#drawing this was like getting kicked in the dick frankly

[reapersmarch]

You are in excruciating pain, you’ve never been more hopeless in your life, everything you’ve worked towards is compromised, you’re trapped here, you’re going to die, and Ricardo Ortega still loves you, unrepentantly.

[cevansbrat0007]

A Friend in the Dark Part II

Summary: After receiving an unexpected call from you in the middle of the night, Ari's not going to let anything stop him from getting to you. But will he make it in time? Takes place directly after the events in A Friend in the Dark: Part I.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, References to Home Invasion, Scared Reader, Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner, who helped me come up with the opening. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari Levinson’s P.O.V.

Although it feels like hours, it’s really only a matter of minutes before Ari finds himself pulling onto your street. Not wanting to call attention to himself, he immediately kills his headlights before throwing his truck into neutral, quietly gliding down the block. 

He already knows which home is yours – the one with the rose bushes out front. Stopping a couple houses down, the bounty hunter swiftly exits his vehicle. After triple-checking the gun in his waistband, he knows it’s time to make his way to you. 

Ari moves with lethal grace, his corded muscles tense and ready to strike should an enemy make the mistake of crossing his path. As he gets closer, he spots Milton’s cruiser parked a ways down the street.

Perfect.

The burly lawman tosses a brief glance over his shoulder, just to make sure he isn’t being followed – the last thing he needed was someone sneaking up behind him. A blow to the back of the head could be deadly, even for someone as big as him. 

He does a swift scan of your front yard, noting that nothing appears out of place. Holding his breath, Ari tunes his ears to the silence, quieting the sound of his own heartbeat as he wills his military instincts to take over. During his brief conversation with you, you’d said that the intruder had been at your back door.

Which meant that was exactly where he needed to be. Heaven help the fucker if he was dumb enough to still be there, scaring the shit out of his girl. 

He draws his gun and dispenses the safety, holding it low with both hands as he stealthily makes his way around the side of your house. It was time to confront whoever was out there, hiding in the dark like a coward. 

“Gotchu, motherfucker!” He barks, aiming his weapon in the air. 

Except there’s nobody there. 

Although he’s surprised, he remains on high alert. Keeping his head on a swivel, he slowly climbs the steps leading to your back porch. He takes a moment to examine the door, smoothing his fingers along the cracked, splintered wood. The frame itself is also bent and hopelessly warped.

It didn’t take an expert to see that someone had indeed been here at one point. Most likely trying to kick the damned thing down. The whole thing appeared to be hanging on by a thread as it was.

“Shit.” Ari hisses under his breath. Raking an agitated hand through his hair, he pulls out his phone and dials your number once again. “C’mon, baby. Answer the fucking phone for me.”

Why the fuck weren’t you picking up? Had the intruder managed to make their way inside some other way? Ice fills his veins at the prospect of someone holding you captive inside. Scaring you. Hurting you. 

If that something happened to you because he hadn’t gotten here fast enough, Ari would never be able to forgive himself. 

And just where the fuck was Milton? Out in the woods somewhere holding his dick?

At that moment, Ari makes a snap decision. He was determined to get into that house. Frankly, he’d already wasted enough time out here hemming and hawing as it was. Taking a step back and leveling the door with the most powerful kick he can muster, sending it flying open with a loud thunk. 

Taking no time to celebrate, the bounty hunter goes to make his way inside only to duck when he notices an object come flying at his head at the last second. Thankfully, it connects with the door frame instead of his skull.

Your P.O.V.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You screech, swinging your bat wildly at the large figure that just tried to break their way into your home. “I’m crazy and I’ll kill you! Lord, help me, I’ll do it!” You continue swinging, attempting to keep the intruder at bay on your front porch until help arrives. 

“Wait – stop!” The intruder pleads, throwing up a hand in the dark as his weapon goes flying. 

“I’ve called the cops, you pig-fuckin’ bastard.” You spit, raising your Louisville Slugger high. They’re on their way and –”

“Goddamn it, baby!” Ari roars, scrambling away from the assault. “It’s me! I am the cops!”

That’s enough to knock the wind out of your sails almost immediately. Blood roaring in your ears, you belatedly realize that you’d almost just turned the very man who came to rescue you into a frickin’ vegetable. 

“Ari?” You whisper, finally allowing the bat to fall limply at your feet. “Oh…oh God.”

For a brief moment, all you can do is stare at each other. You, relieved to see him here. Him, relieved to see you unhurt. And it’s only as that feeling of relief begins to settle in is that you begin to shake. Covering your mouth with trembling hands, you watch the bounty hunter stand and collect his gun, before turning on the safety and tucking it back into the security of his jeans. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” 

You don’t think. Don’t question. Instead you just launch yourself into his arms, praying that he’ll catch you.

Of course he does.

“Why the fuck didn’t you answer your phone?” He growls after a beat, pulling away to assess you for injuries. His large, warm hands make quick work of checking you out before gently cupping your face. “Huh? Why the fuck did you go quiet on me like that?”

You rest your smaller hands atop his as Ari brushes a feather-light kiss along your brow. His big body feels so tense beneath your touch. He’s wrapped so tightly, you’re almost certain he’s bound to go off at any moment. 

“I…” You swallow thickly as you will yourself to stop shaking. “I was trying to use the element of surprise. I took my phone with me but…when he started really trying to bust down the door I knew I had to do something, so I –”

“FREEZE!” A new voice yells, taking you both by surprise. Your bounty hunter immediately spins on his heel, pushing you behind him to protect you from view. 

Fucking Milton had finally arrived. A day late and a dollar short. 

“Jesus Christ, asshole.” Ari snarls, briefly raising his hands in the air long enough for the officer to recognize the fact that there was no discernable threat. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Got held up on the way here. I’ll, uh, tell you about it later, Levinson.” Is all he says, holstering his weapon. “You okay there, darlin?”

Later he would pull the lawman aside and let him know that someone had tried to hold him up. Make it difficult for him to get here as fast as the situation had warranted. It wasn’t quite suspicious, but still odd nevertheless. 

“She’s fine.” Ari answers on your behalf, circling a possessive arm around your waist. “Fine as can be, anyway.” He continues when you nod at his side. “Almost took my head off with a baseball bat before you got here.”

“Well, I reckon I wouldn’t expect anything less from one of The Creek’s champion softball players.” Milton responds with a tired grin, his hand coming up to massage the back of his neck. “How bad’s the damage to the door?”

“Eh…” Your bounty hunter attempts to shoo you inside with a guiding hand. “Whoever our guy is did a pretty good job damn near kicking the thing off the hinges. I just finished the job. I just wanna get her indoors so we can – wait.”

Ari stops cold, his entire body going stiff as if he’d only just realized something. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, turning to face him, briefly halting his attempts to move you along. 

“You said you just got here?” You know the question is meant solely for Milton. 

“Yeah.” The officer responds, clearly perplexed by where Ari seems to be going with this. “Why?”

“Baby, you ain’t wearin’ nothing’ but a gown and slippers.” He murmurs, his lips hovering just above your ear. “Stop fightin’ me and go inside where it’s warm. Please.”

It’s an order, that much you can tell. But as much as you want to protest, you decide to do as you’re bid, leaving the two lawmen alone. 

Just this once.

“Good girl.” He praises you, still keeping his voice low even as his words warm your belly. “We’ll be along in a moment.”

Ari’s P.O.V.

“What’s up, Levinson?” Milton tries again once you’re safely out of earshot. 

“When I pulled in, there was a cruiser already parked halfway down the block. Assumed it was you and kept it moving.” 

“That’s awful strange.”

“I know.” Ari grunts, hands on his hips. “Did you call this out over the radio?”

“Well, yeah.” The officer shrugs as he wracks his brain for more details. “But nobody responded. Figured it would just be me and you and that would be enough.”

“Well, clearly someone else heard it.” Your bounty hunter snaps. “You didn’t see anyone when you pulled up? They weren’t still parked there?”

“No.” Milton scrubs a hand along his jaw. “I came the opposite way you did. Only saw your truck.” Turning on his flashlight he flashes it towards the woods beckoning along the edge of your property. “And did you see anyone trying to break-in when you got here?”

“No. But the damage was already done.”

“Think you chased ‘em off?”

“Maybe.” Ari murmurs, his tone rife with suspicion. “But I doubt it. Somethin’ tells me the fucker dipped before I even stepped foot on the lawn.” 

“Fucking. Awesome.” The officer blows out a tired breath. Turning off his flashlight, he lightly claps the other man on the shoulder. “Look. We ain’t gonna get anywhere with this shit tonight.”

“Yeah.” He drags out the word. “Yeah, I know.” God, he needed a fucking cigarette.

“It’s late. I still need to get her statement. We…we can pick this up in the morning.” 

With nothing else left to say, the confused and frustrated men head for your front porch. Regardless of wherever Milton stood on the subject, Ari vows to get to the bottom of this bullshit. 

But first he wanted – no, he needed – to see to you.

Your P.O.V.

It’s nearly 5:00am before Officer Milton walks out your front door, leaving you alone with the one man who had the power to keep you off balance. Right now the two of you are sitting in your kitchen, each sipping a mug of hot tea with an added splash of whiskey. 

Ari had been quiet for most of your conversation with the young officer, only interjecting where and when he felt it necessary. He’d also fetched you tissues when you started to cry, and even held your hand during the…more harrowing portion of your evening. 

“Thank you.” You tell him, your voice barely above a whisper when you finally break the silence. “For coming tonight.”

He wants to tell you that he’ll always come, whenever you call. But he can’t quite seem to summon up the words. So instead he simply settles on: “You’re welcome.”

“You…you don’t have to stay.”

“I know.” 

But Ari makes no move to get up. He’s not sure he’s capable of it. Not with you sitting here looking every inch the fragile little bird that you are. Now he knew that you, his woman, had two sides.

You were either his firebrand of a Duchess, or his sweet, soft little Bird. But what you didn’t know is that he was absolutely willing and wanting to keep you. Both of you. 

Clearing his throat, your bounty hunter leans back in his chair, his turbulent blue gaze clashing with yours. “You’re gonna need someone to fix that door.” His tone comes off a little more gruff than he intends.

With a sigh, you come to rest your head on your hand. “I’m afraid it’s too early for me to call the insurance company just yet.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

His response catches you completely off guard. You stare back at him with wide eyes, silently wondering how much the whiskey was talking. 

“Sweetheart.” Once again you find your hand encased in the warmth of his, squeezing gently. “It’s gonna take the insurance company days, if not weeks, to handle this. You and I both know you can’t go that long without a proper door.”

“But I still need to report it…” You protest, hating the fact that you can’t get your brain to work as fast as you would like. 

“So do that. But in the meantime, I’ve got a buddy who owes me a favor. I’ll get him and his boys out here and we’ll get you fixed up good and proper.” 

“I can’t afford that.” 

“Did anyone ask you to pay?” He responds, making it known that he had it in him to be just as stubborn as you. Releasing his grip, he scoots away from the table. Standing up, he picks up your mugs before depositing them in the sink. 

“Ari.” While you mean to sound firm, his name comes out more like a whine, making him smile. 

“How about you get on up to bed, hm?” He murmurs when he sees your head start to dip. Now that all that adrenaline had run its course, you were plum exhausted. “I’ll close up down here. Maybe find some tarp to put over that back door until we can get you the real thing.” 

“You’re so bossy.” 

“Hmph.” Ari grunts as he helps you stand. “Afraid it’ll only get worse the more I have to repeat myself.” 

Your sweet, yet incredibly stubborn lawman runs an affectionate hand over your curls. Unable to help yourself, you lean in, burying your face in his chest to inhale his scent. And even though part of you is waiting for him to push you away, you struggle not to melt on the spot when you feel him press a tender kiss on top of your head. 

“Off to bed with you, little Bird.” He rumbles after a minute, knowing this has already gone on longer than it should’ve. “Get a move-on, now.” 

You’re in such a haze that you don’t even bother to call him out over yet another stupid nickname. First Duchess and now this? You were gonna give this handsome jerk a piece of your mind after you got some sleep. Perhaps you’d threaten to peck his eyes out or something…

Leaning on him even as you plot, you don’t balk as he leads you toward the stairs. Nor do you complain when you feel a territorial hand settle on your hip as he guides you to the foot of your bedroom where he watches you climb into bed. And you decide to ignore the way your belly flutters when you hear him calling you his “good girl” one last time. 

END

Official Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@emerald-writes

@gh0stgurl

@blogbog710

@sincerelytlh

@gummydummy19

@steviebbboi

@missaprilt23

@scorpiosaintt

[shalomniscient]

woah…..that zoya post…………now make them kiss (pretty please 🙏)

this took centuries. im so sorry

breaking point || zoya x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

cw. medical talk (or attempts at), kind of graphic descriptions of injuries (?), power bottom reader and service top zoya, unsafe sex in the sense reader wants to be dicked down so bad they diss condoms (practice safe sex gamers), fingering, creampie

notes. i dunno i just think zoya would like a partner with a little fire to them yk?? reader is just internally very horny for zoya but would not admit it even upon threat of death. also head in hands this is so disjointed im so sorry

taglist. @sinsmockingbird for when you awaken my liege

As an ER doctor, being able to keep a cool head even in intense situations is a priceless skill. You clarity and calmness could be the difference between a life saved and a life lost. Thankfully, you and your sister have always been good at being clinically cold—but even you both have your limits. For Iron, it was when she was forced to amputate her arm.

For you, it's watching a few legionnaires haul their Commander into the ER, barely conscious and looking half-dead.

"Trauma room 2, now," you snap, tossing your clipboard aside and pulling your coat tighter around yourself. Of course this had to happen on the one day Iron was in Eastside picking up supplies. Your mind races as you march alongside the legionnaires as they drag Zoya—hardly responsive, head hanging low, pallor to her skin—onto a cot. Your nurses swarm you like a well trained unit, moths to a light, awaiting your orders. You suck in a breath, let each molecule of air settle in your cells, before you dive headfirst into action.

"Four units of O-negative, and two large bore IVs," you command, your voice even as you move to stand next to the cot. The wound on her abdomen is substantial, and for once you're grateful for her frankly ridiculous fashion choices since it lets you save time on cutting her clothes off. Your gloved hands reach up to cup Zoya's pale face, your eyes cold as you look down at her. "Get the OR prepped and call anesthesia now."

"Zoya," you say firmly, gently shaking her head. "Oi, brute. Can you hear me?"

The commander remains silent, and you frown. Perhaps the situation is worse than you thought. One of the legionnaires, just a girl, shifts anxiously next to the bed. "Boss got hit by a Mania weapon," she explains, her voice trembling as if she's near tears. "It was supposed to be for me, but—"

"Do you know what kind?" you cut her off, and internally you flinch at the way she recedes from the iciness of your gaze. But she shakes her head, and you bite your tongue. The pieces of the diagnosis align in your mind's eye—Mania weapon, unknown effect, caused severe lacerations and subsequent hemorrhaging. High possibility of additional Mania contamination within her bloodstream, although as a Sinner risk of further complication on that avenue is reduced.

You draw in another breath. Okay. You can do this.

"You owe me for this, brute," you mutter, before you kick the locks off the cot wheels and start pushing her to the OR. The double doors greet you like the gateway to purgatory, and you push everything beyond your clinical expertise to the furthest recesses of your mind.

Under the bright OR lights, your form casts a long shadow over Zoya's still one. You exhale.

"Let's begin."

You only finish six hours later.

Your scrubs are stained red up to your elbows, and you can barely feel your feet after being on them for so long. But the heart monitor beeps steadily, and it is the only sound you want to hear now. You thank your nurses and tell them to get some rest. Once they're out of sight, you stumble back and lean against the wall, your eyes slipping shut.

Your hands are shaking.

You exhale. You're barely aware of the fact that you're sliding down the wall until you end up on the floor, the coldness of the tile seeping through your scrubs. The surgery hadn't been easy. Fishing remnants of Mania crystals out of flesh equally as red is always a challenge—often, the patient doesn't survive. Corruption sets in quickly, and all you can do is hand them over to Iron to nip the bud before it blooms.

