#gotta make them all justice <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[themisterhip]

Who wants Fubuki's boobs when we have Saitama's pecs

You understand me bro (*◑∇◑)☞☜(◐∇◐*) *WE GOT THE BESTTTT OF BOTH WORLDSSSSS!!!*

[miraclewoozi]

i don’t think i’ve ever felt this deranged in my entire life

can't get you out of my head

member | fwb!vernon x f reader genre | smut, like a little tiny bit of angst? with a happy ending word count | 2.4k synopsis | so what if calling your fuck buddy every other day is a little excessive? maybe you're just in love with him. smut warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, lots and lots of kissing, some dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, begging warnings | vernon is called hansol - i don't usually do that but just go with it; vernon is kind of a sweetheart tbh this ended up being pretty soft notes | june is back !! i've really been struggling to write these past few months so i'm actually super proud that i was able to sit down and write this as fast as i did. i can't promise another fic anytime soon or any kind of consistent uploads, but i hope you enjoy this meager offering! thanks for the support even while i've been gone :) also this is based on a dream i had about vernon the other day and i could not stop thinking about it it was driving me crazy, so everyone say thank you to my brain or the sandman or whoever put that idea in my dreams because this fic is a result of it. if there are mistakes pls ignore i wrote this at 2am

the thing you remember most about hansol is his lips.

the first time you kissed him was like opening a door to a world you'd never known existed. your past hookups had been terrible kissers, or even worse—hadn't even tried to kiss you at all. you were sick of the boring, underwhelming sex with men who couldn't care less if you got off or not. but some god or being in the universe must've been looking out for you, because finding hansol was nothing short of a miracle.

it was so good, you weren't even that embarrassed when you'd desperately texted him a couple of nights later, practically begging him to come over and fuck you again. he was burned into your brain, the feeling of his mouth locked with yours seared so deep in your memory you couldn't erase him if you tried, but it wasn't exactly like you wanted to. 

he hadn't explicitly said you would only be a one night stand, but you usually didn't hang around the same guy for too long, and he didn't really seem like the commitment type anyway. but when you find something this good, you don't let it go, and somehow you both knew that whatever this was, it was too good to pass up on.

so it wasn't really a surprise when you found yourself on his couch, straddling his lap in the late hours of the night for the third time this week. 

like you remembered, his lips were warm and soft, his cheek brushing against yours as you melted into him. you could kiss him for hours and not notice the time passing at all, so focused on the rhythm of his mouth working you up more than anything you'd done with man you'd slept with before.

the heat of his hands resting on your hips sends shivers up and down your spine, unconsciously arching towards him as his tongue pushes into your mouth.

one gentle hand travels carefully up beneath your shirt, tracing the skin of your stomach before stopping at your breast, your heartbeat racing beneath his palm.

your breath is hot on his cheek as you readjust your position, slipping your knees onto either side of his hips and sinking down to straddle his lap. your clothed cunt throbs as he presses his bulge against the inside of your thigh, and you don't hold back the open-mouthed moan that escapes you as his other hand quickly reaches up to angle your jaw and guide your lips back to his.

you push your hips down a little harder on him and his nails dig into your breast. his grip tightens a little as his hips cant up against you, desperate for more pressure against his strained cock.

your eyelids flutter as his other hand tilts your chin upwards, finally breaking away from your mouth only to reattach his lips at the base of your jaw. his tongue laves over your skin before he starts to suck, and you shiver when he pulls back and cold air hits the wet patch of spit on your neck.

you have to focus hard not to drool when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of his face, lust-glazed eyes staring up at you through his long, thick lashes, his intense gaze fixed on you.

if you ever get past this weird in-between stage of talking but not talking, maybe you'll tell him how jealous you are of his beautiful, natural eyelashes. if you ever actually get to have a conversation with him outside of calling to hook up, maybe you'll tell him how nice his lips are. you'll tell him how soft his hands are and how he's by far the best person you've ever slept with, leaps and bounds better than all the rest, and—

before you fully realize what's happening, you feel your shirt being pulled over your head and hansol's lips have made their way down to your chest. without a sound his hands roam your body, fingers drawing invisible lines over your bare skin and leaving trails of goosebumps with every touch.

he doesn't talk much during sex, or maybe you just don't know each other well enough yet for him to have much to say. aside from the way he occasionally murmurs about how perfect you are — an oddly intimate thing to say to someone who's just a friend with benefits, but coming from him it sounds so casual — the only words you ever get out of him are curses and whimpered pleas.

the only words he ever gets out of you are shamelessly begging him, please kiss me again, please, hansol; and you're always too far gone to care about how whiny you sound, because you need his lips on you so fucking bad you think you might just die without them. but he always obliges, quickening the speed of his thrusts and wrapping his arms around you tighter so he can kiss you deeper, until your lips are numb and you can still feel the weight of him holding you even hours after he's gone.

so maybe you do have a teeny tiny crush on hansol. anyone in their right mind would, and when he's finished with you tonight you're sure you won't have much mind left to even think about it. certainly this is a problem for another day, a day when you'll inevitably call him again so he can make you lose your mind all over again and you won't have to think about how much you like him, and you'll continue like that for who knows how long. 

maybe he'll get bored of you, or find someone else, or move to another city too far for you to justify travelling for a relationship that isn't even a relationship…

… but then he lets out a little groan and you fall back into reality, the reality where you've been making out with him for the past half hour and he quietly but confidently lets you know if he doesn't get his dick out soon he's definitely going to cum in his pants and not only will it make him look like a loser but he also won't get to fuck you, which is the whole reason you asked him to meet up tonight, right?

well, yeah, you guess, but a part of you knows there's more to it than that. but that's not really a conversation for right now.

you lean down to press another chaste kiss against those lips that you can't stop thinking about, and your fingers pull his t-shirt over his head before finding their way down to the button at the top of his jeans.

you've had his cock inside you more times than you think you deserve, but still your stomach bubbles with excitement as he lifts his hips and shimmies out of his pants, the outline against his briefs more than enough to make your mouth water before he slips those off, too.

for tonight, you're the recipient of his undivided attention. you alone get to have him and his perfect cock all to yourself; maybe not forever, but for right now, and that's all you really need.

he presses his hand against his bulge, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you stand up from his lap to kick off your pants and underwear.

you must have been taking too long for his liking, though, because as soon as you're fully nude his hands tug impatiently at your waist and pull you back down onto him. 

he lets out a heavy sigh, the head of his cock pressed deliciously against your clit as you start to rock your hips back and forth.

but before long his hands bring you to a stop and he lets out his usual string of pleas to let him fuck you, and now it's your turn to sigh in relief as he pushes into you, the stretch so natural like he was the only one who was made to sit you on his lap.

he doesn't move right away. he never moves right away, whether to give you a chance to adjust or maybe because he himself can't handle the feeling. either way, you always struggle to take in a shaky breath as your walls flutter around him, perfectly thick and long that you could probably cum untouched like this if you sat there for long enough.

but as badly as you want to never move and let him cockwarm you for hours, he always eventually moves. 

he starts out slow, just a few inches at a time, a gentle in and out that's almost romantic until you feel like you can breathe normally again— right before he knocks the breath out of you, increasing his pace until the room is filled with the loud sounds of skin against skin.

he always fucks you like it's been months since he's came, even though you know for a fact it was last thursday and all over your stomach. all you can do now is hang onto his broad shoulders for dear life, nails scratching helplessly at his muscles as he carries you up and over the edge, pushing you into the first of many orgasms tonight.

sometimes he'll make a comment about how wet you get when he fucks you like this, rough and fast as he pounds into you like there's no tomorrow. and that's when you'll agree, yes you love it so much, yes he's so good, yes you need more and please, please keep going.

if it were anyone else they'd probably smirk at that, satisfied with the momentary boost to their ego. but that's what you love about hansol, is that he's not anyone else: he'll take those words and use them to somehow fuck you even rougher and even faster, so rough and so fast that sometimes tears will start to roll down your cheeks, and that's usually about when you start begging him to kiss you.

you can't help it. the way he bounces you so effortlessly on his cock, his lips parted and beads of sweat trickling down his neck, you need him bad. you want to be closer to him, closer than you know is physically possible but damn if you won't try anyway.

throwing your hands around his neck and falling against his chest, tears still streaming from your eyes as you plead with him, repeating his name over and over and over like you've lost your mind and he's the only thing left. in all honestly, maybe he is.

he quietly shushes you and tilts his chin up to capture your lips in the kiss you so badly crave, and it's everything you need and more and somehow still not enough but you can't think straight anymore when his cock is hitting you just right and his mouth is also just right and each vein, each curve, each ridge, drags perfectly along your walls and he's splitting you open and goddamn you are ruined for anybody else.

you feel like you're skirting in and out of consciousness when you cum again, squeezing around his cock so tight that even his powerful thrusts can't continue at their current pace.

it isn't long before he lets go too, holding you flush against his body as he fills you up, painting your insides white with a breathy moan, and in a weird way it makes you feel kind of proud.

you both sit there for a moment, panting as you start to come down.

without even standing up you already know your legs are jell-o, but you don't really have time to think about that as hansol lifts you off his lap and sets you carefully on the couch, leaving you with another kiss before he stands up and disappears down the hall, returning seconds later with a towel that looks suspiciously new.

you'd asked him about his bathroom towels last time you'd been over at his place. a mismatched collection of white and brown and aquamarine that he'd taken with him when he'd moved out of his parent's house, he said, he'd never really had a reason to buy a set of his own. 

the grey cloth in his hand now that he uses to gently wipe between your legs is one you don't remember seeing.

he finishes and you want him to kiss you again, but you're too shy to ask now so he leaves you again with just a kind smile this time.

you've put most of your wrinkled clothes back on by the time he comes back. he offers to drive you home every time afterwards, but you always insisted you were fine, already feeling like you'd overstayed your welcome.

this time he doesn't offer, though, just quietly sits down next to you to pull on his own clothes until you're both fully dressed.

he speaks before the awkward silence has time to set in.

"have you been seeing anybody else?" he asks, and it's probably the longest sentence he's spoken to you outside of when he's fucking you.

it takes you a couple seconds to say no. god, you sound like a loser, but you couldn't lie to him. since the very first time with hansol the thought of seeing anyone besides him hadn't even crossed your mind. just like you thought; ruined.

it takes him a couple seconds to reply, too. 

"good," he says, and you could almost swear his cheeks are pinker than usual as he admits that he hasn't been with anyone, either. "could we keep it that way?"

your breath catches a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," he answers. "whatever… this is, i like it. and i like you."

and just like that, things make sense. 

"maybe, would you, y'know, wanna stay this time?" he asks, and you can't hide the grin on your face as you lean over and kiss him again, your answer evident in the way your hand falls against his warm chest and your fingers weave gently through his hair.

everything is so simple with hansol.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[tarothouselattier]

What plan the Universe has for you 🪞

| Private readings here | | PAC masterlist| |$5 readings|

*pics stolen from pinterest*

Pile 1 🏹

“The heart is an arrow” — Inej Ghafa. 6 of Crows

I see that if have been held back from a certain endeavour, the Universe is now aligning everything for you to move forward. If you have been done wrong in the past, I see you rising above that and receiving justice.

For most of you I see that you will be able to nurture your project/endeavour and finally start working on it. Your enemies will be dealt with. Prepare to defend and STAND for what is yours. No matter how many people tell you your ideas are stupid, or they try to cut you down or don’t believe in you. You believe in you. The Universe believes in you and does everything for you to move forward. Nobody will be able to hold you back. Your ideas are devine, fiercely believe in what is yours and protect it with the might of your spirit.

I just feel the need to tell you that I love you and you got this, honey!❤️🙈

Please put in an ask in my box and tell me what it is you’re going through lately or what you’re planning, if you want)

Bye <3

PILE 2🧨

“I say whatever I want, I do whatever I want” - IDGAF by Drake & Yeat🎶

Honey, you are about to be so BLESSED. You’ve got an opportunity to shine here, my love. It’s so funny to me how your channel picture is a match and literally every single card that came out for you is on FIRE. Like, brrr. The Universe plans for you to rise in confidence. You are about to have a very joyful, prideful and inspired period of your life. Literally feels like you’re on fire. Your come in yourself is about to rise, you will be enjoying life more.

I asked the Universe WHY this is the case, and She says you have been in a resting period and have been completing a stressful cycle of your life. You don’t deserve all that stress, honey, gotta enjoy, ‘cause life’s too short for ANY bullshit that you don’t enjoy. So I suggest you go all OUT. Fuck them people who are thinking they have a say in YOUR LIFE. You do you, boo. For some reason I have a need to talk to you extra like that, but it’s the energyyy, okay. Go shopping, go play outside, do whatever it is that makes feel good. You deserve and you’re a Queen bitch!!❤️‍🔥 Don’t forget that.

That is the plan for you, dear pile 2 people.

What have you been doing prior that got you to exhaust you joy meters and resources like that? I would love to know. Come tell me.

Love ya, byeee~

PILE 3 🪞

“Oh, she doesn’t see, the light that’s shining. Deeper than the eyes can find.” — Scars to your beautiful by Allesia Cara

I see you breaking the chains others have put on you. You are going against what you’re told and you’re finding your true voice. It seems to me that you are indulging to much in the thing that don’t actually matter to avoid the bigger issues. You feel like you are being held back from your desires and the world is so close yet so far out of reach. It’s being unfair to you. You blame your problems on the world, but ask yourself, what exactly have you been hiding from yourself and why do you feel so comfortable shifting responsibility for your fortunes and misfortunes on a higher power. Isn’t it so convenient that it’s out of reach?

Ponder on this, please. Your picture is perfect for you, because that’s exactly how you feel. Like something or someone is holding you back from your freedom. But the truth is, the only one who can hold you back is you.

The plan is for you to realise this and close out this cycle. Find personal freedom.

Guys, this is my pile as well. Come talk to me however you want.

Bye-bye💜

[extensionallydefined]

Okay, so, I need to talk about the relationship between Persona 5's ending and Persona 5 royal's ending, because I think it isn't discussed enough how one puts into question the themes of the other and in doing so it elevates everything that came before.

Spoilers are coming, you've been warned.

The main thing that's given me an outlet to think about this is a few quotes from the Phantom Thieves when they're in the Velvet Room after being Thanos-snapped by Yaldabaoth. Specifically these quotes:

Ann: "I... I never want anyone to have to go through what I did!"

Yusuke: "Just as art is meant to break boundaries, people should be saved even if they frown upon it. I won't allow the justice I believe in to be shaken any further!"

Ryuji: "We're doin' this to make sure people don't go through the same crap we did. It doesn't matter if they think we're just or not. We gotta do what we believe in!"

Futaba: "I can't let people suffer like this, even if I don't know them personally"

They mention some core ideas: 1. They want to prevent people's suffering because of the suffering they've felt. 2. They must do this regardless of if people want it, because they think it's the right thing to do. 3. Their justice is worth fighting for by virtue of being what they believe in.

Does this seem familiar? Maybe makes you think of a certain therapist who shows up in Royal?

I think Takuto Maruki serves a decent amount of purposes narratively and thematically, but one of the most genius things about him is that he serves as a foil to both the Phantom Thieves and Akechi, and in being that foil, he is, deep down, following the principles that the Phantom Thieves fought for - In the end, it was largely Joker who inspired him to fight for his reality.

Maruki fights for a reality where suffering straight up doesn't exist, because he doesn't want anyone to feel the suffering he's had to endure. Maruki wants the Phantom Thieves and Akechi to never feel suffering anymore, regardless of their stance on the matter. He is "saving" them regardless of their wishes, and will fight them to keep the reality he wants. He thinks the world is unfair, so his "justice" is to make a perfect world for everyone - and that's what makes it worth fighting for, because that's what he believes.

Maruki's rationale to fight against the Phantom Thieves and Akechi is (partly) the same reasoning that the Phantom Thieves use to regain their motivation to fight the Holy Grail/Yaldabaoth.

So, narratively, Maruki serves as a mirror that's telling things not to be told for the Phantom Thieves to look into and to see the ugly parts of their own way of acting. Can they really fight Maruki, knowing that he is just acting how they did?

I see people sometimes refusing Maruki's reality because it "wouldn't actually work" or "it's imperfect". But as far as I'm aware, it's imperfect because it hasn't been completed yet - I think the game is a lot more interesting under the pretense that Maruki truly has the power to erase all suffering, once his reality is complete, past the deadline. I also see the argument, and even the game uses it, that Maruki's world "isn't reality". But did we listen well to Morgana's speech before he disappeared in the Yaldabaoth arc? The world itself is made up of cognition, reality is born from the points of view of everyone. Maruki *can* change reality, and the real question of the game is not about the logistics or "ontological dignity" of his reality, but rather - Do you want a world where all your wishes are granted and no suffering exists?

In the end, the game shows the Phantom Thieves that "sticking to their justice" will make them fight against people with similar ideals as theirs. It's funny, in a way, how Akechi was the one fully willing to fight Maruki from the start. His rebellion has always been more individualistic in nature than the Phantom Thieves' - he wanted revenge for himself, then redemption for himself and now he wants a reality where he isn't under anyone's control anymore. To him, Shido's country, Yaldabaoth's ruin and Maruki's world are all the same - Maruki just has a nicer, more therapy-speaky way of presenting his proposal, and sees people as his equals rather than as insolent masses, but his goal is the same. They're all worlds that shackle you for the "greater good". And in the end, Maruki, and Royal, force the P5 gang to become more like Akechi - to value their individuality in the face of the public's "justice".

