#but now im just like it looks like what it looks like man

[luvyeni]

THE HIGH LIFE 𝕼. ( 02z )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 박종성 x fem!reader )  ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. rich!enhypen , exotic dancer!reader , threesome , oral ( m ), unprotected sex, double penetration word count. 2.5k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

synopsis … jay doesn’t mind sharing his new and favorite girl

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ why can’t i ever find a good clear photo of these three … anyways here it is and I hope you like you !

jake and sunghoon walked through the club ; the different half dressed dancer staring at them with hunger in their eyes; it’s like they could smell the money radiating off of the boys — they could see it too , just by the way they skipped the long line outside.

“the internet was right , jay really outdid himself with this club.” sunghoon eyed up a dancer who just smirked at him walking away. “where is that fucker anyway?” they searched around the club , weaving through all the people. “there he is.” jake pointed , the boy was sitting in vip , surrounded by very beautiful women scrolling through his phone; sunghoon scoffed. “cocky fucking bastard.” they made their way over to the vip section. “did you forget you invited or what?”

jay looked up from him phone ; shooing the dancers away. “go have some fun , make some money.” he said , sending the bouncers waiting in front away. ”you guys are an hour late.” he said , jake and sunghoon sat down. “sorry we have our own businesses to attend to.” sunghoon said. “besides seems like you had enough company to keep you business.” jake smirked. “not like you paid attention to them , how the fuck could you be glued to your phone while surrounded by so many sexy ladies?”

the three current young; rich and trending men sat in the secluded section in the crowded club. “yeah they’re all pretty , they make me tons of money but that’s pretty much it.” he shrugged. “you serious man?” jake took a sip of his drink. “all these pretty girls and not one you’ve taken home to that big lonely apartment of yours?” sunghoon asked not convinced at the words he was hearing. “stop fucking lying.”

he sat back in his seat with a smirk. “well there’s one.” he said , his friends exchanging glances between each other. “only one? well she’s got to be real fucking special to get the park jongseongs undivided attention.” jake said. “are you serious with her?” jay shook his head. “that’s the thing , she’s not looking to date , just a quick fuck here and there.” he said. “and pay her fucking bills probably.” jay didn’t take offense to that , he did pay for your living , but with all the money he had it was nothing to him. “she’s happy and im very , and i like to keep my girls happy.”

“so let’s meet her.” jay raised his hands , calling over one of the dancers. “yes mr. park.” sunghoon rolled his eyes , while jake smirked. “go get yn , tell her to get pretty and come out.” the dancer nodded , walking away. “mr. park? you narcissistic fuckhead.”

meanwhile you sat on the pink couch jay placed in the room you and the rest of the girls got ready in. “you dancing tonight yn?” another dancer asked you. “or are you waiting for jay to get off.” you smirked hearing the condescending tone in her voice. “don't start this today.” hana a bartender that you were friends with said. “let’s be real here , yn is the best dancer here , has the nicest ass and a good pair of tits , if it wasn’t gonna be her than it wasn’t gonna be you.” the door opened with a dancer walking in. “yn you’re working vip tonight for jay and his friends.”

you stood up off the couch , undoing your pink silky robe. “have fun tonight ladies.” you said , staring at the dancer who was red with anger. “maybe when im done with him you can have him , that’s a big maybe and when.” you said , slipping into your heels walking out of the room ; letting them deal with the girls' tantrum , you’ve gotten used to it now ever since the girls figured out the situation you and jay had going on. that’s exactly what it was a situation — you and him had fun and he showered you with gifts, nothing more.

you immediately caught jays eye as you made your way over to the section with a fresh bottle of the most expensive alcohol in your hand that you got when you stopped by the counter. “that’s an expensive bottle.” jay said. “and i guess it was on my dime?” you smiled. “now why would it be on mine?” you sat it in the ice. “you called me out here didn’t you?” you said. “well that’s because i wanted you to meet some friends of mine.” you turned facing the two very attractive men sitting in front of you. “you have very attractive friends.”

“ah don’t make me jealous.” jay said , his arm snaking around your waist pulling you into his lap. “you called me out here to play and i want to play.” you pouted , your eyes trained on sunghoon. “i like that one.” you pointed , sunghoon raised his eyebrow. “me?” he said you nodded. “yeah you.” oh you were snippy , he liked that. “told she’s a handful hoon.” jay rubbed your waist , he allowed you to do what you wanted , but at the end of the day he knew whose bed you’d end up in once the club closed. ”hoon.” you let his name fall from your lips in a sultry tone. “is he paying?” you asked more so him. “i have the money.” jay removed his arm , you stood up walking over to him. “good.”

you sat down right on his lap; his arm came around you to keep you upright. “don’t be so scared , you can look.” you whispered in his ear. “or touch i don’t mind , but that’s gonna cost you extra.” you felt him gripping your side. “princess play nice.” jay said. “i don’t think i want to.” you bit your bottom lip. “she’s a brat jay , i see why you like her so much.” you moved around in his lap , he hissed. “she’s too cute though.” jay said , jake sitting there , he hadn’t said anything since you came over , but you could feel his eyes on you. “is he a little shy?”

you moved to sunghoons other leg , resting your arms on the chair ; you leaned over to him. “thats jake baby.” you smiled. “well jake are you shy?” he shook his head. “no?” you tilted your head to the side. “that’s good , shy men bore me.” jay watched you , a drink in his hand , lure his friends into your sexy but dangerous web. “princess.” he spoke up. “how about we move this to a more private space?” he could see your eyes basically light up , standing up , grabbing your hand. “you guys coming?”

the four of you definitely knew what you were on the moment the door closed to the red room; jay immediately moved your hair to the side , kissing your neck; pulling your straps to your bra down. “you know what to do princess.” the three men stood in front of you; you slowly peeled the very little clothing you had on , a look of hunger and lust in their eyes as your boobs bounced due to the lack of a bra. “fuck , sexy ain’t she?” the two boys nodded; you pulled your panties off , throwing them at jake , leaving your thigh garters and heels on. “don’t just stand there like a bunch of pussies.”

“you know i don’t really like that mouth she has on her.” sunghoon said , he was the first one to walk over to you. “makes you want to shut her up doesn’t it?” jake nodded. “she’s too talkative , let's end that.” jake said , already unbuckling his jeans. “shut her up.” he sat down , freeing himself from his pants , his cock springing up , slapping against his stomach; he was a nice size , thick enough. his tip was read and leaking with precum. “look at her drooling like a slut.”

“suck him off.” jay commanded ; sitting down in the seat watching as you took him into your hand , jerking him off. “fuck.” jake groaned. “so big.” you go face to his cock , your ass in the air giving jay and sunghoon a look at your drenched cunt. “look at that.” jay slapped your ass , you moaned ; jake grabbing the back of your head , pushing your head down on his cock. “look at that wet pussy.” sunghoon chuckled. “drenched like a fucking slut.”

jake had you by your hair , guiding your head up and down on his cock , gagging on it as jay sunk a finger inside you. “gotta stretch this pussy out before we completely ruin it.” you moaned around jakes cock which made him moan. “fu-fuck her throat is so fucking good.”

“she’s ready.” jay pulled his fingers out of your hole. “try and be a little gentle.” he told sunghoon , but the way the boy slapped your ass ; you could tell he was gonna be anything but that. “such a nice fucking ass.” he growled watching it jiggle. “pussy so wet , you’re fucking dripping like a little whore.” you moaned , pulling off of jakes cock with a pop , jerking him off. “are you gonna put it in or are you gonna stand there and slap my ass all night.” you teased , rubbing your ass back on his cock. “fuck.” he groaned , pushing himself right inside you ; you moaned out , taking jake back into your mouth.

“fucking slut just letting me in like that.” sunghoon dug his finger into the flesh of your ass. “pussy was waiting for one of us to fill it.” he moved his hips ; you tried to moan , but your mouth was occupied by jake bucking up into your mouth , the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. “ fuck fuck!” he cursed. “fuck im gonna cum.” jake pushed your head all the way down , his cock twitching as his cum shot from his tip into your throat. “ah fuck , fucking shit!” jake cursed , as you released your mouth. “shit that felt good.” he sighed , throwing his head back , your head was pushed against the couch cushions as sunghoon plowed you from the back.

“ah shit , slutty pussy got wet just from him cumming down your throat.” sunghoon thrusted deep inside you. “fucking nasty slut.” jay stood up from his seat. “pull out.” he said , sunghoon pulled out leaving you wanting more. “you gonna take us both princess , you cool with that?” jay said , you smiled , nodding as you climbed into his lap , your back against his chest. “used to taking more than one cock?” sunghoon said. “don’t think you’ll live up to it?” you bit back , he smirked. “bet.”

“both of you calm down.” you moaned as jay rubbed his cock along your folds , your head dropping back against his shoulder. “both of you are gonna get what you want.” he pushed himself inside you , filling bottoming out. “oh fuck that’s princess , let’s open you up for sunghoons cock.” his fingers coming to your folds pulling your pussy lips apart already being split by his cock. “don’t worry bro she can handle it.” jay said , sunghoon smirked , rubbing his cock along your folds. “not like she had much a choice anyway.”

sunghoon pushed himself inside you ; stretching you open along with jay. “ah fuck!” you screamed as they both moved the same time. “fuck fuck.” both of them moving , one in and one out; you were never not filled , both of them fucking you ; and then jake wasn’t done , coming back over to , slapped his cock on your boobs , rubbing his tip along your nipples. “mmh fuck , such pretty tits.” you tilt your head , taking his tip into your mouth. “fuck.” jay moaned out. “guess she wants her mouth full again.”

you nodded moaning as you bring him back into you mouth. jays hand came up to your boobs, squeezing them as he bucked up into you. “don’t cum.” he whispered in your ear. “you cum when it’s just me and you.” you moaned , nodding. “fuck , im gonna cum.” sunghoon said , pulling out jerking his cock off. “fuck.”

jake also pulled out , his tip pressed against your cheek as he stroked his cock. “down on your knees baby you’re gonna take all of our cum.” you stood up , legs wobbly as get down on your knees , letting them all circle around you jerking off , they all groaned as they came at different times , covering your face with their loads. “look at the slut.” sunghoon said , squeezing his length , milking himself. “covered in cum.” jay looked down at you , bringing his hand up to your cheek , pushing his thumb into your mouth. “good girl.”

jay covered you in his jacket ; letting you lay there while he handled business with them outside. “i really do fucking understand you.” jake said. “i wouldn’t mind taking her home for a few nights too.” jay shook his head. “what she does when i don’t see her is not my business.”

“just know she will always end up back in my bed , spending my dime.”

©️LUVYENI

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Real Man"

Older Au Chapter 3.

THIS IS A MATURE STORY. IT HAS SOME SEXUAL SENCES, IF YOU DONT LIKE DON'T READ. Ok yall ik i said i was gonna post this last night but i hated it so i rewrote it! if it sucks don't say anything pls. sorry if it's repetitive, lmk whose team ur on!!! And what you want to happen next. comments, reblogs, likes and kind asks are always appreciated. If this one random anon keeps sending theses crazy things, i'll have to remove anon asks, which I dont want to do. I love my anons, so pls be nice. Send in asks, I miss yall, I've been sooooo busy with school lately and I havent had time to get on here. THIS IS MY 1ST TIME WRITNG ANYTHING LIKE THIS SO LMK HOW IT ISSSSS

WHY AM I GETTING THE FEWLINF EVERYONE HATES THIS??? IM ABT TO DELEYEB TS NGL 😭

Six months had passed since that night—the night you let Slade’s words sink into your skin like venom and made the choice that changed everything. For better and worse.

You hadn't accepted his offer easily. Not after what happened with Two-Face. That betrayal still sat in your chest like a dull ache, a constant reminder of how easily people could take what they wanted and leave you with nothing. You had sworn not to trust so easily again, not to let yourself fall into another cycle of being used and discarded. So when Slade made his offer, you hesitated.

"You're smarter than this," you had told yourself that night. "You know what happens when you trust the wrong person. You know what men like him want."

And yet, here you were. Living in his world.

Not as a prisoner, not as a puppet, but as something more. The lines were blurred, shifting with every glance, every order he gave that you didn’t question, every moment that stretched too long in the dim glow of your shared space. Because that’s what it was now, shared.

The apartment Slade had set up was far from a safe house. It was huge and spacious, Slade wasn't a cheap man. It felt lived in. Your things mingled with his, your scent lingering in the air. You bought vases and filled them with flowers, you organized the kitchen and bought him real groceries, not just canned food. You hung pictures you developed of you and him. Ones he didn't know you took. You roped him into painting your room a baby blue, a color he swore he hated, yet he still slept in your room every night. It was comical to see such a large man laying in a pastel colored room on your floral bedsheets, the last man you let into your bed was equally large. But we don't talk about him.

Slade cared for you deeply, or at least tolerated you. At first you were always at each others throats, each person throwing a more cutting remark than the other. When your arguements got so bad that you began to ignore him, he brought home women, made sure he heard them moaning through the walls till you snapped and began screaming.

You hated Slade Wilson

But after the first month things began to change, Slade never said anything about it, but you caught the way his eyes would darken when he returned from a mission, his gaze sweeping over you like he needed to confirm you were still here. Like he expected you to disappear.

You leaned against the counter, watching him from the corner of your eye as he cleaned his weapons. The rhythmic motion of his hands, the way he handled each blade with the kind of care most reserved for something fragile, it was almost mesmerizing. Everything he does is.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up. God, he's so smug.

You scoffed. "No, you are. I don't stare at creepy old men. In fact, it's usually the opposite."

His lips curled into that knowing smirk, the one that made something tighten in your chest. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

The nickname used to irritate you. Now, you weren’t sure what it did. All you knew was that it made your heart race the way only one person had before. He used to call you sweetheart too.

Slade’s presence in your life was suffocating, an unshakable force that wrapped itself around you, squeezing tighter with every passing day. He was cruel in the way he trained you, brutal in his expectations. If you failed, he had no patience for it. Slade trained you for greatness and he wouldn't tolerate anything less.

“You call that a punch?” he sneered one evening in your early days of training, after you had barely managed to land a hit on him. “Pathetic. I’ve seen senior citizens put up more of a fight,"

Gritting your teeth, you launched at him again, only for him to sidestep effortlessly. A sharp pain bloomed across your ribs as he shoved you down, hard. The thing that you loved and hated most about Slade was that he treated you like an equal. He didn't see you as his younger, fragile, kind-of girlfriend; he saw you as an equal opponent.

“You hesitated,” he said, standing over you. “That hesitation will get you killed.”

You spat blood onto the mat and glared up at him. “Or maybe I just don’t care if I live or die. Nothing is ever really this serious.”

Something flickered in his eye, dark and unreadable, before he crouched beside you. His fingers dug into your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He didn't understand your humor sometimes, considering he's old enough to be your father.

“Oh, but you do, you want to survive. To be great, ” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

He let go of you with a sharp shove and stood. “Get up. We’re not done.”

The tension between you both had only grown over the months. Slade had a way of pressing in, invading your space without ever needing to touch you. Sure you guys fucked almost twice, sometimes three times a week, but there was that small sliver of confusion and hesitation.

Sure, he slept in your bed ever night now, called it "our room," and sure you stayed up waiting when his missions would take too long. Yeah, you would run and jump into his open arms, feeling nothing but content as he kissed your forehead and took you to the bed, it's normal that ya'll didn't even have sex some nights, that you just cuddled.

Sometimes, you swore he was waiting, waiting for you to be the one to close that final inch between you. But you never did. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you fell into a rhythm. Training. Fighting. Learning with him and laughing with him. He pushed you harder than anyone ever had, demanding perfection, never letting you slip back into old habits. He didn’t coddle you like they did. He didn’t pretend you were something delicate. He made you strong.

Most nights, after an exhausting day of training, you would sit on the brown leather couch cuddled up to him with your head on his chest and his arms around you, the dim glow of the television flickering between you. Slade wasn’t much for small talk, you talked enough for the both of you, but the silence between you felt... comfortable, almost warm

“Why did you take me in?” you had asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

He had taken a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. “Because I saw something in you,” he finally answered. “Potential. Something you’re too afraid to admit to yourself.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, you wondered if there was truth in his words. You liked that he believed in you, no one had done that before.

Then there were the other moments. The ones that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge. The way he stood too close when showing you how to hold a blade properly, his breath warm against your skin. The way his hands lingered too long when correcting your stance. The way his gaze dropped to your lips before he forced himself to look away.

Neither of you ever acknowledged it. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. It's completely normal for your teacher/mentor/enemy to sleep in the same bed as you every night. It'd be weird if you didn't make breakfast and dinner for the two of you. It'd be weird if you didn't know his favorite foods and if he didn't know how to braid your hair. It'd be even weirder if he didn't make you coffee exactly how you like it and help you put away the dishes.

Slade had become an inescapable presence, his control over you extending far beyond training. He knew where you were at all times, had a way of appearing when you least expected it, his eyes always sharp, always knowing. Some nights, when you tried to slip out for air, you’d find him already outside, leaning against a wall as if he’d been waiting for you. He let you do what you wanted, think you were free, but he was always watching you.

If you were singing at a bar, you could count on him to be in the crowd. If you met with Selina at a restaurant you could count on him to drive you home. Slade was always there. Selina thought it was strange, you took comfort in it.

“You really think you can go anywhere without me knowing?” he had mused once, a shadow of amusement in his voice.

It should have bothered you. Maybe it did. But part of you had started to crave it, the way he made you feel like you belonged to him, even if neither of you would ever admit it.

Slade had been… watchful lately. More than usual. He came back late from missions, missions he didn't let you come to, sometimes with a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. He was hesitant to let you go and preform at bars, sometimes convincing you to just play the songs on your guitar in the living room and run your fingers through his hair as you both laid on the couch.

There were the calls—brief, coded. You were offended, Slade told you almost everything these days but somehow no amount of sweet talk and bedroom eyes could get him to budge this time. And then there were the other things. The subtle shifts in the city’s underworld. More movement in Gotham than usual. The quiet whispers of old ghosts stirring, names you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

Dick. Jason. Tim. Damian. Bruce.

You saw it in the way certain streets had too many eyes. As if waiting. As if listening.

And then there was the whisper of something else. Something darker, something clawing at the edge of your awareness. A name that had once sent a thrill through you, now only bringing unease and resentment.

Harvey Dent.

A name you hadn’t spoken in months, yet it clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake. A man you couldn't bare to even think of. A drink left for you at a bar you hadn't performed at in weeks, a coat draped over the back of a chair that looked too familiar.

Slade noticed before you did. “You’ve got a ghost,” he murmured one evening, the flicker of a knife between his fingers. “One that doesn’t know how to stay buried.”

You didn’t ask him what he meant. You didn’t have to. You already knew. You just didn't know why. Had he finally seen through Tiffany, now that it was too late?

At first, you didn’t question it. Slade had always been territorial—watchful, overbearing when he wanted to be. He had a way of controlling things without seeming like he was. That was how he worked.

So when you first noticed the shifts, you didn’t react. Your schedule changed, but not because you changed it.

You used to go out when you wanted. Walk the streets when they were quiet, feel the Gotham night press against your skin, the air cold and sharp. Not anymore.

Things began to change this week. Now, every time you thought about leaving, something stopped you.

The fridge was always stocked, eliminating any reason to step outside. Your favorite food. Your favorite drinks. Little things appeared when you needed them; new clothes, supplies, anything that might have made you leave for even a moment. Things you mentioned only in passing, like the new lipstick you wanted or a pair of vintage heels or a new bag.

If you reached for your coat, Slade would speak before you even touched the door. Asking where you were going, trying to be casual.

It was never a command. Never outright control. But the implication was there. And every time you hesitated, he won. If you needed to leave or just wanted to go out, he would come with; a silent yet protective figure always in the shadows.

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that should have been peaceful but wasn’t. The apartment smelled like old wood and gun oil, the faintest trace of smoke lingering from Slade’s cigar earlier. You had just stepped out of the shower, skin still warm from the heat, hair damp as you walked barefoot across the floor in your towel.