But you saved her. She's alive, breathing, stable, so why does your heart tremble in your chest? Why does the sight of her blood on your arms make you sick?

Deep down, you know why. But the words knot on your tongue and catch against your teeth every time you try to say them. So instead, you settle for something else. A different emotion, but no less potent. And you pretend that the rush you felt that other day was nothing more than loathing. And whatever it is you're feeling now is just irritation that you had to spend 6 hours stitching her abdomen back together.

"Stupid fucking brute," you mutter to yourself, resting your head on your knees, pulled close to your chest. "Going out and getting yourself hurt like that. Aren't you supposed to be strong?"

You sit on the cold tile for a while, before forcing yourself back onto your feet. Your eyes roam impassively over Zoya's sleeping face, and you can't help but think how... soft she looks, peacefully asleep like this thanks to the anesthesia. It almost makes you want to reach out and stroke her cheek—but you don't, and instead turn on your heel and walk right out of the room.

After all, there’s no point lingering on pipe dreams.

"Doctor!"

You sigh, feeling a headache build between your temples. You turn to the nurse, scowling. "Yes?"

"The, um... the patient in trauma room two is awake," she answers nervously. "And she's trying to—"

Whatever your poor nurse is trying to say is cut off by none other than said patient striding down the hallway, unbothered, even as five of the other strongest nurses you have try to hold her back. She simply drags them along with each confident step. Also, she somehow managed to get her clothes back? You mentally add another thing to your to-do list—you'll have to have a stern talk with whoever manages patient belongings. Zoya stops in front of the front desk and eyes you up and down, and you shoot an unimpressed glare right back at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" you ask flatly, and Zoya shrugs.

"I'm here to say thanks," she responds, and you blink. That... wasn't what you were expecting.

"Oh."

"I'm also going to leave," she adds, and then you scoff, feeling the moment crumble in an instant.

"In your dreams. You're not due to be discharged for three more days." You round the counter to stand defiantly in front of her, and she raises a brow. Around you, your staff shift nervously. If Zoya decides to force her way out, there really is no one who can stop her.

"I'm perfectly fine," she counters, placing a hand on her hip. Your eyes flick down to it, and yes—the glaring wound in her side is healed up, almost beautifully. Such are the 'benefits' of being a Sinner. But you shake your head nonetheless, stubbornly digging your heels in. If Zoya is an unstoppable force, then by God will you be the immovable object.

"You're fine when I say you're fine," you roll your eyes. "Now do I have to put you on a leash or are you going to go back to your room on your own?"

Something flickers in Zoya's eyes, and she makes a derisive noise that has your brow twitching. You can feel your blood starting to simmer just beneath your skin. Really, one of these days she's probably going to give you an aneurysm.

“Hmm, how about this, then? You check me over, and if anything isn’t in already healthy condition, I’ll stay,” Zoya offers, and you cross your arms.

“And if not?”

“Then I’ll leave,” she answers coolly. “Deal?”

Your head throbs. “Fine. Just get in the triage room, I’ll make this quick.”

You stalk your way to the room, Zoya following on your heels like an obedient dog. Like this, it is she who casts a shadow on you, with her once again ridiculous height. It makes you want to see her on her knees.

You banish the though away as quickly as it came and sit Zoya down on the cot. She leans back on both her palms, relaxed as ever, watching as you flit about, pulling on gloves and putting on your stethoscope.

“Breathe in,” you order, and she does. Her lungs sound clear, which is good. You don’t hear the light chime of embedded Mania crystals, which is a relief. Your hand trails down her back before moving to her front, ghosting over her abs.

The injury that had left her bleeding all over your floors is practically gone now—only a thin white line proof it was ever there. You brush your thumb against the scar, and you feel the way her muscles tense beneath your touch.

You do your due diligence, pressing along her abdomen as part of a standard checkup. It’s a perfectly normal procedure to check for organ size, pain and abnormalities, but the thought that this is Zoya you’re touching almost makes your hands tremble. And the way she’s reacting—tense and breathing deep with each inhale—is certainly not helping.

Once you finally finish the exam, there’s a distinct charged feeling in the air. You glance up at Zoya, and her eyes are dark; just like the way they were back then. It makes you swallow reflexively, your blood feeling almost unbearably warm beneath your skin.

You’re still close to her. Your hands are still on her abdomen. You should pull away, but you don’t really want to. A part of you doesn’t even think it can.

“Did I pass, princess?” Zoya breathes, her warm breath fanning across your face. Your eyes narrow, and you look directly into her dark ones like a challenge.

“It’s doctor.”

She smirks. You want to kiss it off her. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“Fuck you,” you snarl, ready to pull away, irritation overtaking the lust in your system before Zoya grabs both your wrists and keeps you close.

“Fuck me yourself,” she whispers, dangerously close to your lips, both an invitation and a challenge.

A better doctor would’ve stepped away. Good thing, then, that you never were the best, because you meet Zoya’s challenge in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. Zoya grins against you, slipping off the cot to tower over you. Her hands move your arms around her neck as she walks you backwards, all while her tongue plunders your mouth.

Zoya pushes you against a wall with enough force to make you gasp, air rushing from your lungs. Her lips and teeth descend on your neck as her hands travel down to your ass, squeezing once before they find your thighs, guiding them to wrap your legs around her waist. You sigh in pleasure at the kisses she presses against the skin of your neck, one of your hands winding in her silvery hair while the other digs into her shoulder to steady yourself.

You’re now completely held up by her, but the fear of falling doesn’t cross your mind even once. You’re pretty sure Zoya can keep you in place by just pinning you to the wall with her hips. You grind your front against her pelvis, and you both groan at the friction against her growing bulge. Zoya’s fingers find the waistband of your scrubs, and she tugs them down roughly.

You tighten your grip in her hair at that, and she hisses in both slight pain and pleasure. “Careful,” you mutter to her, “you’re not allowed to rip them.”

Zoya scoffs against your neck but nonetheless obeys, and you sigh when you feel her knuckles rub against your clothed clit. Zoya exhales as she feels your wetness seep through your panties and onto her skin.

“So fucking wet, princess,” she coos into your ear, dragging a finger along your slit. She presses lightly on the ruined cloth, delighting in the way it sticks to your drenched lower lips. You nip at her jaw, a scrape of your teeth along the defined bone, and Zoya takes the hint.

Her fingers push your panties to the side, and then sinks knuckle deep into your cunt.

You bite down on her shoulder to muffle your moans, your pussy fluttering around the intrusion. Fuck, her fingers are so thick—she’s hardly done anything and you’re already so close to your peak it’s embarassing. Your legs tighten around her waist as she starts pumping her fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds of her working your cunt open echoing in the room. Her thumb presses against your stiff clit and you squirm, burying your face in her neck and panting for breath.

“Gonna cum, princess?” Zoya asks, a breathless edge to her voice. “You’re—fuck—getting tighter, baby.”

“Keep going,” you snap, somewhere between a snarl and a sob. Your entire body is trembling. You seriously might kill her if she does. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Zoya growls, and pistons her fingers even faster all while her thumb draws harsh circles against your clit. You babble whispered praise into her neck before one final, perfect stroke against that spongy spot inside of you had you creaming all over her fingers. The gang leader grunts as she feels your tightness bear down on her, and wetness seep into her palm.

You pant against her neck as you come down from your high, legs twitching. Zoya withdraws her fingers with a wet squelch, and you shudder. But she doesn’t set you down, not just yet, and you know why—or rather, you can feel why. You pull back, leaning your head against the wall, and all while keeping your eyes locked with hers, let your hand brush against the tent in her pants.

Her hips jerk at the sensation, and you smirk. She’s just as pathetically desperate as you are. You brush your hand up and down the clothed length once, then twice, before finally tugging the zipper and her boxers down just enough for her cock to spring free.

Shit, you feel yourself get wetter at just the sight. Her cock slaps against her stomach, painfully hard and big enough that you’re glad she had the control to finger you open first. Zoya growls again when you pump your hand along her length, gathering sticky pre-cum from her drooling tip and laving it down her hardness.

“Wouldn’t happen to keep condoms in here, would you?” she asks, her voice deeper than usual. You roll your eyes at the question.

“No, we don’t keep condoms in the triage room,” you answer, shifting your hips so her cock now rests against your soaked lower lips. “But we do stock morning after pills.”

Zoya’s eyes flicker dangerously, and she grips your hips tight enough to bruise. “You’re playing with fire, princess.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you retort, moving your hips up and down and letting her cock slide between your pussy lips and bump deliciously against your clit. “I’m on the pill anyway.”

Zoya buries her face in your neck and growls, then angles her cock with your entrance and slowly pushes in. You have to bite your tongue as she enters because fuck, she’s so fucking big. You can feel the way you cunt stretches to accomodate her size, more than it ever has for anyone else and you whimper reflexively.

Zoya squeezes your hips apologetically, kissing your neck as she keeps going. “Gotta relax, princess, c’mon, just relax for me…”

You do your best, and the moment she bottoms out it feels like all the breath has been forced from your lungs. Gravity ensures you have a particularly deep seat on her cock, and it leaves both of you breathless. Zoya meets your eyes, and slowy, she starts to thrust, drawing back before snaping forward in a smooth rhythm that soon has you seeing stars.

She fucks you against the wall with as much force as she can muster without being too loud—the rest of the hospital is just outside the door anyway. She smothers your moans with a kiss, hungry and demanding, her tongue tangling against yours. With each rut of her hips her cock bullies your g-spot and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighten once more.

“‘m going to cum,” you gasp out, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure, “‘m gonna cum, Zoya, please—“

“Go on, then, princess,” she encourages, her thumb starting to work your clit again. “Cum all over this cock like I know you want to.”

You writhe against her, your cunt squeezing her length like a vise. Zoya grunts at the sensation, her thrusts starting to get choppy as she rockets to her own high. Her lips travel from your own then down to your neck, her teeth ghosting the skin there. With one last drive of her hips she buries herself deep inside you and spills her hot cum into your eager cunt, while her teeth sink into the junction between your shoulder and your neck.

Your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling of being filled by and of her, your insides being painted white as she dumps rope after rope of cum into you. Fuck, you’re going to be dripping into your panties for a while after this, but you can’t bring yourself to care as nothing but sheer pleasure courses through your veins.

You don’t know how long it takes before both of you wind down from the high, but Zoya’s still hilted inside you, and a part of you doesn’t want her to leave. You’re both a panting mess, and Zoya draws away from your neck with a breathless sigh.

“So…” she begins, and you can barely manage a noise in response. “I take it I’m clear to be discharged, doctor?”

You only answer her with a quick smack to her shoulder that has her chuckling.

(But you agree, on the condition she comes back for regular check-ups. Zoya has no problems with this arrangement.)

[chewing-drywall]

How attractive I think the band are

*I am bisexual and mentally ill so take that as you will

Skiwsgaar- he's like a fine piece of art that I'd like to draw, he's beautiful objectively but speaking frankly I am FIVE FOOT NOTHING and his 6-foot-something tall ass would be LOOMING over me. Like I could not see him from any good angles if I was up close and that's the main reason. I mean hey he could help me get things from the top shelf I guess??(but yea also he probably has a multitude of stds that I don't really feel like potentially getting, same with any other member of the band I guess)

Toki- yea he's attractive, energetic personality, fucking shredded and likes cats and other crafty things (which is a plus for me). As a collector I like how decorated his room is. Either good or truly horrendous in the bedroom no inbetween. I however am not entirely into the facial hair, it's not something I could imagine on a real person existing. But yes he's hot he'd be an insane ass boyfriend though the baggage is INSANE

Nathan- I'd fuck him. I'd date him. I would be so good for him, please God I'd even get over my weird aversion to chips for him. He's like, not 100% my type, but he fits like 97% of it. He could throw me across the room, or so easily carry me it's got me giggling and kicking my feet. He's the guy I'd have a crush on in high school (more the ripped scary looking metalhead vibe than the football part). He's autistic and I'm autistic and unfortunately, we would probably clash on some ends but otherwise we would both use eachother as weighted blankets

Murderface- you know, I've seen some really fucking good fanart over time and honestly some of those art pieces I could get into. He's hot as a butch chick like ladyklok, and more alternative with some more piercings and hair maintenance and that'd really do it for me. I like his passion for his hobbies and his loyalty to his friends.

Magnus- freaknasty sex in like the back of a shitbox car or something. I don't think I would be sober but neither would he, not for anything long term but bro would give head like a champ and immediately ghost me afterwards which is expected

Charles- I TOOK HIM TO MY PENTHOUSE AND I FREAKED IT!!! you guys. I-, Like- let's be so honest he'd never be interested in me and I'm totally chill with that, however this is MY insane fantasy!!! And if I walked in a room with that man, locked it and came out three hours later one of us is gonna be pregnant and it's NOT! gonna be me

Pickles: (SORRY I FORGOT HIM GUYS CHARLES OVERTOOK ANY MENTAL FUNCTIONS)- his hair was one of the main reasons I didn't watch metalocalypse sooner, the goatee with the disconnected sideburns going up to smelly white people dread locks COMBOVER??? honey pick a struggle because good God. However. His confidence is attractive, any (good) fics I've read of him make him even more attractive considering his laid back personality (hiding buckets of anxiety me too twin), his sleeper build is definitely hot but I think his drug problem make him generally poor in bed considering he has whiskey dick and coordinations out the window, and has definitely vomited during sex before so that kinda doesn't work well. I mean sober though (hahaha when? I mean like 85% aware of his surroundings) he's probably a fantastic lay when he can lock in and concentrate. But yea he's pretty solidly attractive (ESPECIALLY the fanart of young pickles I want to tear into him like a chew toy)

Abigail- yea she's hot as fuck. Like you can't hate her her eyes are sooo pretty and she pulls of that pant suit too well. She would have me barking like a dog in a Walmart if she asked nicely enough. 100000/10

Knubbler-nah, not big into his personality or looks, also his eyes do freak me out slightly

[wildelydawn]

🦇 Trick ~or~ Treat! 👻

My Atlas <3 Once upon a time, years (a year) ago, I wrote (parts) of this in my messages with Shou. And now, my dear, my friend, you get the full glimpse of my KimChay WIP, titled, "Chay Punches Kim."

-

“You should punch him in the face.”

Porchay and Macau turn towards Vegas. “What?”

“Your brother punched me in the face,” Vegas says casually, as if Porsche went around punching people for shits and giggles. “It really solidified that I should apologize to Pete."

Porchay folds his arms. “I’m not gonna take advice from the guy who kidnapped me.”

“Suit yourself,” Vegas shrugs. “I’m not sleeping alone tonight.”

“Ouch,” Macau whistles. Porchay nudges him, but Macau shoves him playfully. “Oh, please. You’re the one always complaining about how Kim has the emotional range of a circus clown. My brother, on the other hand, is completely pathetic-”

“Hey!”

“He cried in front of Pete the other day over-”

Vegas clamps his hand over Macau’s mouth. “As my brother was saying,” Vegas cuts in cheerfully. “Kim’s love language is violence. You should punch him. Then he’ll understand.”

-

Porchay is outside Kim’s apartment. He hasn’t been here in months, and quite frankly, it’s a little hard to even look at Kim’s door.

Would he even answer?

And am I really going to do this?

Before he can talk himself out of it, Porchay knocks loudly on Kim’s door, thinking that if he can’t hit Kim, at least he can yell at him.

And when the heavy gray door swings open, and Kim’s face comes into his view, the younger Kittisawat’s mind goes utterly blank. They stare at each other for a brief moment before Porchay remembers he’s supposed to be hitting Kim. So he draws back his fist, and thwack.

Porchay’s fist awkwardly makes contact with Kim’s chest. Kim barely flinches, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. And Porchay is so aware that his punch was nothing like how Porsche must have punched Vegas, because Kim is looking at him as if he's butt-naked and covered in chocolate sauce.

An even worse awkward silence falls between them before Kim clears his throat. “You can do better than that,” he says, before closing the door.