To fight for what you believe in you will face people with the same determination as you. They will be your equals in many, many ways. In the end, you can only stick to your guns and hope that what you believe in is worth more than what they believe in.

I have a lot more to write about these topics but I'll leave it there. Maybe about the relationship between Maruki's reality and individuality next? That could be fun ^^

Btw - Special thanks to @thedaythatwas for inspiring me to write up stuff about Persona 5 Royal!

[projectionistwrites]

FOR SCIENCE | SUBJECT 2

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Marc Spector x afab!psychologist!reader (11.0k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: fetishization of mental disorders (DID), psychoanalysis, potentially unethical scientific practices, SMUT (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f! and m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, squirting, creampie, bondage, intense edging, reader is very mean, facesitting/riding, 69ing, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the stoplight system) NOTES: time for everyone’s favorite babygirl. again, i really hope i did marc’s character justice. also, you can’t tell me marc wouldn’t look so pretty crying for you. i kinda went feral on this one. &lt;3 DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

← previous part | next part →

CASE STUDY: MARC SPECTOR

ROLE IN COGNITIVE SYSTEM: Host / Apparently Normal Part

ATTACHMENT STYLE: Fearful

CHARACTERISTICS: cocksure, standoffish, pensive, calculating; resilient to a fault; views himself as irredeemable in the face of his past, unworthy of forgiveness or compassion; must be in control of every situation in order to feel secure.

SPLIT FROM HOST: N/A

TRAUMA RESPONSE: tendency to run when facing emotionally distressing situations

SEXUAL PRESENTATION: dominant, assertive, deliberate, practiced, indulgent; derives majority of satisfaction from his ability to draw pleasure from his partner; cognitive blockages that are reminiscent of self-sabotage (undeserving of release or pleasure).

“You’re early, Doc.”

Marc teased—he was leaning against the doorframe with a smug smirk on his face, successfully blocking your entrance into his flat. You felt your face heat up beneath his devious gaze.

“I know.”

Your words were softer than you’d intended them to be, more hesitant—Marc’s eyes narrowed at your wavery response.

He wordlessly stepped to the side, allowing you to finally slip past him and into the threshold of the apartment. You paused in the entrance as the door clicked shut behind Marc. He narrowly avoided colliding into your form as he turned, his arms jutting out to brace himself against you to prevent either of you from stumbling. His hands gripped your biceps, his chest pressed against your back. Your body tensed under his touch, and he let out a low chuckle, slipping past you and further into the space.

“Jesus, you’re touchy today. Everything okay?”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied you. The movement was so easy, so casual and relaxed, as if this was just like any other time you’d hung out at his place—as if you weren’t there just to get into his pants. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced down at your worn sneakers. It felt...different, this time. With Steven, you knew there would be a learning curve for both of you. You knew that, to some extent, you would be the one calling the shots, making Steven feel safe and comfortable. But now...you were intimidated. And ashamed to admit it.

You must’ve been quiet a beat too long, because the next second, Marc was in front of you, standing toe-to-toe. When you didn’t meet his eyes, his left hand came to nudge your chin upward, forcing your gaze upon him. You gulped, but his dark eyes were softened with concern.

“Hey. You gotta talk to me, Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

You blew out a breath.

“No, it’s nothing, I’m just—”

“—nervous?”

Marc finished for you, and you squeezed your eyes shut in an effort to prevent yourself from seeing the satisfied look on his perfect face.

“Yes, Marc, laugh it up. I’m nervous.”

“Hey, I didn’t even—”

“Yeah, but you were gonna.”

You snapped with a glare, but you felt guilt punch through your gut when a look of hurt crested Marc's features. You sighed.

“Shit, Marc, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I am, too, you know.”

You blinked once, then twice.

“You’re...what?”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out a bitter, humorless laugh, as if he thought you were toying with him. When he saw the genuine confusion on your face, he threw his head back with a groan.

“You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed, but when you finally realized what he meant, you felt a small smile creep onto your face.

“Wait—you’re nervous?”

Marc shrugged sheepishly, and you could see a bit of color rise to his cheeks—was he blushing?

“You’re telling me—Marc Spector is nervous?”

“Yeah, and who’s laughing it up, now?”

He quirked a brow, giving you an accusatory look, and you giggled at him, the tension melting away from your body easily.

“I’m not laughing at you, Marc, I’m just—why would you be nervous? Especially around me?”

He shook his head at you incredulously, taking a few steps closer. You felt your back press up against the door behind you, successfully trapping you in Marc's vicinity.

“S’that so hard to believe? A pretty girl like you, coming over to study how I am in bed—even if it’s just for science?”

Marc wiggled his brows theatrically, and you laughed again, shaking your head. Still, there was blood pumping loud in your ears as he spoke, and you could feel electricity crackle in the air between you, charged with energy.

“Yeah, for science. But—you have pretty girls over all the time to see how you are in bed.”

“Yeah, but s’never been you, has it?”

The words were barely audible, muttered lowly beneath his breath, but you felt your jaw slacken at his quiet confession. Your eyes flitted up to his, and there was that cheeky, self-satisfied grin on his face again—fuck, he was too handsome, you just wanted to—

“Can I just fuckin’ kiss you, already?”

He was close, now, his warm exhales mingling with your own. His brown eyes glittered onyx as he drank you in, lips parted just slightly, the tip of his nose barely brushing your own. You felt faint, the proximity dizzying as temptation sank its teeth into your flesh. With the faintest nod of your head, Marc took the plunge.

You’d never had a kiss quite like this one before. Of course, Steven’s was great, but it was exactly what you’d expected—a desperate clash of teeth and tongue, the two of you battling your insecurities to fall into a steady rhythm. But this—this was fucking special. Marc’s hand slipped behind your head to thread through your hair, his other arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You were frankly surprised at the tenderness with which his lips found yours, starting with a barely-there brush of his mouth. It was sweet, and raw, intimate, and you felt his lashes flutter against your cheek when he pulled away too soon.

You were breathless, your face following his as he drew back, desperate to maintain the contact. He chuckled at this, but remained close, eyes finding yours again.

“Still nervous?”

He asked, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes seemed darker as he smirked down at you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Your eyes flitted down to his mouth, your breath catching in your lungs at the sight. Something resembling a squeak involuntarily escaped your throat.

“Marc. Please.”

You whined, big doe-eyes glimmering, and Marc scrunched his face up as though he was in pain, eyes squeezed shut tight as he groaned. He rested his forehead against yours.

“Shit. You really gonna make it that easy for me, baby?”

He practically hissed, and a breathy laugh blew past your lips. Marc captured your mouth with his again, harder this time, the hand that was in your hair reached up to brace himself against the door above your head, successfully caging you in. You hummed against him as his tongue passed through the seam of your lips, sinking into you further. Your desperate hands reached up and clawed at his chest, gripping the navy blue fabric of his cotton t-shirt in your fingers as you held him close. He pressed himself into you, and you could feel the hardness of his bulge flush against your lower abdomen. A moan escaped you at the feeling of his arousal, your body instinctually thrusting into his hold. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

“Yeah? You feel what you do to me, huh, baby?”

He teased against your lips, and you tossed your head back, thudding against the door behind you. You looked down your nose at him, through your lashes, panting slightly, your hands still twisted in the material of his shirt.

“Fuck, Marc, want you so bad, just—”

Your words died on your breath when his arms abruptly slid beneath your butt and hoisted you upwards, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. One of his large hands stayed firmly squeezing the flesh of your ass, the other roamed the length of your back as he pressed his lips against yours again, turning to walk you further into the apartment.

“Jesus, this is gonna be fun.”

He mumbled at your eagerness and responsiveness, your hands threading through his brown curls as he brought you towards the bed, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You gasped when he threw you back onto the mattress abruptly, your body bouncing once at the contact, causing you to giggle. But then Marc was stalking over your body, hovering above your body with a predatory look in his eyes. He licked his lips as you blinked up at him.

“Gonna take my time with you, pretty girl. Gonna absolutely ruin you.”

You impatiently pulled his face back to yours, and he didn’t resist, kissing you back with equal fervor and desire as your own, but the moment you lifted your hips to seek friction from his body, he pulled away, tutting at you condescendingly.

“Ah, ah, ah. Relax, baby. Don’t torture yourself.”

He smirked, fingers dancing across the skin of your stomach beneath the hem of your shirt. You reacted immediately, lifting your arms above your head to allow him to pull it from your body.

“Look at you—so obedient.”

His patronizing tone normally would’ve pissed you off, but there was something about the look in Marc's eyes—completely enraptured with you, ready to give you the world—that made you want to do whatever he said. He reached behind your body to undo your bra, fingers nimbly unhooking the clasps as he yanked it off of you, his face immediately sinking into your cleavage. He groaned, lips frantically attaching themselves to the flesh between your breasts, wandering across the expanse of the newly-exposed skin and wherever they could reach.

“Oh, baby. Got such pretty tits.”

He growled, teeth playfully sinking into the skin at the top of your right breast, earning a yelp from your mouth as he quickly soothed the sting with a swipe of his tongue, smirking up at you. The heat of his mouth was enough to briefly distract you from his wandering hands, but then he was yanking your pants down your legs in one fell swoop, leaving you bare save for the plain pink cotton panties you’d worn today—they weren’t particularly sexy, as you had been trying to prevent your apparel from serving as a confounding variable, but Marc still looked like he wanted to devour you.

His rough hands ran up the plush skin of your thighs, over your hips before squeezing at your tits, making your back arch up and off the bed. A dark chuckle sounded from above you.

“So eager.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to your mouth, and you felt his hands travel down your body again, teasingly fondling at the waistband of your underwear as you sighed. You let your own hands travel beneath his shirt, running your hands along the warmth of his toned abdomen, coaxing him out of the material. You were happily surprised when he honored your silent request, allowing you to pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the side. His expression flickered for a moment as you admired him, his eyes briefly shining with a certain warmth that you couldn’t decipher. He pressed his lips to yours, a soft, sweet kiss, but when he pulled away, the wicked gleam in his eye had returned.

“Gonna make you feel good, baby. You want me to touch you?”

Your nod was frantic, your head pressed back into the pillows as you forced your body to stay still beneath him, even as you desperately wanted to rut up against his jean-clad thighs.

“Yeah, you do, huh? Bein’ such a good girl for me, baby—you gonna keep behavin’ yourself? Gonna let me take care a’ you?”

You whined, desperation starting to pulse through your limbs, making you want to squirm.

“Yes, Marc, yes, just—please—”

He shushed you, his lips pressing hotly beneath your jaw before continuing down the column of your neck, down your sternum, across your breasts, and finally stopping above your navel. He hummed into your skin, the vibrations causing a chill to pass over your spine, goosebumps rising in their wake. He lifted his hands to spread your legs further apart, granting him the space to lay between them so he was face-to-face with your clothed core.

“Fuck, baby—soakin’ for me already.”

You could feel his hot breath against the cool, damp material of your panties, and you jolted when his fingers lightly pressed against the wet spot, the pads of his digits just barely swiping over your folds. Your toes curled and legs tensed, trying hard to withstand Marc's slow, relentless teasing. He seemed to be enjoying it, a dark chuckle escaping his mouth at your reaction.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

He requested lowly, hands pressed against your inner thighs to hold them apart in front of him. You tried to make your voice steady.

“Marc, please, just—”

His fingers harshly curled into the flesh of your thighs, creating divots in the soft skin as you flinched. He gave you a warning glare.

“You never struck me as the bratty type. C’mon, baby—tell me what you want.”

“You, Marc, fuck—want you so bad. Always wanted you.”

You flinched at your own confession, but Marc responded with a throaty growl.

“Oh, yeah? Thought this was just for research, hm?”

You felt his nose brush against the crotch of your panties, and you whimpered, your hips lifting of their own accord. Marc’s hands gripped your waist tightly and slammed your ass back into the mattress, pressing you down firmly.

“That’s enough.”

He warned, suddenly strict, and you swallowed, trying hard to resist the urge to sink your hands in his hair and force him towards where you needed him most.

“Fuckin’ greedy little thing. I’ll give you whatever you want, pretty girl—just wanna hear you say it.”

You bit your lip defiantly, feigning confusion at his request, and he growled again, teeth sinking into the flesh of your hip right above the waistband of your panties. You jumped at the sensation, letting out a sharp cry, and you felt the vibration of his chuckle through your skin.

“Go on, Y/N. Tell me the truth. Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your resolve shattered.

“Want you so bad, Marc. Wanted you since the day I met you. Wanted you to bend me over the desk in my office, wanted—wanted to get on my knees for you right there on the bus. Got off to the thought of you fucking me so many times, Marc, shit, please, would you just—”

He practically ripped the panties from your body as his mouth finally surged forward to steal a taste of your sopping cunt. You yelped in surprise when his tongue swiped through your folds, and Marc wasted no time in sinking two fingers into your throbbing entrance, already beginning a relentless pace within you.

“Oooh, FUCK, Marc—”

You exclaimed, hips thrusting upward at the sudden stimulation, and Marc’s strong arm reached up to press down on your stomach, forcing your movements to halt.

“Sit fuckin’ still—want you to cum all over my fingers, baby.”

He muttered against your clit, lips wrapping around the bud to suck harshly. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching already, the pleasure mounting and mounting with each sudden thrust of Marc’s thick fingers, each move deliberate and practiced. You were mewling beneath him, back arched harshly as he continued his pace, dark eyes watching as your face contorted into a look of pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, can feel you squeezin’ my fingers, fuck—you gonna cum for me?”

Your climax peaked easily and you let out a long sigh as you let the waves of pleasure overcome your senses, only acutely aware of Marc’s gentle praises being muttered against your throbbing cunt as your became pliant beneath him.

Your muscles began to loosen after your sudden and intense orgasm, but the sensation didn’t last for long—Marc wasn't stopping. His tongue had replaced his fingers, thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy, his nose nudging at your clit in a move he must’ve learned from Steven, the cheeky bastard...

“Fuck, Marc, shit, I can’t—”

You couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, but he held you down securely, not allowing you to pull away from the intense stimulation he was still offering.

“Color.”

The sound was muffled, mixed in with the sinful slurping noises he was making, and your cloudy mind took a few moments to process his request, but as his fingers pressed harder into the divot of your hipbone, you threw your head back to respond. Stoplight.

“Green, Marc, but—God, fuck, s’too much, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.”

Your eyes met his from his position buried in your mound, and the sight of his hungry eyes and the tone of his demand were enough to send you rapidly toppling over the edge yet again. The high-pitched wail that you let out was shameful, but Marc didn’t pause, watching you closely as you came apart on his tongue yet again.

As you came back down to Earth, he finally offered you a moment of reprieve, coming up for air to press a bruising kiss to your lips. The tangy taste of your arousal on his lips made your face flush hot.

“Taste so sweet for me, baby. Gonna give me another?"

You hummed, mind still foggy with bliss, but then his fingers were ghosting over your swollen clit, swiping carefully in circular motions on your tender flesh. Your head lifted to press into his shoulder, and he chuckled wickedly, increasing his pressure as you writhed beneath him.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well.”

He praised, hot lips pressed to your ear, and you could feel heat pool in your lower belly, red and hot and seething. Your lip was pulled between your teeth, hard enough that you could taste the metallic tinge of blood on your tongue as Marc sped up his pace. Your fingers wrapped around his arm, trying to pull him away, but his muscles flexed beneath your hold, and the overstimulation quickly made way for yet another stuttering orgasm, your cunt clenching around nothing as your teeth sank into the flesh of Marc’s shoulder, body twitching uncontrollably. You heard him hiss from the bite to his skin, but it quickly evolved into a groan as he turned his head to the side, littering your jaw with open-mouthed kisses as sweat dappled your face.

“There we go. Good girl, baby. Good girl.”

He cooed, finally pulling his hand away from your core. He lifted his slick-coated fingers and pressed them to your lips, and you absent-mindedly obeyed, sucking his digits into your mouth and lapping up the residual arousal from his knuckles. He hummed in approval, your face utterly fucked-out and eyes hazy. He pressed a soft kiss to your nose before sitting upright above you, his hands making quick work of his belt buckle as he pushed his jeans and boxers down simultaneously.

“Think you’re ready for my cock, pretty girl?”

Your legs were still quaking with aftershocks, your thighs sticky with wetness from your prior orgasms and Marc’s saliva. Still, even with exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, the sight of Marc’s cock standing at full height, ruddy and weeping, was enough to inspire a nod of your head.

“Want you—fuck, Marc, want you inside me, please.”

“Sound so pretty when you beg for me, baby.”

Marc crept forward on his knees, stroking his cock with practiced precision as he slid between your split legs. You felt the head of his member slide experimentally through your folds, nudging at your clit. You bristled, the heat of his hardened length jostling your shot nerves. You nearly cried at the contact, hips pressing into the mattress and away from the pressure, but then the tip notched at your entrance and you wanted nothing more for him to sink into you. Before he pressed further, though, he slipped fingers beneath your chin, turning your head to look at him. Your lip was quivering with want.

“Color?”

He rumbled, brown eyes gentle, and your ass lifted upwards, trying to force his cock further into your awaiting channel, but Marc pulled away completely, drawing a long whine of protest from your chest.

“Easy, baby. Say the word, and I’ll fuck you just how you want. But I need to hear it.”

You swallowed, fingers sinking into his curls, and your voice was hoarse when you spoke.

“Green, Marc. Fuck me, please.”

Your swollen folds made way for his thick length as it sank into you quickly, bottoming out in one swift thrust as Marc groaned throatily.