Your hand brushed against the pretty golden door knob absentmindedly.

And then you froze. Something was different.

Your fingers curled around the lock, tracing over the new ridges, the reinforced structure. The weight of it felt wrong.

It wasn’t your lock. Not the cute one you insisted on buying at the antique shop that Slade hated. It didn't match the walls.

Your stomach twisted. You turned slowly, your damp hair clinging to your skin as your mind raced. This wasn’t an accident. You hadn’t imagined it. Slade had changed the locks. The thought sent something icy down your spine. Alarm bells blared in your mind.

You tried to shake it off, tried to tell yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was security. Maybe he just wanted better protection.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. Because he didn’t tell you. Because Slade never did anything without a purpose. Because Slade Wilson didn't need a lock to keep people out. And because you hadn’t noticed until now. You took a slow, steady breath and turned toward the living room.

Slade was there, like always, seated in his usual chair by the window, sharpening a knife. The sound of steel against whetstone was rhythmic, deliberate. His posture was relaxed, but you weren’t fooled. His fingers were too steady, his shoulders just a little too still.

He was waiting. Watching. Like he had already predicted this moment, like he was ready for an argeument. You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, heart pounding too fast, not caring if you were in a towel.

"Planning on keeping me in a cage?" you muttered.

Slade didn’t pause. Didn’t even look up. “Planning on keeping you alive.” The words were so smooth, so easy, that your stomach turned.

Your breath caught. Because he wasn’t hiding it. He wasn't denying it. Not anymore. This wasn’t a mistake. This was intentional.

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow in your throat. “Right. Because I’m just so incapable of keeping myself safe. Even after all the training we've done. Even with my literal super-human abilities.”

Slade finally looked up. His eye locked onto yours.

There was no humor in his gaze. No smirk, like he usually had on while teasing. Just that slow, assessing stare that made your pulse stutter.

"If I thought you were capable of that," he murmured, voice quiet, too quiet, "we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Your chest tightened. Because the way he said it sent something sinking into the pit of your stomach. This wasn’t just about protecting you. This was about making sure you never left.

Two days later, you decided to test it. Just to see what would happen. Slade had stepped out—or so he wanted you to believe. The moment you heard the door shut behind him, you moved.

Your fingers curled around the knob.

Turned it— but a large, scared hand beat you two it

"Going somewhere?"

Your entire body locked up. You gulped and licked your suddenly dry lips, he had you cornered with one hand on the knob and the other caging you in as he towered over you. His voice was smooth, calm—too calm. You turned slowly, pulse thrumming in your throat. Slade stood right behind you.

The door was still closed.

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard him come back. Hadn’t even realized he was there. So much for super hearing. Nothing worked on Slade Wilson. You kept your expression neutral. Didn’t let him see the panic creeping up your throat.

"Didn’t realize I had a curfew," you muttered with an uneasy grin, trying to start your usual banter. Slade didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. Just watched you.

“You don’t.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t step aside. Didn’t let you leave. The silence stretched too long.

Finally, you forced a smile, tilting your head. “Then I’ll be back in an hour.” Nothing changed in his expression. But you could feel the weight of his stare. Then he tilted his head, eye dark and calculating.

“It's not safe out there anymore. Not for you.”

You blinked. Something in his tone shifted.Not amusement. Not control. Something else. Something darker. Like he was waiting for you to figure it out.

Your stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?” He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move.

Just let the question hang in the air, stretching the silence tight between you. And that’s when it hit you.

He wasn’t stopping you because he was afraid you’d leave.

He was stopping you because something else was waiting outside.

Something he wasn’t telling you about.

Your mouth went dry. Slade finally let out a slow, amused breath, pushing off the wall.

And then—

He stepped aside. A challenge. Daring you to open the door. You hesitated. And that was all it took.

The moment you hesitated, you lost. Slade smirked, shaking his head like he had already predicted every move you would make. "Let's get to bed." He rasped out, looking at you with dark, seductive eyes.

And then he turned, walking past you like the conversation was over. Because it was. Because he knew you wouldn’t leave now.

The next morning, the locks changed again. The windows were reinforced. Your pretty pink curtains replaced with black shutters. Your phone stopped working. You couldn't call Selina. Every excuse to leave was removed before you could even think about it. You tried not to panic. Tried not to question it.

But Slade was closing the walls in. And you weren’t sure if it was to keep someone out—

Or to keep you in.

The first time, you thought it was a coincidence.

You had slipped into a bar down the street, needing to breathe, needing something normal.

The moment you stepped in, your stomach turned. Something familiar. Cologne. Not just any cologne. Expensive. Sharply tailored. The scent of whiskey and authority.

You froze.

Your mind screamed at you. It’s just someone else wearing it. It’s just your imagination. And then you saw it. A glass at the bar. Untouched. Neat. No ice. A double pour. your breath hitched.

Harvey’s drink.

It wasn’t until you came home that you truly realized. Because that’s when you saw the rose.

A single red rose on the kitchen counter.

Waiting for you. Your entire body went cold. It wasn’t from Slade. It couldn’t be from Slade. Slade would never bring you roses, he wasn't a gentleman. And he knew you liked hydrangeas and peonies now.

You turned slowly and nearly threw up.

Slade was already standing there. Watching. Waiting. His jaw was tight. His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t say anything. And that’s when you knew,

He had seen this coming.

“Where did that come from?” you asked, voice thin. Why was he doing this? Was shattering your heart not enough? Did he want to ruin things with you and Slade?

Slade didn’t answer. Instead, he walked forward, plucked the rose from the counter, and rolled it between his fingers. Slowly. Deliberately. Then, he crushed it.

Your stomach dropped. The petals crumbled to the floor. His voice was dangerously calm. "You tell me, sweetheart."

For the rest of the night, he didn’t let you out of his sight. Not directly holding you hostage, but you felt it. The way he lingered in doorways. The way his hand ghosted too close when you passed him.

Like he was waiting. Waiting for you to ask. Waiting for you to figure it out. Waiting for Harvey to stop playing games and make a real move.

You weren’t sure when it had happened; when you had stopped keeping track of time, stopped caring about the difference between one night and the next. Slade made sure you had no reason to count the days. He made sure you had no reason to want anything. You woke up every morning in his arms and went to bed satisfied and well loved. It wasn’t a prison but it wasn’t freedom either. It was something in between. A limbo of his design. A small slice of heaven in hell.

You were happy. But something was off, Slade was being more paranoid and he got less subtle about it each day.

You weren’t trapped, not physically. Slade let you leave the apartment. You weren’t chained to the walls, weren’t locked in a room. He took you out on missions, let you get your hands dirty alongside him, let you breathe in the crisp Gotham air under the cover of night. In some ways, those nights were the only times you felt alive, other than when you were with Slade. The weight of a blade in your hand, the burn in your muscles from the chase, the sharp adrenaline rush of the fight, of using your powers on someone they affected; it reminded you that you still existed outside of this quiet game he played with you. Because that’s what it was. A game.

Slade never said it outright, never told you he was keeping you on a leash, but you could feel it tightening with every passing week. At first, it was small things. The way he subtly redirected missions away from Gotham’s city center, keeping you to the outskirts, where the shadows were deeper and the chances of running into familiar faces were slimmer. The way he always made sure you stayed close during a job, always just within arm’s reach. It wasn’t just protection. You knew better than that. It was control. He was testing you, waiting to see if you would try to slip away, if you would give him a reason to remind you just how easily he could pull you back.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the real test wasn’t in the field. It was what happened after.

After the job was done, after the adrenaline had settled into exhaustion, after the long, banter filled walk back to wherever Slade had decided to keep you that night. It was in the way he never let you wander too far. The way his hand would hover at the small of your back without quite touching, guiding you down the streets like he was the one who decided where you went. It was in the way he never left you alone for too long.

At first, you told yourself it was coincidence. Slade was always working, always had something that needed his attention. But then you started to notice the patterns. You ate together, you slept together, trained together, hell; you even showered together. You were never alone for more than a few hours. If he had business elsewhere, you were given something to occupy your time—training, surveillance, a task that kept you exactly where he wanted you.

You tested it once again, just to see what would happen. After he had left for what you thought was a routine meeting, you had grabbed your coat and made your way to the door. You weren’t even thinking about leaving him, not really. You just wanted to see if you could. If there was still a part of you that could step outside without feeling the weight of his presence pressing against you.

Your fingers had just curled around the doorknob when you heard his voice. Low. Even. Inevitable.

“Going somewhere?”

You were getting de ja vu. This happened last time too. You had swallowed hard, pulse spiking in your throat as you turned. He was standing right behind you.

You hadn’t heard the door open. Hadn’t heard his footsteps. He was just there, watching, waiting. The worst part was that he wasn’t even angry. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, wasn’t raising his voice or blocking your way. He didn’t have to.

Slade had simply leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eye scanning you with that sharp, unreadable expression that made your stomach twist. “Didn’t realize I needed permission,” you had said, forcing your voice to stay steady. You wouldn't let him control everything, not another man would be in charge of your life.

“You don’t.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he had already solved. “Just wondering if you really think it’s safe out there.”

Not this odd shit again.

That made you pause. The way he said it. Not like a threat. Not like he was trying to scare you into staying. He said it the same way as last time. Like he already knew something you didn’t.

Your grip on the doorknob tightened. “What are you talking about? You said this last time.”

Slade didn’t answer right away. He just let the silence stretch, let you feel the weight of your own hesitation. Then, slowly, he took a step back. Another challenge.

“If you want to go,” he said, gesturing toward the door, “go.”

Your breath caught. You should have. You should have walked out.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew that if you did, if you stepped outside now, you wouldn’t just be walking into Gotham. You would be walking into something else. Something waiting.

Slade knew it. And now, so did you.

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the door. Slade huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like you had just proven his point. Then, without another word, he walked past you and disappeared into the other room. That was the moment you knew, whatever was waiting for you out there was worse than what was waiting inside. You just didn’t know what it was yet.

You found out a week later. A part of it, at least.

The envelope was waiting for you when you returned from a job with Slade, slipped under the apartment door like a whisper of something you had tried to forget. You had bent down, fingers hesitating just for a second before picking it up. The paper was thick, expensive. No return address. No markings. But you didn’t have to open it to know who it was from. The sharp smell of cologne gave it away.

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising in the back of your throat as you tore it open, your hands gripping the edges a little too tightly. The letter inside was simple. Only four words.

You won't forget me.

Your breath hitched. Your hands trembled. Because the worst part was, he was right. No matter how much Slade consumed you, or your occasional fantasy about Clark; he also stayed on your mind

You barely had time to process it before you heard the apartment door shut behind you. Your fingers snapped the letter closed, chest tightening, but it was too late.

Slade had already seen.

His expression didn’t change, but you could feel it. The shift in the air. The way his shoulders set just a little too still, the way his single eye flickered from your face to the envelope with something dark and unreadable. He stepped forward, not rushing, just closing the distance between you with the kind of inevitability that made your breath come short.

You turned, but before you could move, his hand shot out. Not rough, not gentle like usual, just firm. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, halting you in place.

“Let go,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t.

Instead, he reached for the letter.

You pulled back.

Slade’s grip tightened. “Let me see,” he said, his voice low, controlled. He wasn't used to you denying him these days, not when you loved him.

Your stomach clenched. You didn’t let go, but it didn’t matter. Because Slade never asked twice.

With one sharp tug, he tore the letter from your grasp, unfolding it with a lazy flick of his wrist. You watched as his eye scanned the words, his jaw tensing, his fingers tightening around the paper just slightly.

Then, finally, a quiet chuckle. A dark, amused sound. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your breath hitched. Slade looked at you now. Expression unreadable.

“Do you miss him?” Your heart stopped. You denied it, but you could see in Slade's eyes that he didn't believe you. In the way he turned away from you that night. You didn't blame him, you didn't even believe yourself.

Harvey always knew how to play the long game.

Small things began to shift in your life and you knew who was behind it. The song on the radio. A scarf. A photo photo. They were never coincidences, he didn’t believe in coincidence. The man was calculated, meticulous in his pursuits. When he wanted something, he played patient, steady, unyielding, watching from the shadows, striking when you least expected it.

Slade was the same way, but Slade never needed patience. Slade took what he wanted. Harvey waited for it to come back to him.

The jazz playing in the bar was nothing, just white noise in the background while you sat beside Slade, nursing your drink, your head still fogged from the last mission. You weren’t thinking of anything other than how good it felt to finally sit still.

Then, days later, the scarf appeared. Neatly folded on the couch, like a gift wrapped in silence, waiting for you to pick it up. You hadn’t touched it at first, just stood there, staring at it, fingers twitching at your sides. It was a trick of the mind, an old memory manifesting in a way that didn’t make sense.

Except it wasn’t.

He had been here. Or close enough to touch. You should have told Slade. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. And then, the photo. A photo Selina took of you and him dancing at the Pink Pony Club. It smelled like him too.

That was what shattered the illusion of security, the idea that you had control over this. The moment you saw it, you knew.

Harvey had always been a sentimentalist, clinging to memories long past, treasuring things most people would discard.

You, once upon a time, had been one of those things. And now? You weren’t sure. You weren't sure what he wanted, especially since he had Tiffany. You had placed the photo down carefully, afraid to crumple it, afraid to acknowledge what it meant.

You had kept your movements neutral, your breath steady, but Slade had been watching. His presence in the other room was a solid weight pressing into your chest. The shuffle of files, the slow deliberate sound of metal being set down, he was waiting.

He had noticed. Of course, he had. Slade noticed everything. And yet, he didn’t say a word.

You lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling Slade’s presence next to you like a silent storm waiting to break. He wasn’t asking. He was waiting for you to give yourself away. To tell him the truth, to trust him like he trusted you.

Slade had been watching you too closely, keeping his invisible leash tight without ever pulling. That was the way he worked, he let you think you had freedom while keeping you within his reach. If you had tried to leave through the door, he would have known.

So, you didn’t.

You waited, feigned sleep, forced your breathing into something slow, even, something convincing. You heard him move in the other room, heard the creak of his chair, the slow inhale of a cigar.

You moved the moment he shifted. Window, not the door. Silent steps. A fire escape that groaned beneath your weight. By the time Slade glanced back toward the couch, you were already gone.

Harvey knew you would come.

You knew that from the moment you stepped onto the rooftop, the Gotham skyline stretched out behind him like a kingdom.

He turned before you could say anything, a slow, easy movement, his face shadowed beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. And then, he smiled. Not a smirk. Not the sharp, dangerous grin you had been expecting. It was something softer. Something more desperate. Like a man in the desert coming across a well.

“Took you long enough, didn't think you got my message. I started thinking that maybe the note didn't reach you.” he murmured. The message he left in the women's bathroom at a bar you and Slade frequented.

Your throat felt tight. You felt hurt all over again. Like someone reopened the wound of his betrayal. Like the same broken girl Slade took in six months ago. You came here for closure. So that it wouldn't hurt when you said his name or sang the songs you wrote for him. “How did you find me?”

What did he want? To torture you? Rub salt in your wounds?

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I never lost you.”

Only Slade called you that now. The words made your stomach twist, a cold knot settling in your chest. You should have walked away then. But you didn’t. Because you had to know.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you haunting me? Not letting me move on?” Your voice shook as you said it. This conversation was long overdue.

Harvey’s fingers gripped the railing, his knuckles white. “Because I need you to listen to me. Just once. Just this once. Hear me out.”

Your heart hammered. Hear him out? He could've started with an apology.

“You think I’ll forgive you?” you spat. You would, because when you looked at him, you still felt the same warmth you did all those months ago; only this time it was mixed with resentment and longing.

He flinched. And for the first time, you saw it—the raw, desperate emotion that he had always hidden behind sharp words and confident grins. The mask cracked, just for a second.

His voice turned rough, unsteady. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know that. But I need you to hear me out.”

You shook your head, stepping back, but he reached out—not touching, not yet, but close.

“You don’t know what’s happening,” he continued, his voice dropping into something urgent, pleading. “Your family—Tim, Dick, all of them—they’re figuring it out. They’re finding out the truth about Tiffany. They'll realize what she's doing, like I did.They'll know soon, maybe not today or tomorrow; but soon. They'll realize she's been using her powers on them like she did to me.”

Your breath came too short. No. This was not happening. Not when you were finally happy again. Not when you think you've fallen in love with Slade.

“No,” you whispered.

Your vision blurred. It was happening. Everything you had tried to scream about for years, everything they had ignored, it was going to come to light. Harvey’s fingers brushed your wrist.

Soft. Careful. Like he was trying not to scare you away.

“And when they realize what they did to you,” he murmured, “they’re going to come running. Crawling back like I am.”

Your stomach twisted.

“They’re going to act like they care,” he continued, voice soft, insidious. “Like they’re sorry. But they’re not. Not like I am. You know that, don’t you?”

Your lips parted. You hated how much sense it made. Hated how deep the doubt had already burrowed into your skin. Hated how genuine and honest he was being, you could sense it. Harvey tilted his head.

And then, voice lower, almost fragile he said, “You don’t have to go back to them.”

Your stomach dropped. You stepped back. “I’m not going back,” you said, voice shaking. Never.

Harvey swallowed hard. And for a moment, you thought he might break, that the weight of what he had done, what he had lost, might finally crush him. But then, he looked at you.

And you saw it, the shift. The danger. Not Two-Face. Not the cold, calculated criminal.

Just Harvey Dent. The man who never let go. “You think you’re free?” he murmured.

The words sent a chill down your spine. Harvey smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You think he just let you leave?”

Your chest tightened. You tried not to show the flicker of doubt, the small crack in your resolve. But Harvey saw it.

And then, voice so soft, so dangerous—“He’s not going to let you go either. He'll keep you locked up. I won't.”

You should have never gone to him.

You had known it was a mistake the second you saw him standing there, leaning against the rooftop railing, the glow of Gotham’s skyline making him look almost human.

But you had gone anyway. Because Harvey had always been a mistake you kept making.

You clenched your fists, how dare he talk about Slade? What right did he have to tell you who to trust. "Yeah and I'm gonna take advice from you. That's rich."

He softened immediately, his regret and remorse so obvious; yet he refused to apologize. You wanted to hit him, hurt him like he hurt you; yet when he stood in front of you in the moonlight, your treacherous heart still beat for him. Your heart didn't want to hurt the man who showed you what love is. The man who picked up the shattered pieces your family and Clark left and rearranged them beautifully. It didn't care that he broke them again; he could fix it.

“I made a mistake. I paid for it, I know the truth now.” He said steadily stepping closer, sensing your reluctance.

Your pulse pounded. “What do you want from me?” You were here for answers, not to rekindle an old flame. Not when you were starting one.

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Nothing from you. ”

The words hit you too hard. You understood what he was implying, what he wanted. You knew he would come crawling back someday, you just didn't expect it so soon

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Why?”

His smile faltered. His hands curled around the railing, gripping it like he needed something solid to hold on to.

"You know why. But that's not what i called you for. I called you to warn you about your family and Tiffany,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. More desperate. “I can throw them off for a little while, lead them off track and make sure they don't know the truth. If that's what you want. But once they know the truth, they won't leave you alone. Certainly not with him.”

You hated the way your chest tightened with affection at his consideration. You hated that you were here. You hated that he still had a hold on you. You hated how he talked about Slade. You hated hearing him say Tiffany's name, it brought back so much hurt and hatred.

“I don't care about them Keep them away for as long as you want. You know I'm not here to hear about them or your whore.” you said viciously, your eyes shining and your teeth sharpening.

Slade would be proud.

Harvey didn't react to your fangs, he wasn't afraid of you. He came closer and grasped your hand, his eyes so heartbroken that it gave you satisfaction, only for a minute.

His voice cracked slightly. “Nothing I do or say can make up for what I did.” His jaw tightened. “I know that.”

You should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because Harvey’s voice dropped lower, his words curling around you like a trap you should have seen coming. “But I need you to know something,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, watching your reaction. “She wanted to be you, she tried so hard.”

Your breath hitched. You knew this. But hearing Harvey say it made you feel so much better.

Harvey’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “But she never could.”