“What?”

“Try again,” Kim calls out from the other side.

This makes Porchay even angrier. How dare Kim treat him like he’s… like-

Porchay bangs on the door. Kim swings it wide open, and Porchay draws his fist-

Only to see Kim gracefully dodge, once, twice, and when Porchay swings again, Kim steps backward, and Porchay falls forward, right into Kim’s foyer. 

Kim has a smirk on his face, or at least a laugh, and it just makes Porchay’s chest ache, seeing Kim all happy while he’s suffering alone in the Main House.

So Porchay kicks Kim, right in the shin.

Kim immediately drops to a knee, crouched over and holding onto his leg.

Porchay is on the ground with him in seconds. “Oh, God, P’Kim! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Kim looks up, grins, and sweeps Porchay’s leg. Chay falls flat on his back, and before he can blink, Kim collects his wrists, holds them above his head, wedges a knee between Chay’s legs, and leans in close to his face.

“Never assume your opponent will fight fair.”

Chay’s face warms over. “L-let go of me!”

Kim does, only to have Chay crash right back into him, his head banging painfully on his hardwood floors. Now Chay’s on top of him, the victory on his face looking quite attractive as Chay sits on Kim’s hips.

“You were saying?”

Kim holds up his hands and turns away from Chay. “You win, you win. Just get off me-”

“Why? Why should I ever listen to anything you have to say-”

“Chay, please-”

“You’re the one who made my life-”

“Chay.”

“What!?”

Kim doesn’t say anything: just keeps his face turned away. But a pink flush overcomes his cheeks, and suddenly, Chay is very aware of how close their hips are, and how Kim’s dick is quickly hardening right under his ass.

“Oh.”

[zepskies]

Omg I looove it! I didn't know you were a fellow Priestly/10 Inch Hero fan!! 💕

You know I never thought I would write for Priestly, as much as I liked the character, but after a friend encouraged me, I started sketching and completely fell in love with this adorable dork. 😂 I would so love to see you write something for him though!! If I get an idea for you, I'll shoot a prompt over to your inbox. 💜

Aww I'm so glad this story gave you all the feels!! 🥹 He's literally the sweetest most misunderstood weirdo, and I knew I wanted to pair with someone who saw that in him.

Lol honestly, if it's a gift you like and it doesn't hurt you too much, keep it. Full disclosure: my husband once received a fluffy pillow from an ex and it's my absolute favorite. I sleep on it every night and don't give a shit 😂

LOL I love that! And I totally agree. If it's not hurting you and you genuinely like that gift/it's become part of your routine, then why give it up?

But lmfaooo I'm so glad you liked that "ritual burning" (100% like Ross/Emily 🤣🤣) -- and of course, drawing the line at his dick. 🤣 That was a fan-favorite line, and I remember it really tickled me when I was writing it loll. And you can quote as much as you want, my lovely, I'm getting a kick out of all your reactions. 😝😝

Awww, he can relate after Tish. I honestly hated that he changed at the end of the movie. Like, whyyyyyy????? Tish would've liked him like he was, too?! What kinda message were they tryna send here? 🙈

Omfggggg I think this is all of our gripes with the ending. It felt like such a cop out, and frankly, a slap in the face to Priestly's character and Tish's supposed character growth. He shouldn't have felt the need to change when the whole point of the movie was to be your effing self. 🙄 It gave "Hollywood writing" for me.

Now I've died twice during one fic – noice 🤣🤣🤣 Also, I can relate with reader here. We've all been there and asked ourselves this very question 😂 And his response was GOLD 😆🫶

Ahaha I mean, amirite? 😂😂 I feel like I have this "if only" discussion with my best friend at least once a month. And lmfao that Solid Gold gif was perfect.~~

I honestly would love to meet Mr. & Mrs. Priestley and ask them tons of questions about how they raised such an awesome son 💙 Ooooo fic idea! Tell me how reader met his parents??? 🤓

Oh my Gooood, that's actually an awesome idea, and I don't think I've read anything like that before! Thank you for this. You're seriously making me want to play more in this world, with these two in particular. 💕

Oooh that's awesome that you both loved the angst, and that it took you by surprise! I didn't want to make the situation "too easy." But also gave a chance to explore the landscape of this sandwich shop post-breakup. And Ross/Rachel breakup vibes is exactly what I was going for! Since to me it seemed this group of employees were more like a little family, and Tish an integral part, so she wouldn't want to give that up in the "divorce" lol.

Ahaha yes the way Priestly and the reader had to dip out to avoid prying eyes was very much like Friends too. It's all just running in my subconscious at this point. 🤣

Aww, the ending was too sweet 🥹🥰 I love how shy they were around each other and that she essentially told him he should ask her out 😆 I'd honestly love to read more about these two! I adored this ❤️❤️❤️

Aww thank you so very much, Wayne!! I loved writing these two across both one-shots (which I see you read the original fic as well 🙏🏽). And you gave me an awesome idea to play with in the future!! 😘

The Miracle Man

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader

Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.

Word Count: 3,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.

He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?

A dirty mop.

Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.

He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.

Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…

Three months ago. When they were still together.

Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?

It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?

That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.

“Hello?”

The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.

You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.

You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.

“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.” 

Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.

Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.

He held in a sigh.

“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.

He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.

But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.

Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.

“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.

What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.

His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”

You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.

“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.

Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.

“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”

He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.

“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”

Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”

“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.

“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”

You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.

“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”

You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.

“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”

And then it dawned on you.

“That fucking asshole,” you growled.

Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”

Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.

And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he’ll…”

You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail. 

“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”

You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.

He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.

“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”

Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.

“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”

Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.

Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.

“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.

“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”

Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.

“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”

“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.

“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”

He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”

“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”

Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.

“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.

“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”

By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.

“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.

“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”

Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.

He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.

I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.

“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.

“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.”

If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.

“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.

As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.

"Uh, sorry," he said.

But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.

“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.

You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.

“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.

“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.

“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.

Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”

Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.

“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.

“Oh. What is it, then?” you asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.

“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.

“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.

“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.

“How’re you getting home?” he asked.

You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.

“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”

You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”

Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.

“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”

You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”

He smiled. “You can try.”

He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.

And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.

“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”

“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.

The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.

The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.

“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.” 

He continued cleaning.

Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.

It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.

He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.

“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.

“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.

Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.

“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.

He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.

“Well, hi there,” he greeted.

A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.

In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.

“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”

Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”

You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.

“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.

You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.

But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.

“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.

You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”

Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”

Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.

You felt like you.

So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.

“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.

“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.

You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”

He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.

But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.

“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”

You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.

Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.

It was the perfect day for a Miracle.

AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BP Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @sanscas @kaleldobrev

@waters-2567 @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions @chriszgirl92

[mrvlbimbo]

Eddie fic? where poor baby is a virgin but his not-girl-friend is more than happy to let him give her head for ‘practice’?

Heheh Heheheh. I’m cackling evilly because I’ve just been waiting all day for something like this. I’ve got another one I’m working on rn where the reader is a virgin so now I’ve got like little matching prompts.

Practice makes perfect

you’re both already high as a kite when you catch that something is bothering him.

“Eds. What’s wrong?” You coo, grabbing him from the other side of the couch and tugging him into your arms. You always were more affectionate when you’re high.

But then again you were also more affectionate with Eddie in general . There was something there but neither of you had taken the time to define it.

Basically your relationship extended to kissing once or twice when you were high but never when you’re sober, and not talking about it under any circumstances.

He can’t keep a secret so he blurts it out immediately. “Imavirgin”

“I didn’t quite catch that.” You giggle at his random burst of shyness which was so unusual for him.

“Please don’t make me say it again?” He begged. You couldn’t say no to him when he begged.

“Ok. So what’s the problem?”

“What if I’m bad at it?”

“You’ll be fine. You just kinda stick your dick in there and wiggle it around.” You shrugged, not seeing why he was so worried about this when he was usually so confident.

“Ohhhkay but like what about the other stuff. Like if I want to finger her or… eat her out.” You might have been imagining it but he sounded almost whiney when he said the last part.

“I don’t know man, practice I guess.”

“Yeah. Ladies are just lining up around the block to have my tongue inside of them.” He said it sarcastically but frankly you couldn’t understand why that wasn’t true.

“You could practice on me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah why not. I’m not super into the ole sloppy toppy myself but I’m sure I could teach you a few things.”

“Right now?”

“I mean I don’t have any other plans.”

Soon you had kicked off your jeans and he was cradled between your hips, observing your thighs and covered pussy. “Do you usually do it with these on?” He asked, running his index finger over the seam of her panties.

“Fuck,” you gasp out at the featherlight contact. He looks up blinking at you with wide eyes, worried he did something wrong. “No. I just thought you might like to take them off yourself.”

He didn’t mean to but he whimpered a little when you said that.

He practically rips the fabric off of you once he gets the ok, anxious to get to the task at hand.

When he doesn’t start doing anything, you’re about to make some snappy comment and then you remember all this is new to him.

“Eds. You’re doing so good already.” He almost cums when he hears that, not so subtly grinding against the couch beneath him.

Finally, he brings his mouth to your cunt. His licks are tentative but that doesn’t stop you from tangling a hand in his hair when he brushes your clit.

He perks up at that, once again looking to you for confirmation he was doing ok. You nodded and he still seemed like he was waiting for something.

Then it hit you, he wanted to be praised. He went back to work and when he hit that spot again you whined loudly. “So good. Right there!”

He was vigorous after that, taking in every sound and twitch of your body to figure out exactly what was working.

It didn’t take long for him to draw an orgasm out of you. He was surprised by it, licking up all the release he could before resting his head on your lower stomach and looking up at you.

“Did I do good?” he asked, bright sparkling eyes blown wide with lust.

“Yeah.”

“Can I do that again?”

“Yeah,” you repeated

And so he did it again, eating you out like a man starved this time. Now he knew exactly what both of you liked it wasn’t practice anymore, it was a victory lap.

He reached up for your fingers that were clutching the side of the couch tightly and intertwined them with his. It was oddly romantic for the situation but you’d allow it if it meant feeling his warm hand in yours.

Soon you were about to cum again, dizzy and twitching from overstimulation. This time is was a softer climax, your body weakly wracking with waves of pleasure as he thrusted against the couch in turn.

“Wow,” you gasped, not having ever experienced anything quite like that.

when he crawled back up to lay in your arms you didn’t think before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, avoiding the area around his mouth which was covered in your cum.

He nuzzled his head into your neck and sighed “thank you” prompting you both to fall asleep for the night, very satisfied.

A/N hellllo lovely ppl, I just wanted to let y’all know im looking to write for Steve and Hopper aswell so my inbox is open for anything you want to send abt them

[cantstoptheimagines]

Pool Boy (John B Routledge | Outer Banks)

Summary — John B can’t keep his eyes off his boss’s daughter.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Smut (quickie in a pool and almost getting caught); employee x boss’s daughter trope; Reader and John B make a few sex jokes (potential secondhand embarrassment abound); cursing; Reader wears a swimsuit; Reader is a kook.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 1,937. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her) and is referred to with traditionally feminine nicknames (princess, babygirl, etc.). ➳ This was originally meant to be for JJ, but I thought the idea suited John B a little better. ➳ This work has a visual edit.

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule  

John B wasn’t sure how it all started.

Maybe it was with a passing glance as he skimmed the surface of the water or when your bare glowed beneath the sun as he tried to fix one of the broken pool jets. It was hard to know and it didn’t help that he was a little too emotionally clogged for his own good sometimes. He supposed it didn’t really matter in the long run because he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Especially now.

As he wandered through the gate that led into your backyard, his gaze found you relaxing on a pool float with sunglasses. If your hands weren’t gently gliding back and forth through the cool water, he probably would’ve thought you were asleep.

“Hope you put sunscreen on,” he said, placing his hands on his hips. “Remember last time?”

Even from the edge of the pool, he could still clearly make out the smirk that spread over your lips. Apparently your instance with potential sun poisoning only a week prior didn’t rattle you.

One of your hands emerged from the water to take off your sunglasses. Your eyes drifted over his figure, and then you asked, “What are you gonna do if I didn’t? Tell my dad?”

John B snorted. After working for your father for nearly the entire summer, it became clear that he, quite frankly, didn’t give a shit about anything you did. Your father thought you to be an angel and trusted you fully, which was probably his biggest mistake.

“You coming in, Routledge?” you asked. “Or are you gonna be a loser like last time?”

John B scoffed at the smirk on your face, “I just came to get my check from your dad.”

“Bummer,” you sighed quietly. “I was hoping for some Vitamin D, but sure, whatever, go hang with my dad instead. It’s cool.”

You smiled when he whispered a few curses under his breath. His eyes darted between you and your house, shuffling awkwardly, until he finally kicked off his shoes.

“You’re gonna get me fired, ya know that?” he groaned, rolling his eyes when you only shrugged in response. “And don’t even get me started on those stupid dick jokes.”

“Oh, please,” you chuckled, watching as he trailed around the edge of the pool, “I know you wore those swim trunks on purpose.”

John B grinned, but didn’t comment, which only proved how right your assumption was. He pulled off his shirt to reveal his sun-kissed skin. Running a hand through his messy hair, he began to descend the steps that led into your family’s inground pool.

You waited patiently as he waded through the water, smiling when he finally came to a stop next to your pool float. One of his arms came up to rest over your hips, and then he whispered, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you replied, smile widening in an instant.

John B chuckled, slowly pulling you off the pool float, which immediately began to drift away in the breeze. He held you in his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist, smiling as he bit his lower lip.

Your arms moved to rest on his shoulders. His palms ran over your exposed skin and you could feel him becoming hard in his swim trunks. Gently, you tugged at the ever-present bandana around his neck, and asked, “Do you ever take this off?”

He raised his eyebrows, “You ever take that swimsuit off?”

Your eyes fell to his lips, which were drawing closer by the second, and muttered, “Depends on who’s asking me to. Are you asking, John B?”

He let out a deep groan, glancing over your shoulder in the direction of your house. His fingers toyed with the strings of your swimsuit as he thought about the potential repercussions of being caught.

He hadn’t been with you sexually in almost two weeks and he was starving for your touch. And despite agreeing that your situation wouldn’t have any strings attached, his feelings for you were slowly growing out of his control.

So, when you lightly gripped his hair and brought his attention back to you, all those thoughts disappeared and his bodily desires won out.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “I am.”

Your eyes trailed over his features as you whispered, “Then help me take it off. Show me how much you want it, you filthy pogue.”

He licked his lips, rolled his eyes at your joking smile, and gently tugged at the back of your swimsuit. The strings quickly unraveled and the feeling of John B’s hands sent shivers along your spine.

His lips pressed against the bare skin of your shoulder as he pushed aside the straps of your swimsuit. He pulled away enough to remove your top, exposing your breasts.

With a pleasured sigh, you pulled him into a kiss, slowly grinding your hips in repeated motions. John B’s eyebrows furrowed at the sensation of his cock becoming harder and harder by the second.

A hand palmed at one of your breasts. You gasped in surprise, not expecting him to touch them so soon. Usually he held off, winding you up until you were practically begging him to fuck you. Today, however, he seemed incapable of holding back.

Now that his lips were free of your kiss, he leaned down, still supporting your back with his available hand. You moaned when his tongue suddenly ran over your nipple, only for it to be drawn into his mouth moments later.

The hand that had been exploring your breasts made its way beneath the water’s surface, sinking into your bottoms. Your mouth fell open when John B began massaging your clit without warning, “Oh, shit!”

He pulled his mouth away from your skin, kissing his way over to your other breast with a smirk, “Feel good, kook?”

“So good—! Ah!”

He took you by surprise when his teeth dug into the skin of your chest. No matter how many times you had sex with John B, you always forgot he was a biter.

He pulled away with a huff, coming to connect your lips with his once more, murmuring, “Stay quiet, sweetheart. Daddy might hear.”

“Don’t care,” you whined, hiding your face against his shoulder and digging your fingers into his messy hair.