“Oh, fuck.”

He growled, eyes squeezed shut tight at the sensation of your tight walls fluttering around him. His balls pressed firmly up against your ass, and Marc reached down to grip one of your ankles, hoisting your leg high above your head so the front of your thigh was to your chest. He offered a slow roll of his hips, his cock nestling tightly into you as he snapped them forward.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby—so fuckin’ tight.”

His pace started to build, and soon he reached for your other leg to hold it above your head, effectively folding you in half. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper within you, the head of his cock prodding at something devastating. You were moaning shamelessly, now, incapable of forming coherent words at this point as Marc continued to pound into you, his teeth bared as his hips pistonned forward.

“Always wanted to fuck you like this, baby. Knew you’d make the prettiest noises for me, knew you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you. You gonna gimme another one, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?”

A sob ripped through you at his words, your hips thrusting upwards to meet his strokes. He had one hand wrapped around each ankle, braced over your head as he railed you into the mattress, the bedframe creaking under the strain. You felt your stomach coiling yet again, but your body was resisting, so overstrung and sensitive that your muscles felt like they were on fire. Still, Marc’s pace was relentless, and you couldn’t stave off the overwhelming need for release as you started to fall apart.

The groan that Marc offered was animalistic as your pussy clenched down on him, hard, throbbing rhythmically as you surrendered yourself to the onslaught of shockwaves that pulsed through your core. You felt faint, weightless, the crux of heat in your center exploding.

“Oh, fuck me, baby, oh my God, did you just—”

His words dissolved into a growl as he pounded into you harder, and it was only as you slowly regained your bearings that you could feel the slickness coating your thighs and Marc’s abdomen—you’d squirted all over his cock.

“Jesus, not gonna last much longer, baby, so fuckin’ good.”

His head was bowed, curls falling into his eyes as he rammed into you, balls slapping against your asscheeks with each thrust. Punched-out moans passed through your lips surreptitiously as you tried to maintain your focus, although your consciousness was slipping away.

Marc’s left hand released your leg and you felt his fingers swirl over your clit again.

“Gonna cum for you, baby, but you gotta gimme one more, first.”

You sobbed, body lurching off the bed as if you were possessed, your knee curling over his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, Marc, I can’t, s’too much, please, just want you to—”

“Not gonna cum until you do.”

He spoke through gritted teeth, a hardened determination glinting within his crazed eyes. You drank him in—sweat dripping from his curls, nostrils flared, lips pulled up in a snarl, veins in his neck straining beneath the skin with his effort. His pace abruptly switched, his rapid thrusting replaced with a few slow, deep, and fucking bone-rattling plunges within you, the sound of his skin roughly slapping yours filling your ears. The change in tempo was too much, you were spiraling, and with a guttural cry of his name, you felt a blissful numbness erupt from within. Marc threw his head back as you clenched around him once more.

“Oh, fuck, baby, yes, yes, so fuckin’ good, God—”

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he pulled out of you hurriedly, hand reaching down to jerk his cock rapidly as he finally allowed himself to reach his release.

“Fuck, gonna cum all over you, baby, yeah, you ready? You want my cum?”

You nodded, whining greedily, your legs settling down on either side of him as you raised your hips towards him so you could feel his knuckles brush over your pubic bone with each rapid stroke of his cock. The desperation in your eyes is what hurled him over the edge.

“Fuckin’ take it, baby, I’m cummin’ for you, oh, fuck—”

His spend spilled all across your mound, spraying upwards over your stomach and some droplets even landing themselves atop your tits as he continued to jack himself off above you, deep grunts passing through his parted lips with each spurt of cum that he coaxed out. He was panting heavily, watching his white seed ooze across your skin and down his knuckles as he finally slowed the pace of his hand, squeezing one final drop of pearly liquid from the tip as he groaned, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours to catch his breath. You hummed, unable to open your tired eyes, but the intimacy of the action was welcomed as his lips just barely brushed over your own, a silent ‘thank you’ in the aftermath of an intense moment of passion.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel simultaneously weightless but so heavy at the same time, your limbs sinking into the damp sheets beneath you as you attempted to catch your breath. Marc nestled his face into the crook of your neck—an action vaguely reminiscent of Steven’s habit of nuzzling into you—and you felt him take a slow, deep inhale against your clammy skin, his warm breath fanning out along your collarbone.

You tried to stay awake when you felt his body peel itself from atop yours, but he returned moments later with a cool damp cloth to wipe away the evidence of both of your orgasms. You whined when the cold came in contact with the swollen, sensitive folds of your cunt before he moved up to wipe away his own release—Marc easily shushed you, pressing soft kisses against the skin after he wiped each spot clean. When he was finished, he haphazardly tossed the towel aside, crawling up towards you yet again.

Marc liked to be smothered. If you could take any one thing away from this moment, that’s what you saw—he laid down beside you, flat on his back, before rolling you over on top of him, your face pressed up against his pecs as your body settled between his legs. You hummed at the new position, his arms curling protectively around you, fingers of his right hand playing with your knotted hair. Your ear was pressed up against his chest and you listened to the steady rhythmic thumping of his heart, and you easily could’ve fallen asleep in an instant. Still, you wanted to enjoy the tenderness of the moment for a bit longer.

“You okay?”

Marc finally asked, and the vibrations from his throat reverberated down through his ribcage for you to feel. You breathed in long and deep, the feeling of his soft, warm skin comforting and familiar.

“’M great.”

You whispered, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. There was a small adoring smile on his abused lips, his brown eyes sweeping over your face in a way that only Marc could do—calculating, observant, as if he was looking straight through you. Sometimes, his unusual skill for reading people made you uneasy, but now, you felt completely relaxed beneath his scrutinizing gaze. It would be hard not to, when his eyes glowed as if you’d hung the stars in the sky just for him.

“…was that okay?”

Marc rephrased, and it was only then that you caught on to the insecurity he so desperately tried to mask. The crease between his brows betrayed him, making his concern for you evident. You smiled up at him reassuringly.

“Marc, it was great. You were great. You are great.”

Maybe it was the post-orgasmic bliss that had you feeling sappy, the endorphins boosting you higher into your serenity. The look on Marc’s face was heart-wrenching—the gratitude that shone in his beaming smile, the glow of his face as it lit up with pride, the—dare I say—love, in his eyes, as he gazed upon you.

A comfortable silence settled between you, and the hand that was resting against your back reached down to pull the duvet up and over the both of you, cocooning you in its warmth. You let yourself settle further into Marc’s welcoming embrace, eyes fluttering shut as you let your exhaustion take you. You quickly spoke before you found yourself dozing off.

“So…what’s your typical post-sex ritual look like after this, hm?”

You questioned, lifting your chin slightly to see his face. His eyes blinked open to look at you, and he frowned, pursing his lips.

“Believe it or not…with most of my, uh, hookups, I—uh, I have the tendency to leave in the middle of the night so I’m not there when the girl wakes up—gotta leave ’em wanting more, y’know?”

You laughed breathily at that, but hoped to hide how crestfallen his admission made you feel.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try to sneak out after you fall asleep—”

His arms tightened their grip around you, and there was a sort of pleading look in his big brown eyes as he shook his head.

“No, you don’t have to do that, really, I just thought you should—”

“It’s really okay, Marc, I don’t mind.”

You assured with a shy smile, but he shook his head more firmly this time.

“No. You aren’t just a hookup, and you aren’t just some girl.”

Your lips parted in a silent gasp, eyes searching within his to try to gauge his thoughts. He seemed genuine, insistent. Your heart practically melted in your chest.

“But, I don’t—”

“Please, just stay?”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, and certainly hadn’t meant to plead—this was more vulnerability than he’d ever displayed to you before, something you’d ached to see for as long as you’d known him. For him to open up to you, to trust you, to finally let you in.

You mustered up whatever strength you had left to lift yourself up and press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. You gazed up at him through tired eyes, face aglow from his apparent affections.

You didn’t give him a verbal response—you didn’t need to. Instead, you settled back in against him, curling your head into his shoulder, pressing your face against the warm skin at the side of his neck. Sleep came easy for both of you—Marc felt lighter having finally let his impermeable facade yield to you, even if just for a second.

Tomorrow, you intended to convince him to drop his guard completely.

POINTS OF CONTENTION: - relinquishing control - embracing uncertainty - asking for help

TREATMENT: - practice submission - express vulnerability - communicate needs

You briefly got déjà vu when Marc opened the door to his apartment for you, a familiar cheeky smirk adorning his handsome features. This time, however, your expression matched his own as you stood on your tiptoes to plant a peck on his lips, pushing past him and into the flat as if you owned the place. He was startled at your forwardness, and he would be lying if he said your surge of confidence didn’t make him slightly uneasy—what had gotten into you?

“Back for more?”

He managed to quip, quirking a brow at you as he shut the door behind him. You approached Gus’ fish tank and tapped the glass a few times to get his attention, leaning over to watch him swim around aimlessly for a few seconds—it gave Marc a perfect view of your ass through your yoga pants as you bent down, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared unabashedly.

“I can see your reflection in the glass, you asshole.”

You jabbed, a teasing smile lighting up your face as you met his gaze in the mirrored tank, but he didn’t stop his shameless ogling—instead, he watched you with darkened eyes, a wicked grin on his lips.

“At least I don’t have to hide the fact that I stare at your ass every time I see you, anymore.”

Your brows lifted at his confession, and you carefully straightened up, turning to face him at an agonizingly slow pace. Your hands found your hips as you studied him with an amused expression. You stood across from him in challenge.

“So you admit that you’ve checked me out? Even before this little experiment?”

Marc fought hard to keep the smirk off of his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, sizing you up carefully to gauge your seriousness. You were clearly teasing him, but he offered a subject change nonetheless in an effort to avoid the fact that he just admitted he’d been eye-fucking you since the day you’d met.

Instead, his eyes flickered down to the small black paper bag that you had set by your feet, his brow raising in question.

“I see you brought props with you, this time?”

He closed the gap between you with two large strides, bending down to snatch the shopping bag from your feet before you could protest. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he peered inside, but his eyes widened when he realized what you’d brought.

“Jesus, Y/N. You dirty, dirty girl.”

His fingers reached in to pull out a pair of black silky restraints—it didn’t go unnoticed by Marc that the receipt was in the bag and the fabric still had a tag fastened to it. You must’ve bought them just for this occasion.

The expression on his face was practically carnal as he smirked at you, but something about the look in your eyes made him hesitate. You looked up at him shyly, reaching forward to thumb at the fabric before settling your hand into his open palm atop the silk.

“They’re not for me.”

Four words, and Marc was stunned into silence. His face fell, eyes wide as they studied you, expression bemused and slightly fearful. You swore you could actually see his face drain of color.

“We don’t have to, Marc, I promise—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just spring this on you out of the blue, I’m sure it’s not something you’d normally—well, I mean, not that I know what you’re into and everything, but I just thought it might be—”

“Slow down, baby, it’s okay. I just—took me by surprise, s’all. Wasn’t—wasn’t expecting it.”

You looked up at him thoughtfully, now hyperaware of the trepidation in his features. He avoided your eyes.

“Come on.”

You grabbed his wrist softly and guided him over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and gesturing him to follow suit. He sat down beside you and carefully turned to lay out the two black restraints on the mattress behind him. Then, he turned back to you, eyes gentle. You reached over to pull his hands into your lap.

“Marc.”

You started softly, and his eyes flitted to you nervously, an uneasy lopsided smile on his face.

“Listen to me. We really, really don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. I know it’s—it requires a lot of trust, and—well, I don’t know.”

You fell silent, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. Marc was giving you that familiar calculating stare, taking you in and analyzing every breath you took. You grew impatient with his lack of response.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

There was an apprehensive edge to your tone, your eyes round and full of worry, afraid to offend him or make him uncomfortable. You could see the gears turning in his head as he pondered.

“And this... of anything in the world you could possibly want to do with me, to me... this is the one thing you’d choose?”

You carefully nodded your head, squeezing his hands in your own.

“I think—I think this could be good for you. If—if you’re up for it, of course. No pressure.”

He hummed at your reply, before he turned to you with a small smile.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

You blinked once, then twice, surprised at his easy response.

“Wha—really? Are you sure?”

“I trust you.”

Maybe those words were just that—words. But you couldn’t help feel your eyes grow glassy as the gravity of his admission weighed on you, your heart soaring in your chest as you smiled widely at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. The glow radiating from your face made Marc’s shoulders roll back with pride—he would do anything just to see you smile at him like that.

Apparently, that really did mean anything.

You leaned over and kissed him deeply, hand sliding to cup his face as he pulled you against him, sliding you atop his lap easily as he sucked at your bottom lip.

You settled down onto his thighs, your core easing over his hardening bulge as you pressed your front into him, your pebbling nipples brushing against his chest as you kissed him feverishly. His hands held a bruising grip on your hips as you grinded against him, feeling his hold tighten with every brush of your clothed core over his growing erection.

He hummed when you pushed on his shoulders, coaxing him to lay back against the mattress as you pulled his shirt over his head easily. You guided him towards the headboard as you continued to kiss him, settling him carefully onto the pillows in the center of the bed. You drew your head back quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you drank him in—his dark umber curls a stark contrast to the white downy pillows beneath his head, his brown eyes darkening as he watched you with half-lidded eyes, spit-soaked lips parted. You’d never seen a prettier sight—and you knew how to make it even more enticing.

Your fingers traced up his chest and danced across his shoulders. You kissed him to distract from you sneaky movements as you reached behind yourself to retrieve the pair of restraints that had been discarded earlier. You let your nails skate across his nipples, causing him to hiss, before you gently pried his hands off of your hips. You grabbed each wrist carefully, intently watching his reaction as you guided them over the top of his head and towards the headboard.

You grinded down against his cock once more in an effort to relax his body—he groaned quietly, and you reached for one of the restraints, pulling his left arm straight out to the side and carefully winding the fabric around the bedpost before reaching to fasten it around his wrist. You watched his jaw ripple as you carefully looped the silk over his skin, tightening it just slightly to prevent his hand from slipping out. You tugged at the fabric lightly, testing its resistance, before you leaned back down to peck his lips.

“That okay?”

You asked carefully, nose brushing against his, and he squeezed his eyes shut, tugging against the binding before offering you a soft nod. You smiled at him graciously before repeating the action on his right arm, successfully rendering him incapacitated beneath you, his arms spread wide on either side of his body. You allowed yourself to draw back once more, the sight of him splayed out atop the mattress, completely at your mercy, caused a wave of arousal to rush straight between your legs. He must’ve felt the clenching of your thighs from where they caged his hips in, because he let out a breathy laugh.

“You like this, don’t you?”

His voice was low and hoarse, and you kissed him again, nodding against his lips.

“Yeah, Marc, I do. So pretty for me.”

You felt the warm huff of air that he let out at your praise, and you knew he secretly loved your verbal affirmations, even if he’d never admit it to you. You offered him one last kiss before slowly dragging your face back—his head followed your backwards movement, chasing the feel of your mouth against his, but he jostled at the feeling of his movement being restricted. His eyes opened suddenly at the sensation, as if he was surprised to find the restraints actually lived up to their name. You couldn’t help the tiny grin on your lips as he accustomed himself to his limited range of movement—you could feel the tightness in his muscles, his biceps flexing and tensing as he mindlessly fought to gain control back.

“Easy—you’re okay, I’m right here.”

You soothed, running your hands up his torso as his abdominal muscles contracted beneath your fingers. There was sweat beading at his hairline, his jaw grinding rhythmically as he finally opened his eyes to look up at you, forcing himself to inhale a steady breath in an effort to calm himself down. Your fingers rubbed at the tension in his shoulders and you felt him soften under your touch, becoming pliant beneath you as he allowed himself to settle back into the mattress, finally coming to terms with his current situation. You rewarded him with a kiss, leaning yourself forward so your front was pressed to his.

“Before we start, I need you to promise me something.”

His eyes followed you when you sat back upright, and he nodded for you to continue. You breathed.

“Marc. You have to swear to me that you will use the safe word if you need to.”

He rolled his eyes in response, but you squeezed your thighs together in response, putting an uncomfortable pressure against his hips. He glared at you, but you gave him a stern look.

“I’m serious, Marc. I don’t want you to think—to not use it just because you want to make me happy, or because you wanna seem like a big tough guy. You do make me happy, and I know you’re tough, regardless of whether or not you choose to tell me to stop. Okay?”

He could hear the sincerity in your tone, the genuine concern lacing your words. He swallowed. He wasn't going to lie and say it wouldn’t be hard for him to safeword—he didn’t like admitting defeat, showing weakness or cracking under the pressure. But this wasn’t some mission or fistfight with an adversary, he reminded himself—this was you. He was safe, and he trusted you, and he was supposed to enjoy this. Finally, he nodded at you, and you mumbled out a ‘thank you’ before pulling yourself off of him completely.

He watched you like a hawk, eyes trained on you intently, analyzing your every move in anticipation. You carefully reached for his waistband, and he obliged, lifting his hips from the bed to allow you to undress him. You pulled his briefs down in the same motion, discarding Marc’s final two articles of clothing and leaving him bare before you.

His cock was at full mast, resting atop his navel as he drew in slow, deliberate breaths, trying not to feel bashful beneath your scrutinizing gaze. You were still trying to fathom the fact that you had this Adonis of a man splayed out in front of you, completely surrendering himself to you.

He really had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

“Color?”

You asked, kneeling back on your heels from your position beside him, one hand resting on his abs, just above where the head of his cock was patiently waiting. He breathed out a chuckle.