Your stomach dropped. Why did this have to happen now? Why now when you finally forgot about him?

“She dressed like you,” he continued. “Talked like you. Watched the way you moved. The way you laughed.” His voice hardened. “The way you loved.”

You shook your head, backing away. You couldn't take this anymore. You wanted to run back into Slade's arms, where nothing could touch you. “Shut up.”

Harvey didn’t.

“She wanted to take everything from you.” His expression twisted. “And maybe, if I had been a different man, I would have let her.”

Your skin crawled at the thought. Harvey let out a breathless laugh, bitter and sharp. “But I couldn’t. I had to go digging, looking for clues.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Because she wasn’t you. No matter how hard she tried to be. No matter how much she played with my mind, she could never replace you.”

You hated him.

You hated that you believed him.

You hated how you still loved him.

Harvey exhaled sharply, tilting his head, watching you with something frighteningly raw. “Every time she touched me, every time she tried to take something that wasn’t hers—” his voice dropped into something dangerous, low and dark and broken— “I was thinking of you.”

Your breathing came too fast.

Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her,” he whispered, “I wanted it to be you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Stop. I don't care.” Lies.

“She wasn’t you,” he repeated, voice almost pleading. “She never could be.”

Your throat closed. Your eyes watered and your teeth burned with unshed venom just thinking of his betrayal. Why was this happening.

Harvey’s fingers ghosted over your wrist. Not touching, not quite.

“I never wanted her, not really” he murmured. “Not once.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. This was all you wanted to hear, all you wished for for so long. So why did you feel trapped. Harvey’s voice dropped even lower. He moved even closer

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

You forced yourself to look at him.

“If you don’t care,” he whispered, eyes burning, “why are you still here? Why do you want answers so bad? Why do you still look at me like that?”

You shouldn’t have come.

But you hadn’t been able to help yourself.

Because Harvey always knew what to say, how to linger in your mind like an open wound that refused to heal.

And now here you were, standing under the dim glow of the rooftop’s city lights, your eyes watering, the weight of his gaze pressing into you, sinking into your bones like something familiar, something dangerous.

You forced yourself to keep your stance steady, your pulse even. “You don’t get to ask me those questions.”

Harvey let out a breath, almost a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His hands curled around the railing as he moved away from you again, gripping the cold metal like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for you.

“Do you know how many times I told myself you were gone? That I lost you, ” His voice was steady now, but there was an edge to it—something dangerous. “How many times I tried to let you go, to let you move on?”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something else, something more dangerous. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me. I didn't want you to regret your choice. I didn't want anything but happiness for you. No matter how much you hurt me.”

Harvey’s fingers twitched.

“No.” His lips pressed together in a thin line, he knew the truth, that you always wished the best for him. “No, you didn’t.”

The wind curled between you, cold and sharp, carrying the weight of everything unsaid. You should have turned away. Should have walked back the way you came.

But then Harvey laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

“She used her little snake charm but somehow,” he continued, “after a week I was thinking of you. I never loved her. Couldn't even bring myself to like her, honestly.”

Your stomach dropped. It was a gut punch, sharp and unforgiving. He saw it—the flicker of emotion in your face, the tightening of your jaw, the way your breathing caught for just a second too long.

And Harvey, Two-Face, the man who never let go, moved forward, voice soft, eyes burning.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I never stopped loving you”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “Shut up.”

He ignored you. Again.

“I love you so much,” he said, voice low. “You love me too or you wouldn't be here.”

“I said shut up.” He was right, he always is.

Harvey smirked, but there was nothing victorious in it. It was almost self-loathing.

“I never loved her,” he whispered again. He was making sure you knew.

“She wanted me to,” he continued. “She wanted to take everything from you.” His jaw tightened. “And maybe, if you had been a different woman, I would have let her.”

The thought of it made your skin crawl.

Harvey, Tiffany. Together. The ultimate betrayal.

“But I couldn’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because she wasn’t you.”

He kept repeating it, trying to speak his remorse into your heart directly. You hated how much it affected you. Hated how your chest ached, how your mind burned with the thought of what could have been. You shouldn’t care. But you did. And Harvey knew it.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, forcing steel into your voice. “You used her, just like she used you. You wanted to spy on Bruce and I wouldn't do it.”

Harvey let out a sharp breath. “Yeah.” His eyes met yours. Unflinching. “I did.”

There was no shame in his voice. Just cold, simple truth. No regret anymore. He didn't regret using her, he regretted hurting you.

“But it wasn’t revenge, sweetheart,” he murmured, his Gotham accent slipping in the angrier he got. “It was survival. She had me under her little spell at first; when that stopped working, her little dream team made sure I never stepped outta line. Never came crawling back to you, never told anyone the truth. But I'm done with them now.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her, every time I played along, I was thinking of you.” His voice dipped, lower, darker. More desperate. “Every time I called her by her name, I wanted to say yours.”

Your breathing came too fast. This wasn’t fair. Harvey was not supposed to be able to do this to you. Not anymore. He was supposed to be dead to you. He had killed himself in your mind the day he let himself be used, the day he betrayed you.

And yet—

Yet.

You couldn’t move.

Because deep down, a part of you knew—you had thought of him, too. When you weren't with Slade, Harvey consumed your thoughts.

Your stomach twisted as he stepped closer again. “You’re smart, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You always were. Choose carefully.”

You swallowed hard. This wasn't about your family anymore. This was about him and Slade.

“You don’t have to go back to them.” He repeated himself again trying to convince you. His words settled in your bones, heavy, unshakable.

You clenched your jaw again. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Harvey’s eyes flickered, something dark and pleased curling at the edges. And then, voice low, almost dangerous, “Then why are you still with him?”

Your breath hitched. Slade. Your body went rigid.

Harvey took another step closer. Your noses almost touched and you nearly threw yourself into his arms.

“You think he's better than me?”

Your chest tightened. Doubt crept in. You had been so careful. So quiet. Hadn’t you? Harvey saw it. And he smiled.

A slow, knowing smirk. “He’s not going to let you go, he won't give you a choice. I don't blame the man, if I hadn't fucked everything up; I wouldn't let you go either.”

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit you all at once, suffocating, crushing. You hadn’t been careful. You had been playing into Slade’s hands all along.

Because Slade always knew. And if he hadn’t stopped you?

That meant he was letting you dig your own grave. A shiver ran through you.

The moment Harvey’s voice dipped, the second his fingers ghosted over your wrist like a lover’s touch—you should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because part of you needed to hear him say it. Needed to hear him tell you what you already knew.

That he still wanted you. That he never stopped. That you were never meant to be replaced. And it felt amazing to hear the regret in his voice and see the pure longing in his eyes.

The wind curled between you, cold and biting, but Harvey’s presence was stiflingly warm. He was watching you the way he always had; like you belonged to him, like the months between you hadn’t changed a thing. And for the first time all night, you let yourself look at him.

Really look at him.

The scars on the left side of his face had deepened, his two-toned gaze more piercing than before. The weight he carried in his shoulders was heavier, more defined. He was still Harvey, but he wasn’t just Harvey anymore. He had become something darker, something rough around the edges, something broken in a way that made you feel like a piece of you had broken along with him.

You swallowed. “I have to go.” Before you did something you couldn't take back.

Harvey exhaled, slow and deliberate. He nodded, but he didn’t move. He didn’t stop you. But he wasn’t letting you go, either.

“You’re going back to him.” It wasn’t a question. A statement, like he knew it was coming

Your pulse stuttered. “It’s not like that and you know it.” You still felt the need to defend yourself, even though you knew you didn't owe him an explanation.

You still loved him, that much was clear.

Harvey let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Sure it isn’t.”

You took a step back. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t say anything to stop you, but his presence curled around you like a shadow, wrapping itself around your spine, keeping you anchored in place. And then his voice dropped. Low. Certain.

“I’m letting you walk away. But I'm not letting you go. Not when we still love each other.”

Your throat tightened. He wasn’t chasing you. Not yet. But you felt it. The promise in his voice. The inevitability. You didn’t respond.

You didn't deny that you still loved him, it was like a child insisting they didn't eat cookies when they have crumbs all over them.

You just turned and forced yourself to walk away.

The apartment was silent when you returned. Slade was waiting, seated in his chair, drink in hand, legs spread, glaring at the walls. He didn’t turn when you entered. Didn’t move when you stepped further inside, carefully shutting the door behind you. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You slipped off your shoes, moving slowly, watching him, waiting. Nothing. No reaction. Just that unshakable stillness. The kind that had always been more dangerous than his anger.

You took a steadying breath. If you didn't speak first, he wouldn't speak at all. “Slade—”

“I knew you’d come back.”

His voice cut through the room, sharp and even. Your fingers curled at your sides. “Of course I came back.”

Now, he looked at you. Finally. And when he did, it felt like a blow. That single eye, cold and assessing, swept over you, taking in every detail, every movement, every breath you tried to keep steady. Then, his lips curved. Slow. Controlled.

“Did he tell you what you wanted to hear? Make you want to run into his loving arms again?”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t let it show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Slade exhaled through his nose, the faintest huff of amusement. “Don’t insult me.”

Your jaw tightened. Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure if you were waiting for him to snap, or if he was waiting for you to confess. Then, finally—Slade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, voice lowering into something dangerous.

“Tell me something,” he said lowly.

You didn’t move. “What?”

Slade tilted his head, watching you like he was already playing out the end of this game. “Did you hesitate?”

The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed. You could lie. You could tell him what he wanted to hear. But it wouldn’t matter. Slade always knew. And that was the worst part.

Slade was quiet for too long. Then—he sighed. Tired. Expectant. And that was worse than anger. You hated when he treated you like this, so indifferent. You liked his anger better, at least then you could get a reaction out of him.

“Take off your coat,” he said. You hesitated. Slade’s expression didn’t shift. “Now.”

Slowly, carefully, you did as he asked, slipping the fabric from your shoulders, letting it drop onto the chair beside you. Slade’s eye flickered toward it. Then, back to you.

You weren’t sure what he was looking for. Maybe he was looking for something Harvey left behind. Something you didn’t even realize you had carried home with you.

Then, after a long pause—Slade smirked. And it wasn’t kind like the ones you've grown accustomed to.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You stiffened. “Realize what?”

Slade leaned back again, completely relaxed. Like he had already won. “You'll know soon.”

Your breath caught. Where was he going with this? You hated when he spoke like some ancient being and he knew that. He was gonna be insufferable these next few days; he always is when you do something he doesn't like.

“Doesn’t matter where you go,” he continued, his voice so damn certain. His smirk widened, mocking. “You’ll always come back to me.”

Your chest tightened. You hated him. Because he was right. He knew you hated it, too.

You lay awake that night. Not because you couldn’t sleep. Not because Slade was in the other room, making you sleep alone for the first time in months, still awake, waiting, watching, knowing.

But because you couldn’t shake the way Harvey had looked at you before you left. Not angry. Not resentful. Just patient and remorseful. Like he already knew something you didn't.

Slade never brought it up again. Not directly. You weren’t sure if that was worse. You weren't sure if you wanted him to scream at you and demand you never see Harvey Dent again. You would rather anger than the silent treatment.

He didn’t demand answers. He didn’t press the issue. He simply carried on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t watched you walk through the door smelling like another man’s presence.

That should have been a relief. But it wasn’t. Because Slade didn’t let things go. He let them fester.

It was in the way he touched you now, more deliberate, more possessive. The way his hands lingered a little too long on your waist when he passed you in the kitchen, the way his fingers grazed your wrist, as if reminding you that you were still there, still his.

It was in the way he watched you. He had always been observant, but now it was different. Sharper. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was reading you.

Every twitch of your fingers. Every slight shift in your breathing. Every time you looked over your shoulder without realizing it. You had brought something back from that rooftop, and Slade knew it.

And still, he said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold.

It was late. The apartment was quiet, but neither of you were asleep. Your back pressed into the cool sheets, heartbeat steady but too aware of the man beside you. It'd been three days since Harvey and Slade was finally sleeping next to you again, but you knew he wasn't truly letting things go.

Slade’s fingers traced slow circles against your wrist, his grip loose but present. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he murmured.

You exhaled, shifting slightly beneath his hold. “And you have?”

A quiet chuckle. “I sleep when I need to.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light of the bedroom. “And when do you need to?” You missed teasing him.

Slade’s smirk was lazy, knowing. “Whenever you’re not around to keep me entertained.”

You rolled your eyes, but he didn’t let you pull away. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you he was there.

“You think too much,” he murmured, voice lower now. “Keeps you restless.”

“Maybe I like thinking,” you shot back booping his nose. You lived to annoy him, to push his buttons in a way only you could get away with.

Slade hummed, shifting to prop himself up on his elbow, still watching you. His fingers trailed down your arm, you would've though he was trying to start something if his movements weren't so slow and calculated.

“What are you thinking about now?” He said reeling you into his trap, his eyes hard. You hated when he tried to trap you. Your pulse skipped. Nothing you said would be the right answer.

Slade’s lips quirked up slightly, but there was something in his expression—something darker, something expectant.

“You can say it,” he mused. “Say his name.”

You were tempted to do it, moan Harvey's name just to piss him off, but that was a line even you knew not to cross. You rolled your eyes, "God, just let it go Slade. It wasn't important."

Why couldn't he just let this go? Slade smirked, mocking. “That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t break his gaze. Didn’t look away. Because he knew. He always knew. Nothing goes over Slade Wilson's head.

The next morning, you woke up to a message. Not a text. Not a voicemail. A gift.

The small wooden box sat on the kitchen counter, neat, precise. Like it had been waiting for you. Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t heard anyone come in. You hadn’t even felt him. But Harvey had been here. You swallowed, fingers brushing over the lid before carefully lifting it open.

Inside was a single playing card.

The Two of Hearts.

And beneath it—folded carefully, as if it was meant to be unwrapped like some kind of sentimental treasure—was the same scarf he had left before.

Except this time, there was something else. Perfume. Your perfume. It smelled like you and him. Like Harvey had held onto it. Like he had kept it close. Your stomach twisted.

Harvey had been here. And you hadn’t even noticed.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the box, breath coming a little too sharp, too shallow. The walls of the apartment felt smaller. You didn’t hear Slade approach, but you felt him before he spoke.

His voice was smooth, dangerous. “Something I should know about?”

You forced yourself to breathe. “No.”

Slade leaned against the counter, eyeing the box like he already knew exactly who it was from. And then—he laughed. A quiet, amused sound, as if this was a game he had already won. “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” he said, in the same tone some used when regretting not buying a book before it sold out.

Your stomach dropped. Slade tilted his head, eye still locked on you. “But you wouldn’t have liked that, would you?”

You said nothing.

Slade smirked, shaking his head. “Soft spot for old flames.” He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist. “That’s your problem.”

You clenched your jaw, jerking your arm away. “And what’s yours?”

Slade’s gaze darkened. “I don’t have problems.”

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. Always with the tough guy persona, honestly it must be tiring always acting untouchable. “Right. Sorry, I forgot. Because you don’t feel anything.”

Slade didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, unreadable. His hand reached for your jaw, firm, demanding. His thumb traced your cheek, slow, deliberate. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I feel plenty.” You swallowed. Slade smirked. “You just don’t like what I feel.”

You stepped back before you could do something stupid. Something that would make you forget about the box on the counter, the scent of Harvey still lingering in the air. Something that would make you forget that you weren’t sure who you were more afraid of losing.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Harvey was right. They were going to find out the full truth soon. And when they did, they would come for you.

Now, a week after your meeting with him, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Message after message, call after call, each one from Tim Drake-Wayne. All asking you questions about Tiffany, about yourself. About where you were.

Your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled through the texts, hands shaking, stomach twisting itself into knots so tight you thought you might be sick. Of course Tim was the first to figure out something was wrong. He was about five years too late though.

Tim: We need to talk. Please answer. I have questions. About Tiffany..

You could barely breathe. He wanted to investigate, to look deep into Tiffany. Now?

Now, after years of pushing you aside, after ignoring every cry for help, now he wanted to take your warnings seriously.

Your eyes burned, fingers tightening around the phone, your mind screaming at you to respond, to finally say all the things you’d held in your chest for too long.

But you didn’t. Instead, you turned the phone off. You shoved it under the pillow, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to push away the tears, trying to ignore the way your chest ached with something ugly and desperate.

The moment you walked out of the bedroom, you knew he had seen.

Slade was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, gaze heavy with something unreadable. The phone was still buzzing beneath the pillow in the other room, and somehow, you knew he had heard it.

He had been waiting for this. You swallowed, standing stiffly near the doorway, trying to pretend like everything was fine. Slade didn’t say anything at first. He just watched.

“Took him long enough,” he mused, his voice casual, controlled.

You rolled your eyes. He's been bitchy ever since the whole Harvey thing.

Slade’s eye flickered to your hands, still clenched at your sides. “And let me guess—you ignored him.”

You hated how easily he could see through you. You glared at him, jaw tight. “None of your business.”

Slade chuckled, shaking his head, pushing off the counter and closing the distance between you in slow, measured steps.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was lower now, smoother, curling around your spine like a threat disguised as affection. “Everything about you is my business.”

You tensed. Slade reached up, tracing a gloved finger along your cheek, tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“He’ll keep calling,” he murmured. “He’ll keep begging. He'll figure it out and tell the rest of the little squad and they'll all come running back. Just like your dear old Dent. ” His lips curled into something mocking. “That’s what they do, isn’t it? Make mistakes because they know you'll forgive them?"

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Not to hurt you, just enough to remind you who was in control.

His thumb brushed over your lips, slow, deliberate. “What are you gonna do?”

Your breath hitched. Slade leaned in slightly, voice dropping even lower. Dangerous. “Do you want Tim to tell the others? Want your family back? Want him back? Even after he fucked your sister while you were lying sick in your bed?”

Your throat tightened. He was toying with you. Mocking you, trying to hurt you. Making you say it. And you didn’t want to say it. Because you didn’t know. Your family had been your world.For so long, all you wanted was to be seen.

To be loved.

To be something more than just a ghost standing in the background, watching them fawn over someone who had stolen everything from you. And Harvey gave that to you, before he betrayed you.

And now, he was sorry. Soon, they would all know the truth and be sorry.

The emotions clawed at your throat.

You wanted to scream at Tim. Tell him it was too late. Tell them that he could never fix this. No amount of investigating and apologies could make up for years of neglect.

But another part of you, the part that still ached for their love, the part that still wanted them to prove you wrong,

That part whispered, “What if?” What if when they found out the truth, they would love you? What if this time, they actually stayed?

What if this was your chance to finally have the family you always wanted?

The war inside your head made you dizzy. And Slade knew it. He was still holding you, still keeping you rooted to him, while your world spun out of control. After a long, suffocating silence, Slade finally sighed. “You’re a mess.”

You glared at him, pushing away from his grip. “Fuck you.”

Slade chuckled, unfazed. “You do it almost every night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're a child, you know that?"

You turned away, grabbing a glass from the counter, hands still shaking slightly as you filled it with water. You weren’t thirsty, but you needed something—anything—to keep yourself grounded.

Slade leaned against the counter again, watching you with amusement, but something deeper lurked beneath it. Then, in a voice so casual it almost didn’t register, “I’ll make him stop. I'll make them both stop.”

The glass almost slipped from your fingers. You turned sharply, eyes wide. “What?”

Slade shrugged, like it was nothing. “You don’t want to deal with them. You don’t want to make a decision. So I’ll make it for you.”

Your breath caught. Slade never dealt with things peacefully, he got rid of problems permanately. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” His smirk deepened. “And I will.”

Your stomach twisted. Because the worst part was; you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified. Because Slade was right. You didn’t want to make a choice. You wanted someone to do it for you.

And Slade was more than happy to take that burden.

The first thing you noticed the next morning was the silence. No more buzzing. No more messages lighting up your screen. Slade had done it.

He hadn’t waited for you to argue. Hadn’t given you the choice. By the time you checked your phone, every number had been blocked. Every contact erased like they had never existed at all.

And maybe that’s what Slade wanted.

For them to be nothing but ghosts in your past. A clean break. A fresh start. So why did it feel like your chest was splitting open?