“Oh, really?” he chuckled. “What would he say if he found out you’re fucking a dirty pogue like me, huh? Not many kooks can take a cock from the Cut, ya know?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond. Two of his fingers pushed into you and, quite honestly, John B couldn’t tell if more of the wetness between your thighs came from you or the water. He continued to thumb at your clit, rolling his hips so you could feel his swollen cock beneath his swim trunks.

“He doesn’t care if you’re a pogue,” you muttered, knowing it was the truth, as you pulled him into another kiss and intertwined your fingers in his hair. “Please, John B, I need you.”

He grinned against you, biting at your lower lip, “Yeah?”

You nodded, “Yes.”

John B couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, picking up pace when you moaned against him. The sounds emitting from your body only made his smile widen.

“Gotta be quiet, okay?” he whispered. “Can’t be loud this time, baby, no matter how much I wanna hear you.”

His fingers left you, though you weren’t left empty for long. His hand dipped beneath the water. He pulled down his swim trunks enough to pull out his hard cock before pressing into your center.

You gasped at the intrusion, but John B gave you no time to adjust, thrusting into you with his own groans of pleasure. His hands helped move you along his length while your fingers threaded through his brown hair.

Water rippled around the two of you. You panted against John B’s bare skin, resting your cheek against his as he repeatedly pulled you onto his cock.

His teeth sunk into you again. He quickly soothed the spot with a kiss, however, after feeling you wince against him. His lips trailed over your skin until they met your own in a kiss, which didn’t last long since his pounding thrust were steadily increasing.

“Fuck!” he gasped. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum! Are you close? Tell me you’re close!”

You nodded, guiding his hand below the water, “Touch me.”

John B followed your command, fingers moving to their former position against your clit. His fondling on the bundle of nerves sent shivers down your spine. He grinned against your lips when you whined and began to beg for a release of tension.

The tight cord within you snapped. John B couldn’t help but groan at the feeling of you cumming around him. He wasn’t far behind, releasing into you and painting your insides with his cum.

Before either of you could catch a breath, a voice called out your name. John B pulled you closer and sunk deeper into the water, shielding your exposed breasts from the unexpected visitor.

Your father stood on the deck of your house, too far to notice what was happening. He squinted against the bright sun, attempting to shade his eyes with one of his hands.

“John B? That you?” he asked. “What are you doing in the pool?”

You leapt in with a faux explanation, raising your voice so he could hear you across the yard, “He was just trying to teach me how to float better. I wasn’t doing it right, so I asked him for some help.”

Your father didn’t question the idea, despite the fact that floating was usually one of the first things people learned about swimming. He only shrugged, taking your answer for what it was, before he pointed at John B, “Come inside and get your money when you’re done, alright?”

Due to the distance between the pool and the deck, your father thankfully wasn’t able to spot the smirk that spread across John B’s lips as he replied, “Oh, trust me, sir! I’ll come inside every time!”

Your fingertips dug into the flesh of his shoulders when he suddenly thrusted into you again, which forced a quiet, surprised gasp out of your throat. It seemed, however, that your father didn’t notice.

Instead, he laughed, probably thinking John B just wanted to see the more luxurious side of the island every now and then. If he only knew what John B truly meant as his swollen cock slowly began moving inside you once again, still hard and ready for more.

As your father began to go back into the house, he offered a parting wave, “You’re always welcome at our place, John B!”

Once his back was turned and the door had been shut, you hit John B’s shoulder with a glare. He, however, only grinned back at you, refusing to let you escape his hold.

His hips were beginning to pick up speed. He bit his lip at the sight of you trying to stubbornly hold back your pleasured moans. His grip on you tightened and, with a rough thrust, he practically knocked the wind of you.

You fell against him, moaning and whining as his skin slapped against yours beneath the water, “John B—!”

He quietly shushed you, pressing soothing kisses against your skin. They contrasted his pounding hips in the perfect way.

“Don’t run away, babygirl. We’ve still got plenty of rounds to go,” he grunted. “Pool water’s gonna turn white with my cum by the time I’m done with you.”

[chalkrevelations]

So, here’s the thing. We know Pete is at least slightly unhinged, yes? Even before he’s giving the once-over to TortureBarbie!Vegas and giving Hia Wang that look through the bars of a cell as he stands at Vegas’s right shoulder (right-hand man, I tell you what), we see it in his expression while he’s kicking the shit out of Mes and the way he has to bring himself back to himself when Kinn calls for him, to get him to take Porsche outside.

I’m just saying, there’s a reason Pete is head bodyguard for the most vulnerable of the main family. I’m sure Korn put a lot of thought into who was going to be on Tankhun’s detail. We get to see it less with Pol, but with both Arm and Pete, we get onscreen evidence that they’re both smart - and clever, because those aren’t the same thing - they’re pretty ruthless, they’re good at their jobs (when it doesn’t involve direct surveillance, PETE), they get shit done. Plus, not only can they turn on a dime from playing along with whatever bullshit Tankhun is insisting on to stone killers, they can do all that at the same time that they’re supposed to be babysitting. For proof of concept, witness not only being Tankhun’s detail, but going along on the minor family op to cover Porsche’s back in Ep 7 - because don’t tell me that wasn’t a babysitting detail, too. Porsche is many things, and I love him a lot, but lbr, stupid babies need the most love.

ANYWAY, It wouldn’t surprise me if Pete, along with Arm and Pol, was picked precisely because he’s able to be a particularly skilled and vicious little bastard but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him because he’s generally more even-tempered and better able to hide it - unlike oh, say, Big and Ken, who need to wave their dicks around all the time. Pete (and Arm and Pol) can be depended on to give less of a shit about looking ridiculous catering to Tankhun’s whims, while at the same time being able to kill you with a pinkie finger and being willing to do it. Korn must know this, he must know - at least partially - the extent to which Pete’s not quite tightly wrapped, and he may count on that as an extra level of protection for his broken eldest. Because lbr again, I’m frankly not willing to give Korn enough credit to think he really cares about Tankhun as a person - just like any of his kids - but Tankhun does have some utility even broken, and even if he didn’t it would look extremely bad if the Theerapanyakul empire wasn’t able to protect him.

All of which is to say 1) there’s a reason Korn’s not super-surprised that Pete is willing to overlook Vegas’s ... eccentricities and may even see some of them as a draw, and it’s not just because Chan is passing on info that Pete’s compromised re: Vegas, and 2) I really want to see/read the kidnapping attempt on Tankhun that happened just slightly before the start of the series, with Pete, Arm and Pol’s response. I have to wonder if Pete, at least, is willing to send a message that doesn’t actually lag far behind Vegas’s work, once they catch one of the foot soldiers, even if he sends Arm and Pol out of the room first. Pete is demonstrably - explicitly shown in canon - to be someone to shrug off violence on another person if he feels it’s a lesson they need to learn.

(I also want to know exactly how much cannon fodder they left at the perimeter to allow themselves to actually get shit-faced drunk at Hum Bar. A LOT, I bet. Which would make Vegas’s attempt to see Pete at the bar in Ep 13 even more reckless and desperate, even with Porsche’s complicity.)

[fairydust-stuff]

I agree with so many of these points! Honestly I've had these same gripes myself! I do like damien but I agree he's got issues from a writing perspective.

though I will say. Some of these things happened because of bad adaptation bullshit choices! Comic writers forgetting multiple important things! I read Damien's orginal orgin comics/ the Grant Morision run. And it still had a very found family vibe.

Because a lot of fans ignore this but Batman couldn't handle Damien. They fought all the time it was a mess it was heavily hinited that Damien being the product of Bruce's rape didn't help matters.

So Batman nearly dies/ fakes his own death for a while. And Dick and Alfred end up co parenting. With Damien as the Robin to Dick's Batman. And Damien starts out saying Dick isn't family/ isn't blood and has no influence on him.

Only for Damien to end up embracing Alfred and Dick as family outside of blood ties by the end. There's even an issue with Damien questioning if he's evil because him and Dick end up fighting a bad guy who is murdering the family members of criminals due to this mindset. At about the same time Damien realizes out Talia's love is disturbingly conditional.

Where Alfred tells him its ok for damien to define himself outside of both Talia and Batman! The entire run emphasizes blood does not matter!

I don't care what anyone says Dick Greyson is Damien's dad along with Alfred. They made him the boy he was today. Batman didn't do shit!

Yes! Damien works as Dick's Robin he does not work as Batman's Robin. Damien works best when is with either Jason or Dick. But so many writers force this obnoxious blood purity father, son duo.

In my unpopular opinion Batman works best when you don't draw too much attention to him as a father. Because at least in the things i've read/ seen. I think batman is frankly terrible as a parent. Even some of Dick's issues can be tranced back to the fact Bruce is emotionally stunted. After Jason there was no coming back from that.

I do wish they'd do more with cassandra in general she seems cool as a character. The girls do get sidelined in the batfamily for males. I wonder why (sarcasm). It is true though that dc doesn't seem to know what to do with Tim.

"And I'm sorry I don't care how skilled you are as a child assassin, you are still a child. Like in the Animated movies he should not be able to beat Deathstroke in a straight 1 to 1 fight."

Its annoying because Damien got his ass kicked/ kidnapped in his introduction comic run! Damien would get over confident and get his ass handed to him. The Grant Morison run did a good balance of having Damien as skilled but also showing he still had a lot to learn. Also the author knew audiences needed to see Damien humbled every once in a while.

Dc animated Damien is way too good and its freaking obnoxious. Yes Slade should be able to take him out!!!!!! I also hate the storyline where abuse victum's become perfect powerhouses due to abuse. Its not how that works!

"Fifthly. For Damian's character arc to really work/make sense ot has to be acknowledged that Talia is not a good mother."

Ugh! Talia needs to be treated as an abuser period! Once again orgin run made that abundantly clear. I honestly think the run for all its criticisms does handle talia as an abuser well.

They even do a passible job with the subtext that Damien is the product of Bruce's rape. Batman is visiblly uncomfortable around her. He looks almost painted whenever talia's obsesstion with him is brought up.

But then dc animated is like nope lol! men don't get raped and Bruce is just so hot for her and eww! I do feel bad for Talia fans but if the writers want Damien around. Talia's rape of Bruce will always be the elephant in the room. She roofied him!

Though I will add my own gripes why is Jason made so evil in Damien's orgin comic. I know he was in his villian era but trying to kill Dick was WTF! it was like the writers needed a shadow damien or something and slotted Jason into the roll.

Asking out of curiosity, but why do ya dislike Damian Wayne? I ask this not in a acussitory manner mind, as my only exposure to Damian is in non comics material such as those animated movies he popped up in. More so curiosity cause he seems to be a very controversial character among the main comics fandom itself.

He is controversial. There are a few reasons, some I could change my mind on with better writing and others would take a lot more for me to get behind him. I'll start by saying if you're reading this and are a Damian fan don't continue, you aren't gonna like what I have to say so don't both hate reading for the sake of it.

Firstly the concept of the Bat Family for the most part up until that point was about Found Family. Let me be clear I'm not saying it was sunshine and rainbows and they all got along great all the time BUT it was about broken people finding each other and trying to work together to make a difference. The very concept of giving Bruce a blood son ruins that, you need only look at most Damian fans when the debate on who should be Bruce's successor comes up, they will always say Damian despite the fact he has shown NOTHING to prove he deserves it, their only reason is he's the blood son. While yes being both biological and adopted kids is a thing that exists and most real people can do it and it works most DC writers are not adopted parents and dont know the specifics of how you depict that balance and it shows. It reeks of weird blood purist, anti-adoption vibes that just aren't good. Like the rise in "bad parent Bruce Wayne" towards Jason and Tim and some of the others (not sure he knows Cass's name anymore) conveniently corrolates with demon brats creation. Coupled with the fact on more than one occasion writers have seemed to make it seem like Damian does indeed mean more just cause he's blood related. I just don't like it. I wasn't overly fond of Helena Wayne (although she was better cause she was from another world instead of the canon one) and I don't like Damian for the same reason.

Secondly he was forced as Robin. As I said in a recent post up until Damian the role of Robin had only really been changed when it was necessary. Jason was made Robin because DC wanted Robin to be a kid again but readers liked the storylines they were getting with young adult Dick Grayson so they promoted Dick from sidekick and created Jason Todd. Likewise when Jason died there was no Robin, Dick wasn't about to go back to being Robin and Jason was dead thus Tim was created to fill a role that needed filling. Even Stephanie was made Robin due to Tim being unavailable for a long period of time (i dont remember the specifics but i think it had to do with his family finding out about Robin) so even when she lasted not even a year, she was still filling a vacamcy instead of being forced into a role that was already filled. Damian however was just created. They had not taken the proper steps to develop Tim out of being Robin naturally (and before people come at me with "oh he had plenty of time" Dick Grayson got FORTT YEARS and Damian is coming up on nearing 2 decades so shut up) and thus his creation has directly led to the problem we have right now in DC were we have TWO Robins cause they demoted Tim back to being Robin when Red Robin didn't work out (and 3 batgirls but that ones Barbara Gordon's fault). Coupled with the fact his introduction came right after the revival of Jason Todd thus basically screeching to a halt any real meaningful development that plotline could have had because suddenly DC had a shiny new toy to play with. Damian's creation was a turning point for Batman comics and not a good one, because it contributed to the derailing of multiple characters arcs and plotlines and some have still not fully recovered.

Thirdly his character upon introduction was already redundant. He's a child raised by assassins.... OK well we already have Cassandra Cain. He's a Robin willing to kill and will really test the Bat Fams moral compass. OK well as I said we'd already revived Jason Todd and he was already taking the fight to the Bat on the no kill rule. Literally the only unique thing he had upon introduction was that he was a blood relation to Bruce which I personally do not think should mean anything. But DC starting from that point going forward started to have a horrible undercurrent of blood purity. The only thing I can think that he is semi unique on is being biracial but even then not entirely his since Cassandra is biracial as well AND they never do anything with him being biracial. Plus if they really wanted to they could have reconned one of the existing Robins to be biracial without derailing multiple other characters plotlines.

Fourthly. He's an obnoxious and annoying brat 90% of the time. Like I get it, being raised by Talia (although there's conflicting information on of he was actually raised at all since the timeline does not seem to add up for his age and at one point he was grown in an artificial womb and artificially aged but that's been retconned but the timeline still don't add up if he's not artificially aged somewhat. His back story is a mess I ain't gonna make heads or tails of it) will inevitably result in a very arrogant child afterall Ra's and Talia's egos rival Lex Luthors. BUT they want us to believe at times he can back that up. And I'm sorry I don't care how skilled you are as a child assassin, you are still a child. Like in the Animated movies he should not be able to beat Deathstroke in a straight 1 to 1 fight. He just shouldn't. Both are highly skilled assassins sure but Slade is like 6 times Damian's age, double his size and at least 3 times his weight. There is also the fact that his dark, brooding, arrogant, cruel character sort of worked when he was Dick Grayson's Robin cause it was flipping the established dynamics for Batman and Robin. But when he's Bruce's Robin it doesn't work, we no longer have that little bit of sunshine that Robin is meant to bring to Batman (and don't think I haven't noticed how Batman's character has got crueler and darker since Damian became his Robin) while Batman is meant to be a guiding hand for Robin to keep him on the right track.

Fifthly. For Damian's character arc to really work/make sense ot has to be acknowledged that Talia is not a good mother. At best she's deliberately raising him in a dangerous environment and at worse she is actively abusive. It's the only way you can justify half of his character traits and why he's even here in the first place. Here's the issue for all I dislike Talia as a character... I don't believe she's an abusive mother. One thing that seems to be consistent for Talia was that she did love her family. Talia's flaws for me are in her inability to choose a side and her entitlement towards Bruce and other men (well and the whole worldwide genocide of anyone not League of Assassins). Now I am more willing to accept this one as just being how new Talia is but I don't blame some of her fans who feel miffed about this however they do have to acknowledge that there's no real way to do his story without her either being an incompetent parent or a down right bad one (but don't worry Talia fans Bruce is also awful nowadays so she's not alone there....)