“You haven’t even done anything yet.”

You raised a brow, and at your persistence, he offered a roll of his eyes.

“Green.”

“Good.”

You smiled, fingers sliding down from his stomach to ghost over the tender skin of his shaft, causing a shiver to crawl up his spine. You were careful to take note of just how his body reacted to each ministration—the way his breath hitched when you finally wrapped your hand around the base, the barely-audible grunt when your thumb swiped the bead of precum from his slit.

You removed your hand briefly just to spit into your palm before you were back on him, beginning a slow and gentle pace of stroking him. He hummed at the motion, his heels digging into the mattress as he threw his head back into the pillows, fingers wrapped around each restraint tightly to give himself something to grip. Your other hand reached over to fondle his balls, and his hips jerked just slightly at the added stimulation.

“S’that feel good, baby?”

You purred, your hand gradually picking up speed as your jerked him. He groaned lowly, nodding at your question.

“Shit, yeah.”

You smirked, carefully shifting so you were kneeling in between his legs, lowering yourself down to lay on your stomach. He watched you closely, bracing himself as you leant forward and suckled one of his heavy balls into your mouth, your other hand continuing its steady pace.

You hummed around his sack and he grunted, abdominal muscles flexing as you popped it out of your mouth and traded it for his other bulb, tongue swirling around the flesh and listening to his small moans of pleasure.

He was trying to stay quiet, you noticed. You didn’t press him on the issue—you knew he wouldn’t be quiet for much longer.

You pushed yourself up and licked a long stripe from base to tip, tongue flicking over his frenulum which caused his hips to quake. You offered a few kitten licks to his slit, tasting the salty precum as you continued to stroke him steadily.

“Fuck, baby—just like that.”

He whispered, eyes squeezed shut at the sensations. He was holding himself back—you wanted him to fall apart.

You carefully drew the head of his cock past your lips, bobbing your head up and down over just the tip, matching your pace to that of your hand. He growled, and your eyes flitted up to watch his biceps strain as he tugged on his bindings, desperately wanting to bury his fingers in your hair. You sank your head lower, taking him deeper, lewd choking noises escaping your lips as you swallowed him down. His hips were weakly thrusting upward, now, his feet planted into the mattress to seek leverage in a sorry effort to fuck into the heat of your mouth. You didn’t stop him—you let him cling to the sliver of control he was desperately seeking, removing your hand to sink your head down completely, allowing him to thrust his cock into the back of your throat with his shallow movements.

“Oh, fuck, baby, fuck.”

He moaned, and you could see the muscles of his stomach clenching as you reached to fondle his balls again. You were breathing in carefully through your nose as he continued to abuse your throat, his length sliding in and out of your mouth sloppily. One sharp thrust caused you to gag and he let out a deep groan from somewhere in his ribcage—you could feel his balls tightening up, thighs flexing.

“Yes, baby, gonna cum in that pretty little mouth, yes—”

You sat up abruptly with a gasp, pulling your body from his completely as his limbs involuntarily jerked beneath you, his back arching at the sudden loss of contact. He yelped, and you could see veins bulging in his arms as he harshly pulled against the restraints.

“Jesus fuck!”

He cried out, hips falling back down into the mattress, defeated. You sat silently, watching as he tried to catch his breath. He blinked the bleariness from his eyes to fix his stare on you—there was a somewhat sadistic shine in your gaze as you met his eyes challengingly. When you didn’t back down, you were surprised when he let out a bark of a laugh.

“So this is your game, sweetheart? You gonna edge me? Really?”

He was trying to intimidate you—you could see right through him. He was mocking you, hoping to berate you into submission, into backing down. It wouldn’t work.

When you didn’t respond, he shook his head lightly, feigning composure as he lazily closed his eyes.

“Go on—have your fun.”

He offered, a small smile on his lips. You felt anger briefly flare up inside you, but you quelled it down with logic—you were in control, right now. You had all the power.

It didn’t matter how disciplined Marc’s psyche was—his body betrayed him. It told the truth. Your hand reached back up towards his shaft, and his cock jumped beneath your touch, thighs tensing just slightly. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from giggling with satisfaction—Marc’s face was set into a look of quiet concentration, lips pulled into a straight line.

You started again, the same way you had before, with your spit-soaked hand slowly escalating until your lips joined in. His noises were subdued—they came from deep within his chest, escaping through barely parted lips only when he was powerless to stop them. He writhed beneath you, responsive to your touch, and when the telltale signs of his approaching orgasm began revealing themselves again, you ceased your movement.

“FUCK!”

He yelled, back arching off the bed as he attempted to curl into a sitting position, but he was snapped back into complacency by the fabric bound to his wrists. There were veins bulging in his neck as he seethed, sweat beginning to bead along his hairline. You blinked up at him innocently as he glared at you, eyes dark and filled with disdain.

“So fuckin’ pleased with yourself, huh, baby? This what you wanted? To rile me up? God, if I wasn’t tied up right now, I’d—”

“You’d what?”

He blinked at your interruption, your voice showcasing your defiance.

“What’re you gonna do, Marc? Nothing. You’re not gonna do anything. You’re gonna sit back, and fucking take it, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

His jaw clenched down tightly, his face practically trembling with rage. His nostrils flared as he stared at you, trying to win the silent battle between you, in complete denial of the fact that you were completely in control. He wasn’t backing down, unwilling to admit that he was powerless—so you reached forward and scratched your nails down the length of his shaft. He shouted in protest, hips jolting backwards to retreat from the uncomfortable sensation, and he growled lowly in his throat before sagging back into the mattress—his eyes were still on you, but his lips were sealed shut.

���That’s what I thought.”

You antagonized, leaning down to take his cock back into your mouth. It was taking increasingly smaller increments of time to get him to the edge, and you continued—once, then twice more. On the third round, he’d nearly lost it, but you squeezed around the base of his cock tightly to force the orgasm to dissipate as it peaked.

“You fuckin’ bitch.”

He snapped, and the words seemed to surprise him just as much as they surprised you. A heat of the moment utterance, offered in a second of desperation—but he didn’t take it back. Maybe you should feel hurt—instead, you felt pride swell inside you as you stared down at him wickedly.

“Such mean words from a guy who can’t even see me through his tears.”

It was true—there were tears streaming down either side of his face, eyes red and puffy as he fought viciously against your torture. He shook his head at you, overwhelmed with anger, but he couldn’t hold back the sob that practically pulled itself from his lungs when you gave a single lick up his shaft.

“Oh, fuck you, fuck—”

“You can cum whenever you want, Marc. I’m not stopping you.”

You tone was even and steady, expression blank as you studied him. His brows furrowed, his eyes suspicious as his breathing slowed again. You smiled coyly at him, innocently, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips—he didn’t kiss you back. He just watched you as you carefully resumed your position between his legs, waiting to hear your stipulation.

“You just have to beg for it.”

Marc’s venomous laugh was replaced with a long whine as you took his cock in your hands once more, stroking him a few times before simply holding him there. He sneered at you.

“I don’t beg.”

“Then you don’t cum.”

You shrugged easily, releasing his throbbing member from your grasp and allowing it to drop back down against his stomach. You could see every muscle in his body fighting for release—his heels digging into the mattress, his arms continuously straining against their restraints. You tutted at him condescendingly, your eyes mocking sympathy as you stood from the bed. He studied you carefully as you began to remove your clothes until your were completely naked. You rejoined him on the bed, loving the way his eyes turned ravenous as he admired your body.

“If you wanna torture yourself, Marc, that’s your choice.”

You purred, crawling up until you were straddling him. You watched the way his breath hitched when you were hovering over his cock, and you felt it jump beneath your cunt—but instead of dropping down, you crept further upwards until you were straddling his ribcage. He looked at you, confused.

“So what are you gonna do?”

His voice was gravelly and hoarse, raw from the moans you had been pulling from him. You leaned down and shoved your tongue into his mouth—he whimpered at the intimacy, but you pulled away soon after.

“I’m gonna ride your face, and you’re gonna be a good boy and make me cum on your tongue.”

The whine that he let out was carnal—you’d never heard anything like it in your life, and Marc might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the painful arousal that was burning a hole through the bottom of his stomach. He tilted his head back as you began to position yourself over him, lips already parting in anticipation of tasting you, but you paused, your eyes turning gentle. Your hand reached down to stroke through his damp hair, and he pressed his head into your touch.

“Color?”

You whispered, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat at he swallowed. He breathed in once, then twice, before meeting your eyes again.

“Green.”

You settled your knees on either side of his head, your folds already soaking from your time toying with Marc—you shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your awaiting cunt, and with trembling thighs, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself onto his mouth.

You lurched forward at his eagerness, his tongue immediately breaching your entrance and slurping up the arousal that was flooding your pussy. You yelped in surprise, arms reaching forward to grip the headboard as you tried to keep most of your weight off of him, allowing your face to just barely skate over his features.

He mumbled something into your core, and you lifted yourself from him in concern, worried that you'd hurt him.

“What?”

You asked for clarification, brows furrowed, but when you met his eyes from between your legs, they were dark and gleaming savagely.

“I said, sit the fuck down.”

He growled again, and you could feel the headboard bend as he strained against the fabric on his wrists, obviously wanting to grab your waist and pull you down onto his mouth with full force. You let out a breathy laugh before you eased your way back onto him, allowing yourself to relax more against his face. The thick muscle of his tongue immediately began fucking into you and it wasn’t long before you were grinding against his face, his nose rubbing up against your bundle of nerves and his mouth savoring your juices. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, and Marc watched you from his position between your legs as you came apart on his tongue, quiet cries of his name leaving your lips as your rode out your high on his mouth.

Marc greedily lapped up all you had to offer, and he almost whined in disapproval when you began picking yourself up off of him—but then you were turning around, and he got a perfect view of your perfect ass as you slowly settled your cunt back down to his mouth and—

Fuck. He nearly cried into your pussy when he felt your lips attach themselves to his cock, and he jostled against you, hips jolting upwards of their own volition. He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, trying to fight the orgasm that he was already teetering on the edge of. You hand came up and squeezed tightly around the base of his cock, helping stave off his climax.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

You hissed, and Marc gulped before diving straight back into you cunt, his lips wrapping around your puffy clit as he suckled it into his mouth and flicked over it with his tongue. You moaned, you fingers beginning to stroke his cock again. When you turned your attention back to his length, however, his mouth immediately stopped its movement. You sank against him, rolling your eyes in theatrical annoyance.

“Jesus, you really can’t multitask, can you?”

“Y/N.”

He spoke your name lowly and with a warning edge, and you craned your neck to look at him—his head was peaking out from behind your asscheek, eyes desperately searching yours. You could see he was struggling to maintain his composure, but he kept his voice level and steady.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

He voice cracked at the very end of his statement, but you appreciated his honesty with you. You swiftly removed your hand from where it was wrapped around him and he let out a long sigh, steeling himself before attaching himself to your clit once more.

Your second orgasm came easily, creeping up and washing over you without warning as Marc continued to lavish your clit with his tongue, the obscene noises he was making only adding to your arousal. He slowed his movements as you came down from your high, lapping at your release as you slowly pulled you cunt away from his mouth. You pulled yourself off of him completely, kneeling at his side and pressing a sweet, gentle kiss against his lips. His face was coated in your slick and his eyes were alight with a sort of lovesickness, as if he’d completely forgotten the torture you’d been putting him through simply because he got to watch you fall apart on his tongue. You pressed your forehead against his for a moment before you swung your leg over his hip, finally settling yourself where he needed you most.

Anticipation flickered in his dark brown eyes, his body tensing beneath you as you reached between your legs to stroke his cock, using your dripping arousal as lube to give him a few tentative strokes. He hissed, his hips jumping at the touch, but he immediately froze when you pressed the head into your entrance. He held his breath.

“I’m gonna ride you now, okay?”

You asked, although it was less of a question and more of a statement. He nodded vigorously, eyes squeezed shut and head turned to the side as he braced himself for the feeling of your hot channel swallowing him whole.

“Marc.”

You probed softly, and he winked one eye open, looking up at you where you were paused, right in the moment before sheer bliss. You eyed him warily.

“Color?”

He smiled softly up at you, more relaxed than he’d been this whole interaction—finally, finally relinquishing his control and allowing you to take the reins.

“Green.”

The duet of moans that filled the room was intoxicating as you slowly eased yourself down onto his rock-hard length, the stretch offering a sting that was just painful enough to be pleasurable. Marc’s head was thrown back into the pillows as he began to ramble incomprehensibly.

“Oh, God, oh, fuck yes, so fuckin’ good, fuck—”

You braced yourself by planting your arms against his sturdy chest, raising up your hips until just the tip remained before slamming yourself back down, burying him to the hilt within you. A wrecked sob sounded from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, God, I can’t—”

You settled into a steady pace, angling your hips backwards just slightly so his cock rutted up against that place deep inside you that sent you reeling. You keened, grinding back and forth against him as he moaned wantonly, knuckles turning white as he pulled on the restraints with every ounce of his strength. You orgasm was rapidly approaching, and with each careful plunge of his cock into you, you felt the coil tightening.

“Fuck, Marc, gonna cum on your cock, baby.”

You whimpered, throwing your head back as your walls clenched down around him. You must’ve blacked out for a moment, your vision going bright white as pleasure speared through you—when you regained your bearings and sensation over your limbs, your ears were blessed with a sound you weren’t sure you’d get to hear.

Marc was falling apart.

“Please, oh, God, Y/N, baby, please let me cum for you, I can’t—can’t hold it anymore, please, please, please, baby, please let me cum, pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

There were sobs ripping themselves from his lips as tears flooded his eyes and streamed down his cheeks, the muscles of his abdomen clenched so tightly you thought he might sprain something. The fluttering of your tight walls against him was unbearable, truly torturous—he couldn’t do it anymore.

His eyes blinked open to watch you as your hands crept up the length of his strained arms, fingers deftly untying the knots that held him hostage to the bed. His arms fell limp at his sides when released from their hold, and he looked up at you with wide eyes, glassy with tears.

You pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Been so good for me, baby. Go ahead and take what you want, Marc, it’s yours. Cum for me.”

Something snapped inside of him. A vein throbbed in his forehead as his hands flew to your hips, planting you firmly against him as he began to thrust up into you at a rapid pace, his hips slamming against your thighs loudly and roughly. You yelped in surprise at his sudden burst of energy, and he was staring intently at the place where his cock was splitting you open, hips relentlessly pistonning upwards into you as he slammed your body down against him to meet each thrust.

You didn’t expect to cum again, but the harsh drag of his cock inside of you as his hands grounded you firmly sent you hurling across the edge, your cunt clamping down on his aching length as you pulled him across the threshold with you.

“Oh fuck, yes, yes, gonna fill you up, baby, cummin’ so hard, fuuuck—”

Each harsh pump upwards was punctuated with a grunt as he spilled inside of you, his cock pumping you full of his white hot seed as he continued pounding into you relentlessly. Even as you came down from the climax that had blindsided you, and even after he’d completely emptied himself inside of your slick walls, he continued rutting up into you, his face contorted in a look of pain and determination as he gritted his teeth.

“Woah, Marc, hey, hey, slow down—”

You urged, reached to wrap your fingers around his wrists from where they were still firmly attached to your waist, the wet sounds of his cock still pumping in and out of you filling the room. His eyes finally looked up to you, the haziness clearing as your worried face settled on him.

“It’s okay, Marc, you’re okay.”

You assured, and he finally let your full weight rest down onto him, his body slowly rolling to a halt as the aftershocks of his intense pleasure pulsed through his limbs, blood pumping loudly in his ears. He was breathing heavily, his heart beating against his ribcage harshly, but his eyes watched you as you smiled down at him, reaching forward to cup his jaw in one hand as the other ran through his sweaty hair.

“There we go. There you are. There’s my handsome boy.”

All at once, he collapsed into a fit of sobs again, sitting up to pull you against his chest impossibly tight as he wrapped his arms around you. You felt your heart break as you coddled him, one hand stroking the back of his head and the other rubbing soothing patterns into the bare skin of his back. Years and years of internalized vulnerability spilled out of him in your embrace, and you held him there until his stuttering cries turned into shaky exhales, his face buried in the crook of his neck. He fell back into the pillows, pulling you down on top of him and keeping you snugly pulled against his body.

His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, and you could feel Marc’s cum leaking out and creating a stickiness between your thighs and atop his hips. When you shifted to move, he tightened his hold, his breath wavering just slightly.

“Please, don’t. Just—stay with me. Like this. For just awhile longer. Please.”

He whispered against your temple, begging for this brief moment of reprieve, of absolution, of solace. You sank into his chest, breathing in his heady scent and allowing yourself to indulge in the intimacy of this moment, too—a moment of comfort, of safety, of resolve.

Marc had one final thought before sleep overtook him.

Is this what being okay feels like?

TAGLIST: @kezibear143 @gingermous @josephquinncore @steven-grants-world @am-3-thyst @fanofverymanythings @vaneyvfs @theboggyman @belladri @roserfz27 @nowayhomerry @justanotherkpopstanlol @bagsy-not-it @elles-mind-palace @pimosworld @winterbiip @moonmoonboys @icuminurbutt @spxctorsslxt @fandomqueen74 @freerangesweets @wumpsquill @wordacadabra @lunaleah @hornkneeforbucky @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[hmslusitania]

For the OTP prompts - TimKon #2 👀

Please enjoy some boys being very silly in a nebulous Young Justice timeline, to the prompt of "I'm dying." "You're not dying."