You had spent years craving their attention. Years begging for even a scrap of love. And now? Now you had the chance to get it. And you ignored it. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need them. That you had spent too long chasing something that was never meant to be yours.

And yet, as you stood in the quiet of the apartment, phone gripped too tight in your hands, you ached. Because you had wanted them to fight for you.

Slade had left that morning, his usual teasing smirk in place, but there had been something off.

Maybe it was the fact that his mission was dragging out longer than expected.

Maybe it was the way his fingers had lingered under your chin before he left, thumb brushing over your jaw like he was making sure you were still his.

Or maybe it was the way he had muttered, “Be good while I’m gone, sweetheart.” as you kissed him goodbye.

Like he already knew you wouldn’t be. Like he already knew something was coming. The apartment felt too big without him. His absence wasn’t something you should have noticed.

But you did.

It was in the empty space beside you when you sat on the couch. The extra portion of dinner you made out of habit. The lack of footsteps behind you. The missing weight of his presence pressing against your world, keeping you safe.

It was the first time in months you had been truly alone. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You took a nice, long, hot, shower, trying to dull the ache below your hips. You and Slade had sex last night, but somehow you were already wanting more. It was like your body could sense his absense.

You stood under the hot water, letting the steam curl around your skin, letting the heat scald away the thoughts clawing at your mind.

Maybe Slade was right. Maybe it was easier to just let go.

There was a sound. Soft. Distant. A creak where there shouldn’t be one. You wouldn't have heard it, wouldn't have sensed the body heat if you didn't have your powers. Your heart stopped. You turned off the water immediately, listening.

Nothing.

Maybe it was just—

Another creak. Closer this time. You swallowed, pulse hammering, every nerve in your body screaming at you that something was wrong. Slade was gone.

No one should be here. But you weren’t alone.

The second you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your damp skin, fangs reader and a knife in your hand, you felt him.

The shift in the air. The weight of someone watching. And then, his voice.

“Gotta admit,” Harvey mused, voice smooth, mocking, as if he had any right to be angry “didn’t think you’d be the type to shack up with a guy like him.”

Your stomach dropped. You turned sharply, eyes darting across the room, breath catching in your throat when you saw him.

Sitting on your bed. On Slade’s bed.

Harvey was leaning back against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t the intruder in this equation.

Harvey sat there like he hadn’t broken in, hadn’t shattered what little peace you had left. The moment you stepped out of the shower, still dripping, wrapped only in a towel, you knew, he was waiting for you.

Your fingers clenched around the towel’s edge, jaw tight, pulse pounding.

"You’ve got some fucking nerve," you muttered, stepping further into the room, closing the distance between you and him.

Harvey leaned back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily over the headboard, watching you with something smug, something knowing.

"Had to see you," he said simply. Like it was normal. Like it was nothing.

Your stomach twisted. It was never nothing with Harvey.

"And let me guess," you bit back. "You just let yourself in."

His smirk widened. "Door was unlocked, it’s not breaking and entering if you used to live together."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Bullshit. That’s exactly what it is, Dent. We don't like together anymore. Never did officially either."

Harvey didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze slid lower. Over the damp strands of your hair. Over your throat. Your collarbone. Your bare legs.

You knew that look. It made something ugly stir inside you.

He looked at you, gaze slow, deliberate, taking in every inch of you. The damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. The way the towel barely covered enough to keep you decent.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Don’t stop on my account. Nothing I haven't seen before.”

Your fingers clenched around the towel, pulse thundering. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harvey let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Relax, sweetheart. Just thought I’d drop by. Say hello. You wouldn’t answer your phone, so I figured—” he spread his arms in mock innocence, “—why not pay a visit?”

You hated how calm he was. How easy he made it look. Like he hadn’t just broken into your home. Like he hadn't broken your heart. Your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, heart hammering against your ribs. Slade was gone. Gone.

No one was coming. But you could handle yourself. And Harvey knew it. His eyes flickered down your body again, this time slow, calculating. Looking at all the marks and love bites Slade had left the night before. “You always did have a thing for older men,” he mused.

Your jaw clenched. Low blow.

Harvey smirked. “What’s the matter? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Thought you could just run off and play house with Gotham’s favorite mercenary and I’d let it slide?” He tsked, almost disappointed. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

You glared at him. Where did he get the audacity? “You don’t own me. Especially not now. Especially not after what you did. Your apology didn't change anything. You've got no right to be here.”

Harvey’s expression darkened, but only for a second. Then he grinned. “Funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking about him.”

Your stomach twisted. Because you knew what he was doing. He wanted you off balance. He wanted you to doubt. It was working. Because a part of you—a part you hated—was already wondering what Slade would do when he found out. Because he would find out. How jealous would he be? Would he finally drop the whole nonchalant act, ask you to be official?

Harvey’s smirk widened. “You think he’s coming back soon? You waiting for him? That's real cute princess.”

Your throat tightened. “He'll be back tomorrow.”

Harvey shrugged, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How missions can just drag out longer than expected?” His grin turned sharp. Cruel. “Would be a real shame if something happened to keep him… occupied.”

Your blood froze. Harvey watched you, waiting for the realization to sink in. He knew. He knew Slade wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

Your fingers curled into fists and suddenly you were on top of him, fangs bared, “What did you do?”

Harvey simply leaned back, enjoying himself and the view of your almost naked body on top of him. He turned his neck, as if trying to give you more access to him.

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Now, now. Don’t go blaming me. I didn’t lift a finger.” His grin widened. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who did.”

Your breath was coming too fast, too shallow, panic creeping up your spine. Slade was gone. Harvey was here. You were trapped. And Harvey knew it. Your pulse pounded. Slade was gone. Harvey was here.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pinning him down harder against the mattress, your fangs bared, breath coming in sharp, furious exhales.

"What did you do?" you hissed again, voice low, dangerous, shaking with barely contained rage.

Harvey smirked up at you, completely unbothered. His eyes gleamed with that same smug amusement, like he was playing with his food.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, voice infuriatingly smooth, teasing. "No need to get all worked up."

You pressed your thighs against his sides, pinning him harder. "Answer me, Harvey."

He let out a slow breath, his smirk twitching, dark amusement flickering across his features. "You always were so determined. I love that about you."

Your fingers tightened, nearly scratching his back, sharp acrylics pressing into his skin through the fabric of his white button down. You didn't want to hurt him, not badly at least.

"Tell me why Slade’s mission is taking so long," you demanded, your weight pressing down on him, your legs gripping him tighter.

Harvey’s hands moved then; sliding slowly up your thighs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath catch.

"You really think I’m gonna make this easy for you?" he murmured, voice dropping to something lower, something thicker with something he wasn’t bothering to hide.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping down your spine, twisting through your limbs. He knew. He felt it.

His smirk widened, his hips shifting beneath you just slightly.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard. Throbbing. Pressing against the thin fabric of his slacks, against the barely-there barrier of your towel. You nearly moaned, stop being a slut, you tried to tell yourself.

You froze, just for a second. And Harvey noticed.

You were straddling him, baring your venomous fangs. You could kill him. And he was hard. You could feel it, it was impossible not to, thick, twitching against your inner thigh, pressed right against you.

Your powers didn’t help. They never fucking did. The second you got close enough to feel body heat, it was over. It was a constant hum under your skin, that ache, that need, clawing at your sanity. Your towel barely clinging to your damp skin, the heat of his body seeping into yours, you didn't know how much longer you could hold on.

He let out a low, pleased chuckle, his good hand settling on your waist, just barely gripping. "Didn’t know you missed me this much, sweetheart. Thought you were over me?"

Your nails dug into his chest even harder, but he didn’t flinch. He never fucking did. "Tell me where Slade is," you demanded.

Harvey hummed, mocking. "You sure you wanna talk about him right now?" His fingers flexed against your skin, his smirk widening as he shifted slightly beneath you again. "Because from where I’m sitting, you got bigger problems."

Your breath hitched, and you hated it. Hated the way your traitorous body reacted to him. Hated the way he felt so familiar.

His gaze flickered, taking in the flush on your skin, the way your thighs squeezed involuntarily around him. He felt it too. The heat. The tension. The pull that never really disappeared, no matter how many times you had tried to convince yourself that you were done with him.

"You always were greedy," Harvey murmured, tilting his head, eyes dark with something wicked. He was loving this. "You just can’t get enough, can you?"

Suddenly, you were angry at him again. You remembered Tiffany. Your grip tightened around his wrists, holding him down, pressing harder into him, and his smirk twitched, just slightly.

Good. Let him fucking squirm. "You still think you have control here?" you whispered, lowering your head, your breath grazing the sharp line of his jaw.

His breathing faltered. Just for a second. Just enough.

Then, just as quickly, his lips curled again, sharp and taunting.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice deep, smug, full of sin. "As long as youre on top of me or under me, I don't give a shit who's in control."

Your entire body tensed. Your nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing, right over his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, fast, erratic, out of sync with the smug bastard act he was putting on.

He was burning for you. Just as much as you were for him. But you weren’t going to give in.

"You still think you can do whatever you want to me?" you whispered, leaning in, letting your lips hover just over his.

Harvey’s eyes flickered. A muscle in his jaw ticked. And for the first time since he had shown up, his smirk finally fucking dropped.

You grinned. Then you moved your hips and ran your fingers up and down his chest.

Harvey cursed sharply through his teeth, his grip on your waist tightening instantly, fingers digging into your skin like a vice. His dick twitched against you through his slacks, so fucking hard and aching that you could almost feel the pulse of it.

You let out a slow, breathy chuckle. "Guess you do still want me, huh?"

Harvey’s breathing was uneven. "Careful," he rasped, voice lower, darker, more dangerous now. "You’re playing a real stupid game, princess."

"Why?" you taunted, grinded your hips again, watching the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to snap. "Because you can’t handle it? Because you can’t handle me?"

It was fun being in control. Slade never let you do whatever you wanted to him, barely ever in the bedroom. You loved control, especially when it meant having a man at your mercy beneath you.

Harvey’s eyes flashed. Then, he flipped you. Fast. Brutal.

You barely had time to react before you were the one beneath him , your towel barely hanging onto your body, his hand locked around your wrist, pinning you down, his body hovering over yours, pressing you into the mattress.

His breathing was hard, uneven, tense.

"You really think I don’t know what you’re doing?" he murmured, so close now.

Your chest heaved. You got too cocky, too confident, and now you were paying the price, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Harvey laughed softly, mocking, brushing his nose against yours. "Liar."

You swallowed, pulse hammering.

"You love this," he said, voice like gravel against your skin. "The attention. The desperation and groveling. You love seeing me beg. The way you talk like you want to kill me, and the next second," his lips ghosted your cheek, his cock pressing hard against your thigh, "you’re grinding against me like a fucking addict."

Your breath hitched. His grip tightened.

"He ever let you get on top?" he murmured, lips just barely grazing yours.

Your stomach twisted. "Don't."

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Did you think about me when he had you at first? Did you close your eyes and pretend it was my hands on you even after I broke your heart? Should I tell him that?"

Your nails dug into his shoulder, your body betraying you, the heat between your legs only getting worse, stronger, overwhelming, unbearable.

"You wish," you rasped, but it sounded too breathless, too shaky.

Harvey smirked. He knew. "Say you don’t miss me," he challenged.

You clenched your jaw, turning your head away, trying to ignore the way your body burned beneath his.

"Say it," he demanded.

You tried to, but the words wouldn't come out.

Harvey hummed. Then, his fingers slid lower, trailing along your bare thigh, teasing the hem of the towel.

"Yeah," he mused, smug and cruel. "That’s what I thought."

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his grip tightening.

"Little desperate, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something smug, something rough.

You scoffed, but your heart was hammering, your body betraying you. "If I was desperate," you whispered, leaning forward until your lips were just barely brushing against his, taunting, teasing. "You’d already be inside me."

Harvey let out a low groan. He flipped you back around, giving you full control. Letting you be on top. You lost yourself for a moment, lost the plot. You melted into him and began kissing his neck slowly and unbuttoning his shirt as you slowly moved against him. But then, you saw the picture frame you hung of you and Slade, right behind Harvey.

Slade made you take down all the photos whenever he went away on a mission, in case someone broke in and saw them, and decided to hurt you to get back at him. It was the only one you refused to remove.

It was of you and him, two months ago. Slade had a mission in Paris and he let you tag along, after you were done, you made him go to an ice cream shop. Some sweet old man asked if you wanted a picture together, Slade wasn't smiling, barely even smirking, but you could see the happiness in his eyes as he had his arms around your waist, looking down at you.

You felt nauseous, all the arousal you felt was gone. You were a whore. How could you do this to Slade? You stopped moving as your eyes watered, what if Harvey had done something to him?

Harvey's hands snapped up, gripping your hips, grinding you down onto him. He wasn't gonna let you stop now.

"Fuck, baby, I forgot how good you are at this. Don't stop, please." he exhaled, almost begging, his jaw tightening, his cock pulsing against you.

You bit your lip, trying to fight the heat clawing through your body, the way your nerves lit up at the sheer pressure of him beneath you. It felt so good. You were horny again. But you could use this to your advantage, Harvey wanted you even more that you wanted him.

"Tell me," you whispered, rolling your hips just slightly, torturing him. "Tell me what you mean when you say Slade's occupied.."

Harvey’s smirk curled, his hands dragging you down harder, making you feel every inch of him. " What’s it worth to you?"

Your breath hitched. Harvey’s fingers trailed up your back, slow, possessive, teasing. "You wanna make sure your merc comes back in one piece?"

You swallowed hard, your body thrumming with frustration, anger, something else. All control you had was slipping, your powers were making you horny but they weren't working. Harvey wasn't listening to what you told him to do.

"Make me happy, sweetheart. If I’m happy," his smirk deepened, his voice dripping with dark amusement. " the bastard stays alive."

Your chest tightened, heat roaring up your spine, burning you from the inside out. You hated him. You wanted him. You needed to keep Slade alive. Harvey’s hands slid lower, his thumbs tracing slow, burning circles into your skin.

"Make a decision, pretty girl, his flight leaves soon." he murmured, his dick twitched against you, heavy with need. God, how could he be horny while threatening your teacher/ mentor /situationship's life?

You couldn’t lose Slade.

So you kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

Harvey groaned against your lips, his hands flying up to grip your waist, dragging you down harder against him, practically trying to merge your bodies together.

"That’s my girl," he muttered, his voice rough, victorious, possessive.

Your stomach burned with shame, with need, with something twisted and terrible. You hated him. You loved him.

You needed Slade to live.

But you couldn't do this to Slade, couldn't betray him on the bed you shared every night. He would be livid, what would he do in this situation? Probably kill Harvey. But you weren't Slade, you weren't as brave or as cruel as him.

So you did what you do best: You ran.

You jumped off of Harvey, punching him in the nose, still only in your towel that somehow stayed on, and shut the bedroom door in his face. You had powers, you were faster than Harvey, maybe even stronger than him. You made it to the front door in seconds, but your heart dropped as you saw the three new deadbolts.

Fucking Slade. You debated letting him die at that point.

Suddenly, you felt him behind you, grabbing you and pinning you against the door.

“Goddamn,” He laughed, amused, mocking, “you really thought that would work?”

You snarled, struggling harder, but he didn’t budge. His grip only tightened.

“Let me go, Harvey.”

His breath hitched at the way you said his name. Not Dent. Not Two-Face. Not some alias meant to keep distance. Just Harvey.

And it made something in his chest clench. His fingers flexed, his other hand dragging up your spine in a slow, deliberate motion, making you shudder.

“You always run, don’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—but there was something dangerous beneath it. “Always running from someone.”

His grip tightened on your wrists, pressing them into the wall, “From them. From me. From yourself.”

You hated how well he knew you. You hated that he was right. You hated how he got you into bed willingly even as the guilt ate you up. You hated how good he made you feel, how you couldn't bring yourself to say no. If you did, he would stop, and you didn't want that.

"Don't act like you don't want me now. You were all over me not even a minute ago." He sneered, as he ripped off your towel like it offended him.

You didn't know how many times you came, or how long you went for. You felt so good, but somehow you've never felt worse. Even as Harvey made you scream his name, you thought of how Slade would react.

You felt even worse as the night wore on, and instead of rough sex, you began to make love. Harvey buried his face in your neck as he muttered apologies, still buried inside you, and swore he would make it up to you.

You began to cry, it felt so good. But it was so wrong, so disgusting.

And you knew you never felt true regret until you woke up the next morning in Harvey Dent's arms, naked on the bed you slept on with Slade Wilson.

WHAT YALL THINK?? 1-10?? ALSO COMMENT DOWN BELOW TO BE ON THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY

[puma-riki]

AND, BABY, EVEN ON OUR WORST NIGHTS IM INTO YOU!ˎˊ˗

๋࣭ ⭑ Ѕ𝘺𝘯𝓸𝙥𝒔𝓲𝑠: Who in Enhypen I think is most likely to still be super in love with you even when you’re arguing/mad at them

ꮐ𝛠ｎ𝕣𝟈: Fluff ── .✦. ── 𝑾α𝑟𝚗ｉ𝘯𝓰𝑠: None

𝙁𝙚𝚊𝘵𝚞𝘳𝔦𝒏𝓰: Heeseung, Jungwon & Ni-ki

Authors Note: WOW you can really see the bias here, to be honest i have no idea what this is I just started word vomiting

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HEESEUNG

Who else is shocked

he's a simple man, okay?

a simple, weak, pathetic, hopelessly in love man

he doesn't even remember what he was supposed to be arguing with you about because he has never been more into you rn

However, he also can't stand how you'll ignore him afterward and refuse to touch him

You're sulking in the passenger seat of his car, arms crossed, and your legs lean against the door instead of towards him. He keeps sneakily blatantly glancing at you every time he can while he drives.

You won't even look at him and it's driving him crazy. Even though you look super cute sulking in his car and in his leather jacket. He had done something to make you upset during your trip to the mall. You ended up being snappy with him and said some not very nice things before stalking off ahead of him.

You had left him there in a daze and he really wished he remembered what you said to him because he was too focused on the way your alluring eyes narrowed at him, how glossy your lips looked, the way your cheeks puffed up, and how your hair flowed when you turned and left him standing there in the middle of the bustling mall.

You had gotten a few feet away from him before he snapped out of it and caught up to you, only for you to ignore him the whole way back to the car. Now, here you are, sitting beside him, still looking all pouty and adorable, and Heeseung is losing his mind.

He risks another glance at you. Bad idea. The way your arms are still crossed, the way his oversized leather jacket drowns you, the way your lips are pressed together in frustration—he’s never been more in love with you than in this exact moment.

"Baby," he finally says, his voice laced with amusement and something a little softer, a little sweeter.

Nothing. You don’t even flinch.

Heeseung grips the steering wheel a little tighter, fighting a smile. "You're really not gonna talk to me?" He tries again, tilting his head, hoping—praying—you’ll at least look at him.

Still, nothing.

He lets out a dramatic sigh. "You're literally killing me right now," he groans, dropping one hand from the wheel to poke at your thigh. "Do you even know how cute you are when you're mad?"

Your glare shoots to him immediately, eyes sharp and lips parting like you’re about to tell him off—

"Heeseung," A surprisingly soft tone.

"Thats my name,"

"Will you be quiet." The irritation is back in your voice. You turn towards the window again

"Okay, but can I make a deal with you?" he says, glancing over at you again, completely ignoring the way you’re still facing the window, arms crossed tight.

You don’t answer, of course. But he knows you’re listening.

"If I make the next red light, you have to give me a kiss," he announces proudly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel like this is the best idea he’s ever had.

Your head whips toward him, eyes narrowed. "What?"

Heeseung grins. Hook, line, and sinker.

"You heard me, pretty. A kiss. Next red light."

You scoff, turning away again. "Absolutely not."

"Aw, come on," he whines dramatically, shifting in his seat like a restless kid. "You love kissing me."

No response.

"You do," he insists. "You’re just mad right now, but you’re totally gonna cave. I know you."

Still, nothing.

