hope i was able to depict a little of your idea well~ thank you for the request sweets 🩷

The first time you meet Sam Winchester, he’s bleeding.

Not a polite little scrape, either—no, it’s a full-blown, horror-movie gash on his side, shirt clinging wet and red as he stumbles into Bobby’s yard like some tragic, six-foot-four cowboy who got in a knife fight with destiny.

You’re on the porch, barefoot, holding a mug of lemon balm tea and wearing a shirt that says Hexing Is My Cardio.

Dean’s with him. Of course he is.

He’s the one doing most of the yelling, gun in one hand, suspicion all over his face like it’s his default setting. When he sees you, he stops dead. Eyes narrow.

“Bobby,” he barks toward the open door, “why is there a witch on your porch?”

You sip your tea.

“Why is there a dumbass bleeding on your lawn?” you shoot back.

Sam laughs. Just one soft huff, but it’s there. Dean whips around, scandalized.

“I told you she was real,” Sam mutters, slumping down onto the steps with a wince.

“Yeah, and I told you not to trust things with altars in their bedroom and crystal balls in their glovebox.”

You raise a hand, waving lazily. “Hi. Crystal balls are so last decade. I use a scrying app now.”

Dean turns to Bobby, desperate. “Are you seriously letting this—this Hot Topic oracle camp out here?”

Bobby shuffles in with his arms crossed and zero patience. “She’s been here since she was ten, idjit. She’s got more sense than both of you combined.”

That shuts him up. Briefly.

You crouch beside Sam, fingers brushing his wrist lightly. “May I?” you ask, nodding toward the wound.

Sam meets your gaze—wide, pain-flickered, curious. “Yeah. Please.”

Dean starts objecting the second your palm hovers over the gash.

“She’s not touching you, Sam, she could be—"

But then the cut starts to close. The blood dries like it’s afraid of you. The wound stitches itself under your glowing fingertips and leaves nothing behind but smooth skin and Dean’s stunned silence.

You glance up, smirking. “Still breathing, big guy?”

Dean blinks. “...That’s not normal.”

“No,” Sam says quietly, looking at you like you’ve just rewritten every law of physics. “But it’s incredible.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

Dean stomps into the kitchen, muttering something about “mushrooms that weren’t there yesterday” and “freaky wind chimes whispering Latin.”

You’re at the counter with Sam, showing him how to interpret tea leaves like a proper chaos goblin. You smirk when Dean holds up a jar of herbs.

“This just tried to bite me.”

“That’s mugwort,” you reply sweetly. “It doesn’t like you.”

Sam hides a smile behind his hand. “She warned you not to open anything that smells like licorice and death.”

Dean glares at both of you. “I’m surrounded. This is a coven. This is a trap.”

“It’s a tea lesson,” you say. “Try having a hobby that doesn’t involve salt rounds.”

He grumbles. Loudly. But he doesn’t leave the kitchen.

You catch Sam watching you again—he does that a lot now. His eyes linger when he thinks you won’t notice, like he’s cataloging your movements, memorizing your magic, your laugh, the curve of your smile when you’re trying not to flirt.

Dean notices too. But his way of coping is to huff and puff and insult your wardrobe like a teenage girl with a crush.

“You wear any more black, you’ll start blending into the shadows,” he mutters, chewing toast like it personally offended him.

You raise a brow. “Coming from a man who owns five shirts and three of them say AC/DC.”

Bobby snorts in the hallway.

Dean raises a finger like he’s about to deliver a scathing comeback—and then just mutters, “Whatever,” and walks off.

Sam leans closer to you, voice a low hum near your ear. “That was actually the nicest he’s ever been to someone who could light him on fire with a thought.”

“Aw,” you whisper, “he does like me.”

Sam grins, cheeks a little pink. “I really, really do.”

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[pomegranatelifethis]

Naughty fur ball

Bruce Wayne

As the father figure, Bruce’s first instinct would be to protect his youngest, even in cat form. He’d be on high alert, imagining every corner of the Batcave as a potential hazard for a tiny kitten. "Stay off the ledge—Alfred, where’s Zatanna’s ETA?" he’d bark, already mentally cataloging every spell he knows to reverse this. But your naughty streak would unravel him. You’d scamper up his leg, claws digging into his suit, and perch on his shoulder, swatting at his cowl’s ears. When he tries to gently pluck you off, you’d leap onto his workbench, knocking over a tray of meticulously organized Batarangs—one lands on his foot, another triggers a smoke pellet, filling the cave with haze. He’d cough, glaring through the fog as you dart away, leaving paw prints on his case files. Later, he’d find you napping in his utility belt pouch, and despite the chaos—shredded reports, a scratched Batmobile hood—he’d soften, muttering, "You’re still grounded when you’re human again," while stroking your tiny head.

Dick Grayson

Dick, the doting big brother, would melt at the sight of his baby sibling as a kitten. "Look at you, the tiniest acrobat!" he’d coo, scooping you up and spinning you around like you’re still human. But your naughtiness would turn his joy into a frantic chase. You’d wriggle free, clawing his favorite blue-and-black suit as you escape, leaving tiny tears in the fabric. He’d laugh it off—until you pounce on his escrima sticks, batting them across the room. One rolls under the Batcomputer, and Dick’s on his knees, pleading, "Come on, little gremlin, give it back!" You’d respond by climbing the curtains, shredding them as you go, and when he tries to grab you, you leap onto his head, tangling his hair with your claws. By the end, he’s sprawled on the floor, panting, with you smugly licking your paws on his chest, and he’d groan, "You’re worse than Damian’s pets."

Jason Todd

Jason would see your kitten form as a chance to tease the baby of the family mercilessly. "Aw, the little brat’s finally bite-sized," he’d snicker, dangling a piece of string just out of reach. But you’d turn the tables—swatting the string, then lunging at his hand, leaving a scratch that makes him yelp. "You tiny demon!" he’d growl, chasing you as you dart under the couch. You’d emerge with his favorite lighter in your mouth, dropping it into a glass of water with a smug flick of your tail. Furious, he’d rig a trap with a cardboard box and a burger—only for you to knock the burger onto his boots, then climb his bookshelf and send his entire collection of paperbacks crashing down. He’d stand in the wreckage, shouting, "I’m trading you for a goldfish!"—but when you curl up in his helmet to nap, he’d grumble, pick it up gently, and let you sleep, muttering about "damn cute menaces."

Tim Drake

Tim, the sleep-deprived genius, would be equal parts fascinated and frazzled by his youngest sibling as a kitten. "Okay, let’s analyze this—magic, tech, or toxin?" he’d muse, scribbling notes while you bat at his pen. He’d try to keep you contained, setting you on his desk with a toy—big mistake. You’d knock over his coffee mug, soaking his keyboard, and when he lunges to save it, you’d leap onto his conspiracy board, claws tearing strings and photos loose. "No, no, no, that took weeks!" he’d wail, chasing you as you scamper off with a pushpin in your mouth. He’d rig a high-tech laser pointer to distract you, but you’d outsmart it, climbing his shelves to knock over his energy drink stash—cans rolling, spraying everywhere. By the time he’s mopping up, hair wild and eyes twitching, you’d be napping on his ruined laptop, and he’d collapse in a chair, muttering, "I need a vacation… or a tranq gun."

Damian Wayne

Damian, the self-appointed protector of all animals (and his baby sibling), would take your kitten form as a personal mission. "You are small, but fierce. I will train you," he’d declare, setting out a tiny obstacle course. But your naughtiness would derail his plans—you’d ignore the course, pouncing instead on Titus’s tail, sparking a barking chase that ends with a toppled lamp. Damian would scoop you up, scolding, "You must respect the pack!"—only for you to wriggle free and climb his katana display, knocking blades to the floor with a clatter. He’d dive to save them, shouting, "This is anarchy!" When you team up with Alfred the Cat to shred his sketchbook, he’d stand amid the chaos, torn between admiration and fury, finally sitting cross-legged with you in his lap, muttering, "You are a worthy adversary… for now."

Barbara Gordon

Babs would adore her baby sibling as a kitten, cooing over the comms, "You’re too cute to be legal." She’d hack the manor cams to track you, chuckling as you wreak havoc—until you find her tech stash. You’d chew through a spare headset cable, and she’d roll in, shouting, "Not the gear!" You’d dart off, knocking over a stack of external drives, and when she corners you, you’d leap onto her chair, claws snagging her sweater. She’d try to bribe you with a laser pointer, but you’d ignore it, climbing her monitor and accidentally hitting the “mute all” button during a team call—leaving the Batfamily yelling into silence. Exasperated but amused, she’d scoop you up, muttering, "You’re lucky you’re adorable," as you purr against her neck.

Stephanie Brown

Steph would be your chaos co-conspirator, thrilled to see the baby of the family as a naughty kitten. "We’re gonna rule this place!" she’d cheer, tossing you a toy to bat at Tim’s head. She’d egg you on—dangling treats to lure you onto Jason’s bike, where you’d claw the seat, or encouraging you to shred Dick’s laundry. But when you turn on her, clawing her favorite purple cape, she’d gasp, "Betrayal!" and chase you with a squirt bottle—only for you to knock over her smoothie, splattering it across the kitchen. The two of you would end up in a standoff, her armed with a pillow, you hissing from atop the fridge, until Bruce walks in and sighs at the mess. She’d grin, scoop you up, and say, "Worth it," even as you swat her nose.

Cassandra Cain

Cass, the quiet observer, would find your kitten antics both endearing and exhausting. She’d watch you with a small smile, reading your every twitch—until you strike. You’d claw her favorite scarf, and she’d blink, surprised, before gently nudging you away. But you’d escalate, climbing her leg to perch on her shoulder, then leaping onto a shelf to knock over her meditation candles. She’d chase you silently, dodging as you bat at her hair, and when you finally tire out, she’d sit cross-legged, letting you nap in her lap. Later, she’d find her stealth suit with tiny claw marks and just shake her head, murmuring, "Little trouble," with a rare grin—knowing she’d helped you prank Jason earlier by leaving his gloves out.

Alfred Pennyworth

Alfred, ever the patient guardian, would treat you like royalty at first—setting out a tiny dish of water and a cushion. "Even as a feline, you are family, young master," he’d say. But your naughtiness would test even his saintly calm. You’d knock over his silver tray, scattering biscuits, then climb the pantry shelves, sending flour and sugar crashing down. He’d pursue you with a broom, muttering, "This is undignified," as you dart off with a stolen tea bag. The final straw would be you clawing the dining room drapes into ribbons—he’d freeze, sigh deeply, and say, "I shall require a raise, Master Bruce." Yet when you curl up purring in his apron pocket, he’d stroke your fur, resigned but fond, and start cleaning the wreckage.

The Chaos

The Batcave and manor would be a disaster zone. Bruce trips over scattered Batarangs while chasing you off the Batcomputer, where you’ve activated the siren. Dick’s wrestling with shredded curtains, Jason’s buried under his toppled books, and Tim’s sobbing over a coffee-soaked motherboard. Damian’s swinging from the rafters after you knock over his sword rack, Steph’s cackling as you claw her smoothie-sticky fridge perch, and Babs is locked in with a malfunctioning system you triggered. Cass watches silently as you nap post-rampage, and Alfred’s sweeping up flour with a martyred air. When Zatanna arrives, the family’s begging, "Fix the kid!"—not because they don’t love you, but because their sanity’s hanging by a thread.

@jscrawls @Welpthisisboring @lilyalone @itsberrydreemurstuff

English is not my native language