Now his arrogance and overall unlikable character can absolutely be fixed with good writing. I hated him in the Animated movies (kid you grew up in the mountains leaving to kill you SHOULD NOT BE LECTURING BRUCE FUCKING WAYNE ABOUT STOCKS) but I'm quite liking him in Boy Wonder where it's actually tackling his own sense of entitlement and showing that he needs to learn from his predecessors rather than acting like he's better than them purely because he shares dna with Bruce.

BUT the conceptual issues I have won't go away quite so easily. It's why if I'm asked if I could wipe one Robin from existence, it will always be him. He could be written wonderfully, he could get a comic run that is the best written thing ever and I will still always say him when asked that question. And I know I'm not alone on that.

[all-about-kyu]

hi miaaaa, happy 300 love!😚😚💝💓💘💗💝💖 for your drabble event, can i request a drabble — kun + extra smutty prompt list #57 ? thank you!!

Inni I finally finished it I hope you like it <33

Genre: Smut MINORS DNI MATURE CONTENT AHEAD

Pairing: Kun x fem!reader

Warning: oral (m receive), grinding, marking, oral (m receive), praise, finger sucking, cum eating, pet names

Word Count: 1.4k

You had had enough, being around your boyfriend all day was great and all but being constantly surrounded by others too was an issue. Every time you turned around someone needed your attention or Kun’s in some manner. And this moment is no exception, here you are perched happily in his lap enjoying a movie in bed when Yangyang bursts through the door.

“Um, sorry to interrupt but-”

That was the last straw “No, Yangyang, you’re not sorry, everyone keeps interrupting our time together like it’s no big deal but it is. I don’t care what you want, go as Ten or someone cause we are busy.” you yelled.

Kun placed a calming hand on your shoulder to pull you back down to earth from your anger. Sheepishly, Yangyang backed out of the room making sure not to bother either of you again. Finally calming from your bout of anger you turn towards Kun seeing his face filled with worry. You knew why too, you never snapped at anyone, especially Yangyang, so you yelling at him was obviously concerning.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong love?” he asks gently

“It’s just,” you sigh, “we never get alone time anymore, whenever we get a moment together someone interrupts or tries to join us. I just want to spend time with you alone.”

“Angel, why didn’t you just tell me that? You know I’d kick the boys out in a heartbeat to make sure we had alone time.” he reassures.

“I know but I don’t want to kick them out just cause I want to get dicked down.” you giggle airily.

“You know we can always go to your place, we aren’t interrupted there.” he flirts.

“Or,” you draw out “I can get them to leave us alone right now.” you smirk

Without another thought, you turn your body to straddle your boyfriend’s lap and pull him into a gentle kiss. Instantly his hands find your waist and guide you to pull close against him, a low groan escaping his lips when your tongue invades his mouth. What was originally a gentle loving kiss became a passionate rush of emotion that could not be tamed. Every few moments you’d feel him nip at your lips or smile against them. Your hands got lost in his hair trying to bring him as close as he could be to your body. His hands now finding a home on your ass gripping it to subtly guide your clothed core against his growing member. Your kisses travel down his neck, normally you’d never leave marks due to how angry the makeup artists got at you the last time you did. But now, you need to show the others that he’s yours above anything else. Heavy sighs leave his lips as you leave your mark across his skin one at a time.

“Baby, the makeup artists are gonna kill me tomorrow when they see what you did.” he chuckles, not really caring too much.

“Frankly, my love, I don’t give a shit. Let me love you.” you smirk before pulling yourself off of him.

You drag your hands down his chest and toned stomach excruciatingly slow before palming him through his shorts causing another groan to escape his lips. You knew he was already impatient by the way his hips bucked up into your touch, you giggle at the antics you pull to rile him up more before finally releasing his cock from its fabric prison. Just then you hear two of the others running past the room getting suspiciously quiet not much further down the hallway. You easily ignore them pumping his member in your hand a few times as he inhales rather sharply.

“If we get caught I’m blaming you.” he grits through his teeth.

“And if we do get caught they’ll finally learn to leave us alone for a little bit.” you smirk back at him.

You take his member into your mouth in full the first time, you’ve never had a particularly sensitive gag reflex and you’re thankful for it every time you go down on your boyfriend. A loud drawn-out moan is released from his throat as you deep-throat him repeatedly and swallow around him.

“Fuck, princess, if you keep up with that I’ll cum before I even get to fuck you.” he sighs pushing your head down further onto him.

You choke around him a few times before he decides to finally let you have some relief as well. As he always has, he slowly strips you down, praising your body with every breath he takes. As he removes your bra he doesn’t forget to leave behind marks to match his own that you gave him. You whimper at the feeling of his lips against your burning skin practically begging him to continue further. And Kun, the ever gentle lover he is, continued to place light kisses slowly across your body knowing it would only rile you up more.

“Kun, please, I want more.” you whine just wanting him to fuck you already.

“Whatever my princess wants, my princess gets.” he chuckled, flipping you both over.

Having your boyfriend above you like this is a sight you’d never grow tired of. He was always extremely handsome in your eyes but nothing compared to when he was passionate about something or especially in this moment when he’s above you looking down at you with lusty eyes. He lowers himself to you quickly placing more kisses along the column of your neck making you whimper again. Finally showing just how needy he was as well he began grinding his bare cock against your folds gathering the wetness in the process.

“Babe, please, just get inside me already. I’m gonna go insane if you don’t” you whine in his ear.

Without another word he guides his member into your soaked core, letting a low groan escape as he felt how tight you were around him. His thrusts started out at a torturously slow pace making you moan and whimper with desperation. Your nails claw into his back begging him to increase his pace which he gladly does. Your moans fly free into the heated room with ease causing the man above you to chuckle.

“Princess, quiet down, we don’t want to get caught do we?”

You don’t trust your voice to respond without moaning again, so instead, you opt to nod vigorously. To help aid you in volume control Kun brings one hand up toward your mouth and you immediately take his fingers into your mouth as if it’s second nature. His thrusts became more erratic making you whine and moan louder, his fingers doing nothing to control your volume as he had hoped to. You faintly hear laughing and screaming from outside the room but the both of you are too blissed out to care about where they are or what they’re doing. His thrusts falter slightly as you clench around him feeling your orgasm about to topple over your body.

“Fuck, baby, if you keep that up I’ll cum.” he airily chuckles

“Can’t help it,” you whine “you feel so good inside me.”

And just like that, your orgasm takes control of your body making you spasm below him like a woman possessed. Not too long after he pulls out of you and you hop into action despite how dazed you were. You wrap your lips around his tip again as he cums down your throat swallowing every last drop you could. You smile up at him almost innocently as he comes down from his high. He leans down to your level bringing you into a loving kiss not caring that he could taste his own cum on your lips.

“Y’all done fucking?” Ten yells through the door “I just want to get Louis and Leon’s treats. They’ve been up my ass about them for the past hour.”

“It’s her fault!” Kun yells back “Let us get dressed first then yeah you can come in.”

You pout at him for blaming you but you recall him saying he would blame you if you had gotten caught. He throws a shirt at you effectively distracting you from sulking. He grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants opting to stay shirtless much to your pleasure. He made his way to the door, opening it to let Ten into the room, not missing how he was being eyed by the other male.

“Damn y/n, you really needed to mark your territory didn’t you?” he laughed “He’s covered in hickeys.”

“Just get the damn treats and leave” you sighed, ready to succumb to sleep.

“Yes ma’am” he laughed, grabbing the treats off the desk and leaving.

Tag List: @ericssmile @staysstrays @00solarsmiles @stayinzencity @doggienoo @notbeforelong @spectracully @jaemcupcake @softforqiankun @bugsbinnie @amorajae @soliverse @winwindose @http-lovelyknow

Networks: @neosmutcollective @nct-writers @multifandomnet @kpopscape @kwritersworld

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

[championofsanghelios]

Watch Dogs Legion - "My Moron"

["Forgive me for the intrusion..."] Bagley's terminal flickers to life, his avatar appearing above it. ["...but judging by your posture and your frankly outrageous alcohol intake over the last few hours...I'd say something is bothering you."] "Smartest AI in the country." Wrench mutters, staring at the bottle in his right hand. "We've got him right here...underneath a bar in Westminster." ["Sarcastic Humor."] Bagley states. ["The deflection mechanism of fools who regret their life choices. I should know, I was one of them at one time."] "Look..." Wrench suddenly looks up at the terminal, breathing out. "I'm not in the mood for company right now...so if you wouldn't mind...fucking off to wherever it is you go late at night." ["A thousand apologies."] Bagley replies. ["I'll just install myself in the nearest spider bot and scuttle off to Buckingham Palace for tea with Her Majesty shall I?"] "Whatever." Wrench squeezes his eyes shut, taking a swig from his beer and sitting back on the couch. "I don't care. Just shut up and leave me alone." ["Unfortunately I cannot."] Bagley says, a momentary glitch occurring in his speech processors that could have been a sigh if he had lungs. ["As I am rooted through this basement. Also I was here first, so check yourself before you tell me to fuck off."] "I seriously don't have the fucks to give in order to be angry at you right now." Wrench sighs, rubbing at his forehead with the palm of his left hand. "It's just another pain in my ass that I don't need." ["Then might I inquire as to what has gotten you so down?"] Bagley asks, a noticeable lilt of knowing entering his voice. ["Could it be those voice messages that you recorded and have yet to send?"] Wrench opens his eyes again, glaring at the holographic avatar in-front of him. He sits upright. "You hacked my phone?" ["No."] Bagley states. ["I am your phone...and all 27 million above. Or did you forget I'm running on almost every device in this country? Except Scotland...Savages."] A small pause occurs before he speaks again. ["What's stopping you?"] "..." Wrench stares at his terminal. "...I...don't know." He sits back, deflating again. "I guess I'm just a pussy." ["No you're more of a porcupine."] Bagley comments. ["The spikes, both literal as well as figurative. How do people give you hugs?"] "They don't." ["Marcus does."] Another pause. ["From what I've gathered...he's a reasonable person."] he continues. ["Not prone to any sudden mood swings like yourself."] "Exactly." Wrench gestures obviously with his left hand. "He's reasonable enough to know that what I have to say is pointless. That even if we both really tried, it would be doomed to failure and disappointment. That's why I didn't send them. Are you happy now?" ["Not even remotely."] Bagley states. ["Believe it or not, I was human once. You already know that. And I went through a similar...situation to yours."] "Well I hope you did better than me." Wrench shakes his head, placing the beer to the side as his stomach turns. "Because at this point, I just have to accept that some things just aren't supposed to happen." ["Actually I did much worse than you."] Bagley replies. ["But that doesn't matter in the long run. You know why?"] "...enlighten me?" Wrench rolls his eyes, expecting some sort of sarcastic or witty remark. "Because he's running on every device in this country." a voice suddenly says out of the silence, making Wrench near enough jump out of his skin. Marcus holds up his phone in his right hand. "...including mine." "You son of a bitch." Wrench looks at Bagley's avatar, before suddenly standing up. "You called him down here!? Are you out of out of your fucking mind!?" ["I just did you a favor, Reginald."] Bagley replies. ["Now why don't you two have a little chat whilst I run another maintenance cycle."] "Oh no you don't-!" Wrench yells, only for the terminal to go dark and the servers around them to tick off into stand-by mode. He kicks the side of it's casing, cursing when all he gets is a sore

foot. "Fuck!" Turning to face Marcus, he wishes a thousand hells upon the AI. "He sent you those messages, didn't he?" "He did." Marcus nods slowly, his face was passive, but there was definitely a weight in his eyes. "How long?" "I'm sorry about that." Wrench sits back down, reaching under his hood and pulling it back, running his hands through his hair. "He's a fucking dick for sending those to-" "-How long, Reggie?" Marcus asks again. "Just...answer me. Please." Wrench finds what strength he can in the moment to look him directly in the eye. "...since before I left SF." Marcus breathes out quietly, reaching up to his face and pulling off his glasses. His head rolls back and he pinches at the bridge of his nose. "That was nine years ago." "Yeah." Wrench replies, staring at him. He wasn't sure if he was about to charge at him or start crying. Either one wasn't worth thinking about. "...I know." "Why didn't you tell me?" He suddenly looks at him again, stepping forwards. "What part of you thought that I would have any problems with that? You know for a fact that I swing both ways like you." "I didn't-" Wrench stutters, finding that he was speechless, which wasn't new to him, just rare. "You were- There was a lot going on with-" He goes quiet as Marcus stops just in-front of him. He reaches forwards and places a hand on his left shoulder. Before suddenly bringing it across his left cheek. Wrench flinches at the smack, his whole body erupting in shivers, along with the sharp stinging pain on his face. Slowly but sure he looks the Hipster in the eye again. "..." "You're a fucking moron." Marcus says, lowering himself down onto one knee. He takes a hold of his right hand with his left, the other caressing the red spot on his cheek where he'd smacked him. "...you know that?" Before Wrench can respond with anything, he's pulled into a hug. It draws the breath out of him, all of the tension he was feeling releasing in an instant. "But you're my moron." Marcus says, his head resting on his shoulder. . . . (I'm very tired and very gay. Please be gentle with me. ;-;)

[internalsealpanic]

Monster Monster

I wholeheartedly blame this pic for the existence of this fic. I just wanna hug him and ruffle his hair. 

Summary: Parent Teacher Conferences are very scandalous. 

a/n: This is actually one of my few fics where reading some of my previous fics will help. I highly recommend reading Of Midnight Smoothies and Murder Mysteries to get a better feel on Dick and Reader’s relationship but anything on the Dick Grayson masterlist works too. Special thanks to @littleredwing89​ and @americasmarauders​ for proofreading. Thanks to @littleredwing89​ and @batarella​ for help with the ending. 

warnings: A slur is mentioned but it gets shut down. Also, swearing. 

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“Tt, stop staring at me.”

You bite back a smile and what was probably a laugh rising in your throat. “Hmmm, no.” You hum, carding your fingers through Damian’s curls. The corners of your mouth twitch into a frown when you feel an angry bump against your fingers. It’s dry and there seems to be no break in the skin as far as you could tell. You let a little sigh of relief escape you which has the unintended consequence of upsetting the gremlin in front of you.

Damian attempts to swat your hand away, snarling as he did. You grin at him, all sharp teeth and pettiness. You, being childish,  do not take your hand away and instead ruffle his hair more. An adorably petulant pout settles on Damian’s mouth making the kid look ten-years-old for once. It takes everything in you not to squeal in  delight. 

“Unhand me. I do not require your mothering and you would do very well to leave the scolding to Richard or Pennyworth.” You can easily picture Alfred scolding Damian but Dick? You try to picture Dick, hand on his hip, trying his damndest to be mean to the kid but you just couldn’t. Sure, Nightwing can be terrifying, even Batman but Dick? Especially with a kid? Not even feasible. You snort openly, the noise echoing in the deadly silent room. The woman on the other side of the room sitting next to a boy with a faceful of bruises and probably a couple of chipped teeth glares at you. Specifically, the woman scowls at your arm, skin festooned with bangles of coiled serpent tails and glittering blades. You fight the urge to stick your tongue out at her. Instead, you tug a bit at your sleeves, baring the golden lines streaked with old gashes. A low humorless laugh escapes you causing her scowl to deepen. 

Damian follows your line of sight. His face folds in utter contempt. The boy next to her flinches. Their size difference made this all the funnier.  “[What did he do?]” you ask in what you hope are the correct words in Arabic. Damian crosses his arms not meeting your gaze. His leg kicks out, the restlessness thrumming in his bones. “[Your accent is atrocious.]”

Your mouth twitches uncontrollably, edging into a fond smile. You tamp it down with a click of your tongue lest the little demon tear your head off. “[I’m out of practice, child,]” Damian grabs at a space beside him only for his hand to close on nothing. Something inside you dies when you stop yourself from cackling. Thank goodness, Bruce has--had--the good sense to take the kid’s katana away. 

“[Anyway, what did he do?]”

“[How are you so sure he did something?]”