Heeseung sighs, then switches tactics. "Okay, okay. No kiss. But can I at least hold your hand? Just a little bit? One pinky? A thumb?"

Silence.

Heeseung pouts. "Baby, please."

You shake your head.

He groans like he’s physically in pain. "You're actually breaking my heart right now. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Nothing.

He sighs dramatically again, waiting for the next stoplight. Then, when it finally turns red, he perks up.

"Last chance. Give me a kiss, and I’ll shut up. Forever if you want." he says, already grinning because he knows damn well you won’t fall for that.

Sure enough, you turn to him, deadpan. "You definitely won't."

Heeseung pouts, hand flying to his chest like you’ve wounded him. "You wound me."

You roll your eyes. "You're so stupid."

"And you're so pretty," he fires back, laying his hand on the center console. "Now hold my hand."

You exhale sharply, glaring at him for a second longer—then, with a huff, you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers.

Heeseung beams. Like, full-on, brightest-smile-ever beams.

"You’re ridiculous," you mutter.

"But you're still holding my hand," he teases, squeezing your fingers.

You groan, but you don’t pull away.

Heeseung just grins even harder, bringing your hand up to press a quick kiss to your knuckles.

Mad or not, you’re still his. And he’s never been more into you.

JUNGWON

This man YEARNS to have you angry or annoyed at him

and I am dead serious.

He is a younger brother so it's in his blood to be annoying and you are absolutely no exception.

He loves poking, teasing, pulling at your clothes, following you around, pissing you off basically

and when you get pissed off then that means you're paying attention to him

and that's all he really wants (he also just likes being all up in your business because he's clingy, but he'd never say that out loud)

You're never actually mad at him, of course.

but you do get annoyed with him and that leads to petty arguments that are easily swept under the rug because he's just so cutie how could you ever actually be mad.

"Stop."

"Stop what?" He asks innocently as he leans back on the bed on his hands and tilts his head.

"Stop wasting my highlighter and spreading it on my face." You roll your eyes at him from your seat at your vanity.

You've been trying to get ready to go out for about an hour and the whole time Jungwon has been at your side. He followed you around the house as you went back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom, to the kitchen. At that point, he was just talking your ear off, and you found it cute that he was following you around much like a meowing cat would.

But now he was just being annoying to get you riled up.

Jungwon grins, completely unbothered. He stands up and returns to his spot next to you at your vanity, looking down at you unscrewing a tube of mascara. “But it looks good on you,” he teases, swiping a bit more highlighter onto his finger before reaching for your cheek again.

You grab his wrist to stop him. “Jungwon.”

“What?” He laughs, feigning innocence as he leans closer, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m just helping you glow, angel.” with a simple flick of his finger he successfully wipes the shimmery powder on your cheek. The sight of your exposed neck as you try to tilt away from his hand makes his heart skip a beat.

“You’re making me look like a disco ball,” you deadpan, glaring at your now overly shimmery cheek in the mirror. You let go of Jungwon and set the mascara down to trade it for another makeup wipe.

Jungwon hums, dramatically tilting his head. “Mmm… a really cute disco ball, though.”

You groan, turning back to your vanity to finish getting ready—only to realize something is missing.

“Wait, where’s my—” You whip around just in time to catch Jungwon smirking as he dangles your mascara between his fingers.

Your eyes narrow. “Jungwon.”

“Hm?” He blinks innocently, twirling the tube in his hand. “Looking for this?”

“Give it back.”

“I dunno… do you really need it?” He grins, holding it just out of reach as you step closer. “I think you look perfect already.”

You lunge for it, but he’s faster, twisting away and laughing as he runs and flops onto the bed, holding the mascara hostage against his chest. “You want it? Come get it.”

Oh, he thinks he’s so smart.

Without hesitation, you climb onto the bed, straddling him as you wrestle for the tube. “Jungwon, I swear—”

He lets out a breathless chuckle, his hands moving to your waist as he tries to keep you from prying the mascara from his grip. But then, suddenly, he stops fighting.

Because you’re right there.

Hovering over him, lips parted in frustration, eyes burning into his with determination. His heart stutters, and he realizes… he really didn’t think this through. Or maybe he did. Doesn't matter, you're literally on top of him he's living the dream.

Your fingers finally close around the mascara, yanking it free, but Jungwon hardly notices. He’s too busy staring up at you, completely mesmerized.

You pause, noticing his dazed expression. “…What?”

His grip on your waist tightens slightly, a lazy, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “Just… you’re really pretty when you’re mad.”

Your breath catches for just a second—before you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

But before you roll off him completely, you lean down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips—just enough to throw him off before you sit up again, triumphant.

Jungwon blinks, caught between being smug and utterly lovestruck. “Wait—”

“Nope.” You cut him off, hopping off the bed and walking back to your vanity with your mascara in hand. “I meant what I said.”

Jungwon groans dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “That was definitely getting me somewhere.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you say, applying your mascara with a satisfied smirk.

From the bed, Jungwon watches you, lips still tingling from the kiss, his heart so full it’s embarrassing. Yeah. He definitely won.

NI-KI

he's also a younger brother so yk what that means

he might be even more annoying because he is so smug and flirty someone stop him

he lives for the reactions you give him when he teases you

the way your face flushes, how your touch warms and lingers on his body when you smack him when he says something flirty,

don't even get him started on how you avoid his gaze because he's made you so flustered so then he has to guide your face to look at him by delicately grabbing your chin between his fingers

SOMEONE STOP HIM IMMEDIETLY, I QUIT

which is why he keeps pushing his luck and it's no one's fault but his own when you get fed up with him and present him the most horrible, agonizing, and cruel thing man has ever created

The silent treatment

Truly, it is his worst enemy

He can't think of a worse treatment other than not being able to talk to you.

But it also might be the best thing that's happened to him because he finds out that you are so so so fine when you're mad at him.

"Are you really not gonna talk to me?" Ni-ki asks as he stands in front of you. You're sitting on the small black leather couch in his room. you look up from your phone and give him a look that says it all.

He knew this would happen eventually, but he's not sorry. Like at all. You had gotten back from a trip to the mall almost an hour ago and you've been ignoring him for two hours.

You wanted to get new clothes and just window shop. You looked absolutely breathtaking walking next to him, or just standing next to him really. You were wearing one of his jackets with a cute skirt and a plain top. You were just cute. Especially when you tilt your head up to look at him because he's standing so close to you. He let his cuteness aggression get the best of him and he started teasing and flirting with you shamelessly in public. It was fine at first, he'd poked your cheek, tugged on the sleeve of your jacket, pulled you closer to him.

But then he started getting annoying.

He put his cold hands on the back of your neck, making you yelp. He ruffled your hair and messed it up. He squished your cheeks together and probably smudged some of your makeup. Wrapped his arm around your waist and pinched your side so you squirmed and fell into him. Basically, would not leave you the hell alone for 5 seconds. This man had pissed you off for the last time. Because then he started really pushing your buttons, passing you shamelessly flirty comments out loud in a very public space. They weren't even that crazy, but it still turned you into a flustered mess, while he just laughed.

But he just couldn't stop. Seeing you flustered over things he'd say was way too much fun. The way you’d stammer, your eyes going wide before darting away, how you’d smack his arm but still let your fingers linger for just a second longer than necessary—Ni-ki lived for it. He knew exactly what to say, exactly how to push your buttons, and he had no shame about using that knowledge to his full advantage.

Now he's suffering the consequences.

Two entire hours of pure torture. He hasn't heard you laugh in 2 hours or heard your voice. You'll hardly look at him and he's about to just sink to the floor and hope you'll take pity on him and smother him with affection like he wants you to.

“You’re really still mad?” he tries again, shifting his weight from foot to foot. When you don’t respond, he sighs dramatically and drops onto the couch beside you, his head leaning against the back of the couch “[Name].”

Silence.

“Angel.”

Nothing.

"My beautiful, intelligent, cute, girlfriend who I'm so lucky to have."

A glare.

You turn more towards your arm of the couch and keep scrolling on your phone. Ni-ki sighs and looks up at the ceiling. Then back at you. You're biting your cheek and your eyebrows are furrowed in frustration as your fingers fly across your phone. He can only guess you're dragging his name through the mud to your friends. But he could care less about that, he raises his hand to poke the cheek you're biting on—

"If you poke me one more time today, I will beat the shit out of you."

He swallows. Okay. Maybe he really had done too much this time.

For a moment, he contemplates just admitting defeat, apologizing, and behaving like a good boyfriend for the rest of the day. But then again, when has he ever been able to resist testing his limits?

Instead he moves to quickly pluck your phone out of your hands. You scoff and turn towards him. "Give it back, Riki, seriously"

Ni-ki smirks, holding your phone just out of reach as you reach for it. "Oh, so you can talk to me," he muses, dodging your grab with ease.

"Riki." Your tone is sharp, but he can see the flicker of exasperated affection in your eyes.

"You're still calling me Riki? You must not be that mad." he grins, shifting back just in case you decide to lunge for it.

You narrow your eyes. "Give. It. Back."

"Hmm." He pretends to think about it, twirling your phone between his fingers. "But see, I don't really feel like it."

You lunge.

Ni-ki yelps, scrambling back against the couch as you climb over him, reaching for your phone with determined fury. He barely has time to react before you’ve got your hands on his wrist, attempting to pry it free. But all he can think about—despite the very real threat of you actually hitting him—is how attractive you are like this.

The fire in your eyes, the way your lips purse in frustration, the fact that you're putting your full body weight into wrestling your phone from his grip—his heart is pounding.

Damn, he thinks he's found something better than flustering you.

"You are—" you grunt, tugging at his wrist, "—so annoying!"

"And you—" he flips your phone behind his back, eyes sparkling, "—are so pretty when you're mad at me."

You freeze for half a second, before promptly smacking his chest. Hard.

"Oof—hey!" he laughs, wincing dramatically. "That was uncalled for."

"Well, that's what you get. You are seriously so..." You can't even find the word to describe your fading irritation with him, as he looks up at you with a love-sick gaze. Is he biting his damn lip right now? You raise your hand up to his face, as if you're going to claw his eyes out, and let it curl into a fist and fall to your side. "Ugh!"

"And yet, you're still in my lap," he teases, grinning up at you.

Realizing your position—straddling his thighs as you try to wrestle your phone back—you huff and move to get off him. But before you can, Ni-ki’s arms wrap securely around your waist, pulling you right back.

"Not so fast," he murmurs, tilting his head as he gazes up at you. His voice has dropped just enough to make your breath catch. "You still haven't forgiven me."

Your resolve wavers for a fraction of a second. He sees it, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

Ni-ki leans up slightly, closing the distance between you two, his face just inches from yours. "Say you forgive me," he murmurs, voice teasing but eyes soft. "Or else I might just keep you here all night."

Your heart stutters, and for a moment, you genuinely forget why you were mad at him in the first place. But then you remember exactly why, and with a sudden burst of strength, you snatch your phone from his distracted grip.

"I'll forgive you never," you declare, pushing off him and retreating to his bed, where you hope he'll leave you alone to sit and think about how he should make it up to you.

Ni-ki just watches you, lips curling into a slow grin. He places a hand over his chest, feeling his own heartbeat racing.

Yeah. He was absolutely done for.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧!)ᯓ★

Taglist | @jiiyen @yangjungwonnie @amoressb @sugarikiz @stvrriki

[razette]

Point #3 especially bothers me. There is another post going around that allegedly quotes things people have gleefully said to disqualify themselves as a jury candidate. Im not sure those quotes were real, and it doesn't actually matter. The general consensus was, "Look at me stick it to the man, yeehaw!" The sort of stuff tumblr loves, so it's relatively popular.

Not that I think anyone on tumblr was a candidate themselves either, by and large, but that shit always rubbed me the wrong way. If the general you believes that jury has power-- and the general you DOES believe this, thats why they keep bringing up point #4!!!-- then those sort of quotes should be the LAST thing you want to hear people saying.

By pulling stunts like that (and they are stunts) you are removing the ONLY person you can be sure would voice everything you think needs to be talked about before a fair conclusion can be made. YOURSELF. YOU. that person is you.

If we want jury nullification (or even just the fever dream that seems to be a fair trial in our punitive justice system) if we want there to even the barest chance of a just outcome... we need to know how the system works and what to do if we find ourselves part of it in anyway

THIS IS WHY jury duty is everyone's civic duty. And I know we dont live in a perfect world. there are 100,000 reasons any one person might not be able to serve as juror, not least is which is the lack of pay for the time. I get it.

but the "i think hes so guilty id just kill him now if I could" jury dodgers and the "i think he is innocent and the real killer should shoot more ceos" jury dodgers.... they arent "sticking it" to anyone. They arent a moneky wrench in the machine, theyre just part of the calibration process. The machine is gonna run.

BEGGING so many of yall to read some amount of Actual Criminal Case Law before making statements about the disposition of Luigi Mangione's court case. that case is not getting thrown out despite what tumblr armchair experts tell you.

[kashverse]

Hello!

Im really interested in Choso’s and YN relationship in you Parents AU (that’s what I’m calling it at least). Poor man could use a break from the chaos that is babykuna.

I was wondering if you could write something YN helping him relax after a day of babysitting Sukuna kids. It looks like it’s a lot for him.

what the hell happened with the babies of the gojo and sukuna household? → read here !! what the hell are the cats listening to? → read here !!

choso does not get paid enough for this. in fact, he does not get paid at all. and while he loves his niece—his little princess, his munchkin—he is still just a man. and by that, he means that he has a limit.

today’s adventures in babysitting included two crying toddlers, an overdramatic maine coon mourning the chaos of his life, a tabby cat that looked ready to commit war crimes, and sukuna popping a tylenol like it was a tic tac. he does not know why babytoru and babykuna were beefing over a slide, he just knows that he was the one left carrying a screaming, sand-covered babytoru back to her father while babykuna sniffled against her own dad’s leg, refusing to apologize. and after all of that, after an entire day of unpaid labor, choso finally drags himself home—shoes scuffed, hoodie covered in child fingerprints, mentally and emotionally drained—and nearly drops to his knees in pure joy when he sees you sitting in his living room.

you, his beautiful, ethereal girlfriend, sitting cross-legged on his couch, home after weeks of being away on jobs, looking like a dream. he barely even has the strength to speak, just lets out a breath of relief, shuffling towards you like a war veteran returning home. “long day?” you murmur, cradling an espresso cup in one hand like the wise, all-knowing woman that you are, watching him with mild amusement as he melts onto the couch beside you, face buried in your lap.

“i don’t know how i survived,” he mumbles into the fabric of your sweatpants, clinging to your thighs like a lifeline. “they were fighting. over a slide. babykuna pushed babytoru, she landed face-first in the sand, ruined her ‘loo-wiss vuhee vu-ton’ dress, and then they both started crying.” you hum in understanding, carding your fingers through his hair while taking a slow sip of your espresso. “ah, yes. the pride of youth.”

he groans. “it wasn’t pride. it was war.”

“you are but a man,” you agree sagely.

“i am but a man.” he sighs, body going limp. “but at least i have you.”

choso nuzzles deeper into your lap as if hoping you’ll absorb all the pain from today. you, his beautiful, always-on-the-go girlfriend, who has been hopping between countries for photoshoots and runway shows for weeks now, are finally home, blessing him with your presence. and oh, how he needs it.

“you look nice,” he mumbles against your thigh, voice muffled but full of reverence. “haven’t seen you in sweats in forever. usually, you’re in those fancy dresses or some… couture thing.” you smirk, taking a slow sip of your espresso. “i do wear normal clothes, you know.”

“do you?” he deadpans, lifting his head just enough to meet your gaze. “last time you were here, you had a suitcase full of silk and cashmere.”

“a woman has needs.” you shrug.

“my need is you.” he grumbles, arms tightening around your waist. “in sweats. forever.”

you chuckle, setting your cup down to comb through his hair. “well, lucky you. i’m not leaving for another week.” his grip immediately tightens. “a week?”

“a whole week.”

he groans, melting against you like butter on toast. “best news i’ve heard all day.”

“better than the cats liking ‘creep’ by radiohead?”

“by far.”

you pat his head, the ultimate seal of approval. “now, do you want to keep complaining, or do you want me to kiss you until you forget the traumatic events of today?”

he doesn’t even hesitate. “kiss. immediately.”

[whatifitis]

♡ Pack It Up - CL 16 ♡

SMAU FUCK U TUMBLR AND THE PICTURES PER POST

this is paht 2, paht 1 is here <3

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deuxmoi

456,291 Likes

deuxmoi Tom Blyth spotted getting close to his co-star, Emily Bader, after a night on the town. 

📷 @/backgrid_usa

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User56 so.. Do yall feel stupid now?

↳ User23 a little…

↳ User12 Okay but how could we not think Tom and Y/n were getting back together? The evidence was stacked

↳ User90 there was no evidence 😭 yall are just stupid and read into things too much

User68 my husband is cheating on me 😱

User77 I hope yall apologize for the way you treated y/n during all this

↳ User33 FR! Like this could’ve seriously taken a toll on y/n and charles relationship. I mean there hasn’t been a peep from either of them since all this shit started. 

↳ User87 do you guys think they actually broke up? /gen

↳ User31 honestly the chances are quite high considering the circumstances

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charles_leclerc 

Liked by y/n_l/n, phoebebridgers, and 912,693 others

charles_leclerc Mon coeur, there are simply no words to say how much I love you and how in love I am with you. Your humor, kindness, and honesty are something I adore so much. I will forever be grateful to have even met you, let alone get to spend my life with you. There is no life without you. Thank you for loving me through everything. I’m in love with the world through the eyes of this girl. 

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y/n_l/n my favorite person in the whole world. thank YOU for loving me through everything. you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you forever

francisca.cgomes hurt her ever and you’re chopped liver 

↳ charles_leclerc i only intend on loving her til my last breath

↳ pierregasly Enough with the poetry speaking, it’s creepy and makes me look bad

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f1gossippofficial

459,291 Likes

f1gossippofficial uh oh, seems as if Mr. Snow was just playing y/n 🤔 the cold hearted snake was spotted making out with his co-star AND there’s talk of him sending messages to his friends about wanting y/n back so that he could “trick that stupid bitch into thinking she’s loveable”. He also was heard speaking ill about our beloved y/n and stating that she was “talentless” and that he should’ve never wasted his time on someone so “boring”

View all comments 

User29 what a fucking twat honestly

User53 and here i thought he was one of the good ones 🤧

↳ User77 hate to break it to you, babe. but there’s no good ones

↳ User53 true true

User44 yall really didnt listen to ‘complex’ and it shows

User84 the picture is sending me 💀

User20 TOM BLYTH I WILL FUCK YOUR MOM AND FUCK U UP I HOPE YOU STUB YOUR TOES AND THAT BOTH SIDES OF YOUR PILLOW ARE ALWAYS MICROWAVE WARM 😡😡🤬🤬🤬🖕🖕🖕🦶🦶🦶🦶🫵🫵🫵🫵

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charles_leclerc posted a story

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y/n_l/n

Liked by charlesleclerc, pierregasly, 1,343,454 others

y/n_l/n thank you so much to f1 for inviting me to perform for the race this weekend! it was so much fun and i LOVED being able to perform my new song ‘call it what you want’ for the first time! (it will be out friday!). I also wanna thank the crowd for joining me in singing happy birthday to the love of my LIFE. this weekend was amazing and i will cherish these moments forever <3

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charles_leclerc Not only do I have the hottest gf ever, but I have the sweetest one. I don’t deserve you, truly. You’re my angel

↳ y/n_l/n what can i say 🤷 im just smart as hell (and so very in love with you)

pierregasly STOP RAISING THE BAR PLEASE IM JUST A MAN ↳ francisca.cgomes 😘 i love my balding bf

[deerlysacred]

🥘 . . . taming a bear, { soldier boy x witch fem!reader } | playing house

𐂂 𝄢 { butcher left you to take care of this famous supe soldier boy for the weekend. }

𖣂 𝄢 fluff, first chapter of the ‘playing house’ series. not sure how much chapters it'll have, planning on 3 for now.