“I’m dying,” Kon proclaims, draping himself dramatically over the back of the couch in their headquarters, his wrist pressed to his forehead like a caricature of a Victorian maiden swooning on a fainting couch.

“You’re not dying,” Tim snaps, rolling his eyes. He’s trying to fill out reports, because that had been part of the Justice League’s terms for letting them continue to operate — paperwork. He and Cassie had rock-paper-scissored about which of them had to do said paperwork, and after losing and taking one look at the Batman-formatted report papers, she’d declared that she was making him Young Justice’s secretary, and declared it his responsibility.

“You don’t know,” Kon complains, pushing off from the ground so he rolls all the way over the back of the couch. He manages to twist while he falls so that he lands on his stomach with his arms folded around one of the throw pillows Cissie had brought in because they “brightened up the place.” “I totally could be.”

“You can’t actually die of boredom,” Tim scolds.

“I’m sure there’s gotta be a rogue somewhere who can do that,” Kon says, which is… almost certainly true and Tim kinda hates that. “For all you know, I got whammied by it, and now unless you entertain me, I’m gonna die of the stupidest bullshit ever.”

“I am the wrong Robin if you want entertainment,” Tim says. “Dick was the one who was a literal circus performer.”

“Yeah, because I’m just gonna pop over to Titans tower and ask Nightwing to do backflips for my entertainment,” Kon scoffs.

“Well, I’m not gonna do backflips for your entertainment,” Tim replies, signs the bottom of the report, and flips it into the finished stack. As he reaches for the next one, Kon scrambles down to the end of the couch closest to Tim’s table.

“Can you actually do a backflip?” he asks.

Tim sighs. “Yeah.”

“Woooow,” Kon says, dragging the syllable out. Tim makes the mistake of glancing his way and discovers Kon watching him with a challenge brightening his face. “That would be super hot, if I believed you.”

“See, I know you’re just trying to goad me, so that’s not gonna work,” Tim says, and focuses on his paperwork. The looming, omnipresent threat of Bruce’s disapproval if he doesn’t get them filled out correctly and in a timely manner is good enough incentive to keep him from being distracted by Kon’s… everything.

“Sure, okay,” Kon says, and flips over onto his back with his hands folded behind his head. Tim makes a further mistake when he looks again and gets a good eyeful of the way Kon’s biceps are straining the leather of his jacket these days.

In a kinder world, growing up surrounded by superheroes had rendered him immune to distraction by traditional superhero physique. Unfortunately, no one’s ever accused their corner of the multiverse of being a kinder world.

Well. Except Earth-3 people, but that’s a special case.

“I’ll just sit here, content in the knowledge you lied about something stupid so that you could sound cool,” Kon says.

It shouldn’t actually get to him, but it does, and Tim kind of hates himself for that a little.

Grumbling the whole time so Kon knows exactly how much of a pain in the ass he’s being, Tim stands up, checks his clearances, and does a backflip, exactly like Dick taught him.

To his surprise, Kon doesn’t verbally respond. When Tim looks over to see what’s wrong with him, or what’s distracted him, he finds Kon just… staring at him. Blinking widely. Face slightly pink.

It makes Tim blush in response as well, without meaning to, and he kind of hates that too.

“See, I was just fucking with you—”

“Yeah, I noticed, actually.”

“—but that was actually super hot.”

Tim’s blush goes from faint to on-the-verge-of-combustion, and he takes his seat back at the table to keep doing his reports, vividly aware that Kon is now staring at him from the couch with an expression on his face that’s not wholly dissimilar to one of Damian’s cats when it’s getting ready to pounce.

“Tim,” Kon says, and Tim swears to god there’s a hint of a purr in the back of his throat.

Kryptonians and Cats. There’s probably a whole research paper in there Tim could cook up if he wanted to.

“I’m trying to keep the Justice League from shutting us down,” Tim protests. “I’m not doing another backflip for you.”

Kon huffs and launches himself into the air only to hover over Tim’s head, looking down at him and looming ominously. Tim doesn’t flinch when Kon leans down to grab his face in both hands, but it’s only Batman training that saves him. Batman training, and rapidly growing annoyance when Kon squishes his cheeks together and lowers down until Kon’s upside down face is directly in front of his.

“Tim,” Kon repeats. “You’re hot.”

“Thanks,” Tim says, voice coming out weirdly squashed thanks to Kon’s compression of his face. “So are you.”

Kon beams at him and brushes the tip of his nose against Tim’s, and then drops down another few inches so he can kiss him.

It’s not their first kiss, or even their first outside of sleepover night truth or dare and spin-the-bottle games, but this whole thing developing between them is still new enough that it might be within the counting-on-his-fingers range.

Kon nibbles lightly on his bottom lip and then faster than Tim can blink, he’s flipping around in mid-air only to land in Tim’s lap, hands still squishing Tim’s cheeks together.

“And I think, you should kiss me some more before I die of boredom and you have to find a new heavy hitter for your team,” Kon says. “Think about it. Do you want to get this paperwork submitted just on time rather than obnoxiously early, or do you want to have to figure out how to fill out paperwork for ‘I accidentally let Kon-El languish away to nothing out of boredom because I wouldn’t kiss him’ paperwork?”

“I think I’d make up a different cause of death for the paperwork,” Tim replies, waits until Kon’s scrunched up his nose and his whole face in disappointment, and only then does he give up on paperwork for the time being, and kiss him.

[queeranarchism]



Since it's been a while since I sang the praises of my favorite book 'Anarchy Works' by Peter Gelderloos: here's a reminder that there is an easy to read anarchism book out there organized around frequently asked questions and it's online for free with the authors consent. I'll copy-paste them all just to showcase how great it is:

Introduction

Anarchy Would Never Work

What exactly is anarchism?

A note on inspiration

The tricky topic of representation

Recommended Reading

1. Human Nature

Aren’t people naturally selfish?

Aren’t people naturally competitive?

Haven’t humans always been patriarchal?

Aren’t people naturally warlike?

Aren’t domination and authority natural?

A broader sense of self

Recommended Reading

2. Decisions

How will decisions be made?

How will decisions be enforced?

Who will settle disputes?

Meeting in the streets

Recommended Reading

3. Economy

Without wages, what is the incentive to work?

Don’t people need bosses and experts?

Who will take out the trash?

Who will take care of the elderly and disabled?

How will people get healthcare?

What about education?

What about technology?

How will exchange work?

What about people who don’t want to give up a consumerist lifestyle?

What about building and organizing large, spread-out infrastructure?

How will cities work?

What about drought, famine, or other catastrophes?

Meeting our needs without keeping count

Recommended Reading

4. Environment

What’s to stop someone from destroying the environment?

What about global environmental problems, like climate change?

The only way to save the planet

Recommended Reading

5. Crime

Who will protect us without police?

What about gangs and bullies?

What’s to stop someone from killing people?

What about rape, domestic violence, and other forms of harm?

Beyond individual justice

Recommended Reading

6. Revolution

How could people organized horizontally possibly overcome the state?

How do we know revolutionaries won’t become new authorities?

How will communities decide to organize themselves at first?

How will reparations for past oppressions be worked out?

How will a common, anti-authoritarian, ecological ethos come about?

A revolution that is many revolutions

Recommended Reading

7. Neighboring Societies

Could an anarchist society defend itself from an authoritarian neighbor?

What will we do about societies that remain patriarchal or racist?

What will prevent constant warfare and feuding?

Networks not borders

Recommended Reading

8. The Future

Won’t the state just reemerge over time?

What about other problems we can’t foresee?

Making Anarchy Work

Recommended Reading

It Works When We Make It Work

There, all you gotta do is click the question and read! Or start at the beginning and read the whole book if you want the best reading experience. It’s one of my favorite books. It doesn’t cover everything but it’s a great place to start.

[buckyalpine]

Catch Me If You Can 1/3

Mob!Bucky x Single mom police officer Reader 

This is a crack fic, ridiculousness, cuteness, angstttt. 

Warnings: Kidnapping, fluffffff, single mom reader, crappy ex, Mob Bucky is a whole ass warning 

LMK how you feel about these 2 

Part 2

Part 3

-

The plan was simple. Not the most ideal, not the first thing the mob boss would have planned to but desperate times called for desperate measures. He needed this shipment to go through and he was done being patient. 

“We gotta move quick” Bucky murmured, driving slowly behind the target, the dark windows of the SUV making it impossible to see who was inside. As soon as the traffic light turned red, they stopped the truck, swinging the doors open and stepping in front of their mark. 

“Hey! What are you-” 

“Shh, just get in the car” Bucky towered over him, his face stern, cocking an eyebrow at the big eyes that stared up at him. Sam and Steve were by his side with equally stoic expressions, nodding to the open door, their hostage reluctantly getting into the backseat with an annoyed huff. They drove to Bucky’s club, target in tow as they made their way to the office, strange looks exchanged by patrons, looking at Bucky’s latest captive. 

Steve shut the door while Bucky strode across the room to answer a call, breathing a sigh of relief hearing the deal had gone off without a hitch. Nothing had been seized and the deal was set, thanks to his last minute decision. He reached for a crystal decanter, pouring a glass of whiskey for himself when a voice caught his attention. 

“Why am I here” Bucky turned around to face all 4 feet, 2 inches of his hostage, little furrowed brows knitted in the middle, arms crossed with his chest puffed out, a heavy bookbag making his solid stance a little wobbly. “Is this because my mommy wants to put you in jail?” Bucky nearly choked on his whisky while Steve snorted, doing a poor job to mask his laugh. “I can see why. Kidnapping is against the law” 

By this point, both Sam and Steve were nearly on the floor, attempting to keep their stoic expressions on by covering their mouths, covering their laugh with a cough. Bucky raised a brow, not sure if he was insulted or impressed at the sass and lack of fear the 8 year old had. None of them were exactly fans of anything that involved children. It was an unspoken rule; children were always left untouched. He had to break that rule this time though, knowing if things had gone south, it would have led to a gang war which would have been far worse than the stunt he just pulled kidnapping a police offers son. 

Police officer. 

Bucky had most of the justice system and law enforcement at his fingertips, all happily bowing to his bidding, letting his deals and illegal activities slip under the radar. Most were more than happy to comply with what he asked. Most were happy to turn a blind eye. 

Except the departments newest officer. 

The absolute bane of his very existence.

The only person who had actually ever managed to get him arrested though he was quickly released; no one else wanting to get on his bad side by actually pressing charges. 

But you refused to back down.

At first Bucky brushed it off, figuring you’d get with the program and eventually quieten down but no. You were constantly there, making his job more difficult than it had to be, your irritatingly righteous need to keep the city free of gang activity driving him up the wall. 

The last straw was a few weeks ago when he had set up an arms deal with the East side of the city, an exchange of weapons, but more importantly, a possible alliance between groups. Things going successfully would mean more protection for both the North and East and stronger joint front. You had managed to track communication between the groups, readying a team to shut down the exchange, ignoring the warnings you got from the mob boss. 

Bucky was done playing nice. 

It was more than the police just showing up. His power meant everyone listened to him. No one, not even the law disobeyed or strayed from his word. A single officer looking to take him down would have shown weakness; that he didn’t have all the control he should have. Weak links were unacceptable.

Which lead to his plan.

To hold onto your son for awhile so you’d abandon the plan you’d put together, none of your colleagues willing to stop anything on their own, everyone retreating far away from the deal while it took place. 

And it worked. 

He had managed to take your son while he was on his way home from school and you had been informed of his location. Everything else went smoothly; problem solved. Still, nothing prepared him for how unbothered and how at ease his little captive would be. 

“I’m guessing you’re the man mommy calls -” Your son blinked at Bucky, chewing his lips, thinking for a moment before continuing. “She says I can’t use those words. I’m gonna call you Uncle Bucky” He shrugged, plopping onto the chair, grabbing one of Bucky’s fountain pens, proceeding to doodle on a notepad on the desk. 

“You-you can’t-” For the first time in his life Bucky found himself speechless, looking incredulously at the little boy proceed to draw, the mop of dark brown hair on his head, covering his eyes slightly. 

“It’s Mr. Barnes” He muttered, while your son tossed his book bag off to grab a comic book that was inside, drawing a character that was on the cover. 

“It’s Jordan” your son replied, now fully focused on his Batman cartoon. 

“I like this kid” Steve half wheezed while Bucky stared at the little thing in front of him, his lips struggling to stay in a firm line, the corners itching to tug up into a smile. 

“Mommy said you’re a bad man” He piqued, looking at the mob boss from the corner of his eye, “I can’t say you did yourself any favors today Mr. Uncle Bucky” 

Before Steve and Sam could full on belly laugh, your panicked voice carried through the bar, nearing the office. 

“Jordan? Jordan!”  The office doors slammed open to your frantic face, running over to your little one as soon as your eyes landed on him, scooping him in your arms, “Baby, are you okay?”

Bucky felt his heart soften for a moment, watching your heart break and mend itself all at once as soon as you had your son wrapped in your arms again. He shook his head, reminding himself of why he took your son in the first place, ignoring the warmth that was trying to melt his soul. 

“You fu-” You bit your tongue, taking deep breath, keeping in mind there were little ears listening. “How could you?!”

“Had to get a message across doll, you don’t seem to listen” Bucky shrugged while you let out a law growl, hauling your son up and grabbing his school bag, wanting to get him out of there and back home more than anything else. 

“This isn’t over” You shot over your shoulder before leaving the office and exiting the bar. Bucky couldn’t help but smirk slightly, he didn’t like you but he couldn’t help but admire the fiery fearless side of you that never backed down, not even to him. 

“M’sure it isn’t, mama bear” Bucky murmured to himself, inspecting the little doodle your son left behind; an image of Batman and a small Robin. 

Of course you were not able to do anything about the kidnapping; none of the higher ups were willing to put their neck on the line to arrest Bucky and your boss shrugged, giving you a very pointed I told you so look. 

Jordan also seemed unaffected with the whole ordeal, often asking you what Uncle Bucky was up to these days as if he were a colleague from work. Truthfully, you were not even 100% what Bucky had been up to. Things had been suspiciously calm ever since the incident happened and while you were thankful for some peace and quiet, you wondered if he was up to something. 

Nothing was ever quiet with that man. 

Meanwhile you also had other problems to deal with. While work calmed down, your stress was higher than ever looking at the number of missed calls on you phone from Jordan’s father. The very man who decided he wanted nothing to do with either of you the day you found out you were pregnant. The man who promptly kicked you out of the house to fend for yourself. The man who had now decided would be a great time to reenter your sons life and be a stand up father. 

And maybe get some spousal benefits from your job. 

You could never catch a break. 

A few weeks later - Bucky’s office

“You kept this, huh?” Steve picked up the doodle on Bucky’s desk, smiling at the way Bucky’s eyes grew wide before trying to back to his signature frown.  

“Didn’t notice” Bucky lied, though his best friend could see right through him, knowing Bucky didn’t keep just anything on his table, every single item on the desk having a purpose. 

“He kinda reminds me of you” Steve pointed out, thinking back to all the times little Bucky had stood up for him when they were kids, putting on a brave face in front of the meanest. “Kinda looks like you too” 

“Hm” Bucky grunted, wondering himself why he still had the picture. He made a conscious decision not to throw it out; each time he had to write something down, he’d grab a paper below it and carefully put the drawing back on top. Steve was right; Jordan did look like him when he was little and had the same feisty, sassy personality as he did though he was sure the bravery your son had was from you. 

You.

In a strange way, Bucky missed having to deal with your nagging and threats to take him down; business had been quiet so there wasn’t a reason for you to chase after him. You made things interesting; it’s not that he wanted anyone to make his job harder than it had to be but sometimes the challenge was nice. Plus it didn’t hurt that you absolutely gor-

For fucks sake. 

“I need a drink” Bucky shook his head, flicking away the odd feeling he started to feel in his tummy, deciding he needed something stiff over whatever he had stashed in his office. Steve snorted, easily reading his friends thoughts while they made their way to a locked cabinet below the bar counter, fishing for something that would silence unnecessary thoughts. He grabbed a glass, dropping in two ice cubes and filling the glass, taking a long draw of the dark liquid before his attention was pulled elsewhere. 

Bucky’s eyes grew wide seeing the mop of dark hair and big eyes make its way through the crowded bar, customers giving each other strange glances at the little boy with a school bag who had no business being in a gang leaders club.   

“Kid, what are you-

“Mommy’s hurt” Jordan looked up at Bucky with teary eyes, swallowing away the lump that formed in his throat, putting his best brave face on instead, now wasn’t the time to cry. 

“What?”

“She - someone hurt her” 

The thought of someone hurting you sent a surge of anger through Bucky, his jaw clenching as he slammed his glass down. It was ironic, considering the number of times he had wished you would disappear but not like this. Not once had he ever thought of hurting you; at the end of the day, you had always stood for what was right. 

“Where is she” Bucky took Jordan’s hand in his, holding it firmly to ground him while making his way outside and towards the SUV. He didn’t have to even look at Steve to know he was already by his side and sliding into the drivers seat. 

“Home, we live on-”

“I know where you live kid” Bucky chuckled slightly while Steve was already weaving through traffic and pulling up to your street, screeching to a halt in front of your house. 

Bucky helped Jordan hop out of the SUV and lead him to you, the front door left while open with the handle broken off. There were clear signs of a struggle, seeing broken pictures on the floor and a few dents in the walls, the mess continuing all the way up the stairs to your bedroom. Bucky instructed Jordan to wait downstairs with Steve, worried about what condition he was going to find you in. 

You were holding yourself up against the wall, your arm clutching your bloodied side, putting pressure on the gash that sliced you. Your head still throbbing from where you had been hit. You could barely register what was happening, gasping at the sound of Bucky’s voice suddenly in your room. 

“C’mon, doll” His arm snaked around you, pulling you to his, holding up some of your weight. 

“Where are we going” You wanted to fight back but the pain was making you dizzy and spots were starting to cloud your vision. 

“We’re -woah-” Bucky caught you before you slipped, scooping you in his arms, bridal style “We’re going to get you fixed up” He spoke softly, carrying you out of your room and carefully down the stairs towards the SUV. You were in too much pain to protest, slipping in and out of consciousness during the drive over. 

Steve had already slipped Jordan into the front seat, the both of them chatting over who would win in a hotdog eating competition; Superman, Batman or the Joker. He could see Jordan sneak worried glances behind him to look over at you, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. 

“She’ll be okay” Steve whispered to him, giving him a reassuring smile as he pulled up to the mansion. “Your mama’s strong, y’know she’s the only one Uncle Bucky is scared of” He gave your son a wink before helping him out of the car and opening the door so Bucky could carry you to his room. He carefully set you down on his bed, wasting no time grabbing a first aid kit he kept tucked under the bed for emergencies while you groaned, trying to sit up. 

“Barnes, what are you-”

“Just lie down doll, let me clean this up first” He carefully lifted your blouse to assess how bad the injury was, soaking a cotton ball in some disinfectant.

“Ah!-” You winced, hissing out in pain at the saturated cotton ball Bucky pressed onto your skin, cleaning the area as gently as he could, his focus shifting between getting you better and wondering who did this to you. He’d have to worry about that later. 

“Sorry, sorry” Bucky murmured, gently blowing onto the cleaned area, cooling your skin before grabbing a needle and threat, starting on some sutures to close the gash. “I’ll be quick, just bear with me” You gritted your teeth feeling the needle poke you.

“How-how do you know how to do this” Your voice was strained, struggling to keep it steady while Bucky threaded the needle as gently and quickly as possible, neatly closing off the gash. 

“Gotta know this in my line of work, sugar” He smirked giving you a lopsided grin when you rolled your eyes, squeaking when he gently pushed you back down when you tried to get up. “Rest for a bit” 

You reluctantly laid against the plush mattress looking up at the baby blue eyes softly peering down at you, the same blue eyes your normally wanted to poke out of frustration. 

“I’ll be fine, we can go ho-” You were going to say you could go home but it was clear home wasn’t the safest option, not after what had just happened. 

“C’mon, stay here for the night” He wasn’t exactly going to leave you room to do anything else, there was no way he was going to let you go home after what he had just seen. He was more than happy to sleep in a tent outside of his own home if it meant you’d just stay somewhere safe. “At least for today” 

“I-we can’t-Jordan-” 

“-WOULD LOVE TO STAY HERE” 

Bucky let out a genuine laugh hearing your sons voice carried through the doorway where he was clearly eavesdropping. You snorted, shaking your head and closing your eyes at your sons antics, exhaustion making it hard for you to move anyway. 

“We shouldn’t be here” You whispered, feeling your conscious battle within yourself. You were supposed to be fighting for the right side of the law. Bucky was the opposite of that. Then why didn’t this feel wrong? You’d spent countless hours trying to put him away. So why did you feel so safe? 

“I don’t-

“Just for tonight” Bucky stated softly but firmly, leaving you little room to argue. He grabbed you a tshirt and some joggers of his, letting you clean off and chance while he slipped out of the room. He was met with curious eyes peering up at him, your son patiently waiting to know if you were okay. 

“She’s okay, just getting cleaned up. Let your mama rest” Bucky whispered, leading Jordan to the TV room where Peter was busying himself with video games. “Hey Parker, brought you a worthy opponent” Peter grinned, handing Jordan a controller and shifting over so he could plop down beside him. 

“She’s gonna be okay?” Jordan whispered up at Bucky, feeling a sense of calm around the man his mom usually used no-no words to describe. Surely he couldn’t be that bad? 

“No one’s stronger than your mama” Bucky smiled, ruffling his hair before coming back to check on you. You had slipped back into bed, ignoring the way Bucky’s clothes were soft and comfy to wear, his scent making your insides flutter unnecessarily. 

“Don’t you look cozy, officer” Bucky smirked, sauntering over with a glass of water and pain killers, leaving them on the bedside table for you. You rolled your eyes though gratefully taking 2 tablets for your aching head. 

“Where’s Jordan?” 

“Currently beating everyone’s ass in Mario Kart” 

“This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook Barnes” You tried to keep your voice firm but the playful smirk he was giving you was infectious. You bit your lip to keep your lips from tugging up, choosing to frown more instead but that only seemed to egg him on more. 

“Course, darlin’“ He drawled out, giving you a wink before bidding you good night, “Wouldn’t have it any other way” He turned the light off and gently shut the door, making his way back down to make sure Jordan had something for dinner. 

You pulled the covers up, sighing into the soft plush pillows and sheets, letting sleep take over, ignoring the way your inner conscious continued to debate itself. He didn’t have to help you. Didn’t have to keep you safe. Didn’t have to do any of this and yet here you were. You and your son. Both safe. Because of him. 

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all...

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc  @buckybarnessweetheart  @pandaxnienke  @manyfandomsfanvergent 

[snowyquokka]

Hiiii how are you

I have e a request for han or seungmin that their enemies and they have to go to a party that their friends are going to and the reader gets really drunk so they help them and they both confess to liking each other and it's just really fluffy

I hope I explained that the right way

Ps love your work

Lots of love A<3

BUTTERFLIES

frat boy han jisung x fem reader

cw: mature themes MDNI, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption (both above age), swearing, angst EVEN THOUGH IT WAS SUPPOSED TO ONLY BE FLUFF, second chance lovers, college au, blah blah blah

wc: 1.2k

a.n - i apologize for this taking me so long but i really wanted to get it right and do the prompt justice. i absolutely loved writing this and i appreciate the request !! (thank you ina for letting me blow up your dms over this <3)

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“You are so fucking lucky I love you,” you mutter as you walk into a frat party with your best friend, Mina. She wouldn’t stop pestering you about ‘coming out of your shell’ and ‘loosening up.’

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll thank me later, babe. And don’t worry, I’m the DD tonight. Have fun, seriously.” she smiles. You’d be lying if you said that deep down - very deep, like in the abyss of your soul - you weren’t grateful for her making you leave your room, where she thought you’d live forever if she didn’t have a say.

“Oo, lookie!” Mina exclaims as she points out two guys leaning against the kitchen island. Lee Minho and you’ve gotta be kidding me,

“Mina, no. You’ve got me fifty shades of fucked up if you think I’m gonna go talk to Han,” you make a face at the bitter taste of his name.

“You haven’t even spoken to him in what,” she counts on her fingers, “…8 months?

“Mina, I don’t think getting coffee at the same shop counts as talking.” you roll your eyes, “He’s a complete dickhead who has absolutely no consideration for others,” Mina shrugs and grabs your arm before dragging you over towards the two men despite your protests.

You immediately catch Jisung’s attention, watching as a small smirk tugs on his lips.

“Ah, Mina! How are you?” Minho beams at your best friend.

While they get caught up in their conversation you look around and spot a tray of Jell-O shots sitting on the counter unattended. Shrugging your shoulders, you pick one up and down it with zero hesitation.

Without even registering it, you consume three in less than two minutes. At least you’re enjoying yourself, right?

“I’d be careful if I were you, nabi.” You cringe at the nickname as Jisung’s voice cuts through the music playing in the background. You turn around to face him with a groan.

“I’m not in the mood, Han.” you grab another shot.

“Ouch. Back to last names, are we?” Jisung clutches his chest in mock pain, earning an eye roll from you. You glance over at Mina - or rather, where she was standing five minutes ago.

“Where’d they go?” You nod towards the now empty space.

“Probably going to fuck,” he shrugs, “Who knows?”

You huff and cross your arms over your chest.

“Oh come on, nabi. You can’t avoid me forever.” Your cheeks redden in annoyance.

“I can and I will actually. Also, stop calling me that.”

He scoffs as you walk away with yet another shot in your hand.

After a few moments of hesitation, he reluctantly follows you. “Wait. Can we ta-“

Jisung cuts himself off at the sight of you dancing with some guy from his fraternity, his hands on your hips as you sway them to the beat. Something in Jisung’s chest twists and a pit forms in his stomach. Shaking his head and pushing down his feelings, he turns to walk away.

Not worth it, Ji.

That is until he hears your laugh. Your sweet, gentle, angelic laugh. Sparked by someone who looks like they’d forget your name before he even gets what he wants from you.

Fuck. All. That.

Jisung downs the rest of his beer and stalks towards the two of you.

“Get your fucking hands off my girl.” he glares at the other man.

Jisung ignores him and snatches your wrist and drags you away, careful not to let you fall.

“J - Han get off of me,” you sputter as you attempt to set yourself free as he guides you upstairs to a vacant bedroom.

“I am not yours, asshole.” you wipe your palms down your dress in order to try to make it stretch a little more past your thighs. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed by Jisung who has to force himself to tear his eyes away from your curves. Curves that he’s dreamt of holding underneath his fingertips for years.

“Why won’t you have one conversation with me? You’re acting like we weren’t inseparable two years ago,” Jisung runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol giving him confidence or if it’s his physical need to be as close as he can to you.

“You left, what did you expect to happen?” you let out once your mind starts to uncloud.

Jisung advances towards you, the beat of the music downstairs matching your racing pulse. With each step he takes, your heart knots tighter and tighter. Once he reaches you he places his hand on the wall beside you, caging you in.

Your senses heighten and the intensity of his gaze forces you to shrink yet you carry on, “You didn’t even care about what I had to say about it. In fact, I didn’t even know you were going until three hours before your flight took off.”

Your words are like a knife to his abdomen.

He searches your eyes for something - anything - other than pain.

Nothing.

The knife twists in his gut.

You don’t realize you’re crying until Jisung’s hand comes up to brush your tears off of your cheeks.

“I’ve hated myself everyday for the past two years, nabi. I thought of coming back to you but..” he trails off.

“Ji, don’t do this to me. I can’t. Please.” your voice shakes more than you would like it to as you try to warrant off more tears. You’ve always been an emotional drunk, but this? This is next level.

“You know, the moment I found out where you were going to college I immediately applied there? And then I applied to every college in the area, just in case I didn’t get accepted,” his voice drops to a mere whisper, “I did it because I wanted to fix us. I want to fix us.”

Your mouth falls slightly agape as you attempt to process the absolute bomb he just threw at you,

“It would’ve been easier if I hadn’t..” you cut off and wipe your mascara-stained cheeks, tilting your head back against the wall and closing your eyes. You’re too afraid to acknowledge the truth.

You’ve always been too afraid.

Though, you aren’t very sure what the truth is, exactly.

Jisung leans in and speaks softly into your ear, “I fell in love, too.”

Your eyes flutter open to see him nose-to-nose with you.

Warmth that has nothing to do with the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed spreads throughout you, head to toe, and something velvety skates along your soul.

“Butterflies,” you mumble unwittingly.

Jisung smiles softly and leans his forehead against yours.

“Can you find somewhere in that big, beautiful heart for me?” he looks down and threads his fingers with yours.

“No need,” you smile, “it was all yours to begin with.”

tags: @godslino @skzstarnet @anakin-sweetheart

divider: @chaeneuu

[ari-cuno]

A little drabble I wrote after some inspiration and a little break between drawing some art <3

I just wanted to experiment and see how an interaction like this would go between them. It was supposed to be angst but I couldn't help changing it a bit. >3<

Please let me know if I did the couch potato justice @zu-is-here and if there's anything else I could've done better!

“Aim…” Axel mumbled, looking as if he were ready to crumble or disappear from the anxiety in his soul. It formed a painful lump, making his words struggle to come out properly. But under all that was the undying love and trust of the man before him. In all his unconditional love there was still part of him that needed to know, it needed to know that Aim was truly there, and that he was his, no matter how murky the waters they swam in were. Of course it was a silly question though. He knew that answer well enough. Aim was his, but…was Axel himself Aim's? 

“...I need you, Aim.” His voice finally managed to say. “...But I don't know if you need me.” He admitted quietly, his voice suddenly breaking.

Aim, sitting on the other side of the bed, turned to look at the distressed skeleton, offering him a look of comfort with some sort of humor attached to it. “What do ya mean? Of course I need you.” He said, sounding slightly surprised by how the shorter skeleton only seemed to look sadder at his reply. 

“...No- just- ugh! You don't understand!” Axel cried out as he sat on the opposite side of the bed. “You seemed so fine before I came back to find you. Part of me wonders if I'm being selfish by asking so much of you. You don't owe me your companionship. But…but I want it, I crave it, and I crave you.” He said, looking frustrated. 

“...Heh, you have no idea how nice it is having you around.” Aim said, laying back on the mattress, his arms resting above his head. That response made Axel look at him with surprise. 

“If anything I probably need you more. I mean, I must've been really stuck in your head to make you come back after so long. Like a rattle in your skull?” He said in a lighthearted tone, watching Axel's face flush as he looked away. 

“Hm…something like that.” Axel said quietly. 

“This whole thing between us isn't bad. You've already done so much for me and-” Aim paused, noticing the little glitter from a tear that streamed down Axel's cheek. Oh no, had he said something wrong? 

“You're right. You have been stuck in my head forever, and you have no idea how great it was to see you again, but…I don't want to push my feelings on you like this.” Axel said quietly, letting out a little laugh through a few sobs. 

“Stars…oh stars…how are we going to make this work?” He said meekly, voice full of raw vulnerability and sorrow. His soul fluttered intensely in his chest any time he laid eyes on the man before him, couch-potato and lazy-bones aside. 

“Axel, you're crying-” Aim tried, sitting up. 

“Of course I am…this is never going to work!” Axel cried out, trying to wipe his tears away. “I can't even kiss you-”

“You can.” Aim replied. 

“...what?” Axel said, lifting his head up to look at him, surprised by his answer. Aim looked at him with a more genuine smile. “Is that why you are so upset? Are you afraid to ask me for a hug or a kiss?” The larger skeleton asked with a little grin. 

“I might not get it, but we're a team. One member just can't pull all the weight, I'm too heavy for you to be carrying all the weight of us. I can try my best for you if it will make you happy, just ask. There's nothing wrong giving back to my ‘partner’, eh?” Aim grinned, winking under his goggles. 

Axel stared, the glitchy skeletons gaze was  less upset, and more just shocked and moved by his words. “...you'd…you'd do that for me? Aim please…your boundaries, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.” He said gently, trying to be careful with his wording. 

“Oi! I don't mind as long as you're happy by the end of it, I gotta keep the hand who feeds me happy, don't i?~” 

Axel rolled his eyes, sighing. He wiped the tears from his eyes, taking in a steady breath to calm himself. “Well…” he said, moving closer to Aim, their bodies close in contact. 

“...I've always wanted to see you without your goggles. The real you. I miss your beautiful eye lights. Please…let me see you.” Axel whispered, shifting his potion, sitting right in front of Aim as he reached out to the ever important goggles that hid Aim's orange eyelights. 

Aim seemed to hesitate, looking unsure as Axel grabbed the edges of his goggles with care. “Heh…they really haven't changed much.” He said, struggling to keep the smile on his face. “Are you sure it's worth your time?” The larger skeleton asked. 

Axel frowned, lifting his goggles above his head gently. “...I'm sure.” He said firmly, cupping Aim's face with his hands, lifting himself up and settling amongst his partner's lap. He moved his face closer to Aim's, a small smile of appreciation and adoration flashing across his face. He was warm, very warm, and the way his eyelights stared back at him caused Axel's soul to flutter intensely with delight. 

He leaned it, pressing his nose against Aim's, an affection nuzzle. “...Is this okay?” He asked after a few tense moments of silence, staring into Aim's face. The other skeleton seemed quite relaxed, his eye lights faintly illuminating the space between them like a dim light, a small light compared to the blue hue spread across Axel's face.

“Of course.” Aim said calmly, “...you know, you're actually pretty light, heh.” He teased. 

“Feeling better?” Aim asked for a few moments, the warmth between them being pleasant, like a warm blanket on a cold day. Axel hesitated, his hands resting on Aim's chest as he let them go from his face. 

“...May I kiss you?” Axel asked, before stopping to think for a second. “-and more?” He asked with an added huskiness to his voice, his soul beating heavily against his ribcage in a flurry of emotions. 

“Sure.” Aim said simply, leaning back. His simple response caught Axel off guard. Stars, did he really trust him that much? Axel looked starstruck, staring at Aim with sparkling eyes full of a swirl of positive emotions, the tears on his face long dry. 

Aim noticed, looking a little concerned, “You alright-?” He questioned, before he was cut off, his words swallowed up as Axel leaned in, pressing their mouths together in a soft, delicate motion. Axel held himself there for several moments, his breath held as he made contact with Aim, a warmth spreading over him, and a warmth he missed once he pulled away. 

His voice came out in a soft tone, full of emotion. 

“....Everything is fine.”

[xjackjackx]

AVA 11 Might Have Teased Hazard's Backstory

So. AVA 11 huh.

I could make a LOT of posts about this wham episode. But this is the big one I want to bring up. While discussing AVA 11 with my friends on Discord, we discovered that we might already know Hazard's backstory.

So. Hazard, Ballista and Primal were surprisingly absent from AVA 11. I'm pretty sure this shocked everyone; why would the origin episode not show the origins of 3/5th of the villains? Well, I still think it gave us a little teaser of what we can expect of their backstories in future episodes.

In the scene that shows the Shepherd and Steven's creation, look at this:

LOOK AT THIS

A PICTOGRAM DUDE. ON NEWGROUNDS. That's gotta be Hazard. To clarify, yes this is likely something Alan himself created; me and my friends looked this up on Newgrounds and couldn't find it. It's most likely original for AVA.

So. Hazard was on Newgrounds. He was there for a long time, before Mitsi or Chosen were even born. So why wasn't he in AVA 11 during the destruction of Newgrounds? Well, look at his work's title and description: A tribute to "Boulevard of Broken Dreams". Very specific. So, what are the lyrics to this song?

Now. Now connect this to Hazard, to the Newgrounds Incident. How in AVA canon, once your animation is destroyed you're forced onto the website you came from. This specific song was chosen for a reason. Because, in my opinion, if this truly is Hazard, then the lyrics reflect his origin story.

What am I getting at? Hazard... wasn't forced onto Newgrounds during Chosen and Dark's rampage. They just missed him. He was left untouched. Until years later, when Newgrounds is still a mess no one ever cleaned up, some rubble of destroyed buildings collapses. And then Hazard is forced out of the Outernet into Newgrounds. What does he see? Empty streets. A city that sleeps; empty of all life after everyone was killed or evacuated. He's the only one here. It's his home, and he walks alone.

Hazard sees the remnants of a warzone. Something happened. Someone destroyed his home and murdered thousands of innocents. And he wants to bring justice, to avenge all those innocent people. So when Rocket Corp claims they found the culprit, he jumps at the call.

It works perfectly. It's foreshadowed. It makes sense with the theme of Chosen's actions biting him in the ass. It fits with the theme of Victim and Agent being exposed as good, but misguided people; Hazard is also a good person at heart, who just doesn't see the full picture.

The comic relief has one of the saddest backstories of them all.

[abiiors]

everything is blue ✨ // matty healy x reader

a/n: nnn. that's it, that't the plot. gotta thank @theungracefulgrace for the idea, i hope i did it justice <3 cw: smut, thigh riding and matty is a bit pathetic in this lmao, maybe even subby??? is this my subby matty debut??? wc: 1.9k (smaller than i thought actually...)

“you two are disgusting,” george snickers from behind his drums as you make your way onto matty’s lap. 

it’s light-hearted and teasing—your friend taking the piss out of both of you but matty scoffs and you stick your tongue out.

“jealous,” you tease, “i’m going to wait until charli shows up and then we’ll talk.”

“yeah let’s talk then, mate,” matty quips from next to you and it only takes him another second to push his hands inside your t-shirt and place them on your bare stomach, almost caressing your ribs. 

it tickles and you squirm away, alerting george once more. 

“not going to start snogging in front of me, are you?” he turns around making an exaggerated vomiting gesture and scrunches his face at you. matty, almost predictably, takes that as a challenge. 

within moments, you feel his fingers lightly closing around your jaw, turning your face and capturing your lips in his. matty’s chest is pressed against your arm and his heartbeat echoes through your entire body, thrilling you to your very core when you feel the slight spike in it as your tongue grazes his bottom lip. his other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer as matty deepens the kiss and hums in your mouth, sending vibrations through your entire body. in turn your heart skips a beat. you don’t break apart until you hear a loud cough in the vicinity. and george stares back at both of you, truly disgruntled now. 

“bleurgh,” he makes a face. “like i said, digusting.”

“and like she said,” matty snorts, “jealous.”

“simp!”

“idiot!”

“oh, very clever mate!”

“oh—”

“alright, that’s it!” you interrupt matty before he can retort any further and he glares at you in return. “you’re fighting like twelve year olds.”

matty smirks. “weren’t snogging me like—”

you clamp your hand over matty’s mouth before he can finish his vulgar sentence earning you two juvenile giggles—one slightly muffled by your hand. 

“you are like an animal,” george teases again, earning an expression of utter betrayal from matty. 

“how dare yo—”

“prove it then!” he challenges. his mouth curls into a smirk and your eyes narrow. you know this expression on george. you know he’s up to something. 

“we are in november,” he grins cheekily. “the month of chastity and all.”

“can it!” you warn but it’s too late. matty’s smirk already mirrors george’s. you can practically see the cogs turning in their heads and you know what’s about to happen. 

“a bet,” george shifts in his seat looking eager and devious. matty does the same, gently setting you off his lap and placing a quick apologetic kiss on your head when you protest. 

“a bet,” he repeats. 

and then with utter disgust, you watch the two men in front of you spit on their hands and shake on their deal.

at first it’s fun—watching him turn red and squirm every time you get out the shower with just a towel wrapped around you. a few times, you even see him immediately sit on his hands or busy himself in his phone, making you giggle. the few times after that, he leaves the room entirely—practically running away like a virgin catholic school boy. 

the first few days are okay, fun even. you send him a selfies—towel just high enough for your nipples to be covered, barely covering your ass, showing its curve very well with the way you pose; on your bed, wearing his t-shirt and only his t-shirt, hand buried suggestively between your thighs—matty threatens to block you, accusing you of wanting to make him lose. 

he kisses you like usual, though. that’s the one thing he can’t stop doing. if anything, it feels like his mouth is attached to yours any chance he gets. it’s like he’s compensating, even letting you straddle him and deepen it until he has to pull away with a pained expression.

“how would george know?!” you whine and watch him pout. 

“trust me, he would,” matty sighs, shoulders slumping, “i would stop looking so fucking miserable for one.”

you fume quietly, realising you let yourself become collateral damage. he is so close that his cologne permeates your fucking lungs—earthy, sweet and matty. always surrounded by the smell of cigarettes and now his body wash that’s somehow become the most enticing scent in the world. 

“can’t lose one week in, baby.” his face pinches into one big sad expression and you frown at him. 

one whole week of being so close to him and cuddling at night in bed, one week of feeling his leg part your thighs in his sleep, of feeling his thigh graze against your clit and making you hiss. one week of having him right here but not having him at all. 

you shift on his lap, feeling the coarse material of his jeans against the insides of your thighs—not that you’re wearing much, just a big t-shirt and underwear, while he’s still in his jeans and t-shirt and not yet ready for bed—and an idea sparks. 

“so don’t lose,” you smirk, moving again, straddling him with a hand on his chest. “the bet was for you to not cum. i am nowhere mentioned in it.”

“what a-are you doing?” matty stutters. he actually fucking stutters, eyes wide and roaming all over your body, particularly focused on where you’re pressed up on his thigh and already on your way to discarding your underwear. 

“what does it look like i’m doing, baby?” you lift up slightly, quickly sliding your underwear off and deliberately stuffing it in the pocket of his jeans. 

he whines and the muscles of his thigh shift right under your bare cunt. 

as if on auto-pilot, his hands grip either sides of your waist, pressing you down onto him even though his face looks utterly devastated and hungry. 

“maybe i could do this with your pillow instead, hmm? cum all over it while thinking about you?” you taunt, gyrating your hips and grinding all over his thigh, already soaking his jeans with how turned on you are. it has the precise effect you’re hoping for.

“no–fuck,” he whines, “stay here. use me, please, but stay here.”

“use you, yeah?” your mouth ghosts over his, hand trailing up his chest and tracing the contours of his throat with your nails, tracing all the delicate veins and the flutter of his rapid pulse. matty’s breath quickens and comes out in sharp pants. it’s almost like he can’t handle it, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.

“touch me, touch me please!” he begs, eager and desperate when you quirk an eyebrow at him.

“touch you how?”

instead of answering, matty takes your hand off his throat and presses in on the bulge in his jeans, sighing at the pressure. he’s practically twitching under your hand, squirming even before you’ve properly even touched him. 

“can’t lose now, my darling, can you?” you marvel at the way your voice sounds, sultry and dominating with just a hint of condescensation. it’s power like you’ve never felt before. it makes the blood in your veins heat up even more, makes it flow faster. 

so you dig the heel of your palm onto his crotch, drag it up and then down and feel him twitch. feel him grow impossibly hard. matty's body shudders on the sofa like he's not even in there—just a puppet lying there pliant for your pleasure.

“but—”

you bend down to kiss him and feel all his complaints die on his lips. matty whimpers, moving his hips against your hand, thrusting forward almost, but you put an end to it almost immediately and laugh when he whines into the kiss. 

“i want to cum, fuck, need to so so bad!” his curls droop over his eyes. eyes that stare at you with such blatant lust that it throws you off kilter, almost makes your hips stutter but the pressure feels so good! the friction is enough to reduce every single thought in your brain down to a lumpy mush. 

“yeah?” you whisper in a tightly controlled breathy voice, “but you look so pretty when you beg sweet boy.”

he swallows roughly, transfixed on you and looking utterly fucked and unable to do anything other than keep his hands on your hips and help you ride his thigh, let you get off on him while he watches helplessly and writhes under your touch. 

“baby…” he whimpers again when you move your free hand through his curls, tugging at some of the strands and pushing them out of his eyes. 

your thighs burn with the strain, a delicious fucking ache that starts from deep within you and slowly spreads to the very tips of your fingers and the wet, sticky spot on matty’s jeans grows larger, right as your moans grow louder. 

“fuck, matty…” you bend down, mouth right next to his ear, right on his sweat soaked skin, “so fucking good for me, my pretty boy. make–shit! making me feel so good.”

your movements gain speed and you throw your head back, ignoring him entirely and chasing your own pleasure. no doubt he’s rather occupied with your tits bouncing in his face, seeing as how his hand trails up to trace them, to pinch your hard nipples between his fingers. 

“shit!” you cry out, “gonna cum baby. make me cum okay? good boy…”

matty’s back arches off the sofa—eager to obey, so so eager to please—pushing your t-shirt up and flicking his tongue over your nipples, nipping them with his teeth. matty alternated between tongue and teeth, licking and sucking the sensitive skin until there are bruised on your breasts, until you can barely distinguish one thought from another. until finally, you tip over the edge. 

there’s a moment where all you recall is crying out his name, breathing harsh and uneven, and then a moment stretched on to infinity that’s just pure fucking bliss. undiluted ecstasy. and then your hips finally stutter to a stop, just as you open your eyes hazily. 

the sight in front of you almost brings you to your knees again. matty’s jaw hangs open, mouth wet and red and raw and bitten—the absolute portrait of being fucked, and yet he hasn’t even been touched yet. hasn’t shed a single item of clothing. tears of frustration gather in his eyes while his hair falls all over his forehead. he can’t even make a single sound. not even a peep. 

this must have been torture for him and you know it. a sadistic side of you even relishes in it. “did you have fun?” you tease. “i certainly did…”

when you kiss matty again, you can physically feel the jolt in his body, as if his heart restarts, thumping in his chest wildly while he’s still speechless and focused entirely on you. 

matty makes a broken sound in his throat—somewhere between a “yes” and a “please” and maybe even your name. but you don’t let him finish. 

instead, you swipe your fingers through your soaked folds just as the trembling in your body subsides, collecting your slick and bringing it up to his lips that are still parted in shock. 

“a little thank you,” you place the fingers on his tongue, laughing when he swirls his tongue around them. “for being such a good boy.” 

“a good boy…” he repeats, voice hoarse and barely even audible. and you know the fun is just getting started…

lemme know what you think <33

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add yourself to the taglist

[spence-whore]

Hii!! I don’t know if you take requests but if you do can you do a enemies to lovers fic with spencer? I would love if the person was best friends with Courtney too!

Summer Games

Spencer Agnew x Reader

A/N please keep in mind while reading this, I have no fucking clue how far things are in California from their office. I was just writing this as if they were traveling to somewheres that’s a good six to seven hours from where they usually locate for work. They wanted to pick up supplies and outfits for the videos but the shopping outlet that had everything they wanted was hours from where they were headed to. Also, I do not see Spencer as a dick lmao this honestly doesn’t match his personality from what we see. I don’t know if this is really an enemies to lovers but i hope this did your request justice <3 this one is a lil spicy, it alludes to smut but there isn’t smut.

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It was that time of year again that everyone loved. The entire office would make a trip out to a certain location and film the most out of pocket challenges for the Summer Games. This year they were all headed out to Bonnie Springs Ranch. Before heading there, they were all making a pit stop for the night and staying at a hotel because they all didn’t have the time to get some stuff from the stores. Their idea was that it would be easier to stay somewhere close to a shopping outlet than to go there then have to travel far the next day, to go to the store. You thought maybe, just maybe, you would get lucky and get to ride with Courtney, Olivia, Shayne, and Keith but nope. You were currently in the process of getting your stuff together, to be stuck in a car with Spencer and only Spencer.

“This will give you two the chance to talk everything out, you know?” You heard a voice say from behind you. You glanced around to see Courtney standing there, arms crossed, staring at you. You knew she was right but you did not want to admit that.

“I just don’t understand how I got stuck with him.” You said, turning around to face her. “Why couldn’t we have taken a car with someone else? Why do I have to get stuck with him and nothing else but camera equipment.”

Courtney just laughed and shook her head, “Why do you hate him so badly? He genuinely is not a bad guy. He is actually really funny and really sweet.” You just snorted and shook your head right back at her. “Okay, Court, I love you to death but you gotta remember, everyone loves you. You are such a sweetheart and so nice to everyone. So, of course, you have nothing but positive experiences with him. He just hates me and is rude towards me. I don’t know what it is.”

Little did you know, Trevor and Damien were currently having a similar conversation with Spencer.

“Dude, just admit that you have feelings for them. If you do, it will make your life so much easier.” Trevor said while spinning around in an office chair.

“I don’t have feelings for them. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Spencer said while gathering his stuff into his bookbag.

Damien scoffed and in a mocking tone said, “I don’t have feelings for them. Spencer, Brennan literally sat and showed me like five photos where you were looking at her like you were a child in a Lego store.”

“I just don’t understand how I got stuck with them. I literally said I would help with the vlogs on the way there.” Spencer explained, ignoring what Damien said.

“You’re gonna be real pissed whenever you hear the sleeping arrangements at the hotel.” Spencer heard from Shayne, who was approaching the conversation. No one knew who booked the rooms exactly but Spencer had a feeling that it was Ian. Ian had been on his back about admitting his feelings towards a certain someone. He had knew before Shayne had even said it.

“Please tell me you’re fucking kidding me.” Spencer said, flopping down into his office chair.

Back at your desk, Courtney and Angela, who had now joined the mix, were helping you grab your bags to put into your car. Angela was going on about how excited her and Amanda were to be apart of one of the summer games that the fans love so much.

The three of you were walking down the hall as you approach an elevator, you heard talking coming from the hall to the left of you. You glance over to see Trevor and Spencer walking and talking with bags in their hands.

“Can I please just get one break before this long car ride?” You mumbled to yourself as they got closer.

“Oh, uh, I’ll just another elevator.” You heard Spencer tell Trevor before they turned around and walked off.

“Y/N. You and him just need to make out and get it over with already.” Angela blurted out. This comment caught you so off guard and caused Courtney to lose it while walking into the elevator.

The three of you made it out of the building and made it over to your car before Spencer and Trevor arrived. The three of you were loading stuff into the car while making small talk before two cars pulled around to pick up Angela and Courtney.

“Please don’t kill each other.” Courtney whispered as she pulled you into a hug and gave you a soft smile.

You just went ahead and got into the car and waited on Spencer to get down there. A few minutes passed by and you hear two voices going on about some video game that was coming out soon.

“And yeah, they are supposed to have-“ One of the voice cut off and you realized it was because they noticed you were in the car and were waiting for you to pop the trunk.

“Oh, sorry.” You yelled back to the guys behind the car.

Spencer, Trevor, and Damien stood there putting a couple of bags into the trunk then filled the back seat with different bags of camera stuff, different laptops, and random supplies that had already been bought.

“Well, I suppose this is where we leave you two. Please don’t murder each other. Become like best friends or something at the end of this car ride.” You heard Damien say as he approached your window. He placed his hand on your shoulder and gave you a soft smile. “Drive safe, remember text if you have to make any stops or if there is anything wrong.”

Spencer got into the passenger seat and didn’t say anything to you. He just buckled in and sat back.

“Uh, you can play music if you want.” You whispered, awkwardly nodding towards his phone.

An hour passed by and the car ride was not that bad. The two of you had listened to some music till Spencer had fallen asleep. You were in an area where there wasn’t any traffic. You decided to grab Spencer’s phone to pause the music then turn on The Basement Yard’s new episode on Spotify. You glanced over at Spencer and he honestly looks kind of cute.

“What the fuck am I thinking?” You whispered to yourself and took a sip of your monster. “I’m just getting tired.”

The Basement Yard was only ten minutes in before you were losing it. You were having to constantly cover your mouth, trying to not laugh really loudly.

You heard stirring from beside you and could see Spencer sitting up slowly in his seat. “What are we listening to?” Spencer asked while rubbing at his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry if I woke you up. It’s the Basement Yard,” You tapped your phone and held it up to show him. “If you want, I can disconnect this and you can go back to playing music.”

He shook his head no while grabbing his Mountain Dew Kickstart. “It’s okay, you didn’t wake me up. We can listen to the rest of this episode. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them before.”

There was something lingering in the air once he woke up. It went from really relaxing to really tense and awkward. It’s like the elephant of the two of yours relationship was sitting in the backseat.

Thirty more minutes had passed by and you couldn’t handle it. You just wanted to ask the question that had been lying on your chest. You just leaned forward, grabbed your phone, and paused the episode.

“Why do you hate me?” You asked bluntly before glancing over at Spencer.

Spencer looked like he had been shot at and was just staring at you blankly. He was quiet for a minute before speaking up, “I don’t hate you.”

All you could do was laugh. “That’s pretty funny because you are so nice to everyone else at the office. You crack jokes with everyone and everyone has nothing but nice things to say about you. You avoid me at all costs.”

Spencer took a big chug of his Mountain Dew Kickstart before turning in his seat to face you. “It’s because you honestly infuriate the shit out of me sometimes.” He says while staring at you, again with a blank expression.

“Please, tell me how I make you mad. If I’m being quite honest, I have been nothing polite to you till I got tired of your shit.” You said with a scoff and turning your head to make sure there was no traffic coming before making a turn.

“How in the hell could you not make me angry?” Spencer said before laughing. “You’re little miss perfect. Everyone in the office loves you. You could never do anything wrong. Hell, even the fans are absolutely obsessed with you.”

You were on a straight shot road, so you just turned your head to stare at him for a few seconds before shaking your head. “Little miss perfect? Seriously? Do I need to tell you how many times I hear about how much everyone loves you at the office? Don’t get me wrong, you are good at your job but oh my fucking god. It is praise after praise from everyone.”

Spencer just laughed before shaking his head and grabbing your phone. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just keep driving.” He said and continues to podcast episode.

A few hours passed by and finally, you were approaching the hotel you all were staying at for the night. The second you pulled in, you jumped out of the car to see Courtney and Shayne standing by their car talking.

“Oh my god, hey you two didn’t kill each other!” You hear Courtney shout from across the parking lot. You just grabbed your bags and quickly walked towards them to head inside.

“Yeah, well I’m about to fucking wring his neck.”

You got inside and grabbed your key to your head then headed up the elevator. Before the door could close, Tommy and Ian were stepping in.

“How was your car ride?” Tommy asked with an innocent smile on his face.

“Oh, me and him are just absolutely besties now!” You said in a sarcastic tone and gave Tommy and Ian a fake smile.

“Hopefully it wasn’t too bad because you two share a room.” Ian said before giving you a soft smile and stepping out on his floor.

It was just you and Tommy left in the elevator as it went up a few more floors. “If it gets bad between you two tonight, you can always come to my room.” Tommy offered and placed his hand on your arm, giving it a soft squeeze.

“It’s just so tiring because I don’t understand why he hates me.” You said giving him a frown.

“Sweetheart, maybe you need to take a moment to think about why it bothers you so much.” He said before giving you a knowing look.

You would never admit it out loud but you had feelings for the person he is whenever he isn’t around you. How could you not? You see how he is with everyone whenever you aren’t in the room. He is always so happy and laughing. God, his laugh was like music to your ears. He is such a beautiful man. He is just so nice to look at. Whenever you enter the room, it’s like seeing a little kid who had their favorite toy taken away.

You and Tommy stepped out on the hotel floor and gave each other polite goodbyes before heading towards your rooms on the opposite sides of the hall.

You entered the room, looked around, then decided to get settled in for the night. There were two seperate beds and a bathroom. You placed your bags onto the bed you planned on sleeping on then grabbed your stuff you needed to shower. You figured Spencer wouldn’t be there for a while, so you would just grab your clothes whenever you were finished. You were wrong though.

A few minutes into you showering, Spencer entered the room and just flopped down on his bed. He laid there for a few minutes before sitting up and scooting to the top of the bed and got on his phone. Neither you or him knew the kind of night that was ahead.

You turned the shower off and dried off, standing there for a few minutes to see if you ever heard anything. “I guess he’s sleeping in another room or staying with someone till late as possible.” You whispered to yourself while wrapping your towel around you. You grabbed the door handle and swung the door open to see Spencer sitting on his bed, scrolling through an app.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t think to grab my clothes cause I didn’t think you would come straight here.” You said awkwardly apologizing while stepping out of the bathroom. You quickly shuffled to your bag to grab your pajamas for the night.

“Why did you think I wasn’t coming here? This is my room too, you know.” Spencer said, glaring over at you.

All you could do was laugh, “I’m not arguing with you while I’m naked Spencer. Can we actually have a civil conversation for once and figure this the fuck out?” You were so tired of him throwing hateful comments your way.

He didn’t say anything, so you went back into the bathroom to change into your clothes.

Little did you know, Spencer wasn’t saying anything because he was fighting not telling you why he couldn’t stand being in a room with you for more than a minute.

“Okay, can we please just talk about this?” You said turning the corner and sitting atop your bed.

Spencer felt like he couldn’t breathe. You irritated the shit out of him but god, there was something about the way you looked right now that was making him melt. The way your hair looked pushed back out of your face, the way your sweatpants hugged your hips yet were so baggy, the way your shirt was so baggy. You just looked so soft and comfortable. He was fucked.

“I’m really not in the mood to talk about this right now, Y/N.” Spencer said before rolling over and turning the light off that was sat on the table beside his bed.

Something just snapped in you and you started tearing up. You don’t know why but god, it made you feel like an idiot. “I just want to know what I did to you, Spencer.” You whispered trying to not start sobbing. You noticed whenever you said this, his entire body tensed up. “It’s so stupid but I have this thing where I want everyone’s approval. I know I shouldn’t care if someone doesn’t like me. I guess it’s just tied to my trauma or whatever.”

He turned around slowly on his side and he had some hesitation in his movement. He just pushed himself up and stared at you. The look on his face just made you ramble even more.

“I have never felt good enough for people. So, I put on this huge persona. I guess you could compare it to masking. I feel like I have to be this upbeat, perfect person that is never allowed to be tired or depressed. I always think maybe my personality will make up for my looks because I absolutely hate myself. Maybe if I always make others laugh or smilie, they’ll overlook my weight or my hair or-“ Spencer cut you off by laughing and you felt like a complete idiot.

“Do you realize how stupid you are?” Whenever he said this, it felt like someone stuck a knife into your chest. “Shit, I worded that so badly. You are not stupid. You’re actually one of the smartest people I know.” He started to stand up from his spot and come towards you, “Is it okay if I sit here?” He said softly, pointing to a spot beside you.

At this point, it was like the damn in you broke. You couldn’t stop crying. It was like seeing you cry made that spot soften up so much for you in him.

“I don’t hate you. I should’ve just swallowed my pride and just talked to you.” Spencer whispered before laughing.

“You don’t have to lie, Spencer. I don’t blame you for avoiding me and never talking to me. I’m literally the most obnoxious person. I’m just always so ov-“

Spencer didn’t think. He just grabbed your face and kissed you. You didn’t kiss him back, you just froze. You never thought there was at any point in this world he would do something like that.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that.” Spencer said standing up really quickly and grabbing his jacket off his bed.

You jumped up really fast and grabbed his wrist before he could run. “Please don’t leave me.” You whispered. You couldn’t get any other word out than that. He just stared at you for a minute before talking. “I think I’ve avoided you all of this time because I never wanted to admit to myself how in love I am with you, you know? I thought maybe if I avoided you, I wouldn’t have to face these feelings and deal with the potential heartbreak of getting rejected.” He said as he sat slowly on his bed with you still holding onto his wrist.

“Wait, what did you just say?” It was like your brain shut off the second you heard him say, “how in love I am with you.”

He started to repeat himself but he stopped talking because you couldn’t stop laughing. He was just staring at you like you were crazy. You were stood in front of him, just cracking up, still holding onto his wrist. You let it go and just stepped closer to him, between his thighs. He stared up at you with this confused look.

“Spencer?” You asked, still giggling.

“Yes?” He responded, scared of where this conversation was about to go.

“You’re telling me, we have avoided each other for years because we both started to develop feelings for each other. We acted like literal school children and became hateful towards each other because we have feelings for each other.” You explained still chuckling over the situation.

“Wait, excuse me?” Spencer asked leaning back a little to look up at you with this bewildered look.

You just did the only thing you could think of and that you wanted to do. You slowly tested the waters, placing one knee on one side of his thigh and looked at him. He realized what you were doing and his hand immediately went to the side of your thigh. You placed your hand on his chest and pushed him back on the bed before placing your other knee on the other side of his thigh.

“Say the word and I’ll stop.” You whispered looking down at him.

“Please don’t.” He responded, leaning upwards to wrap his hands around your neck and pulled you down on top of him.

Hours passed by and before you knew it, it was morning.

You were woke up to your alarm going off and you slowly sat up in your bed. “Noooo.” You hear a voice groggily say beside you before you pulled back down.

Spencer was immediately glued to your side and stuck his face onto the side of your neck, placing soft kisses down your neck and down to your collarbone.

You reached over to your phone while giggling, trying to push him on. The second your phone hit your hand, it started blowing up with notifications.

It flashed and all you saw was a text from Courtney

Courtbort

when i said become friends, i didn’t mean keep us up all night banging LMAO

[skylarsblue]

✦Incorrect COD Quotes Eleven✦

Recruit: That’s a weird fuckin’ tone man! Gaz: That’s just how he sounds, he has an asshole voice. Ghost, tell him he’s okay. Ghost: ….everything is great. Y/N: Dude- - König: Just shut up! König, losing it: I am going to kill the next person I see I swear to god- Y/N, popping up: Hello, hi! I’m so happy to see you! Soap & Gaz: AHAHAHA König: Heeey oh my god….oh my god what’s going oonnn-;;

- Y/N, on Soap’s back: :3 Soap: Mate, you’re heavy, you’re gonna break my back. Y/N: I bet your boyfriend did that last night. Soap: *COUGHCOUGH* Y/N: *malicious laughter*

- Y/N: Justice is what I want. That is what I want, that is where my priorities lie. Kate: And the men you killed for your team- Y/N, coddling the entire team with blankets and tea: Don’t bring the boys into this.

- Y/N, looking at the carnage in Las Alma’s: You mean to tell me this all happened cause you were messing with the “shadow man”? Soap, bleeding from the shoulder: He was very charismatic!

-

König: WHAAAT?! König: After all you put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? Just. Like. THAT?! Y/N: Yes. :) König: …fine. Horangi: Fine?! You’re doing what they say? König: Eh, they’re very persuasive.

-

Soap: You wanna make…love? Simon: ….*nods* Soap, smooth brain: Do we have the ingredients for that? Simon, contemplating marriage:

-

Goth!Y/N: *in the dark with a singular candle and some crystals* Jooohhhnnn~ Soap, with a crucifix: BACK OFF YA SPOOKY BITCH-

-

Ghost: I- hm… Gaz: Be nice. Ghost: I’m finding it. Gaz: …it take you that long to find- Ghost: It does. It does.

-

Gaz: Alright, between the two. Captain o- Y/N: I’m suckin’ it. Gaz: wait Lemme get- Damn DAMN Soap: HOLD ON WAIT- Y/N: *the face of no regrets*

-

Ghost: Can you just be quiet? Y/N: What’s up your ass this morning? Soap, walking in: Mornin’! Y/N: Ah, nevermind. Ghost: Gaz: PFF-

-

Y/N: *loads gun* Now I gotta pull up. Everybody dying, me included. I ain’t going to jail! Soap: What happened to them? Gaz: KorTac was making fun of us and now they’re mad. Soap: Hurry, if we’re quick maybe we can get popcorn ready before it starts-

-

Ghost: This is humiliating. Price, icing his hand: I told you what would happen if you kept sneaking up on people. Ghost: It wasn’t intentional! Price: Tell that to my hand, Simon! Now go, you’re dismissed. Ghost, huffing: *walks away, a jingle sound ringing out from the bells that Price put on his belt*

-

Soap: What do you call a man who swims, but has no arms and no legs? Gaz: Hm… Y/N: …Thomas the Sank Engine? Gaz: WHAT? Soap: *wheeze* The answer’s Bob but that’s brilliant!

[witherby]

Omg hi!!! I love your mer!reader series and I was wondering if you take request? If so could you do batfamily headcanons in squid game? (You don't have to of course.) I just finished season 2 and im really excited for season 3.

Love you and keep writing❤️

Hi there! I can sure try!!! I only ever saw season 1 and that was like two years ago but I'll do my best!

( This is operating off the assumption that they are not all in the game together, otherwise they'd all make it out very easily. )

BRUCE WAYNE:

He's killing it. Not literally — moral code and all — but he's crushing this competition. Bruce Wayne's picture is in the dictionary when you look up "Strategist." He got into the games voluntarily and he will get back out alive, no question. He's doing what he can to help other players survive, but he didn't go in as Batman so he doesn't have any of the gear to help as effectively as he could've. He's gotta play it creatively and in a way that doesn't get him or anybody else disqualified for cheating. It doesn't take long for him to find any loop holes in game rules that allow for multiple people to get out of it alive.

Bruce entered the games, not for money, but to find out who is behind them and bring them to justice, so that no other financially disparaged people have to consider putting their lives on the line in order to clear their debts and start fresh.

DICK GRAYSON:

I feel like he didn't end up here on purpose. I really think he either signed up for something and thought it was a silly lil competition, or that the organizers of the game kidnapped the wrong guy and Dick just went with it because he had nothing better to do. Either way, he's here, he's intrigued, and he's gonna save everybody he can while keeping your spirits up.

The jokes never stop. He never stops. Motormouth is what the other contestants end up calling him. Dick makes one of the masked guards snicker once before they get whisked away, and that does make him feel quite a bit bad. Dick's not immediately looking to destroy the system from the inside out (he'll come back and do that after the games are over). Instead, I think his goal would be to convince all the surviving players that they should vote to end the games and go back home. He'd try to be their voice of reason, to convince them that there are better ways to pick themselves up and rebuild their lives than risking death just to get some fast cash. And I think it works.

TIM DRAKE:

Tim is the opposite of Dick. He was not invited to play but he did deliberately steal another contestant's spot to get put into the game. Like Bruce, he's already out-logic'd most of the competitions to create the most amount of survivors, but he also came prepared. The deadliest competitions are suddenly sabotaged not to be as deadly, or not to work at all. Hidden weapons being offered to other players to start a riot and dwindle the numbers have all suddenly been replaced with soft foam bats and nerf guns.

He already knows who's behind the whole thing, he just needed an in so he could tear it all down quickly and cleanly. When Tim is done, he'll be missing for 48 hours at the absolute max, and leaving that place with justice done and a huge, smug smirk on his face. What, like it was hard?

DAMIAN WAYNE:

Damian is tough. I think he caught wind of the whole operation and went undercover as one of those masked game monitors/referees so he could also dismantle it from within, but with less computer hacking and sabotage, and more slashing. I think this method works best as early Damian, who has barely been introduced to his dad for like a week, before he just drops off the face of the planet for a couple days and comes back blood-soaked.

"Hello, father. That suspicious money scheme you had your eyes on? I solved the problem. What do you mean, what am I covered in? Would you believe me if I told you it was ketchup? By the way, your No Killing rule is stupid."

JASON TODD:

Post-resurrection, he's not doing anything with any subtlety. At least Damian took the time to work his way in with a disguise. Red Hood is finding out where the whole shindig is taking place, gathering a crew, kicking doors down, and setting it ablaze. He doesn't have time for games, and the longer he waits to act the more innocent people are dying. He shoots the giant money ball down and lets the players collect it freely, tells them how to leave, and peaces out without looking back. In and out, job done, on to the next one.

[cat-mermaid]

You know whats gonna be crazy about Wicked being two movies is that the second part is going to bomb

Its going to be like the It movies, everyone loves the first part where their kids but hates the second adult half

The book the play is based on is a depressing mess, I've read it twice and already made like 3 rant posts about it. If this first movie stops after the "Defying Gravity" bit then all the second half is gonna be is:

Elphaba failing to be a terrorist, getting that one guy she bones(Fiyero) killed, ending up in a nunnery and being semi-comatose when she gives birth to his child, going away to the middle of nowhere for the rest of her life and neglecting said child, obsessing over animals, developing a-

OH WAIT, HAHA, NO

the Broadway show was fucking smart and completely hucked that whole second act out the window and rewrote it wholesale. Because Fiyero fucking does not come back as the scarecrow, thats a random ass delusion that Elphaba comes up with towards the end of the book when shes fucking losing her grip on reality. Boq is just some guy, he doesn't become the Tin Man, its implied that some dude Nessarose fucks over with her magic becomes the Tin Man

Like you gotta understand how much the original second half is just Elphie sitting in that castle and just aging and being a deeply unlikable person, she gives up on her whole justice crusade pretty fucking fast. She doesn't overthrow the Wizard, he just fucking leaves. Madame Morrible literally dies of old age, warm in her bed and Elphie is so crazed that she cracks a dead women's head open with a marble bust and declares that shes killed her

the whole second half of the book is just everyone Elphaba went to school with trying to live their adult lives, being freaked out by her random crazy bullshit and trying to talk her down off the edge of a cliff while she yells crazy conspiracy BS while pointing at them

everyone who was ever important to her dies, usually as a direct result of her actions, and then Dorothy rolls up and goes oh god i'm so sorry I killed your sister i came all the way here just to tell you og can u ever forgive me? and Elph is so far gone that she mentally can't handle this and fucking sets her own ass on fire/Dorothy accidentally kills her by dumping water on her

SHE FUCKING DIES

the wizard fucks off and leaves OZ to rip itself apart due to the power vacuum his absence leaves

god this book is depressing, and i haven't even brought up all the weird ass sex stuff

This book being made into a Broadway musical is like Jhonen Vasquez getting to make a kids show for Nickelodeon:

It happened, but a lot of miracles had to be happening in the background cos jeesus look at the source material