“[Because you’re a brat but not stupid. You are by far the most annoyingly reasonable child I have had the displeasure of conversing with.]” Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. It seems the assumed hatred was mutual. You watch as he folds his face back into a glower, not quite fast enough to evade your attention but certainly fast enough to fool  the untrained eye. Unfortunately for him, you’re used to the acrobatics of faces, the chaotic cacophony of microexpression. Most people in your life are, after all, awful at broadcasting their feelings even when it was sorely needed. This is probably why you gravitated to Dick so easily. The man believed in openness, in communication.

Distantly, you can hear the woman across from you tap her foot impatiently against the carpet. A flick of your eye tells you she was sneering at both of you likely eavesdropping (and failing) on your conversation. Why she needs to know what you and a ten-year-old with a stick up his ass were talking about you weren’t sure. Damian turns his head slightly towards you, angling his chin upward to mask the uncertainty in his posture. “[If you must know, he-]”

“Gypsies”

The syllables ring like a loud staccato of gunshots despite how quietly she’d hissed it. You freeze. You can feel Damian stiffen right beside you. Understanding flowed into you molten and bubbling. You feel your throat itch, unkind words coalescing into a lump in your throat. You turn your body to Damian who was now still but you can feel the anger wicking off him. You sling your arm over the head of the chair behind him drawing his attention back to you. 

He arches a brow at you, challenging. The expression falters when the next few words leave your mouth. 

“[You’re off the hook.]”

Principal Jameson is a nasally man. It isn’t his anything to do with his voice. Though, you would be remiss to say that his voice was pleasant. You’re actually half tempted to turn your bad ear on him, block out the words coming from him but that would negate the point of you coming here. His voice isn’t that unpleasant but his entire demeanor rubbed you the wrong way. You’ve seen jellyfish with more backbone than this man. Then again, this might just be a by-product of your presence. Dick, and several other batbrats, have helpfully informed you that you were in fact pants pissing scary to civilians. You would like to say you couldn’t see it but standing in front of this man it was clear as day.  

“Y/n L/n,” you offer congenially. His shoulders ease a fraction but did not offer you a hand. You smother a sigh before offering an additional “I believe Mr.Grayson-Wayne had informed you that I would be coming in his stead to discuss this-” Shit show, your mind supplies but thankfully, your mouth was quick enough to bite it back. “- incident.” Beside you Damian scoffed. You stop yourself from kicking the kid because that really would not do. 

“Yes, well, Ma’am your-” Jameson halts frankly unsure of your relationship to Damian because of course, Dick would leave the leg work to your socially allergic ass. You make a mental note to kick him later. “- charge.” you supply, feeling a modicum of sympathy for the drowning man.Your eyes flick to Damian. His face is impassive, ire still directed at the thirteen-year-old sniveling behind his mother. The term is too cold for your taste but as of right now that’s all you were. Maybe you’ve finally found a Robin you wouldn't get attached to.

“Well, ma’am, you see your charge, Damian, he’s punched another student and has yet to even apologize. He even started a full on brawl.”

“Mhmm, I see,” you drawl tilting your head. You feel Damian stiffen at the ease of your response. You don’t have to look at his face to know that he was glaring at you with something in his eyes withering from the betrayal. The woman across from nods agreeably as if you had said something sensible. Jameson for his part nearly sighs with relief. You click your teeth a little irritable from their responses but more fascinated than anything. ‘I see’ is barely an answer but they each filled in the gaps with their own assumptions. “And has that young man over there apologized for what he said to Damian? Or for the lump on Damian’s head? Surely, you sent Damian to the clinic as well.” you voice out looking as scandalized as possible. 

The room froze. 

Your eyes will probably roll into the back of your head before your meeting is done. Judging from Jameson’s posture, they didn’t. They should have at least checked if the kid had a concussion. A familiar sort of ire rose in you. Oh boy, you’re going to have a field day with these people. You sigh in exasperation before continuing. “Not only did you neglect to send him to the clinic to check on the lump on his head, but you were also planning to let the other boy off the hook?” you accuse, voice rising with some effort.  Your voice has a tendency to draw low when your temper is flaring. It’s an intimidation tactic you'd learned from a while ago. It would probably be ill advised to use it on a man who looked like he was a second away from a heart attack. 

Jameson leans forward, reaching out appeasingly.“Ma’am, we-”

“From what I recall, Gotham Academy has a strict zero tolerance policy on derogatory language, does it not?” You cut him off, voice suddenly vicious. You shift your body in front of Damian putting yourself between him and everyone else in the room. He bristles at the gesture but you and your habits aren’t exactly concerned with his pride. 

“Ma’am I-“

“I rest my case. Please, feel free to contact Mr.Grayson-Wayne if you have more to say.” You settle a hand on Damian’s shoulder. You’re surprised he didn’t fight you or swat your hand away. Taking it as permission, you pull him closer to you as you leave the red faced woman and the paling man gob smacked and silent. Damian himself doesn’t make the sound as you made your way down the hall. You squeeze his shoulder gently hoping it comes across as a reassuring gesture. His posture does not loosen but you do not let him stray from you. You close your eyes as the elevator doors shut. 

“I did not require your assistance.”

“I know.”  Of course, he doesn’t. He is a Robin and an Al Ghul but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna get it. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, the dull beat only serving to irritate your nerves. You swear the traffic in Gotham was somehow infinitely worse than everywhere else in the world even with working traffic lights. Maybe that’s why there were so many crazy people here. Maybe Bruce should have invested his money on better roads. Maybe-

Your eyes slide towards Damian who is somehow shrinking and pressing into the side door. Still, his face is twisted skeptically and braced for a continuation to your statement. You looked heavenward not even hiding the weariness in your smile. The brat is truly a bat-- suspicion and all.  You turn your body towards him, opening up your posture. You fold your leg and rest your chin on your arm. Damian meets your gaze head on, looking imperious as he crosses his arms over his chest. His posture is artificial, probably uncomfortable from the weight of your attention.

You roll your shoulders and reshape your features, reconfiguring yourself from understanding to teasing. “I know. I know but you see, they needed telling off and your tiny gremlin ass isn’t scary enough. And, I promise I won’t tell Dickolas that you defended him so vehemently.” you wink, a conspiratorial grin spreading across your face. Damian straightens, his body is bowed like he was about to spring for your throat but the shape his limbs took on was more natural and seemingly relaxed. The knot in your shoulder loosens. You reach over and ruffle his hair again.  He really is still a kid. You stare each other down. Your smile is as unwavering as his glower.

Both of your stomachs grumble. The sound was loud and abrasive in the closed space of the car. You check your watch and hum, shifting back into your seat. Wordlessly, you switch on your signal light. 

You leaf through the pages of the thoroughly used book in your hands, eyes skimming through the blocks of texts not really absorbing any of it. You  never really found the appeal in fiction. The stories are too neat compared to what you experienced daily. You suppose there is simplicity in them but you find that in nonfiction, the kind of books that explained the mechanics of things. They made sense of the world and were much more useful in your opinion. You’re much more interested in the messy scribbles on the margins, the etchings of a loud mind on yellowing pages. Jason’s notes were written in the same tone of voice he used when he spoke, deceptively layman but upon further inspection was frighteningly insightful. You smile at the little comments and complaints, the snarky little remarks. Remnants of the little boy he had been before. You frowned. You should probably give this back to him once you have the chance and maybe come up with some excuse of why you still have it. Or you can just keep it. 

You look up at Damian who is drumming his fingers impatiently against the lacquered table. His posture is artificially relaxed, likely something he learned from the league or maybe all nervous gremlins do it. You look down at the book again. The sight reminds you of Jay. You tip your head, the loud thunk of your skull is felt more than heard since it was your bad ear that is pressed against the glass. The sound startles Damian who was deep in thought. You hold out the book to him. He must be bored waiting for your order. He pointedly ignores you. 

"I don't need that childish drivel." He snipes. You click your teeth feeling a little defensive of the book. 

You sound exactly like your grandfather, you think but have enough sense to keep it to yourself. No child needs to be compared to Ra's Al Ghul even if he is a brat. 

"Not a fan of-" You look at the book's spine and frown. "-Robert Stevenson?" What kind of dork reads Robert Stevenson for fun? Oh wait, it's the same dork that quotes Shakespeare while bashing heads. 

"I have no need for such things." 

Of course, he didn’t. 

"No, I suppose you don't need anything with the actual text but the margins are quite fascinating." You hold out the book to him again. His eyebrows shoot up looking at you skeptically as he reaches for it. There is no  actual written indication that it was Jay's and the kid likely hasn't spent enough time with Jay to actually tell from the way it's written. You look out the window to turn your good ear to him, listening for any reactions he might have. Every now and then you hear a huff of amusement. You smother the smile threatening to form on your lips with your hand.

"Well, the person who owned this certainly had a lot to say." Damian says carefully, handing the book back. 

"Jay really was a mouthy kid."  

Damian looks at you, little face scrunching up in confusion. You suddenly notice just how easily the booth swallows him up. Why is he so tiny? "If this is Todd's, why do you have it?" 

You clasp the book in your hands, your thumb tracing over the creases. "He leant me this book shortly before he died. He-- Well, I told him that I wasn't fond of adventure stories. I prefer books about science and culture. They're much more useful, yanno?" Damian gives a slight nod. You relax into your seat with his understanding. "Well, he thought it was just that I've never read a good one so he gave me this one. Never quite finished it though." you admit a little sheepish after realizing just how sentimental you felt. Your eyes trace over Damian's expression. It's clear that the sentimentality bled through your words and some childish part of you winces at the vulnerability of it. Damian says nothing and doesn't even sneer in derision. 

You hum, the tune musical but offkey. “Jason, actually did what you did today awhile ago.”  Just like that you begin down a rabbit hole telling the little gremlin about all the stupid shit the older bats have gotten into. And oh boy, there’s a lot. 

“So do either of you want to explain what happened and why GAs headmaster called me sounding like he was gonna piss himself?”

“Hmmm, probably not ” you say around your spoonful of mahalabia, not even looking up from your book. Hilariously enough, Damian had also elected to leave Dick’s presence unacknowledged and busy with his own mahalabia.  Dick scoot into your side of the booth, purposefully squishing you against the wall with a shiteating grin. He loops his arm around you and pulls you closer, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You blanch and push half heartedly at his chest as he laughs. That laugh makes your heart warm and a relenting smile spreads across your features softening them. Your body twitches forward to kiss but you still when Dick freezes instead you plant a kiss on his cheek as well. Dick relaxes at the familiarity of it and you two settle down. 

 Damian stares at both of you befuddled. A heat creeps up your cheeks realizing that Dick is practically sitting on you. Dick, on the other hand, seems perfectly content with your current lack of personal space, so you leave it alone despite the incredulous look Damian is giving both of you. Dick snatches up your spoon taking a heap from your dessert. You make an offended noise in the back of your throat which he simply answers with another broad smile.  Your lip twitches uncontrollably and your shoulders go slack.

“So what happened?”

You and Damian exchange a look. Damian rolls his eyes at you and you shrug at him performatively. “Nothing.” you two say in a chorus of nonchalance. It only succeeds in annoying Dick, so it was partially successful.   

Dick pouts taking another bite of your desert. You stare in disbelief as the grownass man sitting next to you attempts to give you the puppy dog eyes as he eats your desert. You sign on exasperation because it's working and the bastard knows it. Richard John Grayson-Wayne is a manipulative asshole and you are a certified sucker. 

You turn to Damian pleadingly begging him to please either help you or end you. Instead, he simply looks the two as if searching for an answer to a question forming in his mind. You run your hand over your face ready to concede when something clicks. 

"Man-Bat got into GA and Damian fought him off." you say, praying Dick would catch on to the game. For a terrifying moment, he doesn’t. He blinks at you in confusion and your stomach sinks then a smile slowly spreads across his face lighting up every feature. Your heart swells at the sight.

"Bullshit. What was Man-Bat doing in GA?"

"Dunno,maybe bullying students. I don't know what bat creatures get up to." you say grinning. The picture becomes clear from every outlandish story. To your surprise, Damian joins in with a few vague details of his own giving even more details than you'd initially gathered. 

Lunch passes pleasantly with outlandish stories and good food. 

“NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne, New Face of Wayne Enterprises, Caught in a Torrid Love Affair with a Mystery Woman. Who Could this Exotic Beauty Be?”

“NEWS: Young Wayne Heir Being Extorted by Mystery Woman?”

“NEWS: Wayne Heir with Secret Family?”

Dick wants to evaporate somehow. He stares at the headlines mortified beyond what he ever thought possible. Maybe the floor will be merciful and it’ll finally swallow him as Jason reads another headline in a ridiculous newsreel voice. 

“No, no wait.  This one is fucking priceless!”

“Jason, please, I am begging you. STOP.” Dick whines, his face flattening against his work table. Tim shrugs, an amused smile adorns his face. Dick is going to scream. “Tim, please please please, make him stooop.” Tim ignores Dick in favor of scrolling through his own tablet looking, frankly unsympathetic. 

“Oh a tryst!”

“Jason, you are making it sound so much worse.”

“Dunno, big bird, some of these make it sound like you fucked her over a table in the restaurant.” Jason watches in absolute delight as his older brother attempts to merge with the work bench, the tanned skin of his neck and ears burning a bright shade of crimson. Tim snickers, unhelpfully. Dick loved that his younger brothers were getting along for once. He just hated that for some reason they just had to be united against him. “All I did was kiss her on the cheek and eat her food.”

Jason gasps theatrically, feigning fainting. “Premarital kissing?! Dick, how could you? What’s next? Premarital hand holding? Think of the children.” Jason exclaims, dramatically pointing to Damian who at this point had been ignoring the ruckus Jason was causing. 

“Jason, you’re awful and you’re being extremely dramatic.” 

“Dick, you don’t exactly have any room to talk in that department.”

“Yeah, Mr. Pretty Man Down, Baby Bird has a point.” Jason says smugly as he offers Tim a fist bump which Tim reciprocates by shaking Jason's fist, a joking smile on his face. Jason snorts as if getting the joke or whatever movie reference this was from. 

Tim's face folds into a barely held back smile. The laughter bubbling in the back of his throat straining his features. “I will say it is really funny that they didn’t recognize Damian.” 

“You know how they are. They probably came up with something like the whole Damian being Bruce’s kid was actually just a cover up for Dick.” Somewhere in the background Damian makes a very displeased noise but Dick can't be bothered to lift his head to check. 

“Please no. That doesn’t even-”

“Here’s one, NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne’s Baby Mama? Who is this mysterious woman?” Tim reads out flatly. 

“The PR team is going to kill me. No, wait. Y/n is going to kill me first.”

“She won’t. She probably finds this hilarious.”

“How would she even find this funny?”

“Well, she does enjoy your suffering- Oh shit. This one might piss her off.” Jason clears his throat, sliding back into the newsreel voice. “DICK GRAYSON, HANDSOME PLAYBOY - WITH YET ANOTHER GIRLFRIEND - WILL HE EVER SETTLE DOWN?”

Dick is half tempted to throw his own tablet at the wall. What did he do to deserve this? You certainly don’t.  

“Hey, at least, they called you handsome.” Tim laughs placatingly. It doesn’t work, of course. 

Dick looks up at his little brother ruefully. “Oh yeah because the stuff about my looks was definitely the issue.” 

“Well considering your morning routine...”

“I haven’t even been on a date so who are these other girlfriends?!”

“Well, me and Jason thought the same thing.” Tim shoots down sneering. When did his sweet baby brother turn to the dark side? Likely, Jason’s influence but deep down he knows Tim has always been capable of evil. Jason is cackling proudly. 

“I don't see why you're concerning yourself with this drivel.” Damian says, swiping the tablet right in front of Dick forcing him to look up. Dick smiles at him wearily. “Dami, it’s a little hard when a photo of me kissing y/n on the cheek is plastered everywhere with weird headlines.” Damian tilts his head considering it but he shakes his head muttering something about pointlessness. 