‼️ 𝄢 i do not own the boys or any of its characters; all rights belong to their respective creators. this is purely a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only, with no intention of profit.

The safe house wasn't much to look at. A shitty little apartment in the middle of nowhere, with peeling wallpaper and a draft that whistled through the cracks in the windows. Butcher and the others had left hours ago, and now it was just you and Soldier Boy.

While they were out playing detective, you were tasked with making sure Soldier Boy —Ben— didn't do something stupid, like get himself killed before the job was done or accidentally vaporize an entire city block in a fit of PTSD. Babysitting duty, basically. Butcher had even been patronizing enough to say, "Keep 'im happy. Maybe cook 'im a meal or somethin'." As if you weren't already the unofficial den mother of this ragtag mess of a team.

So. Cooking it was.

You figured stew would be easy enough. One pot. Minimal effort. Warm, fulling, impossible to fuck up. All you had to do was get through the next weekend without pissing off the most volatile superhuman in history or dying from secondhand smoke inhalation.

Simple.

Except Ben was watching you. Very closely.

Not in the way most men did— sly glances, stolen looks when they thought you wouldn't notice. No, his stare was direct and sharp. It was the kind of look that made you hyper-aware of every movement, of the slow stir of the spoon in your hand, of the subtle hitch in your breath.

Ignore him. He's like an old cat— if you acknowledge him, he'll just do it more.

He was sprawled on the couch, beer dangling lazily between his fingers, the flickering TV screen casting sharp shadows over his face. Even like this —half-drunk and half-bored— he had a presence that was impossible to ignore. Broad shoulders slouched, thick arms corded with muscle resting over the couch. His long legs were spread wide, the denim of his jeans stretching over thick thighs. "What the hell are you even makin' over there?" His gruff voice cut through the quiet, laced with skepticism. "Smells weird."

You glanced over your shoulder for a second, catching him scrunching his nose like a spoiled golden retriever. "It's stew." you said, giving the pot another slow stir.

Ben snorted, bringing the beer to his lips, his throat bobbing with each slow swallow. "Christ. What, Butcher put you up to this? Thought you were my fuckin' babysitter, not my goddamn housewife."

Heat crept up your neck at that, but you ignored it, choosing instead to focus on chopping up some carrots. "Yeah, well, I figured if I let you fend for yourself, you'd either burn this place down trying to use the microwave or get scammed into buying twenty-dollar fast food. So here we are."

"Dont need a goddamn caretaker too. I'm a grown man." he muttered into his beer, but there was something almost amused in his tone. Maybe even… appreciative? You weren't sure. His default setting was 'grumpy' so it was hard to tell.

You scrapped the chopped vegetables into the pot, watching as they disappear beneath the simmering broth. The aroma was actually kind of nice, despite what Ben said.

For a while, there was only the sound of bubbling stew and whatever car chase was happening on TV. Then, Ben spoke up again.

"Didn't know witches cooked." His voice was a low drawl, rough around the edges like he smoked a thousand cigarettes (which, let's be real, he probably had).

"What, you think I survive on eye of newt and bat wings?"

He shrugged, took another swig of his beer, and gestured vaguely at you with the bottle. "Dunno. Figured you just… I dunno, chant some shit and make food appear. Like poof— supper's on the table."

You rolled your eyes. "That's not how magic works."

"Then what's the point?"

Your grip tightened slightly on the spoon. "Oh, I don't know, maybe I like doing things with my hands."

You realized your mistake the second his lips quirked up into a shameless grin.

"Yeah? Bet you do."

You groaned, immediately regretting everything. Maybe if I just jumped out the window— no, bad plan, third floor. Maybe—

Ben chuckled, low and satisfied with himself, as he settled deeper into the couch. "What's in it anyway? Gotta admit it's starting to smell… decent."

You grinned, dropping some salt in with a flick of your fingers. "Beef, potatoes, carrots, some herbs— basic stuff."

He raised an eyebrow. "You do all this by yourself?"

You blinked, a little thrown by the question. "Uh… yeah?"

"Huh." He took another sip of his beer, gaze sliding over you in a way that feels almost calculating. "You'd make a good housewife."

You froze mid-stir, processing that absolute relic of a statement. Then, slowly, you turned to him, wooden spoon still in hand. "Excuse me?"

He smirked, completely unrepentant. "You heard me."

Your fingers tightened around the spoon. "I'll have you know I am not housewife material."

Ben scoffed. "Bullshit. You cook, you clean—"

"I don't clean for you—"

"—you do all that magic hocus-pocus shit, probably got some potion that makes a man sleep like a baby. Bet you'd keep a husband real happy." He leaned forward, propping an elbow on the coffee table, the grin on his face wicked. "Ever think about settling down, sweetheart?"

Your eye twitched. "Yeah. Every day. With arsenic."

Ben barked out a laugh, a real one, amused. "Shit, you got some bite to you, huh?"

You sighed, turning back to the stew before you say something that gets you vaporized. "I don't know what kind of women you were around back in the day, but I'm not some 1950s housewife."

"No shit, women these days got more bark than they used to."

You tossed a disbelieving glance his way. "Gee, I wonder why."

Ben shrugged like it was all the same to him. "Not complaining. I like a girl with some fight in her."

For some reason, that made your stomach do something weird. Not good weird, but… weird. You busied yourself with the stew. "You're impossible."

"I'm a fucking delight."

"Sure."

Silence settled between you, broken only by the occasional pop of the stew as it simmers. Ben watched you for a while, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. Then, surprisingly, he asked: "How'd you learn?"

You blinked. "Learn what?"

"This." He gestured vaguely to the stove, to you, to the whole cooking situation. "Somebody teach you?"

You hesitated, caught off guard by the genuine curiosity. "Yeah… my mom."

Ben hummed, gaze drifting slightly. "That right?"

"Yeah." You stirred absently, the memory coming back to you. "She used to say that food is one of the simplest ways to care for someone. That a good meal can fix a lot of things."

Ben took that in, quiet for a beat. Then—

"That's some sappy shit."

You sighed. "Of course that's what you take from it."

He smirked. "Hey, you wanna cook for me, I'm not gonna complain. Just sayin' —a blowjob does the same thing and takes half the effort."

WHAT THE—

Your hand twitched violently, almost sending the spoon flying. Ben just laughed at your shock. You didn't throw the spoon at Ben's stupid face, but God, the temptation was there. Instead, you took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. The stew was done. It smelled rich and hearty, the kind of meal that sticks to your ribs. You grabbed two bowls, ladled some in, and set them on the table, sliding one towards Ben with a little more force than necessary.

"There. Eat."

Ben eyed the bowl, then you, smirking like he could hear every profanity currently screaming in your brain. "Didn't even spit in it. How sweet."

"Yet." you muttered under your breath as you sat across from him.

Ben picked up the spoon, scooping up a chunk of beef and potato. He gave it a cautious sniff —because apparently, despite surviving years of eating God-knows-what, he suddenly didn't trust food— before taking a bite.

His chewing slowed.

You watched him carefully. "Well?"

He didn't answer right away, just chewed, swallowed, and went in for another bite. Then another. His brow furrowed slightly, like was confused. "…Huh."

You raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Ben pointed his spoon at you. "This is actually pretty fuckin' good."

You snorted. "Wow, thanks. High praise from a guy who probably ate paint as a child."

Ben grinned. "And look how I turned out."

"Oh yeah. Perfect specimen." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help feeling a little pleased as he kept eating. Soldier Boy, the walking nuclear warhead, was sitting in front of you, wolfing down your cooking like it was the best thing he had in decades.

He gestured at the bowl. "So, this, uh… this is normal now?"

You tilted your head. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Like… people don't eat TV dinners and spam anymore?"

"Okay, first of all, people still eat that stuff. But yeah, home-cooked meals are still a thing. Not everyone survives on frozen shit."

Ben grunted. "Didn't have time to cook back in the day. Always off doin' supe shit. When I was home, I had a hire girl do it."

You gave him a dry look. "Of course you did."

He smirked. "What? S'how it was. You'd have fit right in back then."

You scoffed. "Yeah, except I wouldn't have been cooking for you."

Ben chuckled, shaking his head as he dug back into the stew. For a while, there was just the sound of eating— the quiet clink of spoons against bowls. It was oddly… peaceful.

Then, naturally, Ben ruined it.

"So, what's the deal with you and Butcher?"

You paused mid-bite, blinking at him. "What?"

Ben gestured vaguely. "You two got a thing or somethin'?"

You nearly choked on your food. "What—God, no!"

Ben smirked, clearly entertained by your horror. "That a little too much mustache for ya?" Caressing his beard.

You shuddered dramatically. "Ew. Please. I don't need that image in my head while I'm eating."

"Figured. Butcher doesn't seem like the type to go for weird little witch girls."

You narrowed your eyes. "Weird little witch girls? I'm gonna hex you."

Ben laughed, deep and throaty, one hand drumming against the coffee table. "So if it ain't Butcher, you got someone else?"

You frowned. "Why do you care?"

He shrugged, popping another bite into his mouth. "Just makin' conversation."

You studied him for a moment, then sighed, stabbing at your stew. "No. No one."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "What, a cute thing like you, no boyfriend?"

Your face heated slightly, but you rolled your eyes. "Oh, please. I don't have time for that. I've got more important things to worry about than—" You waved your spoon vaguely. "—dating."

Ben hummed, considering you. "That's a damn shame."

You cleared your throat. "Why? You wanna sign up?"

"Depends. Do I get more stew out of it?"

You scoff. "Oh, that's what you're after. The food."

"Hey, I ain't gonna lie to you, sweetheart. You cook like this, a man starts thinkin' long term."

You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly sprained something. When you were done, you stood up. "I'm gonna go wash my hands." Ben just grunted in acknowledgment.

You headed to the dingy little bathroom, shaking your head as the faucet rattled before spitting out a weak stream of warm water. Just as you were drying your hands with a towel, you heard it—

Ben's voice, raised and pissed.

Your stomach dropped.

Oh, God. Nononononononono…

You barely dried your hands before rushing out of the bathroom, half-expecting to find him punching holes in the walls or squaring up against some poor delivery guy. Instead, you skidded to a stop in the middle of the living room and found him standing there, broad-shouldered and brimming with barely restrained fury, gripping your phone in one massive hand like he was debating whether to crush it.

"You answered my phone?!" you yelled.

Ben turned his head, green eyes blazing, irritation sharp in the hard set of his jaw. "You didn't answer it," he shot back. "Thought it was somethin' important! Instead, some dickhead named Greg starts yappin' in my ear about 'overdue payments' and 'interest rates'— what the hell kinda scam you wrapped up in?"

Your eyes widened. "Wait— you talked to the bank man?"

Ben crossed his arms, his expression pure fury. "Damn right I did."

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. "Oh my god. What did you say?"

"I told 'im to go fuck himself, that's what I said! Told 'im he's a snake oil peddler and if he wants his money so bad, he can come down here and fight me for it like a man."

Your jaw dropped. "BEN."

"What?"

"That was my credit card company! I owe them money!"

Ben blinked, his green eyes zoning out for a second. "…So?"

"So, now they probably think I'm trying to threaten them instead of paying them!"

Ben scoffed, waving a hand. "Good. Maybe they'll stop calling, then. Bunch of bloodsuckers, the lot of 'em."

You groaned again, stomping over and snatching your phone from his grip. "Unbelievable. You threatened my bank!"

Ben smirked, utterly unrepentant, his lips quirking like this was the most fun he had in weeks. "Ain't my fault they folded like wet paper. Bunch of pussies."

"You told Greg to fight you over my credit card bill!"

His smirk widened, slow and wolfish, dimples cutting deep into his bearded cheeks. "Hell yeah, I did. Told 'im I'd meet him anywhere, anytime. Guy backed off real quick."

You stared at him, equal parts exasperated and horrified.

"Y'know what?" You inhaled sharply, shaking your head as you turned away. "I'm just gonna pretend this didn't happen." With that, you flopped onto the couch, grabbing a pillow and covering your face with it, muffling a scream.

You were never letting him near your phone again.

Later that evening, after the dishes had been washed (mostly by you, with Ben half-assedly drying them and complaining the whole time), you made coffee. Because let's be honest, after that absolute disaster Ben caused, you needed caffeine. Badly. You brewed it. Strong, dark, and just slightly sweet.

Ben eyed the two steaming mugs as you set them on the table. "You drink coffee at night?"

You shrugged. "Why not?"

He scoffed, grabbing his. "No wonder you're so high-strung."

You shot him a flat look. You wanted to say 'Says the guy who's been vibrating with unresolved rage since 1984.' but you bit your tongue. Knowing which lines to not cross.

Ben took a sip, his expression barely changed, but the way his shoulders loosened just slightly told you that he approved.

You curled up on the couch, hands wrapped around your mug. "So… now that we're stuck together for the weekend, what do you usually do to pass the time? Besides smoking, drinking, and picking fights with my credit card company?"

Ben smirked over the rim of his mug. "That about covers it, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes. "Figures."

For a while, silence settled. Not awkward, not tense. Just… quiet. The only sounds were the occasional clink of a mug against the table, the low hum of the fridge, and the faint noise of a distant car passing outside.

Then Ben spoke.

"You really think a meal can fix shit?"

You blinked, turning to him. "Huh?"

"That thing you said earlier. About food fixin' things." He didn't look at you, just stared at his coffee. "That just some witchy sentimental crap or do you actually believe it?"

You hesitated, then answered honestly. "I think… it's not about the food itself. It's about what it represents. Taking care of someone. Letting them know they're not alone." You traced the rim of your mug. "Even if it's just for one meal. It's a moment outside of everything else— outside of all the chaos. A moment where you sit down, you eat, and you know, for just a little while, that you're okay. That someone thought enough of you to keep you warm, to make sure you had something real in front of you. Then adding another meal, another evening onto it. Then another, then another… Building something safe and sound with a person."

Ben was quiet. His fingers tapped against his mug in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. Then—

"…No one ever did that for me."

Your chest tightened. You turned to him fully, but his expression was unreadable, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something distant.

"…Not even your team?" you asked softly.

Ben huffed a bitter laugh. "Yeah, right. Those assholes? They couldn't wait to get rid of me."

You frowned. "Payback."

Ben's grip tightened around his mug. "Yeah. Bunch of goddamn backstabbers. Lied to my fuckin' face. My own team— people I trusted."

The weight in his voice made something twist in your gut. Crimson Countess was already dead. You didn't ask for details— if Ben had killed her, you doubted there was much left to find. But the others… they were still out there. Still breathing. They lived freely while Soldier Boy was trapped in there for years. You did know his reasons to want revenge. Or at least, you had an idea. The experiments, the isolation, the years of being kept in a frozen hellhole with nothing but agony and rage to keep him company.

"…That's why you want revenge."

His eyes flicked to you.

You didn't look away. "I understand that. I may not be in your shoes but I can't even guess how much I would want to get revenge if I was."

Ben exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening as he shook his head. "They don't get to walk free after what they did." His jaw clenched. "They don't get to live their goddamn lives while I spent forty years rotting in a cage."

You swallowed. You could hear it in his voice, that deep, burning rage. But beneath it, buried under layers of anger and bravado— you could hear the hurt.

You hesitated, then—

"…What if it doesn't make you feel better?"

Ben's brows furrowed. "What?"

You held your coffee a little tighter. "What if you get your revenge, but it doesn't change anything? What if it doesn't make the pain go away?"

Ben stared at you.

The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken.

Then, he scoffed, shaking his head. "Christ. You always this fuckin' sentimental?"

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. "Just something to think about."

Ben didn't respond right away. He just took another slow sip of his coffee, his gaze distant, like he was turning your words over in his head.

For once, he had nothing smart-assed to say. And for some reason, that unsettled you more than anything else.

You pushed yourself up with a yawn, your eyelids getting heavier. "Alright. I'm calling it. I need sleep."

"Tch. Lightweights, all of you."

You ignored that. "There's a room for you down the hall. I set up the bed earlier."

That got his attention. He turned, giving you a slow once-over, before smirking. "That right? Real cozy set-up we got here. What, you tucking me in too, sweetheart?"

Your eye twitched. "No. But I will hex you into insomnia if you keep pushing it."

Ben chuckled, low and amused, but thankfully he didn't tease further. He stretched— an obnoxiously big stretch, broad chest rising, arms flexing, before he finally stood with a groan. "Fine, fine. Since you're gettin' all cranky."

You rolled your eyes, already padding toward the bedrooms. The safe house was small, so it wasn't much of a walk. Just two rooms, side by side, with a narrow hallway between them. You stopped in front of your door, reaching for the knob, when you heard Ben behind you.

"This one mine?" He nudged the door beside yours with his boot.

"Yeah." You stifled another yawn. "There should be clean blankets in there."

Ben huffed. "You really went all out, huh?"

You glanced over your shoulder. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with a tired yet amused look.

You shrugged. "Just figured you'd rather not sleep on a couch that smells like stale beer and mix of suspicious liquids."

Ben snorted. "Sweetheart, I spent years sleeping in a fuckin' icebox. I ain't picky."

There was something about the way he said it— too casual, too offhand— that made your chest tighten a little.

You hesitated. There was a beat of quiet, only the faint hum of the old heater filling the space between you. You shifted on your feet. "…Well. If you need anything, just—" You gestured vaguely towards the wall between your rooms. "Bang or… whatever."

Ben's lips quirked. "That an invitation?"

Your fingers tightened around the doorknob, nails pressing into the cool metal. The way he looked at you now —hooded gaze, mouth curled just enough to be tempting— it sent something warm curling in your gut, heat prickling at your neck.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, gripping the door handle. "Goodnight, Ben."

"Night, witchy."

You groaned, stepping into your room and shutting the door with a click. But as you laid back down, the sounds of the apartment settling around you, the knowledge that he was right there, just on the other side of the wall, was… strangely comforting. You didn't want to think further why you felt that…

[enhaeil]

KNOCKIN' DA BOOTS ! ☆ 이희승

"i feel so good when I'm near you. that's why I always want to be close to you. i'm so addicted, i'm so addicted to makin' love to you, baby.."

knockin da boots - h-town

a/n: i wanted this to be smut, but idk why I can't write it, so im really sorry. but this is the first part of my old skool series ! enjoy <3

c/w: suggestive !! fluff. heeseung and y/n bein fast lol

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

march 19th 1993

you're in your bedroom, finishing up your chemistry homework when you hear sounds coming from your window.

you glance at the alarm clock that sat on your nightstand, that read 11:00 PM. confused on what could be making noise at such a late hour, you immediately assume the worse.

you carefully approach your window, gulping as you peer into the glass.

as you look see a man throwing pebbles at your window.

and it was none other than your secret boyfriend, lee heeseung.

despite you being in college, your parents were still strict on you. "no boyfriends until you graduate." your mom said. "no boyfriend until you're thirty." said your dad.

however, heeseung was different. he brought out something in you.

"heeseung, what're you doing here?! you know it's late ..." you say trying your best to whisper-yell.

"I came to see you, baby" he smiled as if showing up at your girlfriends window at eleven PM was normal.

"just... hurry up and get in here before my dad sees." you say, opening your window wider so he can climb up and in.

"don't you know how much trouble both of us would get in if they knew you were here?" you speak as your arms fold across your chest.

heeseung plops onto your bed without a care, leaning back on his hands.

"and i'd get in trouble 10 times if it means I get to be with you."

you roll your eyes, and he pats his lap, luring you to sit down.

you reluctantly sit down, still trying to put up an attitude.

"aren't you happy to see me? i'm happy to see you." he says, his hand brushing a stray hair away from your face.

"of course, i'm happy to see you, heeseung. i just don't want to lose you. you know this isn't allowed."

he presses a kiss to the side of your face before speaking.

"baby, the moment you said yes to me courting you, you weren't getting rid of me. you could never lose me. even if your dad doesn't like me. i mean, look at romeo and juliet?"

you scrunch your eyebrows. "first of all heeseung, that was a family feud. also, don't they die at the end?"

"never said I read it!" he puts his hands up in defense. you playfully slap his chest as you both burst into a fit of giggles.

he presses a soft, passionate kiss against your lips, holding your face. an "i love you" falls off his lips, quiet, but not going missed by you.

the kiss quickly turns more heated and breathless, your hips absentmindedly moving against him before you break the kiss, pushing him back.

"heeseung, we can't do this here." you say, trying to catch your breath.

you and heeseung have done stuff before. however, it was always at his house or even in his car. doing it in your bedroom was just too risky.

"y/n, please. i wanna make you feel good, i'll be quiet as a mouse."

you're still hesitant, biting your lip in worry.

"if you really aren't comfortable with it, we don't have to, baby, and I would never make you. but I hate having to love you in secret." he says sincerely.

you sigh, knowing he's right.

fuck it.

you pull him in for another kiss, removing his letterman jacket in the process.

you can't lie, the thrill of it does turn you on a bit. and you would be lying if you said you weren't ready for him to take you right now.

you moan into the kiss, and heeseung lifts you up, laying you on the bed.

"i can't wait to feel you, baby.."

im so sorry i wish i could finish this

[mariasont]

hiiiii!!! what do you think about sharing a room with aaron but not in a sexual way but just late night gossiping and loving fools? would love to read your take on this idea 'cause your writing is amazing. love ya!

hi hi hi!!!!! im obsessed & i have so many thoughts & i love you!!!!!

so we all know mr boss man hotchner is one who does not let himself indulge in life’s simple pleasures, let’s be real. so if you start ordering room service, he’d probably act totally indifferent at first, like he could take it or leave it. (skinny legend)

but then you’d probably catch him like stealing a fry off your plate and you’d crack a joke about how obviously he wanted the food, and he’d just give you that dumb smirks before grabbing another.

and as for the gossiping well obviously you’d be the one to initiate it, duh, no question. you’d probably be scrolling through your phone (yes iphones exist in my cm universe idc), casually dropping things about who emily’s been seeing/hanging out with and at first hotch would pretend he isn’t listening but the moment you mention anything remotely scandalous about someone he’s interested in (rossi? strauss? say what now?) he’d definitely give you that raised eyebrow look and be all like that doesn’t surprise me.

and then you quickly come to realize that hotch knows all the good gossip but he just never shares unprompted. but once he’s comfort he’d probably drop the most insane lore in the driest of tones like, you didn’t hear it from me but rossi married a woman half his age in vegas last year

and you’d be all like omg excuse? why didn’t you ever tell me?

and he’d just smile and be like you didn’t ask

[infevious]

I NEED a part 2 of that Latino kinich pls pls make it fluffy 😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

APOLOGIES

a/n: pt 2 of this !! probs ooc 😓 im also surprise surprise high as balls again so im probably thinking im writing shit shakespeare himself couldn’t but it’s actually ass. i also have a test tomorrow and need to sleep early today so pls dont hate me for not writing an actual ending i’ll finish tomorrow maybe 😭😭😭

…………………………………………….

The final straw for the hunter was when he saw you and Yaotyl playing around, he hated how the man was touching you, he had tried convincing himself he wasn’t jealous but he knew he was lying to himself. His saurian companion only added salt to the wound.

“Would you look at that! She’s enjoying her time with someone else while you’re over here looking like a kicked puppy- you ever seen her smile that big? Maybe you should just jump off the nearest cliff to end this horrible feeling!”

.

.

.

.

You were walking home after a long day of commissions, the sun was setting and all you wanted to do was rot in bed the rest of the evening. You heard some footsteps behind you but thought nothing of it, multiple people use this path it’s nothing, you kept walking until you felt someone grab your hand and turn you towards them.

It was Kinich. He let go of your hand and gripped your arm, pulling you close to his chest, a little too close, and you could tell he was annoyed.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

You blinked. Didn’t he tell you you were being annoying? You blinked again.

“I’m not ignoring you..”

“Bullshit” His grip on your arm tightened. “You haven’t talked to me in weeks.”

“I’ve just been..busy..?”

Wow. Best liar in all of Teyvat he’s surly going to be convinced.

“Uh huh? Busy with what? Busy with everyone in Natlan that you can’t even spare me a glance?”

“Why do you care? I thought you said I was annoying?”

He bit his lip and looked down for a moment before looking back at you.

“I did…but you’re my f-” He sighed, mentally cursing at himself for caring so much. He didn’t really mind you ignoring him for the first couple of days, but when he saw you were with another man he realized how bad he regretted it, he realized his feelings for you.

“You’re my friend. I just needed some time alone.”

You felt your throat start to burn a bit. Friend. You should have known, you never had a chance with him. You swallowed the feeling back and looked down.

“Okay”

Okay? That’s it? You’ve ignored him for almost a month and the only thing you can say is okay?

He gripped your arm tighter and pulled you closer.

“Is that all you’re going to say? Okay?”

“Well what do you want me to say!?”

That came out a little louder than expected but whatever..all you wanted right now was to rush home and lock yourself in your room.

“Anything other than okay!”

“I’m sorry for listening to you and giving you the space you wanted!”

He scoffed and let you go, crossing his arms and looking away. He knew he should just apologize to you so you two could go back to before and get past this.

“..I’m sorry”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t really expect that.

“What?”

“I said i’m sorry alright?”

.

.

.

.

After a while, it was actually a day and a half, you two were finally back to normal, you just tried to tone it down a bit. He noticed that, but he also noticed how your hand stopped brushing against his when you would walk together, how you seemed slightly less cheery when talking to him, how you stopped looking at him with a small little smile when he would talk.

He was walking back to a customer after finishing a commission when he heard your voice.

“-I don’t know how long I can take it anymore..! I can’t get rid of my stupid feelings! How do I make them go away!?”

He saw you shake Mualani as you looked like you were about to burst out into tears. Feelings? What feelings? Who were you talking about? His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to listen to what you were talking about.

“Uh- how are you sure he doesn’t like you back?”

“He was annoyed at me for spending time with him! He called me a friend..!”

Wait. Was it him you were talking about? He almost started praying to the archons then and there that it was him, he was ready to pay what ever price if you could return his feelings. He was snapped back into his thoughts as he heard Mualani confirm.

“Kinich is a weird guy, who knows?”

“Lani don’t get my hopes up..”

She gave you a small smile and then noticed Kinich standing a few feet behind you. She saw how his cheeks were slightly blushed and raised her eyebrow. He realized that she saw him and quickly left to find the customer.

Interesting.

…………………………………………….

[karamell-sweetz]

sooo gacha life 3 may let you draw your own assets…. like atp just learn how to draw the whole damn character yourself 😭

[natsusleftbootyhole]

In half broken japanese, i wrote to you

ft. 2nd yr bakugo x 2nd yr gn-reader, (+ small hints of izuku, ochaco, mina + kiri)

summary: an attempt to make your ex katsuki jealous, the attempt backfires. (small hints of crack/unhingedness)

type of ff: small angst to fluff

warnings: TOXIC EXES, deadass they cannot stop being petty, swearing obvi, bakugo being desperate, mention of ships : Mini x kirishima + ochaco x toga (however if you dont like these ships, imagine they're really good friends instead :P)

translations: 愛してる oh 愛して: I love you oh i love you.

authors note: HEYY, first fanfic in a while, i hope you like it ≽^•⩊•^≼, also izuku is implied to be questioning his sexuality in the story, but to make it clear he does NOT have a crush on reader. hes just a good pal

"愛してる oh 愛してる"

Katsuki Bakugo wasn't a man who tended to show affection, he often acted indifferent to your acts of love.

Take last years valentines day for example, your first (and only) valentines together. You saw all your other friends get teddy bears and flowers from their lovers, the thought of receiving flowers and chocolates from kats made your heart swell. 8 pm. The only message he sent you that day, your smile widened as you hurried to get ready in your date night attire, doing your hair just right to match the outfit. Only to be crushed when he showed up, empty handed and confused at your attire.

"what the fuck are you wearing" he scoffed. You looked down and saw him in his usual gym wear, an old vest and basketball shorts.

"you said to be ready by 8... im confused, dont you have something planned for valentines?"

there was a beat of silence before katsuki finally spoke up again, only for him to burst out laughing.

"you're joking right? why would i waste my time on valentines, its pointless anyways - just there to spend money on useless shit, i told you to be ready by 8 for the gym. now come on, we're sparing today"

...

`are you fucking serious`, you thought. Your face fell as bakugo turned to the door of your dorm and started walking away, not even looking behind him to see if you were following.

The door slammed shut as the memories of what happened ran through your head.

you grabbed your phone, eyes stinging from the tears brimming your eyes, clicking on katsukis contact.

You pressed the block button. He's gone. It's for the best, you repeat over and over again.

it's for the best.

at least thats what you told yourself, you were distraught. Although katsuki didn't express his love as often as you would like him to or the fact that he got exceptionally jealous when you were around any man, or the fact that he still kept you at arms length, even after months of dating. He still had his moments, like when he would remember the tiniest details about your stories, or the way he always stared lovingly at you, when he thought you weren't looking.

This is gonna be a difficult few months, how could you get over him?

The 10 months since your split has gone by relatively fast, for you anyway. you were devastated for the first 4 months, until you found out katsuki had been messaging a girl from another school, her name was camie? cassie?, you didn't care. after that you lost all sadness for the blond bastard. Instead, you didn't care for the name bakugo katsuki. instead, you started to warm up to the "extras", one being izuku, you could even say that the two of you became very good friends.

Katsuki knew he messed up, he knew he messed up when his mother tore him apart for "losing such a nice S/O", he knew he messed up trying to be petty, messaging camie when he didn't even like her to get a reaction out of you. he knew he messed up when he saw you slowly get over him, the long lasting looks you shared with deku. out of everyone, why did it have to be fucking deku.

14th December 2024

As a way to thank the students for their continual hard work, the school implemented a few seasonal balls a year, only 2 months away was the valentines ball. and you were dreading it.

All of your girl friends had their lovers, ochako had her "secret" villain girlfriend and mina had kirishima, a few of the other class mates had each other as well. it felt depressing, but its not like katsuki would even take you to the ball if you were still dating... would he?

who cares, that chapter is closed, its time to officially move on.

The next day at school, you were sitting around the lunch table with mina and ochako, ranting to them about how you needed to offically get over Katsuki.

"-AND he would never send me good morning or goodnight messages, he would barely even message me at all, let alone talk to me in school. Its like he was embarrassed of me. That i was too weak to be seen with him. Maybe thats why he was messaging that girl cassie or whatever her name was." you paused to breath, and take a sip of your drink. "...i need to get over him."

"girl, you only just realised that. Hm but i dont know, eijiro told me that he hasnt been dealing with the breakup all that well either" mina interrupted before going back to her ramen.

before you could question mina about what she meant uraraka buted in.

"ohhh, i have a plan..you`ll get over bakugo in your own time, but while you heal.. why dont you be a little petty. pay him back from the whole camie situation" She smirked before going back on her phone.

"Girl, i swear toga is rubbing her evilness on you.... it is a good plan tho" mina smirked. they both turned to look at you, with smirks on their faces.

You looked back and forth between the girls before sighing.

"what did you have in mind".

1 month to go to the ball. and the girls and you have slowly setting you plan into action, even including eijiro in your little plan. all you had to do was finally ask.

you could feel yourself shaking as you walked the short walk to izukus room, trying to control your breathing. `what is he says no, what if he thinks this is rude and disrespectful, what if he tells kats your plan??!`

the voices stopped as you finally reached izukus room, its now or never.

KNOCK KNOCK

the sound echoed before the green haired cutie opened his door and welcomed you inside. This wasn't the first time you`ve been in izukus room alone before, at first you thought izuku had a crush on you and thats why he would often stare at you or get very shy around you, turns out he was incredibly fascinated with your quirk but was too shy to talk you you about it. When he finally came up to you to explain the situation, you actually laughed so hard you ended up on the floor cry laughing. and you've been best friends ever since. nothing more.

"i need you're help" you start.

"okayyy..."

"its to do with katsuki"

The room fell silent has his expression changed from confusion to smirking.

"what with..." he sounded cheeky, like he knew something that you didnt. you gave him a weird look and carried on.

"soo, me and the girls were talking. Would it be okay if we pretend to be a couple for the ball. we wont have to kiss or anything like that, just be matching and stay close to each other for the whole evening. i realised that i officially needed to get over katsuki. but while im doing that i wanted to get back at him for the whole camie thing. will you help me out, i know you're one of the people he doesn't like and you're such a good friend that i thought it wouldn't be weird to ask you, right.." You were rambling, you know that but hopefully he understands your point and agrees.

A shocked but smirking izuku greats you when you finally look up from your lap.

"Fuck yea i will, anything to annoy kacchan"

You both burst out laughing and get to planning straight away.

over the next few months, you and izuku became inseparable, from walking to class, going to lunch together and hanging out in each others rooms every week. in all honestly, in pissed katsuki off. What was going on, why were you spending so much time with him of all people. why should he care, you're over. he should move on. but he cant. He was so in-love with you... is he still? he doesn't know.

One night, he decided to call eijiro. he needed to talk to someone, the thoughts of you have been fogging his mind, the way you changed your hair, it complemented you more. you started embracing your hobbies more, taking more photos and posting more. you seemed happier, like how you seemed when you were together. He hates not being apart of your happiness.

"eijiro, im fucked man.. i cant stop thinking of Y/N"

"dude, i heard they're going to the ball thing with izuku, try talk to them after the ball"

Fuck. He knows that you two were close but, going to a valentines dance together?

"eh i dont know, i dont think i could see them wrapped around his all, all lovey dovey and shit"

"well im going so, if you wanna come at-least youll have some company".

Valentines day, 2025

3 shots down, music blaring, and now after 3 hours, you were finally ready and prepared for the ball. grabbing your phone and taking one last vodka shot with mina, you hastily make your way down the dorm stairs and out into the chilly air of valentines night.

Leaning against the brick wall of the dorm building, you stare up into the sky. 'Would it be better if I was going with katsuki.. maybe.. would he change. who knows.'

Hearing the dorm building door open, you see a slightly tipsy izuku stumbling before catching your eye and speed walking over to you.

"Y/N, omg, you look so gorgeous.. I might even be falling for you." He gave you a long teasing smirk before you both burst out laughing.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a certain blonde stare down izuku. He looked like he wanted to grab his neck and blow his head off. If it wasn't for kirishima physically holding bakugo back, he would've done it.

"When is our Uber getting here to take us to the ball?! I'm fucking freezing"

izuku checks his phone, and a few seconds later, a sleek, black car pulls into the driveway.

"it's here," he takes your hand and walks you to the car before opening your door for you.

The scowl that marked bakugos' face was deadly. He was plotting his plan of action tonight. He needs to win you back. He craves you.

Throughout the night, you and katsuki kept making eye contact. much to your displeasure. regardless of the constant reminding of his existence. You dance the night away(mostly dancing and grinding with izuku, in hopes to make katsuki jealous) drinking spiked coke and laughing as hard as you had in the last year, you hadn't laughed this hard without katsuki. Fuck, He looks so good in that all black suit.

You miss him, and you miss him a lot. and you need to throw up.

Begrudgingly, you made your way towards the balcony to catch some fresh air, leaning against the beautiful concrete railing, staring out against the night sky.

"....Y/N"

you recognise that voice.

whipping your head around, your hands gripping on to the railing to steady yourself.

"katsuki.." He looks desperate... has he been crying?!

"fuck. I'm so mad at you, I love you. I love you so fucking much. the day you left me was the worst day of my life. you were my sunshine, my reason to keep fighting. I know I fucked up with you, I took you for granted, please trust me when I say that I've changed. the whole thing with camie was so stupid that I should never have done that. I know that now. I never wanted her. i need you back with me, I need to be yours. you look so good today, and watching deku parade you around like you were his made me so fucking mad. I know you don't want him, eijiro told me your plan, I understand why you did it. and your plan fucking worked. it made me realise I didn't want any other man to have the privilege of calling such a perfect person their lover. please, I'll be better Y/N. I'm begging you"

You were shocked, you froze. The burning of your eyes and the feeling of tears streaming down your cheeks. You broke into a full blown sob, running into katsukis arms and crying into his very expensive suit.

"woah! woah! are you okay?!" He grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you back to observe your face.

"Please tell me you're not messing with me.." The sound of you forcing out words throughout sobs broke katsukis' heart. he had hurt you, so bad. But he's going to fix it. He needs to.

"Y/N i promise, if you take me back i promise I will grow and talk and love you the way you deserve to be loved."

"... you're going to have to gain my trust again.. I want to try again, so bad, but you need to understand how badly you treated me and how you hurt me. I still love you, I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever could."

He nodded and pulled you into his chest. The faint noise of a slow dance played from inside the closed balcony doors. he grabbed your hand in his, and held your waist with his other hand. swaying to the sound of the music.

You both smile softly at each other, resting your foreheads on each other's.

"You still owe me two years' worth of valentines celebrations," you giggle, closing your eyes, still swaying.

"Trust me, you're getting spoilt.."

a beat of silence fell upon the crisp night air, before katsuki spoke up whispering in your ear.

..愛して..

[2-shots2-thehead]

- I don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else.. But you -

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Summary : Dating Spencer headcanons bc I luv him n wanted to write smth smosh related >-<

Pairing : Spencer Agnew (Smosh) x GN!Reader (Use of Y/n)

Warnings : suggestive joke, other than that pretty much just fluff

A/N : the spencer brainrot is real oml 🙏🙏 im so fruity

- oh my god

- it took this man SO LONG. to ask you out

- like im talking working together for YEARS

- but once he finally did, it came off as like the most casual thing ever

- even if he was psyching himself up for this for MONTHS

- “hey, y/n, maybe after we’re done filming y’wanna grab lunch? like..as a date.?”

- he only started showing his nerves once you actually said yes

- he looked visibly surprised and then just nodded shyly without another word and walked off

- ever since that little interaction, you guys were together

- constantly.

- never seen without the other.

- “where’s y/n?” “well, i just saw spencer in the games studio so probably there”

- pretty much every single social media post since when you started dating has been about you

- CATS.

- you guys have at LEAST one cat

- you cannot convince me otherwise

- but hopefully more because you can never have too many, right ?

- always just bringing you random shit to work

- we’ve all seen the smosh mouth TNTL where spencer just keeps pulling random drinks out from under the table ?

- there’s just always little treats like that at your desk where you occasionally edit

- more often than not they’re drinks he grabs from the gas station, along with a kickstart for himself, of course

- just how you two are always inseparable, it increases by about 10 billion percent at parties

- i mean, let’s be real, there’s never a day where he’s at a party and wouldn’t rather be home playing a video game with your cats

- if he doesn’t know anyone else at the party, your hand is in his the entire time and he’s talking your ear off

- speaking of which, hand holding.

- so. much. handholding.