“Goddammit, Disco Stick!” The sound  of your voice ringing out into the bunker sends their banter crashing to a halt. Dick feels his heart jump to his throat. He-- This was how he was going to die and for once  he wasn’t sure he deserved it or not. You stand at the doorway haloed in bright light. At least, his angel of death would be the prettiest one, he thinks-- all the oxygen leaving his lungs. 

Crumpled in your fist was a newspaper. Dick can feel his brothers take a step back as you draw near. Your footfalls were as steady as a pulse which made Dick’s own heart rate ratchet up. Your face is carefully impassive the way it always is when your anger was dosed with something else. Dick is sincerely hoping Jason is right about you being amused by the headlines. 

You stop in front of him, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. You glower down at him frankly looking murderous before you snort and your face breaks into a smile. The thick tension in the air dissipates and the room releases its collective breath. The smile on your face grows even brighter. Nope, this is how Dick dies, his breath catching in his lungs as his mind fizzes out from the sight of your smile. 

“I’m sorry?” Dick lifts himself off the table just barely, still bracing for any sudden wave of anger that will, justifiably, roll over you at some point.  

You lean your body on to the spot next to him, letting the table support your weight. Straightening the newspaper in your hands, you frown. “I look terrible in this.”

“You look beautiful.” Dick blurts out. You raise your brow at him incredulously. Jason folds over trying to hold back laughter, his shoulders trembling. Tim just shrinks from second hand embarrassment. 

“No, she is correct. She looks repulsive.” Damian says flatly as he snatches the paper from you.

You let out a breathy laugh. “To be fair, anyone would look repulsive next to professional pretty boy Dickie Wayne.” There was no sharpness in your teasing. You look at the photo over Damian’s shoulder. It was a cute photo actually. Dick’s arm loops around your shoulder as he gives you a kiss on your cheek as Damian blanches at Dick’s very public display of affection. It was hilariously easy to see where they got the idea that you two were a couple. You weren’t. You haven’t been for awhile.  The thought wrenches something a dull ache inside you. You flatten your lips preventing the edges from dipping into a frown. 

A look crosses between Jason and Tim. Tim leans over, asking in a hushed whisper, “I thought they were back together.”

“Dunno they act like it.” Jason shrugs watching your movement. As if to prove his point, you and Dick lean into each other’s space as you bicker about the merits of Gothamite photographers. Jason is half tempted to shove you two together.  

“What are you two talking about?” You ask, finally leaning away from Dick. 

“Nothing-”

“They were pondering the state of your relationship. I myself have been pondering it.”

For a moment, your eyes meet. For a moment, you are back in a drab hotel in Moscow. For a moment, you are crying your heart out in his arms trying to push him away. 

You click your teeth and stare Damian in the eyes not entirely sure what kind of emotions they were betraying. “We were a thing.” Damian’s brow shoots up. You hear someone’s hand slap against their forehead. 

You flush wanting to  disappear but hold your stance. You hear Dick chuckle beside you as he stands shoulder to shoulder with you. Something in you eases with the closeness, like a gap being filled. “We used to be a couple.” Dick supplies, saving you from your flailing. You tap your finger against the back of his hand as a silent thank you. He taps yours twice in reciprocation. You look down trying to hide a smile. 

Jason and Tim look at each other again and nod. 

“We should probably go.” Jason says carrying Damian under his arm.    

“Todd, unhand me! We are not done here!”

“We’ll see you two later.” Tim waves giving Dick a knowing smile. Dick’s heart jumps up to his throat while his stomach drops to the floor. Is this really the time for his brother’s to play cupid? 

You lean in, letting your body press into Dick’s side as you listen to their footsteps fade away. Your head settling on his shoulder hand bracing you against the workbench. You let the stillness settle and make everything around you more solid. 

Dick shifts a bit, his fingers lacing in with yours. The gesture makes your heart twinge, the chasm in your chest yawning with longing. You swallow. The air is thick with unspoken words like smoke clogging up your lungs. You think that if you could just pluck the right one out of thin air, you could clear the air. 

‘I love you’ itches in the back of your throat but what right did you have to say that to him even after all this time. 

Beside you, Dick is smiling and relishing your presence. The silver glint of your earring winking at him from beneath your hair. He had gotten you that on your first date, a little souvenir you got to commemorate the occasion.  

Dick pivots in front of you making your breath catch. His free hand brushing your hair behind your ear revealing the silver robin on your ear. Silver robins. You had at the time laughed at the absurdity of it but here they were years later. Dick’s hands settle on either side of you boxing you in against the table. Even when he’s got you trapped like this, you feel at ease knowing Dick would never hurt you. Dick leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still intertwined with yours. Your pulse is loud in your ears. You lean your forehead against his, eyes sliding close soaking up the contact. 

“It’s always been you.” Dick says breathlessly. The words do not register, too dreamlike in their conception. You always hoped and wished that you could take it back, that you had never left, that he would love you the same way he did before but you were never foolish enough to hold on to things like that with both hands. Yet here Dick was whispering things that you only let yourself dream of. 

“It’s always been you.” He repeats as if the repetition could make it more real. You swallow the lump in your throat trying to find your voice but you’re afraid that once you speak, the room would  catch fire and the dream would dissolve into harsh reality. 

Dick gently cups your face and for a moment you let yourself be lost in the sea of blue. The stinging in your eyes makes you blink even if you don’t want to. You lick your lips as if somewhere on them were the right words. 

You can’t even fathom the combination of words that could encapsulate the cocktail of longing and love you felt for him. 

Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip as your eyes focus on his lips. You swallow again your throat feeling thick even as you lean into his space, pushing off the work bench. Your nose rubbing against his, his long lashes fluttering against your cheek and tickling your skin. Dick leans in, his lips on yours, the pressure barely enough to make contact. You twitch forward, lips melting against his.  The world around you stills and disintegrates leaving only him in its wake. 

The kiss is all tender softness, a promise of love and loyalty quietly exchanged between you. A delicate push and pull. Undemanding yet uncompromising in its gentle intensity. 

You both pull back, only barely. Your skins still thrum with hunger for contact. Dick leans in again, his lips brushing against yours making them tingle at the sensation. Murmured breaths exchanged between you. This time you both find the right words. 

Dick turning to reader seeing the familiar glint of her earing

“I still love you.” 

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

I was thinking it was just them in the cave standing next to each others fingers twining with each other leaning into each other's space

he brushes the strands of her hair away

After brushing her hair away he presses his forehead against hers and he just kind of comes out with it

like he'd been holding back on saying it but couldn't anymore

 Why not have the reader do something like this?

What if she nudges her nose against his? Or rubs her nose against his, like an Eskimo kiss? And it’s silent, her eyelashes flutter against his cheek. They say in Inuit, when you feel eyelashes stroke on your skin like that, it’s a way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it.

And maybe Dick knows that? Without her actually saying the words and he just smiled and captures her lips in a delicate kiss. And when they pull back, they both say it at the same time against each other’s lip, all hushed and murmured?

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

Thanks for reading!

Taglist:  @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes ,  @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

[samadiw]

Drunken mistakes and dire consequences 🔥🖤

A smutty drabble 🔥😘

.

Draco comes out of the bathroom, a trail of hot steam follows him into the common room.

The area smells manly and intoxicating.

Hermione watches the Head boy and frowns.

Fuck his fit body and arrogant attitude.

Her eyes rove over his firm body hungrily, she bites her lip, he catches her looking and smirks.

D : "Going out, Granger?"

Hermione cocks her head to the side and sneers.

H : "None of your business."

Draco towels his hair, water droplets fly in all directions and a few land on Hermione.

D : "Is it a coincidence that I find you standing in front of our shared bathroom?"

Hermione narrows her eyes.

H : "I don't give a flying fuck what you think, I need to use the loo."

Draco chuckles and blocks her path.

D : "Fiesty, why the cold shoulder, do you miss our morning fuck?"

Hermione steps away from the bloody sinful smell and fires back.

H : "Fuck you, Malfoy, in your bloody dreams."

Draco drawls seductively.

D : "Ah, you already did that, remember how you lowered yourself on to my cock and rode me till I was spent?"

He steps closer and teases.

D : "I would be happy to jog your memory, if you like."

Hermione hisses.

H : "I was drunk and no thank you, I don't repeat my mistakes."

Draco let's out a sarcastic laugh and muses.

D : "Drunk? Were you now? Because, I remember a very receptive witch moaning in pleasure and bouncing on my dick."

Hermione bares her teeth. The bloody bastard.

H : "Consider it a drunken mistake and move on."

Draco grins and shakes his head.

D : "Oh, I wish it were that simple."

He closes the gap between them and pushes the unsuspecting witch up against the wall and presses his body flush against hers.

Hermione tries in vain to push away the imposing man but he doesn't move an inch.

She struggles and demands.

H : "Let me go, Malfoy."

Draco hisses darkly.

D : "Are you heading out with Weasley?"

His hand disappears under her skirt and she feels his long fingers caress the outer material of her underwear.

Hermione gasps but manages to reply.

H : "That is none of your business, get your filthy hands off me."

D : "Filthy? I'll show you just how filthy they are when I lick your cum off my fingers."

Draco increases the pressure and presses the flat of his thumb over Hermione's material covered clit.

D : "Besides, I can't stop touching you and quite frankly, I don't think you want me to."

Don't give in, Hermione, she silently berates herself but it was only a matter of time before she fell apart.

She musters every bit of remaining self control and snarls.

H : "Let me go, Malfoy, I'm warning you."

Draco smirks.

D : "Warning me? Do you have any idea how wet you are?"

She hated that he was right.

Draco uses his free hand to rip open her blouse, he pulls a bra cup down, frees a breast and takes the rock hard nipple in his mouth.

He twirls his tongue around the eager bud and grazes it with his teeth.

Oh, fuck....

Hermione whimpers

H : "Please...."

Draco brings his head up and kisses Hermione fervently, he parts her lips and pushes his tongue against hers forcefully.

Breathlessly, he asks in frustration.

D : "Does he touch you like I do?"

Hermione is a quivering mess, she protests weakly.

H : "I don't want you, Ron is my...."

Draco turns Hermione around, bends her over the nearest table and smacks her bare arse.

Her skin wobbles delightfully and blood rushes to where his hand connected with her creamy white buttocks.

She cries out in pain and he smacks her again and demands.

D : "Answer the fucking question."

Hermione struggles to control her rapid breathing.

H : "Go to hell, Malfoy."

Draco smirks triumphantly.

D : "Fine, have it your way."

His fingers part her soaking knickers and gently caresses the inner folds

D : "Such a dirty little Head girl, aren't you?"

Hermione closes her eyes and a sultry moan escapes her lips.

Draco grabs Hermione by the waist and slams her into the wall by the bookshelf.

His breath ghosts the inner shell of her ear and a shiver goes down her spine.

D : "Did you think you could sleep with me, let me have you and then toss me aside?"

Draco pins Hermione's hands above her head and crushes his lips with hers.

It's a bruising, punishing kiss.

He growls between heated kisses.

D : "Tell your boyfriend it's over."

Hermione kisses him back and they fight for dominance.

H : "Never..."

Draco stops his movements momentarily and stares intently into Hermione's lustful eyes

D : "Never? Tell me to stop, Granger, and I will this time, I swear it."

Stop? Merlin, give her the strength.

She felt his erection press into her thigh, her initial reaction was to push him back and flee.

Her hands act on their own, she yanks the towel off his lean waist and tosses it aside.

She strokes his hard cock and he groans as new sensations flood his body.

D : "I want you, Hermione but I won't fucking share."

Hermione stares daggers at the man tracing lingering kisses up the heated flesh of her neck, he stops to suck on the pulse point.

She glares sternly.

H : "Share? You have no fucking right, I saw you clawing at Pansy earlier today."

Draco sucks deeply leaving his mark and chuckles.

D : "I knew you were watching, got off on it, didn't you?"

H : "I hate you."

Draco bites down on Hermione's collarbone.

D : "No you don't."

Draco pushes Hermione's skirt down and rips the knickers off her body and tosses it aside.

Hermione closes her eyes and parts her lips, she knows what's coming next.

D : "If you give yourself to me, then I'm yours, Granger."

Draco lines his throbbing precum leaking cock with Hermione's wet entrance and pushes in hard until he is completely sheathed within.

H : "Fuck...oh God, why do you make me feel this way?"

He thrusts deep and fast, his girth fills her up completely.

The urgent need of flesh hitting flesh echoes through their shared space.

D : "That's my girl, tell me you're mine."

Draco picks up the pace and plunges into Hermione mercilessly, her thighs already have his marks of pleasure branded into her but now it reddened with his powerful pounding.

D : "Fuck, Granger, your cunt loves my cock, I love how tight you are."

Hermione grabs a fistful of Draco's hair and pulls it back.

He groans, she takes his bottom lip between her teeth and bites down hard enough to pierce the skin and draw blood.

H : "It's quite the opposite, it's you who belongs to me."

D : "Yes, fuck...you feel so good."

Heat gathered from all parts of her body and hovered over her engorged clitoris.

H : "Draco..."

D : "Let go, my love."

He kisses her deeply

D : "I want to feel you drown my dick."

Hermione feels the rough edges of the wall dig into her back, the bruises will burn later but right now, it adds to the sensations wracking havoc through her body.

One hard push and she comes crashing around him, wave after wave of her orgasm washes over her and she whimpers and moans as she rides her high.

It was truly over with Ron.

It was over the second she kissed Draco.

A voice growls in her ear.

D : "Mine, no one touches you but me."

H : "The same goes for you, if you cheat on me, I'll show you just how good I am at detaching your cock from your body."

Draco eyes flutter, he throws his head back and groans.

His release cripples him, Draco holds Hermione close until the last drop of his seed leaves him.

Her arms go around his sweat soaked body and she hangs onto him and runs her fingers through his hair.

She kisses the side of his pale neck.

H : "I think you need another shower."

Draco winks.

D : "Care to join me?"

Hermione shakes her head and attempts to stand on her own, her legs feel like unset jello.

H : "I'll pass."

Draco rolls his eyes.

He tosses Hermione over his shoulder and despite her protests carries her into the bathroom and kicks the door close behind him.

[a-copper-butterfly]

Ghost Chill Smut.

Much like a cat leave dead things on the rug as a sign of love. I give you people this.

Coops smut, knock thy self out. It is very spicy tho

As always this is in the @lumosinlove world.

Sirius dumped his sweaty work out clothes by the washer. He can deal with them later. He felt great, it had been one of those workouts that had left him with more energy rather than tiring him out. He wandered into the living room and found the TV off. The blanket nest that he had left Remus in earlier was still there, but it was empty. 

Remus had already done his exercise for the day being the annoying early bird he was; he had been down in the basement gym before  Sirius had pulled himself out of bed.

"Babe,” he called to the house in general. “Where you at?"

If Remus had gone out he would have left a note; normally he would have come down stairs and asked him if he wanted anything.

Sirius took a bite of his apple looking around the kitchen for any scrap of paper that could be a note. There was a thump from upstairs and Sirius looked up. He huffed, chewing on his bite. 

"I’m up here, love" Sirius mimicked Remus as he began to climb the stairs, pushing the door to their room open when he reached the landing.

"What do you want for dinner? I was thinking, OH JESUS CHRIST!" 

Sirius' jaw was on the floor as he looked over the room. 

Remus was face down on the bed; ass in the air with a bright pink dildo vibrating in his hole. His dick was red and leaking between his legs. It looked like he had been edging for hours. 

Remus turned his head toward the door at Sirius’ shout. His eyes were blown and glassy, his lips red from biting, dribble running down his chin. He was a vision. An indecent vision but a vision nonetheless.

Sirius pulled himself together quickly, picking his jaw up and adjusting his  suddenly tight pants. 

Remus twitched his hand and gasped. The buzzing changed its tempo. Sirius' eyes caught the little remote Remus clutched. Sirius stepped towards the bed taking the remote and returning to the door. He leaned against the frame and smirked. 

Baby, why didn't you call me?" he looked down at the floor. The box that had held the sex toy was lying at the foot of the bed. Ah, the cause of the thump. Remus whined again, shifting so that his legs were further apart. He didn't seem capable of words. 

"Alright then, let's continue,” Sirius looked at the remote. It had an on and  off button and a little dial on one side. The dial only had numbers. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“So if this is three I wonder what the rest are?” Sirius mused, making a show of examining the remote. He clicked it back one setting and the dildo juddered and started skipping a beat. Remus made a displeased noise.

“Okay so we dont like two, let's try one,” the vibrator  became one long buzzing noise. Remus keened, grabbing two handfuls of bedsheets and pulling them toward his head. He pressed his face into the mattress. His thighs quivered as he tried not to cum.

Sirius was mesmerized. He was sure the front of his trousers were soaked, but he didn't care. The sight in front of him was going to be spank bank material for the rest of his life. He was never going to hear a buzzing ringtone the same again. He let Remus writhe for a few more moments before dropping it back to two. That seemed to be the safest setting.

Remus relaxed slightly; he wasn’t white knuckling the bedsheets anymore. He was panting hard but his face was still covered by blankets. 

Slightly worried that he might accidentally suffocate himself, Sirius moved over to the bed and slipped his hand under Remus’ head. He pulled his face to the side so that he could breath more easily. 

“Are you okay, love?” Sirius asked tenderly, running his fingers down the side of Remus’ face, pausing  to draw the infinity symbol beside his eye. 

A slight smile pulled at the sides of Remus' mouth. He might have been beyond words but he could nod. Sirius let him get his breath back before standing  again.

“Shall we find out what happens at four?” he asked but didn't wait for a response. The dildo was suddenly intense again before dulling down. It paused for a moment then repeated the strange rhythm. 

The sight of Remus back and thighs tensing and relaxing in time with the dildo was getting a little bit too much. Sirius stuck his hand down his pants in an incredibly un-graceful way. He was hard, big shock, and leaking enough that each pull was a glide. His ragged breathing joined Remus as they both enjoyed this setting. Remus blinked his dark eyes at Sirius as he watched him touch himself. He was getting used to the rhythm so wasn't gripping the sheets each time it peaked. 

Letting go of one clump,he held it his hand out to Sirius, who would deny that he stumbled forwards like a long limped puppy. He crashed on to the bed next to Remus, his hand still down his pants. 

Remus pushed up on an unsteady elbow and leaned in for a sloppy kiss. They stayed like that for a little longer, Sirius tugging on himself and Remus pillaging his mouth for all it was worth.

When they came up for air Sirius had had enough of the teasing. He sat up and took hold of the dildo. Remus hissed as he gently pushed it in and out of his abused hole before pulling it all the way out. It buzzed comically in his hand for a moment before Sirius switched it off. 

He saw that it was slightly smaller than him , pleased that his boyfriend hadn’t gone out to get a bigger dick. 

Remus’ hole was wonderfully open, it winked at him as he admired it. Their bottle of lube was at the foot of the bed. It looked like it was going to be the next victim of gravity at any moment. Sirius snached it up and coated his hand in it. He slipped one finger into Remus hole, just checking, making him whine loudly.

Using the rest of the lube on his hand Sirius stroked himself a few times. With his dry hand he flipped Remus over. The Ex-PT whimpered as his stiff legs curled around Sirius' waist automatically. 

Sirius crawled up Remus' body,leaving kisses up the center of his chest as he went. He reached his mouth and kissed him deeply.

“You ready?” he asked breathless already. Remus nodded vigorously, tightening his legs to pull him closer. 

With how open he was, Sirius didn't even need to line himself up, slipping into Remus seamlessly. It was habit that made him pause when he was fully sheathed. The kick he got for it showed Remus’ displeasure.

Tucking both his hands under Remus' head he found his home sucking mark after mark into his neck.

For his part, Remus could only lay there making “Uh Uh” noises. He reached up and took hold of the bed head to steady himself. 

The sound of wet flesh slapping added a base note to the grunts from Sirius and Remus.

Sirius pulled his hand from Remus' hair as he closed in on his goal. He reached down and grabbed Remus, twisting his hand as he pulled up in the way that made him moan. 

It was a record in Sirius books. Three strokes and Remus spilled over his hand. His body stiffened arching up and clenching like a vise around Sirius, before melting into the mattress. The tight hole made Sirus lose his control and an uncountable number of thrusts later he emptied himself deep in Remus. 

They lay panting for a while before Sirius pulled out. It was a mess but he didn have the energy to go all the way to the bathroom for a washcloth. He grabbed the tissues from the bedside table and set about cleaning his boyfriend.

After cleaning and tucking himself away Sirius curled around Remus. The other man was floppy and still. His eyes were hooded and still glassy, his breathing was shallow but there. 

It had freaked Sirius out the first time Remus had dropped into this trance; he was worried he was having some kind of fit. It had terrified him even more when he had slipped into the same space himself. The complete loss of control had spooked him, but being with Remus had shown him that he could trust someone enough to be that vulnerable around them. Which was why he tucked Remus into his neck gently stroking his hair. He shook off sleep so he could be ready when his love came back to him.

“I will admit that was meant for next Thursday,” Remus' voice was gruff and sent a shiver down Sirius' spine. He stroked Remus’ hair out of his eyes, now back in focus, and looked down at him.

“Why?” he asked, trying to work out what was so important about next thursday.

“It’s our anniversary?” Remus said. 

Sirius wasn't going to call his boyfriend out. He might have been wrong, but didn’t they celebrate their anniversary a month ago?

Remus must have picked up on the confusion because he began to laugh. Sirius was really trying to work out what was so funny. He was 98% sure that they had gone to Sid’s last month to celebrate. They had gotten a Sundae and everything.

“The anniversary of the first time we had sex,” Remus hummed leaning in to give his frankly “bamboozled” boyfriend a kiss.

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Dear 'Anime Bad' Anon: I Want To Help I pity your situation, so please have a list of weebshit that isn't moeified, or wherein the cutesy art-style serves a greater purpose. (Note: though they won't be soft marshmallow uguuuu, they may still have issues in other ways. Some may have aged badly with regards to how society views or portrays groups or beliefs, some may have upsetting content and dark themes, and some may simply not be to your taste. Note: Anime is a genre, not a monolith, and the disparaging stereotype that it's all cute girls uwuing over their brother s-s-senpai!!! is as much of a disservice as saying all western movies are just vapid cash grab superhero movie sequels with no inegrity or thought put into them. There are indeed a lot of superhero movies, but they're not all identical schlock (megamind vs venom vs kick-ass),  but even more than that, there is a wealth of creative endeavor just beyond the veil of Marvel's cape: just as there are plenty of good anime if you dig past the isekai high school harem wish fulfillment genre that no one wants to keep making but people keep making because it prints money to a very small demographic of the animation equivalent of a mobile game whale thereby allowing this frankly quite-small industry to work on engaging and worthwhile series where the budget permits, Regardless,)

Mushi-shi: -Pros: gorgeous animation, tranquil vibes, episodic stories so you can cram in an episode between classes or on your lunch break. highly recommended by the literal-who typing this out. -Cons: some themes or stories may cause emotional distress, learning to tell apart Urushibara Yuki's characters is a learning curve.

Baccano-Pros: meticulously-researched 20s-and-30s-era mafia violence with a hint of the supernatural, as a treat, told anachronistically with flair and jazz music. practically made to be binge-watched. the novels are finally getting translated into english as well. -Cons: lots of characters to keep track of, fair bit of blood and violence, some scenes or themes may be upsetting, lots of jumping around between different time periods. See Also: Durarara, another series by Ryōgo Narita with a ton of characters and a plot with more threads an overpriced sheet.

Cowboy Bebop-Pros: incredibly well-regarded, space bounty hunters are cool, episodic series that slowly takes on a plot towards the end, fantastic animation, scoring, and even dub work.  -Cons: some scenes or themes may be uncomfortable, some parts have not aged quite so well, the smart doll version of the main character is ugly, you're gonna carry that weight.

Trigun-Pros: starts lighthearted, develops an increasingly investing plot as the series goes along. fictional westerns are cool. this world is made of love and peace -Cons: some scenes or themes may be upsetting, and probably will be. gun violence is naturally present, but that ain't all of it.

Hellsing (standard or Ultimate. or Abridged)Pros: vampires killing nazis. the original adaptation isn't bad, the second adaptation (ultimate) is generally viewed as an improvement. abridged is a youtube parody version that was so popular the voice actors reference it in convention interviews.Cons: a Lot of violence, even trending to the gorey side of things. Uncomfortable Themes Everywhere, but it's a horror-tinged action series about killing nazis, so that's to be expected. 

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood-Pros: while the original anime was quite good, the second iteration is a large improvement. does to alchemy what naruto does to ninjas: It's Basically Battle Magic. the plot starts on a strong note and doesn't let up from there. -Cons: there are distressing scenes and themes that may or may not be tolerable to the viewer. there are moments of cheesecake and even an occasional joke or a moeblob here and there, and it's not all doom and all gloom all the time, but this doesn't detract from the abject horror-despair that comes to permeate this series as it progresses. finally understand why people on the internet respond so negatively to the name 'nina'! 

[Mod: many more recs/reviews under the break, worth reading for those who like more obscure anime and animation]

Grave of the Fireflies-Pros: you will remember how to cry. it's a good reminder that one country's 'triumphs' often come at the expense of another country's people.  -Cons: this movie is incredibly dark, do not watch if you are in a bad headspace. see also: Barefoot Gen, a similar tale but this time from the perspective of an actual survivor from Hiroshima.

Michiko to Hatchin-Pros: an actually diverse cast of characters tangled up in a messy and very humanizing story, interspersed with Shinichiro Watanabe's particular flare for adventure. -Cons: some scenes or themes are very likely to be distressing. can be tricky to find, too.

Mo no no Ke (not the ghibli movie, though it is also quite good.) -Pros: incredibly unique art style and pacing that draws heavily from japanese theatre traditions, every screenshot is wallpaper-worthy. -Cons: may cause motion sickness. it is a psychological horror series, and one that does not need blood, nor gore, to cause visceral emotional response in the viewer. scenes and themes will be distressing- as really, that's the point.

Tokyo Godfathers-Pros: a transwoman, a (self-identified) homeless bum, and a runaway teen girl find a newborn in the baby on christmas. incredibly wholesome, somehow, and grounded in reality, with wonderful animation from the tragically late satoshi kon. -Cons: it is grounded in realism, and sometimes, people are dicks. mild transphobia warning, too, but in-universe- the transwoman herself is portrayed with kindness and allowed to be her own (wonderful!!!) person. still, viewer be mindful.

Kino no Tabi (the first series is my preferred, the second is shinier but lacks emotional impact- in my onion.) -Pros: mostly episodic, very unique series that can be gritty where it counts and kind where it matters. -Cons: some scenes or themes might be disturbing. finding it's not easy, either, and unfortunately, i don't think the novels are being translated right now, either.

Spice and Wolf-Pros: it's mostly about economics. there are shenanigans, a harvest god, and a slowly burgeoning romance, sure, but it's still mostly about economics. -Cons: there are moments of cheesecake and comedy, and moments that may cause distress to the viewer. it may or may not be to your taste.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica-Cons: yeah i know, it's moeblobs.  -Pros: you're gonna watch 'em die, though, in case that may interest you. it's quite a good subversion of the magical girl genre overall. somehow volks hasn't made an MDD of anyone from the series and i will never understand how that didn't happen.

Wolf Children: Ame to Yuki-Pros: watch a family grow together as a newly-single mother does her best to raise her twin children after the tragic loss of their father.  -Cons: keep tissues handy. certain scenes or themes may be uncomfortable.

Lupin III (Red Jacket, Ghibli, and the new 3D animation are all A+) pros: heist comedy elevated to an art form before half (or more!) of the people reading this were born. the english dubbed series that used to air on adult swim is a treat. cons: this franchise started in THE SIXTIES, so naturally, some shit has not aged well. certain series (fujiko mine) are darker than others in themes and material. the 3d movie that released recently is an excellent starting point.

Samurai Champloo-Pros: breakdancing samurai, a fascinating roster of characters, and a superb soundtrack by the tragically passed Nujabes. -Cons: it was made in the weird era of the transition from analog to digital animation and so the /series master/ was animated at a painfully low resolution, so even if there's a bluray out there (I haven't looked,) it will be an upscale, which doesn't always look the best. as well, there are scenes and themes that may make the viewer uncomfortable here and there.

The Works of Studio Ghibli Oh, I'm sorry, Ponyo too suffused with childhood wonder for you? My Neighbor Totoro not depressing enough?  In addition to the infamous Grave of the Fireflies, Studio Ghibli has made a wealth of movies that aren't aimed squarely at the kodomo (children's) sector. -Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind: climate change existential dread, the movie -Castle in the Sky: government obsession with obtaining weapons of mass destruction destroys everything beautiful, the movie -Pom Poko: human-caused deforestation and urbanization is destroying the natural world and all that live in it, the movie -Princess Mononoke: industrialization will be the death of everything beautiful in the world, the movie, with a side of sometimes everyone (and no one) is the villain when everyone is simply trying to survive -Howl's Moving Castle: The Physical Manifestation of Depression is a Liquid Ooze, the Movie, also War Is Bad It's not all depressing, but let it never be said that Hayao Miyazaki was subtle. Whisper of the Heart is a good coming-of-age story, Kiki's Delivery Service is a classic, Tales from Earthsea is divisive among fans of Ursula K. Le Guin but I personally liked it. From one studio alone there is a wealth of opportunities.

And that's really the point. These are just some from the top of my head. There are so very many options outside of the cute-girls-doing-cute-things genre that I couldn't list them all if I was here for a week. Or as Madoka Magica so ruthlessly showcases, even series that appear a certain way on the surface might not be what you bargained for once you look into them! These are all (I think) mostly older, mainstream-appeal series that should be easy to track down, too -- there are all kinds of singular animations like The Diary of Tortov Roddle, crowdfunded experiments like KICK-HEART, Masterpiece World Theatre renditions of classic (western) novels that never get talked about, films like A Silent Voice that confront social issues- and of course, series like Rozen Maiden that helped popularize this very hobby!

There is literally an ocean of content to explore from Japanese creators alone, and it opens up even more if you look into works from other parts of Asia- just look at how popular manwha have become, or Chinese animations like Leafie, a Hen Into the Wild! It's a genre unto itself, with all the breadth of content and inter-industry problems that come with it, and without any of the respect that similar art forms have been granted over the years. The way an entire culture's art form is often disparaged, disregarded, and belittled- and by extension, the way most of Asia's animated endeavors are often rolled up into that reductive dismissal along with anime and manga- is honestly Not Great, and there is absolutely a thread of xenophobia that runs through it. The industry has so very many problems (low wages, poor training, overwork of everyone ever, archaic financial modules, the exclusivity and breadth of merchandising necessary to turn a profit and how it leads to consumer burnout and disconnection over time, and yes, the way minors are portrayed not just in anime, but in Japanese media in general- and how much of that is actually bad (some of it is indeed,) and how much if it is cultural difference (I've heard people call the scene where the family in Totoro bathe together problematic because of the nudity, but I've also only heard people say that from the West)

-- none of the actual problems affecting the people who produce this medium are gonna improve when the general response to "animators frequently have to live at home to survive" is "that's what happens when you're a weeb."  It's 5am and I'm gonna point out the problems in the narrative around how we discuss this genre of entertainment because it's important, damn you! Regardless, thank you for coming to my unasked for and overlong TED talk about animation on a doll collecting drama blog, feel free to call me a pathetic weeb etcetera on your way out- but while you do so, might I suggest you also go watch a choice animated series! My current go-to is Bofuri, which is a cute-girls-doing-cute-things moefied isekai series that I refuse to apologize for watching. Be free. (The battle scenes are great and it captures the feeling of learning to play a new MMO with your friends better than most video-game-based anime I've seen in a long, long time. does anyone even still remember .hack? how about serial experiments lain...?)

~Anonymous