- like he wouldn’t be big on pda, but it’s just the little things like that

- him carrying you for many a TNTL bit

- or just putting your head on his shoulder while he’s streaming (we all know what i’m talking about)

- aside from the little surprise drinks, there are more often than not little sticky note messages on your desk

- especially at times where you’re editing and he’s filming and that means you’re apart for however maybe hours

- on days like that, he’s making it everyone’s problem

- “yeah, so then we-“ “y’know, this would be fun with y/n”

- yet another person who uses horrible pickup lines as a joke

- sometimes the sticky notes are the most poetic, sweet, romantic thing you’ve ever read

- ..and sometimes it’s “are you a beaver ? because DAM”

- “are you my laptop ? because you’re really hot and i’m a little bit concerned”

- “my favorite pokémon’s beedrill because i’m gonna bee-drillin’ y-“

- you guys build lego sets together all the time

- sometimes they’re little roses

- sometimes it’s the millennium falcon

- but his personal favorite is the hedgehog picnic date ⬇️⬇️⬇️

- they are now sat atop a very high, fancy shelf in your shared apartment

- you guys watch movies n shows together all the time

- you have a specific show though that you always and only watch together

- “you didn’t watch it without me, right” “don’t worry, I turned it off when you fell asleep”

- you guys play video games together all the time

- maybe you’re not as good as him, but he’s always open to teaching

- you guys practice instruments together if you play

- if not, he just plays guitar for you

- never too loud, but you can hear it of course

- he picks special songs he thinks you’ll like and learns them

[wh1ski]

His Hot Mess

pairing : human!sukuna / femreader

rating + word count : explicit + 2.8k

tags : public, you two are exs, guy gets beaten up, jealousy, mentions of training, hair pulling, in front of a mirror, slight degradation, angry sex, talks about forced sex but not actually forced, guys omg i need to get better at tagging.

i totally had to shorten this a bunch. ask box is open for requests. enjoy </3 !

to put it short, you were supposed to be done with him. he was an annoying fucking control freak who thought the world revolved around him. that’s just not life ! but, as you stared at the guy you had been making out with laying on the floor of the club bathroom covered in his own blood - your panties never seemed more wetter. you chose to ignore that last part though.

sukuna was standing over him, toothpick between his teeth as he looked down at him with a bored expression. it wasn’t the guys fault, you kind of felt sorry for him. you were just trying to fuck to forget. coming to your favorite club dressed in a very exposing dress, sitting at the bar until someone grew the balls to come talk to you. it's as if sukuna could sense whenever someone else touched you. five minutes into a heated makeout session and the poor guy was being snatched away and beaten into a pulp.

you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, choosing to cross your arms and glare at sukuna instead. “you dumb idiot, you can’t beat up every fucking guy i decide to fuck!” you yelled, turning around to fix your lipstick in the mirror - ready to go right back out and find someone else to dry hump. just who did your ex think he was?! honestly, it was getting out of hand at this point.

you two have been broken up for two entire months and for some reason everytime you got a man in your bed he would be in the hospital the next day. sometimes you would just be texting a guy and suddenly a message about how they were not worthy would get sent to you and then you would see his hand was broken the next day in public. you weren’t stupid, you know it was the giant idiot next to you doing all of this.

“were you really going to stoop so low and fuck someone like him?” sukuna said, twirling the toothpick with his tongue as he kicked at the guys head - who just groaned and curled further into a ball. “you really think someone like this deserves to touch you? have you no self respect?” you snapped, turning around to slap him in his face. he didn't even budge, instead a smirk spread across his face and god, he looked so good you wanted to kill him.

“leave me the fuck alone, sukuna. we are done, we are finished. you are nothing but a fucking dick to me.” you sneered, going to walk past him when he stopped you by wrapping his hand across your throat. you wanted to fight back but your body just seemed to want to listen to him and it made you even more mad. sukuna leaned down, licking a strip up your neck, “oh, im nothing but a dick to you now?” wrong word choice.

the pitiful fight you were attempting to put up was useless, sukuna was almost a foot taller than you, broader, nothing but muscle. that didn’t stop you though as you scratched at his neck, his face, his arms ( fuck his biceps were so nice ). sukuna just laughed, reaching a hand between your legs to pull down your underwear as you thrashed in his hold. “oh come on. you said it yourself: i'm nothing but a dick to you. dont you want to use me just a little bit?” his cocky attitude was pissing you off. you found yourself wishing sukuna had walked in when the other guy was already deep inside of you. anything to wipe that smirk off his very attractive annoying face.

“so this is what we’re doing? you’re going to beat the shit out of some guy and then force yourself on me?” you asked him, trying to hit him but finding both your wrists held in one of his hands. he shrugged, looking down at you and licking his lips. his split tongue did not help your attraction to him, making him look dangerous, monster-like even. “do you honestly think this is me forcing myself on you? i can show you force.” he whispered deeply, yanking you by your throat and slamming your lips against his. it was all spit, all teeth clashing against each other and a hint of iron as he bit your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

part of you wanted to submit to him but that part was denied as you tried your hardest to win dominance over him, win some sort of control. sukuna made you feel so small, so insignificant, easily replaceable - it's the main reason you two broke up. but your body was undeniably his and his alone. no man could ever make you feel the way he made you feel, cum the way he made you cum, thoughts numb, screaming loudly as he rocked into you harder because he knew it too. he knew he could have you in the palm of his hand within a few seconds.

and thats just what happened. your fighting turned to moaning, your struggling turned to pulling him closer and sukuna just smiled in the kiss, humming as he felt you finally cave into him. you hated that about him and loved it all the same. he pulled back, rubbing his thumb against your throat, “this doesn’t seem like im forcing myself on you. what happened? run out of steam for our little fight? i was kind of enjoying your pathetic attempt at resisting though, you could have done a lot better. are you not embarrassed right now?” before you could say anything in return ( something snarky and didnt make sense ), he was turning you around towards the mirror and pushing you down over the counter.

this was a very risky thing to do. this was a public bathroom, anyone could walk in at any moment… not to mention there was still a badly beaten guy a few inches away from the two of you. this would not look good at all. “um… is this really a good idea?” you asked, staring at his reflection in front of you. sukuna made a noise of disbelief, shrugging his shoulders, “just a few seconds ago you were whining into another mans mouth, ready to fuck on command. but since it's me, you have the audacity to question the situation. interesting.” there was a look of distaste on his face, his eyes darkening with jealousy, disgust, lust, anger. the look went straight to your groin, heating your lower stomach and making you rub your knees together. awe he was going to destroy you ! wait, no. oh no, he was going to destroy you.

you bit your lip staring back at yourself in anxiousness. your mouth was swollen, eyes big and bright, blood on your chin from the erratic kiss you two had shared. it was easy to make sukunas temper flare up… you decided since the two of you aren’t together anymore to do just that. make him angry. “well, i bet he would have been a better lay. i felt his dick press against me when we were kissing… huge.” you mouthed the last word, smirking as you waited for sukuna to react. there were a few moments of silence, where you hoped he wasn't going to walk off, and then he was clearing his throat, taking his trenchcoat off slowly all while avoiding eye contact as he hung it up on the hook. unbuckling his belt as he hummed a tune to himself, pulling it off and setting it on the counter next to you. your stomach was turning and twisting in anticipation, thoughts flooding your head as you awaited ( what you hoped ) would be a lovely little punishment for your words.

truth be told, even though you have slept with other men since the two of you ended things, none have made you cum. your fingers were never enough, the toys never satisfying and leaving you longing for the real thing even more. this was all a show, all a little show because now you two weren’t together and the possibilities were endless. “hmm.. what? cat got your tongue?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side with a fake pout. huge mistake.

he yanked your head back by your hair, making you wince at the pain. his hand moving to the front of your dress and ripping it open, your breasts popping out. he leaned over you, his expression neutral but you knew he was livid. you could see it in his eyes, something sinister and twisted deep in them. “you want to keep fucking talking to me that way, princess?” his voice was thickened with anger, deeper than usual and it made you let out a whine. but it wasn’t enough to stop you from talking back, “are you going to do nothing but talk or are you going to finally fuck me, prince?” bingo.

his eyes flared, turning you around to pick you up and place you on the counter, placing his hand on the ripped fabric and completely pulling you out of the ruined dress. oh yay no. “i can’t believe you would think it's okay to talk to me like that. im a fucking king and you are just a bitch i can replace whenever i fucking feel like it.”

“then why don't you go do that then!” silence. you knew why he didn't, you knew why he chose to stalk you from a distance. sukuna loved you, he just didn’t love you properly. the downfall of both you, an unavoidable experience. the lovesick girl and the emotionally unavailable boy, bound to be nothing more than a failed experience and live the rest of their lives with the scent of the other lingering off of them. he didn't say anything, just sucked his teeth, pushed you to the mirror and leaned his face right between your legs, pushing them up on the counter.

the first lick sent chills down your spine, the second had you let out a moan. by the fifth, your legs were wrapped around his head and you were a whining mess. he ate you out so good, his tongue perfect in every way. he didnt just eat you out, he was more like devouring you, tongue fucking you into oblivion, sucking and licking at your clit. no fingers were needed to get you off and he knew it, too cocky with this skill that sometimes had you wondering just where he learned that. you grinded on his face, hands in his hair as you all but shouted his name. maybe no one was coming into the bathroom because it was very obvious what was happening.

sukuna lifted his head to spit on your pussy, his nose, cheeks and chin completely wet. he looked filthy, he looked unhinged, you wanted to consume him. after a few more moments, he pulled back and wiped his face, smirking as he leaned to give you a kiss. your boy, your man, your beast. he picked you up, rubbing his dick against you. you hadn’t even noticed he had been stroking himself while he tasted you. “our breakup has made you start to talk too much. all my hard work went to waste, all the training. we’ll just have to start over, huh?” you wanted to say something back but then he was pushing his full length into you, shoving you down on him and there were no words left to be said.

“oh what's that? cat got your tongue?” he mocked and you could do nothing but stare at him dumbfounded. you missed this, you missed how full he made you feel, you missed the way he looked at you with so much admiration and need. as he started moving, you wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning loudly at the sounds your pussy was making for him.

“i could break you if i really fucking wanted to.” your head was bouncing as he pounded into you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he lifted you up and down on his shaft, breasts pressed between the two of you with how close he was holding you. trying ( and failing ) to utter out some sort of comeback left sukuna laughing, a smirk showing his pointed teeth. “want me to stop so you can talk?” he asked, stopping his thrusting and giving you a look of amusement as he waited. it was pathetic really, your mouth opened and closed like some sort of fish trying to think of something to say. when you couldnt, sukuna just sucked his teeth and went back to pounding into you. “that’s what i fucking thought.”

you wanted to reply with something snarky but couldn’t form anything other than please, dont stop, just like that, sukuna. melting for him, wet for him. you put your head in the crook of his neck, clawing at his shirt, nails scratching his skin through the fabric. “don’t wanna look at me now?” he snapped, pulling himself out and putting you back down, your knees weak as you held his arm for support. he turned you around, pushing you against the counter, nipples growing hard at the cold contact. “you’re gunna watch me fuck you and you’re gunna watch yourself love it.” he grabbed you by your hair, holding your head up so you had no choice but to stare at the reflection in front of you.

nasty it was. you looked fucked out, he looked feral. you naked with nothing but your heels on and him with his dick out on full display. he eased back into you, tightening his grip on his hair as he slowly pulled back out before snapping his hips forward quickly. “fuck,” he groaned, “i know you missed me, just say you did. can’t nobody fuck you like i can.” thrust. “listen to how wet you sound for me. such a needy girl. i can't believe i deprived my princess.” thrust. “say it. tell me who you belong to.”

and you did, shouting and moaning his name as your legs grew weaker with each snap of his hips. your stomach was growing tight, your legs shaking and daring to give out. he must have noticed because soon his hands were around your waist and lifting you up, arms under your knees and pussy on full display in front of the mirror. “don’t close your eyes. watch it.” he murmured in your ear as you stared with your mouth agap, watching as he fucked right into you.

everything felt so overstimulating. the music from the club, the lewd sounds sukuna was making come out of you, the view of your pussy sucking him in thrust after thrust. you threw your head back against him in pleasure, almost screaming as you felt yourself move closer to your climax. “gonna cum for me? you’re fucking gorgeous. my girl, my beautiful girl. you take my dick so fucking well. look at how pretty your pussy is with me filling it up.” you came so hard, your legs tensing up as you squirted, watching the fluid drip down his dick and onto the ground. “there you go. god, you came so much. you missed me, didn’t you?”

you did, you did, fuck you did. his grip tightened as he held you in place, fucking you like some monster in rut. he was talking to you but your head was so foggy all you could focus on was him inside you. he said something like: such a good fucking girl for me before you snapped back into reality and focused on what he was saying. “i missed your fucking pussy baby. mine, all mine, all fucking mine.” he groaned out, biting the side of your neck to leave his mark before cumming right in you. it was the lewdest thing to witness: your cum and his spilling out of you.

for a second the two of you just stood there. him whispering in your ear and forcing you watch as he slowly fucked into you, the cum seeping out and onto the floor. sukuna placed you on the floor, holding you around the waist so you didn’t fall. “next time we need a bed and about a yard of rope. i wonder if you can talk that much shit with your panties in your mouth.” what a dick. you loved hated him…

he grabbed his trenchcoat and placed it on your shoulders. going on and on about how he would be moving back in tomorrow, something that you never agreed to. but who were you to deny him? and if there was a long line of red-faced people when you walked out of the bathroom, that was okay too.

[rebelssvy]

hello i love your kirishima stuff so much can i request kirishima x super independent reader?

YESS YESS YES im actually super independent irl so this is gonna be goood

independent ✧.*

kirishima x independent reader ⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: kissing, making out, fluff and smut at the end.

doing this in three parts!! the first is kinda sad ish. second is cute, the last is smut.

༊*·˚

kirishima had a hard time sometimes. he was always pretty clingy. so when you would do you own thing without him he always got a little upset.

waking up in the morning to cook you breakfast just to realize you had gone to the gym. it left him with a frown on his face until you came back to his arms.

it took him a while to realize that you didn’t hate him at all, you just didn’t need his help or his company sometimes . you weren’t purposely ignoring him, you had just been ‘doing your own thing’.

it wasn’t until some nights ago that you two had been laying in bed talking and he expressed how he felt. wrapped up in his bigs arms, you could feel his chest vibrate at his words.

“babe it’s just-… i don’t know…. i love you. all i feel is love for you and sometimes i feel like you don’t want to be around me.” he confessed. you didn’t need to look at his face to see his expression. you knew his eyebrows furrowed and he was wearing a frown on his face.

“i didn’t realize. i- i. im sorry.” you felt bad but you didn’t know what to say. instead you looked up at him. his eyes didn’t meet yours, only watered eyes and a sad expression.

“oh honey.. im so so sorry.” you said while crawling up to him, holding his face.

“i just love you so much!” he sobbed grabbing you into a hug. since that moment on you silently vowed to make him feel loved and appreciated by you.

…

you and kiri had been at a club together. going with some friends. he only ever drank a little when you two went out. today you were a couple shots in, and your boyfriend was looking better than ever.

you had wandered off to the dance floor a while back with mina. swaying your hips to the music. you felt amazing. eyes were on you. departing youself to go to the bathroom you bumped into a firm man.

you didn’t know him but with the eyes he was giving you it instantly gave you the creeps. “excuse me sorry.” you said trying to move past him.

his feet met yours with quick pace, not letting you past. the action sent shivers down your spine.

“where do u think your going pretty” he said motioning his eyes all over your body. feeling absolutely gross you gave him a dirty look.

“sorry i have a boy friend.” and you tried to make your way past him again. but his hands going your body this time. one on your shoulder and the other at your waist.

“get the fuck off of me you asshole!” you pushed him backwards, now more eyes were on the two of you. your face felt flush but the lingering fight or flight was prominent.

“cmon babe i was just helping ya out..” he said while creeping his way back to you. his snicker on his face was disgusting it made you feel less than. “oh is that the boyfriend you were talking about hah” he laughed and you turned around to face kirishima. who looked more angry than you thought he would be.

“is he bothering you babe?” he asked while stepping closer to you.

“yes but i can handle it it’s fine.” you said while turning back to the imposter.

“oh you can handle me anytime sweet thing.” the suspicious man said stepping forward, closer to you then you would ever want him to be.

“fuck you.” you said before taking a knee to his private place. the man lunched forward in pain as he screamed out.

“fuck babe. remind me when i need a body guard i’ll just call u” your boyfriend laughed. kirishima new you could handle your own problems but damn, that shit was hot.

….

nsfw below

“i love you so much i can’t even explain it.” kirishima growled while pushing his big hard digits in and out of you. you moaned at the sensation. you had just got back from the club and kiri had been acting all riled up since the incident.

you couldn’t get him off you. and as soon as you got home he had picked you up and thrown you on the bed.

“fuck you were so hot today.” he moaned while watching his fingers fuck you. wet noises filled the room.

“u think me kic-king so-ah! mee guy in the balls is- is hot..?” you stuttered out, hard tot say anything with him working his fingers in and out of you like this.

“yes.” he answered without hesitation. “it’s was so hot.” he smiled while he closed in on your wet pussy. kissing it with passion he sucked on your clit.

“are you gonna cum baby?” he asked, coy with a smirk on his face.

“…noo..” you moaned out, weak. it was a lie, you were closer then you thought and he knew. he knew your body in and out weather you liked it or not.

“oh yea…?” he toyed. pushing his fingers in and out of your with much faster pace. you shook at his motion.

“oh god! kirishima!” lurching forward he pushed your legs further. while you came he spat on your pretty pussy and resumed his actions on your clit. sucking it through your orgasm.

your never going to need to change for him. that’s forsure.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

it was hard to get super creative with this one. if you want somthing else feel free to put in a similar ask i’ll totally re write or at least try

i’ll add the twt link i used for inspo at the end if you guys want it. lmk!!

[saioratral]

PARING: satoru gojo x f!reader

PROMPT: meri jaan SYNOPSIS: dancing on the school fields like the main character you are

WARNING: cheesy NOTE: we are back with desi jjk!! 🗣️🗣️ it's kinda cringe but i like it so yeah. im gonna be on a break after this but i might have a draft?? idk

the night was pretty, the sky stretching above in a way that could only be described as a perfect dream, like the earth had decided to gift this moment to you to witness it. you sat on the quiet stairs- most of the students were off to bed and you had just got back from your cousin’s wedding 

“i like your earrings” 

you tilt your head up in a lazy fashion. you would be lying if you said you didn't know who it was, his voice had a unique ring to it. as expected, those familiar blue eyes were gazing down at you, framed by a bright smile 

you mumbled a quick hello, ignoring the compliment like you were ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. he sat beside you, resting his head casually on his hand, propped up on his knee, tilting his head to the side to meet your gaze again

“but i’d look better with it,” satoru teased, reaching out with a playful flick of his finger to tap your earring

“jhumka,” you corrected, smiling despite yourself, only to see him roll his eyes in mock exasperation

you decided to humor him, mimicking his position, leaning back and turning your head with a playful tsk. “you’d make a pretty princess at the ball”

he smiled mischievously, amusement in his eyes. “i hope you become the prince, but for now,” he sighed, standing up with a dramatic exaggeration, before starting to walk down the stairs. “can i take this princess for a dance?”

he brings his right hand to you, wanting you to take it. you laugh at his silly behaviour. dancing on the school fields late at night? with your crush? only an idiot can say no to that. your hand found his without hesitation, it felt nothing unusual. all you need to do is stop your stupid heart from jumping out 

the two of you walk to the field, the center to fit satoru’s ego. you didn't care if your dress dragged against the grass. the moment made your head forget about reality. you felt like royalty, getting the first dance at the big ballroom 

you stopped before him, hands briefly intertwined before you let go, slipping your dupatta off your shoulders. satoru raised an eyebrow, confusion across his features. you couldn’t help but laugh as you stepped closer, draping the fabric around his neck with a gentle touch, adjusting it so it rested against his school uniform, though it looked utterly out of place

“much better”, you smile and took his hand to spin around the fields 

the ‘dance’ was just satoru stepping on your shoes, twirling you just to show off your outfit, as if there were an audience watching. at one point, he crouched, wrapping his arm under your waist and lifting you with ease, making you feel taller than him, as if you were in the air but in his arms

another chorus of laugh, and for a moment, everything felt like a scene from a classic movie, the slow mo and music being an imaginary addition to your moment. your ‘prince’ satoru. making your night more colourful than it would normally be 

he set you down gently, only to pick you up again, this time with one arm, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as if you couldn’t trust him to hold you properly. did he have a death wish? what was he thinking, holding you so carelessly? but still, you didn’t fall

“you’re with the strongest,” satoru said, his voice full of pride

with his free hand, he slipped off your shoes, holding them as though they were nothing. “angels don’t touch the ground, do they?”

“you’re crazy,” you muttered, your grip tightening around his neck

his arm flexed under your touch, pulling you closer. you could feel the teasing in his voice, that familiar, cocky charm of satoru. “am i? or am i just a handsome man in love, meri jaan?”

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

EXTRA:

“should we tell them about the field being under construction?” suguru sighed, watching his lovesick friends

shoko flicked her cigarette onto the ground, crushing it beneath her boot with an exaggerated gesture. “let them be. they look ridiculous”

@saioratral .ᐟ do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission