#i had to sit there and hold him and watch him go limp

[rachiqueen]

It took Rachi a while to catch his breath after the way Aisoon had fucked him into the bathroom stall door. His eyes were still glazed over, sparkling, but hyper-aware to Aisoon's movements, watching him carefully. Rachi hadn't just fucked him for fun - he had a purpose, a reason, and he needed to see it through. His contract would benefit both of them, if Aisoon accepted it, and he had yet to receive an answer despite being on his best behaviour for the escort. He had done his part so so well, surely Aisoon wouldn't leave him hanging, right? He wouldn't be that cruel to Rachi, would he?

Pressing a kiss against Aisoon's lips was the last thing Rachi could do to convince him to accept his proposal. It was gentle compared to the way they fucked. Borderline intimate, which would usually send Rachi running. But for Aisoon, for that possibility of having him whenever he wanted, no strings attached, Rachi could do it. He could be whatever the man wanted him to be.

Except his...

Aisoon had done up his jeans, having cleaned himself up before doing so, already looking to leave. Rachi remained naked from the waist down, could feel remnants of the man's cum dripping slowly from his hole and down his thighs, hoping that a final look at his body would help in his endeavour. And when Aisoon reached to hold him by the chin, Rachi felt a flutter of hope in his chest. He was waiting to hear it. Yes, he wanted Aisoon to say. I accept.

Except, this close, when Rachi got a good look at Aisoon's face, he felt that hope faltering. And instead of agreeing, Aisoon said...

"I'll think about it."

Rachi blinked up him, knowing what that meant. Stubbornly, he didn't want to let Aisoon go after that. Wanted to sit him down and demand he reconsider, offer his body for another round, even if he was already filled and aching. He could ride him, he could suck him again, he could hump his fucking leg like a dog in heat, anything so long as Aisoon took those words back and changed his mind...

Letting out a shaky sigh, knowing there was nothing more he could do for the time being, Rachi leaned back, pulling away from Aisoon as the man unlocked the bathroom stall. Their voyeur had left earlier, Rachi having heard the squeak of the swinging door earlier, so the bathroom was empty, but it felt even emptier when the escort left without another word.

Shakily, Rachi wiped himself clean as best as he could before sliding his underwear back up his legs, followed by his pants. His shirt rubbed harshly against his chest, where his nipples had been played with, and there was no denying that he was walking with a very noticeable limp now compared to when he first came in.

Deflated, Rachi quickly washed his hands, drying them on his pants before exiting. He made a beeline to the front of the cafe, ignoring the looks of the patrons seated at the tables close to the bathroom - he had been loud, and wouldn't be surprised if they had heard the way he had moaned like a whore for Aisoon. The staff members too, seemed to hover, most likely to tell Rachi to leave - however, an embarrassed Rachi was already headed to the door to avoid that conversation.

Rachi exited, looking around one final time to see if Aisoon had somehow was lingering. He had said no, but it was never too late to change his mind. The offer was on the table, and Rachi didn't plan on removing it. But... Aisoon was nowhere in sight.

Sighing, Rachi took out his phone to call for a ride. He had walked here but there was no way he could walk back, not when his ass throbbed with every step, reminding him of what he was missing out on. He had to have hope that Aisoon would come back to him - but until then, Rachi would have to be patient...

[ end ]

"A-ack-! U-urk-! A-aisoonnnnn~" Rachi's throat was tight but he couldn't stop shouting the other's name, Aisoon's fingers gripping him like a vice, causing the man's vision to swim as he road out one of the strongest, bone shattering orgasms of his entire life. He didn't know how Aisoon did it, but every time they had sex it only got better and better, blowing his mind away with how fucking incredible it felt. He was fucked senseless, choking on the hand that wrapped around his throat, his cock spilling he seed for what felt like forever, leaving a sticky mess all over his skin, Aisoon's hand, and the fucking stall door he was pressed up against. Outside, he heard a grunt, a sharp intake of breath, the watcher clearly enjoying the show that was being put on even if all he saw of it was through the small gap between the door and wall of the stall.

Aisoon released him and Rachi sucked in a breath of air. He turned to face Aisoon, leaning against the door, trying to catch his breath when the other demanded him to get on his knees and suck that huge cock that he had been dreaming about for weeks now. And Rachi didn't even care that he was still half-breathless and delirious, that his cock was overstimulated and aching despite having just painted the walls with his cum - he sunk onto the floor so quickly it's like he was pulled down by an invisible hand. His pink mouth parted to accept Aisoon's fingers, licking up his own cum with a loud moan while the man gripped his hair tight.

"Remember, you have an audience… Show them how lewd your mouth is… How you much you love my cock."

"F-fuckkkk, g-give it to m-mfffff," Rachi was cut off when Aisoon shoved his length inside his wet mouth, saliva immediately coating the hardened cock that seemed even bigger than before. It had just been inside his ass, drilling against his prostate, sending him to heaven, and Rachi sucked on it like his life depended on it. His nails dug crescent shapes into Aisoon's thick thighs as he gagged loudly around the man's cock that stuffed him full, his cheeks puffed out while wet noises echoed through the bathroom. He couldn't made one coherent sound like this, even though he tried. Love your cock teerak, Rachi wanted to say despite the mouthful of cock that had him instead moaning and gagging and choking. Want it deeper. Choke me with it. Make me taste you for days, weeks. Want to swallow your cum until I'm bursting, fuck my whore mouth til I can't talk anymore, fuuuuckk-

Muffled, wet, gagged noises came deep from Rachi's throat as he swallowed more of Aisoon in, fresh tears dripping from his blurry vision as his oxygen was cut off every time the man thrust inside of him. He couldn't get enough, he could do this all day, on his knees with nothing but Aisoon's cock to keep him full and stretched and satisfied.

Rachi could feel the way Aisoon's hot length twitched in he mouth, and he was ready to swallow every last salty drop if Aisoon decided to finish in there but the man instead pulled out, yanking Rachi to his feet and letting their mouths clash in a violent kiss. "Fuckkk," Rachi moaned loudly between the kisses. He could taste the saltiness of Aisoon on his tongue as it twisted against the other's, saliva trailing from the sides of his mouth and mixing in with the wet tears that dripped down his chin.

"Gimme that ass, spread it for me."

Rachi's back collided with the door of the stall when Aisoon pushed him against it, the loud sound invading the otherwise quiet bathroom. By now, Rachi's underwear had totally slipped down to the ground, joining his neglected pants and exposing his long and creamy legs. He steadied himself on one leg as Aisoon lifted up the other, exposing the hole that had just been pounded by him not long ago, stretched out and ready for more. "You gonna fill me up good, teerak?" Rachi panted as he reached for Aisoon's cock, squeezing it as he guided it towards his waiting hole. He dragged the wetness against his fluttering entrance, relaxing his body and releasing a shaky breath as he slipped it inside. He moaned loudly when as soon as it entered him, Aisoon thrust in powerfully, with Rachi now splaying his arms back on the unstable door behind him for purchase. His body was shoved back against the wood as Aisoon stuffed his cock deep inside of him, pounding at his ass with powerful thrusts.

"G-god~!" Rachi screamed, throwing his head back on the door, hearing the way it slam slam slammed from the strength of Aisoon's fucking, his ass smacking back against it. He was on his tip-toes, while his right leg was up behind Aisoon's shoulders, his hole sucking that huge cock in as if it didn't want to let go. His own dick quivered, fully spent and aching from having been empty, but it stirred with warmth, swaying with the movement of his body. "F-fuck me til I can't walk," Rachi mewled, reaching around to hold onto Aisoon's shoulders. "W-wanna feel your cock for days, f-fill me with your cum- ahhhhh A-aisoon sogoodsogoodsogoodddd~"

Aisoon drew him in for a kiss, which Rachi moaned into, a small cry escaping him when the other bit down on his lower lip. The sting, the pain, it reddened his full and pink lips, nearly breaking the skin, and Rachi loved it. Aisoon's hand lifted up to grab his throat again, and Rachi sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers choked his neck, a constant pressure that had him straining to breath. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his mouth was parted in a pant as Aisoon hammered at his ass. The hips that thrust against Rachi's heated body stuttered as a warmth filled him on the inside, the dancer almost unable to take another breath as Aisoon's cum painted his soft walls. His hole clenched around the man's cock, gripping it in place, not wanting a single drop to escape, even though there was so much of it that it was an impossible task. Droplets leaked out from the rim of Rachi's hole, dribbling down the back of his ass and his thighs.

And it wasn't just Aisoon that came. From outside of the stall, a grunt from their audience member and a hard smack against the door had Rachi knowing exactly what happened out there - clearly, the show they had put on was effective. Through the gap he could hear the laboured breathing, it matched his own, as their watcher also tugged at his cock with wet noises before letting out a cry as they came too, most likely all over themselves.

"F-fuck," Rachi breathed, placing a hand against his lower stomach, swearing that he felt Aisoon's cum reach all the way there. It was hot. How could he even go about his day like this? Even if he decided to go home he'd still be walking while his stomach was full of Aisoon, ass stinging from the man's length. He anticipated that he'd feel that way for day. God. He could get hard again just thinking about it.

Slowly, Rachi pulled his leg down from where it rested on Aisoon's shoulder, trying to steady himself, resting his hands on the other's chest to do so. He was wobbly, and now the pain in his ass could be felt in full force - he doubted he could walk in a straight line. "A-aisoon," Rachi sighed happily, gazing at the man in front of him. "D-do you see what you do to me?" He asked, his voice scratchy from how much he had screamed. "Do you see what you could do to me whenever you wanted?" Rachi continued, leaning forward to kiss the man's lips softly. He was pulling out every trick in the book, desperate not to lose this man to anyone else.

[actualredleader]

I just got back from the vet. My brother took me. We had to put down Morris. He got worse, and we couldn't afford to do more to help him. I tried everything I could to help him. I tried every single fucking thing to help him and it still wasn't enough in the end. He was with me through the most traumatic events in my life. I had him since he was a kitten and I was 16. My baby is gone. I held him in my arms and he purred the whole time because we loved each other so much. He purred until he went limp. My baby is gone. And everything is worse.

[nachojaehyun]

head so good, she a honor roll

pairing. idol wonu + new staff! fem! reader

summary. if wonwoo had to describe his new stylist in one word, it would be unpredictable. i mean, who would have known you were this good at sucking his soul?

warnings. [PLEASE READ] oral (m), light throat fucking, messy/sloppy head, the best head he had EVER received, wonu wears glasses, teasing, he almost cries, mentions of past sexual encounters, THICK dick wonu, no gag reflex queen reader — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. jeon wonwoo, you genuinely deserve the best head in the universe. thank you for existing king.

wonwoo felt like he was going to pass out.

the tides of pleasure were overwhelming him, making his eyes roll to the back of his head as he bit his lip to subdue his noises.

initially, he hadn’t thought much of you at all. when PD Na announced that a new staff member was joining the Seventeen crew, wonwoo could only clap and bow as you entered the room.

you were pretty— he’d give you that. your features were pleasant to the eye, and the thick framed glasses you adorned on your first day made him smile.

he was happy to know that he wasn’t the only one who was batshit blind in the room.

you were his stylist. of course you had taken him to get his color analysis done, taken him to multiple stores across Seoul, brought him piles of clothes for performances and off duty days.

you were his stylist. of course you had seen him almost naked, but you had never bat an eye at him, only instructing him to “wear his clothes faster.”

you were his stylist. of course you had first hand experience in the most embarrassing encounter in jeon wonwoo’s career— you had seen his dick rip out from a pair of very tight slacks. you still remained stoic, carefully asking him to take his pants off as you went to search for another pair. he was red in the face, cock half hard as he tightly fisted the curtain of the changing room in shame.

you were his stylist. so why on earth were you sucking his cock like your life depended on it?

wonwoo swears he didn’t know how it happened. you had texted him half an hour ago that you were going to drop off some clothes at his apartment before his fitting tomorrow.

it was supposed to be a simple exchange— you would give him the bag and you would leave.

but of course he had his phone silenced and didn’t see your notification.

of course he was sitting on the living room couch, fisting his length in his hand as he tried to relieve the tension in his muscles from dancing for 4 hours straight.

of course he forgot to lock the door to his apartment while he was blatantly moaning like a whore—

here you were, mouth dragging along his tip as you looked up at him through your long lashes, glassy eyes blinking innocently. the bag of clothes you had brought to him was long discarded, laying limp on the floor near his coffee table.

the grey contacts you had on make wonwoo shiver, whimpering as your tongue swirled around his tip.

“fuck baby, quit playin,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair as he watched you down his cock like a champ. wonwoo’s glasses were sitting at the edge of his nose, lenses fogging up.

his hand reached out to fist your hair in a makeshift ponytail, mouth falling into a near pornographic growl as he felt your hands fondle his balls.

his cock was unbelievably thick. your jaw was nearly falling slack. however, the salty taste of his precum was far too addicting for you to care about your own discomfort.

you hollowed your cheeks, trying to feel every ridge and every vein that his pretty cock had to offer. you pulled him out of your mouth soon after, placing kisses along his side as you suckled on his tip.

your free hand came to jerk off his base, spitting onto his leaky tip to use as lube, adding more pressure as his eyebrows scrunched.

“ ’m close— hah!” he whined, tears coating his lashes as you took him in with no warning.

unable to hold himself back, wonwoo harshly yanked your head back, rolling his hips into your mouth. you moaned at his rough treatment, sending vibrations that tightened the knot in his stomach.

“shit shit shit!” wonwoo grunted, feeling his dick weigh down on your tongue that continued to lick and torture him while he used your mouth as his personal fleshlight.

you could feel him twitch inside you.

to give him the final push over the edge, you lazily dragged your freshly manicured nails gently against his balls, cupping the two as he emptied inside your mouth.

wonwoo’s hips stuttered as his thighs shook, feeling ropes of his cum spurt into your open mouth.

he pulled out slightly, jerking off to give you the rest of him. you simply sat on the floor, wagging your tongue, catching every drop of his seed. as soon as you swallowed his release without any question, wonwoo felt himself getting hard again.

wordlessly, you wiped your mouth of the drool that had dribbled past your lips. pushing your weight from your thighs, you glanced at your wristwatch before smiling.

“see you at 8 tomorrow, wonwoo-ssi. don’t be late.”

with that, jeon wonwoo watched you wave him goodbye and walk out the door.

his mind was blown as he breathed out softly, still coming down from the best orgasm he ever had in his life.

sure, he had been blown before. but most girls were too scared to keep him in for more than a few minutes, complaining that their jaw hurt from his sheer length and thickness.

but you? dear god, you and your perfect self never complained, silently taking his cock in your mouth. you didn’t care about your own pleasure, mind consumed by the man wearing glasses in front of you, shock written all over his features.

“fucking hell, what is she doing to me?” wonwoo groaned, fisting his once again hardened member as he begin to circle his tip with a thumb.

he felt sensitive from his last high, closing his eyes as he imagined the scene all over again— wondering how many positions he could bend you over in.

if only he knew that you were in your car, fingers curling inside your folds as you moaned out his name. his cock had moulded your throat.

click here for part 2

© nachojaehyun, 2024

[fluffylino]

minho helps you let out your pent-up emotions

-contains mature themes

"you've been having an attitude since morning" minho hissed out, hips brutally thrusting into you.

"that isn't your p-problem" you practically shouted. body squirming from how much he had edged you.

minho's face morphing into an annoyed expression. your stomach doing flips when he shot you a glare.

you didn't mean to shout. he had unknowingly hit that spongey spot inside of you.

saying sorry was too late now. you had your pride. yet you were still scared of how he'd react.

"it is my fucking problem" he answered back, sitting on his haunches.

"if you're in pain. im in pain"

staring down at you. lazily thrusting inside of your sopping heat.

"start talking" you threw your head to the side.

whenever you got like this he'd make you open up. you were the type to keep things to yourself.

and minho knew about it.

you had even asked him to help you talk more about your feelings. why you had gotten so worked up. and snapped at him when he asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him.

"no..." you mumbled, eyes watering. he sighed, pushing his hair back.

"fine. be that way"

"i'll just fuck it out of you"

stifling your moans against your arm when he used all his strength to rail you. his hand roughly pulling your arm that was covering you mouth.

"m-minho" you mumbled, trying to look at him. but he ignored you. choosing to keep his eyes fixed on where he entered your cunt.

"minnie"

tears welling up in your eyes. a few slipping out. why wouldn't he look at you.

you deserved to be treated like this. he didn't deserve to be the brunt of your outburst.

his fingers reaching up to hold your waist. making you meet his thrusts. you felt like all your pent up emotions were letting loose. thighs trembling.

his eyes finally meeting yours.

he cooed.

"there we go..." a feeling of accomplishment in his tone. you were crying. broken sentences.

"n-not studied...exam"

he understood. humming in response. exams were in a month and you were stressed. you'd kept procrastinating until finally you were pacing.

it was all your fault. minho seemed to notice how you fell into a dark place.

choosing to ask you. yet you yelled at him. you didn't mean to hurt him. it was all a mistake.

"what do you have to say to me?" he whispered, just for you to hear.

"m'sorry. i didn't mean to be rude.."

"no more thinking now kitten. im here" you sniffled. feeling much better after he accepted your apology.

whining as he pulled out completely.

"get on top" he instructed, sitting upright. successfully pulling your limp body on him. gently lifting you up and sliding right back in.

"always so tight for me" he moaned out. you grinded down on him. letting out little noises as he made you ride him. hands firmly holding your waist.

lips kissing up your neck and gradually going lower. until he mouthed at your tits. sticking his tongue out playfully to toy at them. eyes locked onto yours with a flirty glimmer in them.

"h-hurts" you mumbled, thighs aching. you tried though to keep your composure. how could you let him do all the hard work.

instantly his hands slid down, kneading at your thighs. easing out your tense muscles.

"relax for me" he said in a hushed tone. practically melting against him. his dick still in you.

"let me take care of you princess"

.

.

.

[hoshifighting]

Can you pleaseeee do staff joshua?

staff!joshua

WARNINGS: smut, figurine malfuncion, getting caught fingering, mentions of penetrative sex, limping after sex, dirty talk.

staff!joshua who was basically an angel in a designer hoodie, swooping in like he was born to save the day. he’d been recommended by an artist friend who was finally leaving the chaos of tour life behind, and, honestly, you’d had your doubts. you weren’t looking for another “helpful” stranger who’d end up tangled in the cables backstage or handing you the wrong mic.

you remember him showing up that first day, eyes bright and wide like he was taking in every damn inch of the chaos with some kinda awe. it was… annoying, actually, because who the hell has that much enthusiasm? the whole team couldn’t stop talking about him, whispering like he was some savior sent from above. you’d watch from across the dressing room, pretending not to notice, like, “oh sure, he’s cute or whatever,” but then he’d catch your eye and smile.

staff!joshua who somehow found himself in the middle of the most last-minute disaster ever. the accessories box—the one holding all your necklaces, rings, and that one choker that practically defines your stage look—got left at the hotel across town, hours away. designers scrambling, panic in the air, your manager about to lose it. you’re standing there, just praying that the team doesn’t fully spiral, and then joshua steps in, calm as you like. he asks for a spare box of beads, like it’s no big deal.

he actually sits on the floor, in the mddle of the dressing room, legs crossed like he’s chilling at some park, and starts putting together these bracelets. fast. you remember being half-stunned, watching him loop bead after bead with ridiculous speed, like he’s been doing it his whole life. and they weren’t just some random bracelets either—they actually looked good. he handed them over, “here you go, should work in a pinch.” like, who does that?

staff!joshua who ended up with half the crew wanting to know where he learned to make accessories like that, and he just shrugged, all humble, “oh, just a thing i used to do in high school.” as if that made sense.

next show, next country, you look out and see rows and rows of fans with identical bracelets. like, those beads? they’ve become a thing. suddenly, everyone wants one, and your socials are blowing up with people asking where they can get cute and colorful bracelets. you’d joked with him after, “might as well start selling these on the merch table,” and he’d laughed, soft and shy, scratching the back of his neck like he wasn’t used to the attention.

staff!joshua who, honestly, makes you wonder if he’s real, he’s always got everything covered, it’s late nights and early mornings, but somehow, he’s always there, making sure you have your coffee just the way you like it, that your schedule isn’t packed to the point of breaking. he’s the one who keeps track of your favorite snacks and stashes them in your backpack, knowing you’ll dig around for them at some ungodly hour.

staff!joshua who insists on walks when there’s downtime to make you less tense, taking you through narrow city streets, where he points out little cafes he researched beforehand, claiming it was just “a lucky find.” he laughs off your suspicions, saying, “it’s just a coincidence,” but you know he’s been studying maps like a tour guide, making sure you get to see more than just hotel lobbies and dressing rooms. he’ll hold your things so you can snap photos or just take in the sights, occasionally stepping back to give you a moment. always there, hovering just close enough to shield you if a crowd forms or if you need a break from everything.

staff!joshua who’s not just watching out for you but keeping an eye on every single person who shows up at airports or outside venues. he scans the crowd with that gentle look in his eyes, like he’s really seeing each one of them, making sure no one’s fainting or overheating. if he notices someone looking a bit off, he doesn’t hesitate, signaling to security or even paramedics to help them out, all while giving them this reassuring smile that somehow calms them down.

staff!joshua who knows when fans come up to you during your downtime and sees that look in your eyes, the tiny hesitation. he’ll lean over, voice soft, asking, “do you want to?” like it’s totally up to you, and it’s cool either way. if you’re not feeling it, he’s got the most polite, warm way of explaining, “i’m so sorry, but it’s y/n’s break right now.” no harshness, no impatience—just enough kindness that no one feels brushed off. but if you nod and say yes, he’s right there, practically crouching to make sure the angles are perfect, even telling the fan how to hold the camera for the best lighting. he gets the shots that’ll probably be framed on some bedroom wall or locked screens forever.

staff!joshua who goes from quietly fussing over your needs to casually slipping into a role that makes every fan interaction feel like the best one of their life. he’s got this way of making them feel comfortable, throwing in a gentle “don’t be nervous,” or even laughing softly to ease the anxiety.

staff!joshua who, without you even realizing it, has gone from that fresh-faced kid with the soft smile to a full-on bodyguard. he’s bulked up over time, muscles straining against the sleeves of his shirts, and when he’s guiding you through a crowded airport or weaving through backstage chaos, you catch more than a few fans sneaking glances his way. he doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he does, but he brushes it off.

staff!joshua who makes it a point to be in the hotel gym at whatever strange hour you decide to work out. he’s on his own schedule, of course, but he’s catching your attention even mid-workout. he doesn’t say much about it, but you know he’s thinking about your safety, wanting to be strong enough to keep you shielded with his... big chest.

staff!joshua who tries to stay professional when your hand naturally drifts to his arm. it’s like a habit now; his biceps have become your security blanket, something to hold onto when you’re being rushed through a crowd or stepping out of a car in sky-high heels. he’ll give you a quiet amused look, lips pressing together like he’s trying not to smile, but he never says anything about it.

staff!joshua who feels the burn of your touch whenever you steady yourself by pressing your hand against his muscular chest. maybe it’s to fix a shoe strap or straighten your skirt, his breath hitches every time, it’s like a test of his equilibrium, and you can tell he’s struggling to keep himself in check, especially when he catches your smirk.

staff!joshua who’s always one step ahead, guiding you with a gentle but firm hand on the small of your back when you’re navigating a crowded room.

staff!joshua who instinctively stands between you and the flash of cameras, positioning himself just enough to cover you from the harsh lights and endless stares. he doesn’t need to ask; he just knows when to move, leaning close “just stay behind me”

staff!joshua who never complains when you tug at his sleeve for attention, even if it’s the fifth time that hour. attentive look, ready to listen to whatever you need, whether it’s fixing a wardrobe mishap or finding the perfect hiding spot when the crowds get overwhelming.

staff!joshua who’s confused when you grab him and pull him into the wardrobe corner, pointing at the zipper like it’s some life-or-death situation. his face goes a little pink as he takes in the view—your tits all squished up, struggling against the fabric, and his hands practically itching to fix it. “are you sure?” he mumbles, glancing from you to the zipper and back, but there’s no time to pause; you’re due on stage any second.

staff!joshua who keeps his eyes fixed on that zipper, swallowing hard as he tries to get a grip on himself and on the stubborn thing trapping you. his fingers brush against your skin, and you feel him tense up, his breath quickening just slightly. he’s so close you can smell his cologne, fresh and warm, mixing with the backstage chaos, and it’s making it way harder for you to focus on anything else. “just… stay still..” he mutters, his voice a little shaky.

staff!joshua who practically loses it when the stylist finally throws up her hands and says, “just rip it off, joshua! we don’t have time.” his eyes go wide, panic flickering over his face, but then he nods, taking a deep breath. he plants his hands on either side of the fabric, his biceps flexing under his shirt as he grabs hold and gives one solid yank. there’s a loud rrrriiip, and the zipper splits apart, fabric tearing away like it’s nothing under his grip.

staff!joshua who is definitely not prepared for the way the fabric slips, your tits practically jumping in his face, leaving him blinking, wide-eyed, desperately trying to look anywhere else while you scramble to pull on your next outfit. he’s frozen for a second, like he’s processing what just happened, then quickly steps back.

staff!joshua who always insists on separate rooms whenever you’re on tour, like it’s some line in the sand he won’t cross, because he’s all about “boundaries.” but thank god for that, honestly, because the last thing you need is him realizing just how often your mind wanders to him in the quiet of your room after a show, the adrenaline still in your veins. nights like that, when you’re alone and all you can think about is the way he’s looked at you backstage, muscles tense as he keeps everything under control—never fails on making you horny.

staff!joshua who doesn’t know how many times you’ve slipped into your bed and imagined him there with you, his big hands choking you, slapping your face, his mouth kissing you, sucking you, that quiet and respectful control of his breaking just for you. you let yourself get lost in the thought of him, and in the safety of your own room, you give in to all those bottled-up feelings, whispering his name under your breath, touching yourself, feeling your pulse race as you imagine him actually being there.

staff!joshua who has no clue that some nights, you’re too far gone to even muffle the sounds you make, pressing a hand to your mouth as you cum, breathy little sighs slipping out, like he’s actually there. you always tell yourself you’ll be quieter next time, but every show seems to make it worse, every touch from him leaving a trail of him that lasts long after he’s gone.

staff!joshua who probably wouldn’t know what to do if he ever caught you like that—caught you in the middle of one of those late-night moments, your head thrown back, his name slipping from your lips, no shame. the thought alone is almost too much to handle, but you keep going back to it, night after night, letting yourself imagine just a little more.

staff!joshua who, one night, knocks on your door to deliver something you left behind in the venue dressing room, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re in there, already lost in thoughts of him. you dont even hear the knock over the sounds of your own pussy, and you don’t realize he’s actually come in, quietly calling your name, until you see his shadow across the wall.

staff!joshua who stands there frozen for a second, just staring, his fingers fumbling with the doorknob like he’s trying to make a quick exit but forgot how doors work.

when he finally remembers to turn the handle, ends up pulling it the wrong way, the door making this awkward little squeak as he fumbles to open it again. he’s all flushed and stuttering out apologies, but he’s rooted in place, eyes darting back to you like he’s trying to process what he just walked in on and failing miserably.

your heart its almost jumping from your chest, but you let the duvet slip just a little, the fabric falling away from your legs, exposing the curve of your thigh, the soft line of your hip. his eyes follow it, widening just slightly, his fingers gripping the door handle even tighter.

staff!joshua who, when you tug his wrist gently, doesn’t resist, he lets you pull him closer until he sits by your side, as you whine “joshua… come here,” in that low, inviting way, and something shines in his eyes, like you’ve struck a nerve he’s tried so hard to keep hidden.

staff!joshua who finally presses his lips to your neck, his hand moves up your thigh, fingers fastly pushing the duvet away, leaving you naked. when he finally slides his hand over you, through your damp folds, the feel of his fingers brushing your swollen clit, making your nipples harden.

his thumb presses the clit savoring the reaction he’s getting from you. you can tell he’s testing every little gesture, finding what makes you pant, what makes your hips move toward him.

staff!joshua who presses his fingers in, slipping past the wet folds, to the gummy walls, the first slide inside so warm, so deep, and you let out a moan—that you don't have to hold anymore, afraid that he would hear from the next room—your pussy already clenching around him. he groans softly, leaning over you, his arm flexing as he presses deeper, his other hand coming up to grip one of your wrist up your head, holding you steady as his fingers curl impossibly tight. you can feel the tension in him, the restraint, but the way his fingers move, lets you know he’s not holding back with his touch, at least.

“like that?” he asks, and you nod, swallowing down a shaky breath as he picks up the pace.

staff!joshua who starts to move his fingers a little deeper, making a funny wet sound, until you’re gripping the duvet, your head tipping back.

staff!joshua who, lets out a low chuckle everytime you moan a little louder. “what was that hm? a moan? for me? tell me..”

staff!joshua when he notices you squirming under his touch, about to cum he teases more “so needy... you don’t even have to say it.” he pauses, letting the fingers sink in, as you feel his other hand come up to grip your thigh, holding you as he continues. “what would they all say if they saw you right now?” he muses. “you know, you make it so hard for me to be professional sometimes.”

staff!joshua who, when he notices you clenching your fists in the duvet, laughs softly, a low, wicked sound. “go on,” he whispers, his fingers curling just right. “let me hear everything.”

staff!joshua that after every single time you thought you’d caught your breath, would lean down, “not done yet, sweetheart,” before sending you spiraling right back. destroying your poor swollen cunt after cumming multiple times..

staff!joshua next morning, is already at the hotel breakfast with the crew, sitting perfectly, like he didn’t just ruin you the night before. he watches you walk in, eyes glinting as he sees the way you’re moving—trying to walk normally, but the subtle limp gives it all away.

staff!joshua who has the audacity to pat the empty chair next to him, tilting his head with an innocent expression as if he’s not the reason you’re struggling to walk. “sleep well?” he asks, but you know he's holding back a laugh. you shoot him a glare, but he just raises an eyebro.

staff!joshua who leans in, voice quiet enough that only you can hear, and whispers, “if you need me to help you up to your room after this, just say the word,” his fingers brush against your knee under the table, so subtle that no one else would notice, but it’s enough to remind you of every. single. thing. he did to you last night.

staff!joshua who has no problem keeping that perfect poker face as the morning goes on, answering questions, making small talk with the crew, all while casting you the occasional glance. every time he catches you shifting in your seat, trying to get comfortable, he hides a smirk behind his coffee mug, thoroughly enjoying the sight of you flustered and sore, his own private victory.

[rottenaero]

They were gonna put Eddie down like a damn dog.

The group had insisted that Steve visit the hospital today, one year and two months after the incident. It was a random day, and he thought, ‘ why the hell not?’

Family Video had been closed for months, doing ‘ repairs’, so he really didn’t have much else to do.

He thought it was weird, the way the group was as far away from the bed as possible, and how when he entered the room, Hopper almost blocked the exit.

He doesn’t question it though, sidling up to the open chair beside Eddie, who was still asleep after all this time, and punching his shoulder lightly.

“ Hey, Hero.”

He’d taken to calling it sleeping instead of what it was, a coma. Sleeping sounded more peaceful, because with sleeping came dreams and relaxation.

Eddie doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. Steve didn’t expect him to.

He turns his head to Dustin, the one who’d called him in the first place. “ So, why’re we gathered here today? Any updates?” He asks, addressing the whole room.

The boy swallows, and something tells him something’s wrong. Really wrong.

“ Yeah, actually. Uhm, since it’s been so long, we were thinking-“ He cuts himself off, crosses his arms and starts tapping his foot. Thinking, probably.

Hopper glances to him, and sighs, deciding to lead. “ We’re gonna have to let Munson go.” He states.

Steve takes a sharp breath.

“ What?”

‘ Let him go’ like this is a job. Like this isn’t him losing his life. He wonders when they decided to do this, in the hospital room for the ten minutes they were waiting.

Eddie doesn’t give any indication he hears what’s being said, the beeps from the heart monitor still steady and even as ever. A constant metronome of the exact same sound on the exact say beat, all the time, always.

Except maybe not always.

Dustin takes over again, arms placating. “ It’s been a really long time, Steve. We’ve come to terms that he probably won’t wake up, and it’s doesn’t have to be sad-“

“ You’re killing him.” He hisses, “ You’re killing him and it’s not meant to be sad?”

Nancy steps forward, seeing it as her time to speak. “ Steve. You barely knew the guy, and you spend all your time here, it’s not good for you.”

“ There’s been no good signs, no nothing, not even when El looks into his brain.” Dustin nods at the girl across the room, who’s fiddling with her fingers.

Steve furrows his brow, “ Oh, so I guess you’re gonna pull the plug on Max too?”

Lucas’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, and Nancy glares. “ That is not fair, Steve.”

“ This whole situations pretty fucking unfair, so I guess you’re gonna have to explain to me how this is different from Max.” He stands, stance wide as he points to the man in the hospital bed.

“ Max is making progress.” Lucas says weakly, and El sets a hand on his shoulder. The boy deflates.

He turns toward Hopper and Joyce, the latter still not having spoken. The Byers family had moved back to Indiana for God knows what reason, and Steve knows that if he had the money, that he could’ve moved somewhere else long ago.

“ Does Wayne know you’re killing his kid?” He asks.

He’d met the man while visiting, and they’d usually sit in silence and watch baseball or whatever was on. He never questioned why Steve was there, or why he was holding a limp body’s hand and taking off it’s rings and putting them back on.

When they did speak, it was stories he had from Eddie’s childhood, about how he buzzed his head because a spider crawled on him and he was convinced it was hidden in his hair, making babies.

Hopper pinched his nose, like he was being a pest. “ Stop using words like killing, and yes. He said he didn’t want Eddie to have to suffer, and his bills are getting expensive.”

And he blinks, realization dawning.

This hadn’t just been decided, had it? This wasn’t a ten minute decision while Steve was getting ready to come here.

He speaks, his voice low and keeping even through each word, “ You guys had a meeting.” The ‘ without me’ goes unsaid, but still echoes throughout the room like if would’ve if he shouted it.

They’d decided this whole thing beforehand, somehow knowing that Steve would hang on. And he would, will. He can’t let him die, he can’t lose.

Will nods, and next to him Mike and Dustin look ashamed. He would’ve thought they’d hold out more.

He racks his brain for any reason they should keep alive, can’t find one. Somehow, even without one for them, he has a million for himself.

“ If the bills are the reason, I’ll pay the damn bills. He’s fucking alive.” He tries.

“ You don’t have a job, Family Video is closed. Just let it be, Steve. Please.” Robin had been eerily quiet during this entire conversation, and it brings him chills him when she speaks.

His best friend had been in on it.

He crosses his arms, “ I’ll get a job. Listen, I’ve been having dreams,-“ He lies. He lies because there’s nothing true to prove Eddie is getting better. “-dreams that he’s alive in like a dark space, I don’t know- his mind maybe? I just- I really think he’s in there.”

The hope Dustin gets on his face hurts, but he doesn’t care. The guy will wake up and it won’t matter that the ‘ dreams’ never existed.

Maybe it’s because he’s an optimist, and that’s why he’s trying so hard, as pessimistic as he can be sometimes.

“ Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin asks and Steve licks his lips.

Why didn’t he tell them? “ Despite all this crazy shit, me having dreams that he’s alive still sounds crazy.” He doesn’t look at the boy as he says this, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face.

He looks serene, the bat bite on his face as healed as it can get. The doctors had mentioned swelling on his back shoulder blades, but Steve thinks his would be swollen too if he sat on them for a year.

‘ A year and two months.’ He corrects himself.

He stares at the hair that, occasionally when it got matted, Steve would go through and brush it, not wanting him to wake up to being bald because a doctor seemed it necessary.

Wayne mentioned how much he hated the shaved head, and he wouldn’t put him through that again.

As he looks at him, he thinks ‘ I’m doing this for you, so you better wake up, asshole.’

Dustin’s eyes are wide, staring at the members of Hellfire. Steve could only describe the look as ecstatic.

“ Holy shit, I mean, holy shit!” He laughs, and Mike breaks into his own grin.

Jonathan chimes in, disbelief sketched into the lines all over his face. “ Sorry, but doesn’t that seem too convenient? I’m not saying you’re lying Steve, just… If El didn’t find anything, that’s pretty much it.”

His lips form into a line, determined. “ I told you, I’ll be paying for whatever. It’s no skin off your back, or money out of Wayne’s pockets.”

Joyce nudges Hopper when he goes to speak, and nods at Steve. “ If you wanna try, sweetheart, you can. But I don’t want you visiting too much, it’s doing you more harm than good.” She wraps him in a hug, before leading the ex-chief of police out of the room.

Slowly, everyone vacates, until it’s just Steve, Eddie, and El.

She doesn’t make a move toward the door, eyes locked onto his face.

“ You’re lying.” She whispers like a secret.

He nods.

She looks toward Eddie, nervous, and she messes with the hem of her shirt when she starts to speak again. “ I lied too.”

She doesn’t elaborate, walking out of the room without anymore information, and Steve blinks.

The hospital has to call Wayne to confirm the transfer, that's how he learns of the circumstances. He doesn't say much of anything, aside from a promise of a visit on Tuesday before he hangs up.

That night, that same fucking night, he gets a call.

It's the front desk lady, voice distressed rushing through an explanation.

" Eddies gone...Only blood in his bed...We don't know where he is."

Steve stares at the wall, the rest of the words falling upon deaf ears.

Someone had probably found out where he was being held, murdered him a year later for his crimes, and stashed the body away.

He sets the phone back in its holster without saying anything to the other line. Not even a goodbye, or a thanks.

He thinks, it only for a second, that he should've let them just pull the plug, it would've been far less painful.

A creaking brings him out of it, and his eyes dart to his door.

It's dark, too dark, and Steve's aware the Upside Down fucked him up in incomprehensible ways, and now every shadow looks like something,

But there was definitely someone in his house.

He keeps slumped on his bed, the same position as when he'd answered the call. He doesn't flinch when the door pushes open enough for a body to slip in.

There's the sound of something dragging along the carpet as they come closer, probably a shotgun, or maybe they're gonna beat him with his own nail-bat.

He doesn't care to decipher the shape, instead shutting his eyes.

A hand grabs his, sets it on dry skin. His thumb touches a rough patch, a scar like feeling.

One his hands had roamed over while patching up his stomach, refusing to get looked at. That concave patch of scratchy skin that they tell you eventually will just be soft, scarred, but normal.

The skin stretches, and he feels a cheek.

Somehow, he thinks if he keeps his eyes shut, he doesn't have to face the thing in front of him, that it somehow isn't real.

A scratchy, disused, and croaky voice sounds out.

" ' Hey, Hero.' "

[wxwrites]

Scared to Dance Alone

Sevika x Reader (f!reader) (fluff & angst) SFW!

You get hurt on a mission and Sevika feels her worst fears come to life.

men dni

One second, you have the sole of your boot pressed menacingly onto the back of a brawler’s neck, one that had been protecting the newest chem-baron Silco had sent you after. Sevika is on the other side of the room, her metal claws pierced into another man’s abdomen as she interrogates him harshly. The next second, there’s an agonizing pain that splits across your skull and your world begins to spin as you collapse to the ground, body thudding loudly against the splintering wood. 

You feel your head knock against the floor before the lights go out, leaving you limp. You lie on the floor, completely unaware of the bustling commotion around you as Sevika is quite literally tearing those men apart, sparing them no mercy as she sends their bodies through the tables. She hauls you up, keeping an arm tucked beneath your knees and the other around your waist. She shakes your body gently so that your head lolls over onto her shoulder, providing as much support as she can.

She treads through the streets, keeping an angered expression on her face. Bulldozing through the crowds, shoulder-checking people left and right as she runs as fast as her body will take her through the smoked-out streets. She keeps her arms tight on you, but her hold is as gentle as possible. She crashes through the door of your shared apartment, kicking it shut as she steps inside. Unfortunately, unless you were bleeding out, no shitty medical center in all of Zaun would be able to take you in. 

She opts for gently laying you down on the bed and peeling your jacket away from your knocked-out form. She grabs a rag and dampens it and snatches the make-shift first aid kit from the bathroom before rushing back towards you. She pulls a rickety chair to the edge of the bed and sits down on it, loud boot clanking against one of the legs. She grits her teeth as she swipes the wet cloth over your rosy cheeks with an uncharacteristic gentleness, washing away the dried blood and dust.

Her hands move swiftly as they rub at the injuries and grime, pushing your baby hairs away from your sweaty forehead. She leans forward to press her lips against your forehead and mumbles a quiet “I’m sorry,” against your skin. “I really need you to wake up for me, yeah? I really fucking need you to get up,” She continues, desperation lacing it’s way into her voice. “I can’t do this shit without you, c’mon,” She pleads, sniffling as she swallows back the tears that threaten to break free. 

Long, horrific, silent minutes pass as she stares down at your unconscious form, tracing the back of her knuckles across your features. She keeps a wary smile on her face as she simply just watches you, encapsulated by your beauty. “Please, just fucking wake up,” She repeats, finally letting out a soft cry as the tears slowly roll down her cheeks. She reaches up to wipe the stray tear from her cheek, ultimately smearing the blood spat that was already on her face.

You’ve both gotten scuffed up plenty of times, gotten your fair share of punches and blows that knock your bodies over; (more so you than her). However, she has never seen you like this. This lifeless, this hurt, this broken. She has watched you take on armies of men, put down countless guards and goons. But she has never seen you so… withered, before. 

It’s as if her worst fears have crawled from the depths of her brain and painted themselves right before her eyes. She feels like a failure, that she had one job to do and she fucked it up. She always manages to, right? People get too close, then they get hurt, and then she does the one thing she knows she can do. She fixes it, and she will fix it over, and over, and over, until her fingers bleed and she can’t stand upright anymore.

You stir slightly at her movements, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks. You hum out quietly and reach for her hand, weakly grabbing onto it. “Vika?” You say quietly, lazily prying your eyes open. She immediately tightens her fingers around yours and sits up straighter, eyes lighting up at the sound of your breaking voice. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” She murmurs, stroking her thumb over the backs of your bloody knuckles. “Can’t keep letting me do all the work, you know that I hate dancing alone.” She continues, soothing the cloth over your hand. You chuckle quietly at her poor attempt of lightening the mood, which quickly falls into a weak cough. “Easy, easy,” She comments, smoothing her hand over your chest. 

“How are you feeling?” She asks, watching your behavior closely as she looks for any signs of discomfort. “Mm… I’m okay, other than my head,” you reply, giving her a weak smile. She nods at your words and strokes her fingers through your hair gently. “Can you stay awake for me while I go get you some ice?” She questions sweetly. Once you nod, she presses another kiss to your forehead and departs for the kitchen. 

You really do have to fight to keep your consciousness, clinging onto anything and everything you can until she returns. Once she does, she gently pulls you up by the back of your head and places an ice-pack wrapped in a rag onto your pillow. She lowers your head back onto it, soothing her thumb over your temple.

“Had me real scared, y’know that?” She says, sitting on the edge of the bed as she pulls her boots off. You listen as they thud against the floor, keeping your heavy eyes on her. “I didn’t mean to,” You reply, staring up at her with big eyes as she crawls onto the bed next to you. “I know, baby, it’s not your fault.” She responds, settling on her side, scooping you up into her arms. 

She holds the ice-pack against your head with her mechanical arm, using her flesh arm to push your shirt up and softly stroke her fingers over your bruised back. “Just stay with me, let me take care of you.” She says, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips. Her lips feel like a ghost against yours as she remains mindful of the cut on your lip. 

“I love you, so much,” She whispers, and your breath hitches at the words. It’s not rare for her to say it, but it’s not common. She finds vulnerability in general very, very hard, but she will always show you in other ways. She does it mainly through action, whether it’s buying you an outfit you saw and just had to have, or by dropping off the newest pound of gold that you both had stolen off of one Silco’s rivals. You grin at the scowl on his face, chuckling as his lips curl into a snarl at your boastful behavior.

Her love and devotion to you is violently undeniable, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. Anyone with half-decent eyesight, or none at all, could never miss the way her eyes almost sparkle as she looks at you with a reverence no one, or nothing else would ever receive. The love she feels for you is unprecedented, something that could never be replicated. You softened the heart of the most feared woman in the entire city, you have completely undone her. 

“I love you, too,” You repeat, brushing your lips together gently. You pull away to hold her jaw, pressing your foreheads together, “Thank you for everything, for always bringing me back home,” You continue, tucking your body closer to hers as you chase the comforting warmth. “We also need to get you into the shower, you’re filthy.” You chuckle, reaching for the discarded cloth behind you, gently working it over her bloody cheek. 

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 2

Part 1

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1608

If anyone were to ask how he reacted when Damian jumped from the bed to attack him, Dick would say that he reacted exactly as a vigilante who’s been on the job for years now would. Ask anyone else who was there to witness it though and you’d get a much different story of events. 

"Aaaahhh!" Both Dick and Damian slam onto the ground. Damian hits don't pack as much of a punch as they normally would, but that doesn't mean they're not precise when hitting a body's weak spots. "Dam- oof, Damian! It’s okay, you're safe! I'm your brother!" 

That did not have the desired effect he wished it did on the smaller boy; if anything Damian seemed to grow angrier at the mention of them being brothers. "Liar!"  

The others must have heard the commotion because the next moment the med bay door is being thrown open with everyone rushing in. Jason is the first one to get to them, and when he does he's quick to grab Damian. He holds the furiously kicking child to his chest while pinning Damian's arms to his side. 

"Dick, you alright?" Duke is kneeling by his side with a comforting hand on his shoulder as he helps Dick sit up. "Baby Damian really caught you off guard, huh?"

Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos happening Dick hears the sound of a camera click, and he can't help but smile. Another photo down!

"Damian," Bruce's voice is firm as he says, "You need to calm down; no one here is going to hurt you."

That of course does nothing to calm the child who just woke up with strangers surrounding him. "Since when has telling someone to calm down ever worked?" Tim questions as he watches everything from the doorway. 

Bruce sends a slight glare Tim's way before directing his attention back to his youngest child, "Chum, my name is Bruce Wayne, do you know who I am?"

"No, but I know that you've somehow managed to take me hostage," Damian growls out. He's stopped struggling in Jason's arms, and seems to be analyzing them all with a hard gaze. "Who are you working for?"

"Do you know about Batman?" Bruce counter questions instead of giving any kind of answer. 

"I might; is he the one behind this?" Damian for the first time looks unsure about what's happening,

Jason gives a little amused huff, "That is Batman, demon brat."

"Surely not!" Damian judgmentally looks Bruce up and down, "Batman is definitely taller than him." 

That of course got a laugh from everyone, and even Bruce had an amused smile on his face as he thought about how Damian said something similar when meeting him for the first time. 

"And do you know who Batman is when it comes to you?" Dick asks after a few seconds. It's clear at this point that Bruce is trying to see if Damian has been told who his father is. If they can establish that relationship now it might save them all from anymore attacks; at least for the rest of the night.

Instead of answering Damian tucks his chin to his chest and glares at the ground. What's really shocking though is how his body goes almost limp. It seems to shock Jason as well because his tight grip even loosen, and changes to a more gentle hold.

Asking questions probably isn't going to get the baby assassin to trust Dick thinks to himself; not with how his youngest brother was raised. They're going to have to try something else, "Hey Dami, how about we-" 

Before he can continue though Dick is cut off by a loud smacking sound. Damian had very suddenly thrown his head back so that it would hit Jason square in the face. He wouldn't be surprised if it even broke Jason's nose from the sound.

With Jason's grip already loose it doesn't take a lot of effort for Damian to escape his grasp, and make a run for the door. Tim, who was far more focused on his camera, didn’t even have a second to properly react before he was being knocked out of the way. Allowing the young child access to the whole cave.  

"Motherfu-" Jason cuts himself off with a groan before running towards the door as well, "You really let him run right past you, Timbo?"

"You're the one who let him go!"

"He broke my nose!" 

"Guys!" Duke shouts as he runs past the two of them, "let's focus on finding Damian before fighting with each other!" 

That kicked everyone into gear as soon all of them were now trying to find the escapee who had seemingly disappeared. The only thing they can hope for right now is that he doesn't find a weapon of any kind. 

Everyone has split off in different areas to search, and taking the situation more seriously knowing that the kid could pop out of anywhere and attack them. It's not until after 20 mins of searching that Dick decides to just start speaking, hoping that he can somehow convince him to come out of hiding at the very least. 

"Damian, I know that you know Batman is your father, and now you know that Bruce," He gestures to where the older man is standing, "is Batman; your father! I swear you are safe here."

The cave is covered in silence as everyone waits for a response to come. Just as it looks like nothing will happen a slight but deliberate sound comes from the side of where he is.

"Damia-" 

"Silence." Damian speaks forward enough to be seen, but making sure to stand out of reach, "Did Mother set this test up? Grandfather? Either way I'm not falling for it. If you wanted to make this more convincing you should have included my brother."

Dick felt a pain in his chest at that word. Brother? Did Damian really have a brother while at the league? Is he talking about a sort of battle brother, or did Talia have another kid? Is it Bruce's kid? Taking a glance to where Bruce is he sees that the man must be having the same thoughts as his face sits somewhere between anger and grief. 

"You have a brother!?" Tim is the one that finally asks the question on everyone's mind. 

"There is no need to continue this act; I've already figured out that this isn't real."

"Like the same mom, same dad type of brother?" Duke even looks aghast at the revelation of a second possible child of Bruce. 

Damian only looks more annoyed at each question, but answers anyway in a tone that makes it clear that he thinks the answer is obvious, "Tt of course. That tends to be the case with twins after all." 

Damian has a twin?

The de-aged child in front of him could lie about a lot of things right now to get an advantage in this situation, but what advantage does lying about a twin get him? Damian seems so sure that all of this is a test from the league. There is no way he could lie about something like this. 

Damian is a twin. 

As much as Dick wished it wasn’t true he couldn’t lie to himself about this. Between the ages of 6 and 10 something must have happened to the other boy. He’d bet money that whatever it was made Talia bring Damian to the manor. Why did she or Damian never say anything? Was his brother even given the chance to mourn the loss of his brother?

Damian had a twin. 

"Jason, you were with the league for a while, did Damian really have a twin?" Tim whispers quietly to the man standing next to him.

"I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind when I was there, and even then I never saw the brat or brats I suppose." 

"Enough!" Damian suddenly slams a foot onto the ground clearly done with everyone around him whispering, "the test is done, and I'm ready to return back to the compound." 

Tim now turns to Bruce with nothing but shock still on his face, "I think it'd be easier to just explain the truth to him. Otherwise this is what the next couple days are going to be like.”

"The baby assassin is just going to keep attacking us and trying to escape otherwise." Jason adds on as well as he takes a seat at the center table. “I for one would like to keep the demon spawn close by because I’ve got some questions he’s going to need to answer ASAP when he’s normal again.”

Bruce seems to finally snap out of his trance and slowly starts to make his way to Damian. Once he's just out of reach of his son he kneels down so that he's much closer to Damian's current height. "Son, this isn't a test, and I am your father.”

"You are a liar; my father wouldn't leave Danyal behind!" 

No one was surprised this time when Damian sprung forward to attack Bruce. In the end Alfred had to give him a light sedative to calm him down enough to be laid back down on the med bay bed. Duke even went upstairs, and brought Alfred the cat down to sleep in the boy's lap. Unsurprisingly, that cat still loves him when he's this small. 

For now they can only hope that things will be calmer when Damian wakes up again. 

The cave after that was met with suffocating silence as there was only one thought in everyone's head.

"What happened to Danyal?"

[angstywaifu]

No Strings Attached - Garrick Tavis

Request: reader is fwb with Garrick you could even include some spice and they start to fall for each other but they’re not exclusive so one night she sees him talking to another girl and she feels extremely hurt seeing it. then she decides to ice him out and branch out to hang out with other people and he sees her talk to another guy and gets really jealous and feels very possessive. and then they get into a massive angsty fight Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Unprotected Sex (P in V). Angst and fighting. Jealousy.

Masterlist | Support Me

“Cmon sweetheart, just one more. For me.” Garrick whispers in my ear as his fingers dig into my hips as he guides me up and down on his length.

As per usual, Garrick was determined to get another one out of me. This would be the fourth? No, fifth? Fuck, I had no idea. My brain all foggy from the amount of times he’d pulled another orgasm from me. He was addicted to pulling them from me, and I was addicted to the way he made me felt.

The familiar knot in my stomach tightens again as I dig my nails into his shoulder as my lead lulls forward. Garrick notices the shift, grabbing tightly onto my waist as he holds me up, slamming his hips into mine hard and fast. I barely had time to process what was coming as I shatter in his arms, my whole weight resting in Garrick’s hands as I go limp. Eyes rolling back into my head, mouth open in a silent moan as my legs tremble either side of his. I feel Garrick shudder beneath me, his thrusts faltering as he comes undone beneath me.

He gathers me in his arms rolling us to the side as he lays my head down on my pillow, whimpering at the loss of him as he removes himself from me. I barely register him cleaning me up and tucking me into bed as I fall victim to my exhaustion and fall asleep.

The next day it’s back to normal. Everyone none the wiser to how Garrick and I had spent most of our night as we walk the halls the next day. Which is how I wanted it. Garrick and I were just friends. Friends who hooked up a few times a week. An arrangement that worked for both of us since it had started last year. No strings attached, no feelings and no exclusivity. Though neither of us had hooked up with anyone else despite this.

”Quinn and I are having a girls night in her room, did you want to come?” Imogen asks me as we leave the gym, both of us in desperate need of a shower after the training session we had just done.

I turn my head to look at her and tell her I’m in, but two figures behind her across the courtyard near the Rotunda catch my eyes. Imogen turns to look, both of us watching Garrick as he leans up against the wall talking to girl in second wing. I watch as he raises a hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I don’t miss the way she tips her head downwards slightly, and I’d bet any money she’s blushing. I instantly see red. Wanting to march over there and pull her away from him, tell her to stay away. I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t want to do that. We were just friends. Friends who slept together. Nothing more. Why the hell did I feel like this?

”Sorry, I’ve got plans.” I tell her in the most monotone voice I’ve heard leave my lips as I turn and make my way to the dorms.

Another year done and over. Thank god. I’d been craving a drink since seeing Garrick talking to that girl two weeks ago. Since then I’d been avoiding him, which was pretty easy considering we’d all been sent away for War Games for five days and we were in different Wings. But since that night I’d opted to hanging out with my squad, mainly Imogen and Quinn. Something I knew Garrick had noticed as Imogen had told me Garrick had asked about me after I’d walked off when he’d approached our group at challenges. Even now I can feel his eyes on me across the room. It was not like me to ignore him like this, but I honestly couldn’t trust me feelings.

Movement next to me pulls me from my thoughts, one of the first year repeats sitting next to me. I remembered him from the start of the year. The scattering of freckles across his face had always stood out to me. He’d been apart of our squad till he hadn’t been chosen at Threshing. Which was a shame, from what Quinn and Imogen had told me he was one of the best in our squad.

”How was war games?” He asks me as he fills up his cup from one of the pitchers from the middle of the table.

”Tiring as usual. There’s only one time of year I will ever have thoughts on wanting to be back here, and that’s war games.” I tell him with a smile as he fills up my now empty cup.

We fall into conversation easily, laughing and telling stories and jokes. Something I had missed during the last week. And it was nice to be talking to someone new. Something to take my mind off what had happened. Though it’s not long before my mind wanders back as a tall looming figure hovers behind me, casting a shadow over me and onto the cadet I now know as Sawyer. I watch as his eyes widen as he looks behind me. A look I associated very well with Garrick.

”We need to talk.” He growls out from behind me.

I can practically feel the anger rolling off him against my back. I can see how worried Sawyer looks. Yeah, he was pissed.

”What do you want to talk about?” I toss over my shoulder before chugging the rest of my drink, definitely needing more alcohol in my system to deal with whatever was about to happen.

”In private.”

I turn and look at him. Yep. He was pissed. His eyes are narrowed at me, his jaw ticking from the strain of clenching it. Great. I tear my gaze from his, standing and pushing past him as I head towards the door, leaving Sawyer behind. I push through the door leading into the rotunda, barely making it a few steps before Garrick grabs my arm.

”What the hell was that?” He snaps, gesturing back towards the dining hall.

”Really? I could be asking you the same about you and the cadet a few weeks back in the courtyard.” I snap back as I gesture towards the door leading towards the courtyard.

His brow furrows as he looks towards where I point. “What are you talking about?”

Anger flares with in me. “That blonde who you had in the courtyard a few nights before War Games started. Tucking her hair behind her ear as she blushed and giggled at you.”

”So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me.” He drawls in a monotone voice.

”I haven’t been ignoring you. We’ve been away at War Games if you hadn’t noticed.” I retort as I walk a few steps away, needing to clear my head of the anger that was raging through me.

”Says the one who has walked away whenever I’ve joined the group and has been mysteriously absent from my bed.” He states as he walks over and steps in front of me.

”What do you want Garrick? Want me to confess that even though this isn’t technically exclusive that I’m a little jealous you start showing interest in another girl for the first time since this started happening? That maybe I realised I need to put some space between us and put effort into my other friends or find some new ones?” My voice echoing around the empty rotunda as I glare up at him.

”Please he didn’t want to be your friend.” He scoffs at me.

”Well I wouldn’t know because you couldn’t resist playing possessive guard dog after I start talking to a guy that isn’t you!” My voice cracks at the end, a tear rolling down my cheek that Garrick’s hazel eyes track.

”Trust me, there’s only one things guys want from girls in here.” Garrick looming over me as he takes a step towards me.

I scoff and shake my head at me. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that. Hope she can warm your bed till she also figures that out.”

”Sweethe-”

”Don’t. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” I snap at him before turning and storming back into the rowdy dining hall, wiping away another tear that rolls down my cheek.

[emacrow]

The villains had been 'mildly' concerned about their fellow villain, scarecrow by emacrow/creator

He haven't been to the annual monthly meeting in 6 months after his quiet muttering that how he beat The Mistress of Fear plotting by destroying her psychology.

Only for him to stumbled a bit in the door with a heavy limp, a marriage ring that was a gem bejeweled carved in the shape of pumpkin head on his ring finger, his scarecrow pants inside out, his jacket was missing, revealing several black and orange lipsticks marks and hickies on his shoulder, his sack mask has a new decoration of a childish scribble doodles of a ghost and a stitches of a carved pumpkin with glowing emerald eyes that was the Mistress of Fear symbols on the backside with his curly hair longer then it usually was, sneaky a bit out under the sack.

He look like someone who got their soul devoured in one go during a one night stand,

He ignored the obvious stares and snickering of each and every one of the guys watching him sit in his personal seat.

"So did you found what Mistress of Fear plotted against you, Scarecrow?" Harley was the speak first, a chuckle on how Scarecrow glared sent her way, fixing his mask.

"Oh, I think he found it alright." Penguin snickered.

"Fuck, now I owe Cat lady 1000 bucks."

"S-shut up! Scarecrow growled back if he wasn't struggling with his legs so much being weak in the knees.

"I still don't believe that The Mistress of Fear married this guy when she as tall as Killer croc and he like-." Riddler emphasize the height between Mistress and Scarecrow.

"He survived the other dozen times he fought her. Hell, Joker is still in the isolated cell for extend time after what she done to him the first fight, but seeing this. I can see she pretty much destroyed the poor guy to the point of bedrest." Bane spoke quietly, which cause the roar of laughter to begin in the meeting table.

"Bet she had many treats and tricks for our poor scarecrow to be walking like baby deer like that."

....

....

....

Jonathan wanted to blow up the entire meeting with his newly tested extreme fear toxic bomb so badly, but he held his anger and embarrassed down tight, considering half the thing they were gossiping were the truth.

They didn't have a clue what he went through personally.

He could barely hold a shiver trying to rise up his back after what was his honeymoon, along with learning some deep dark secrets Lilith had in her closet after he tried to snoop into.

Her endless, glowing green otherworldly filled of the damned souls that the soulshredder hoard closet that sucked him in for what felt like eternity when it was only 5 minutes in there before he passed out from terror.

No wonder she wasn't afraid inhaling the damn fear toxic when she had a goddamn portal to hell in her bedroom.

What he got forced into marrying her was to destroy her, but he was now playing against the unknown element that Lilith was a mistress of.

He doesn't want to remember the Training schedule she set upon him, but the lessons..

Oh the lessons of learning about fear essence in souls, Jonathan was drooling like he was starving for every single word that Lilith was speaking during that entire session, not cause his heart was skipping a beat with how she grin about a certain topic in fear or how his palms drench in sweat and face burning hotter then lava watching her show him a tiny water drop size of Fear essence in her hands.

He never was sexually attracted to anyone women or man, much less desire to touch or have affection for, but at that moment seeing that sparkle of flaming interest and desire in lilith's eyes showing him that made all the blood in his head went south for the first time in ever was the most embarrassing thing in his entire life.

He was fucked.. even literally in the sense.

Previous pt 1 link<- pt 3 link here<-

[moomuzan]

— 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖎𝖊𝖘

you two had a fight… :( , chuuya , akutagawa , dazai , kunikida x gn! reader , angst with happy end , req.

The fight began in silence. It was always that way with AKUTAGAWA—his sharpness spoken not with words but in the jagged edges of his movements. You had been arguing for what felt like hours, though in truth it had been minutes, the air thick with unspoken things. He stood near the window, his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he tried to contain himself.

“You never listen,” you muttered, your voice trembling as you forced the words past the lump in your throat.

At that, Akutagawa’s head snapped toward you, his eyes like shards of glass. “And you never understand,” he bit out, voice low and dangerous, yet quivering with something beneath the anger. He didn’t raise his voice—he never had to. The quiet violence in him was enough.

Though the weight of his words dug in deep, you didn’t flinch. Instead, you turned away, shoulders slumping. “Maybe I don’t,” you murmured. “But it doesn’t feel like you want me to.”

Those words hung heavy in the air, more final than either of you realized. Akutagawa’s breath caught—briefly, sharply—but he said nothing. He couldn’t. He watched as you walked past him, your form fading down the hallway, your steps too slow, too heavy, and the sound of the door closing behind you hit him like a gunshot.

Then there was silence.

Your voice echoed in his mind, repeating itself like a haunting refrain. He thought of the way you looked at him—tired, unsure, something fragile about you that he hadn’t noticed until it was too late. His hands, once trembling with frustration, fell limp at his sides as the truth settled into him like a blade.

All this time he had been pushing you away. For weeks. Months, maybe. And now, the distance he had been creating out of habit—the wall he had built to keep himself safe—threatened to swallow you both whole.

When Akutagawa finally moved, it was sudden. He grabbed his coat and left without thinking, his steps quick and uneven as he navigated the streets. He didn’t know where you had gone, but that didn’t matter. His mind screamed at him that he had to find you—not to fix everything, because he didn’t know how, but to try.

He found you hours later, sitting on a bench in a quiet park, your head bowed and hands folded tightly in your lap as though you were holding yourself together. Akutagawa paused, watching you from a distance, unsure how to approach. He wasn’t good at this. He wasn’t good at people, at love, at softness. But you… you were his, even if he didn’t know how to show it.

Slowly, he stepped forward, the gravel crunching under his boots. You glanced up at the sound, and your expression—tired, tear-streaked—knocked the wind from his lungs.

As he sat down beside you he didn’t speak. There were no words in him that could fit, no perfect apology, so he let the silence settle between you instead. It was the same silence you had both been drowning in for so long, but this time, it felt different.

Akutagawa reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his handkerchief—neatly folded and immaculate. Without a word, he handed it to you. You stared at it for a moment, confused, before you took it with trembling fingers, pressing the fabric to your face to wipe the tears you hadn’t realized were still falling.

Similar to a man trying to learn something foreign and unfamiliar, he stayed still, hands on his knees, his posture stiff and uncomfortable but resolute. You noticed the faintest tremor in his breathing—too shallow, too quick.

“I…” He swallowed hard, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t want you to go.”

Clipped words, barely there, landed with the weight of a confession. You turned toward him, searching his face, and saw the unspoken things in his expression—the desperation, the regret, the quiet fear of losing you.

“You’re always pushing me away,” you whispered. “I thought maybe you wanted me to leave.”

Akutagawa’s jaw tightened, his fists curling against his knees. “I don’t.”

“Then why—”

“Because I don’t know how,” he snapped, his voice cracking just slightly before falling into a harsh whisper. “I don’t know how to keep you close. I don’t know how to be… what you need.”

Ultimately, the honesty in his words shocked you. Akutagawa, who had always hidden himself behind barbed wires of anger and distance, looked broken now—cracks forming in the mask he had worn for so long.

The mafia executive turned to look at you, for the first time in a long time, there was no anger in his gaze, only vulnerability. “But I’ll learn,” he said, his voice so soft you barely heard it. “If you let me.”

Letting out a shaky breath, your chest tight with the weight of his words, you believed him—not because his words were perfect, but because they weren’t. They were raw and uneven and full of the effort he didn’t know how to put into love but was trying to find anyway.

Tentatively, you reached for his hand, your fingers brushing his knuckles before settling into the spaces between them. He stiffened slightly at the touch, as though it startled him, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let your hand rest in his, holding it as though he was afraid of squeezing too hard, of breaking something precious. In the quiet weight of his touch, you felt his intent—steady, unsure, but determined.

,

The fight was inevitable. A slow-burning thing that began weeks ago, ignited by small moments—the unanswered questions, the quiet neglect, the way he seemed farther away even when he stood right beside you. KUNIKIDA was always consumed by purpose, always looking ahead to the next task, the next step, the next ideal, but you were slipping through the cracks of his perfection.

Like a chasm neither of you knew how to cross, you stood in the middle of the living room, the space between you vast.

“You’re never here, Kunikida,” you said softly, your voice strained, though you fought to keep it steady. “You’re with your notebook, with your plans, with your work—but you’re not with me.”

Kunikida, standing stiffly by the desk, lifted his gaze toward you, his brows furrowed in irritation—or maybe confusion. “Do you think I’m not trying?” he said, his voice calm but cold, too sharp. “Everything I do, everything I plan, is for the future. For us.”

You flinched—not at the volume but at the way he sounded like he’d already lost you.

“I don’t want plans,” you whispered, your hands clenching at your sides. “I want you.”

Those words cut deeper than you realized. Kunikida stood there, silent, his expression unreadable, though you could see the faintest tension in his shoulders. You waited for him to say something, to move, to do anything. But he stayed where he was, his silence stretching like a weight across the room.

So you turned away. You grabbed your coat, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t say goodbye.

Feeling heavier without you in it, the apartment seemingly collapsed. Kunikida remained frozen where he stood, his gaze fixed on the space you had occupied moments before. It wasn’t until the sound of the ticking clock broke through the silence that he moved, sinking down to the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands.

“I want you.”

As the words replayed in his mind, like a record skipping back to the same refrain, he could see it now—the weariness in your eyes, the way you had been pulling away, not because you wanted to, but because he had left you no choice.

By the time you returned, the apartment was dark except for the soft glow of a lamp. You stepped in cautiously, expecting more silence, but what you found made you pause. Kunikida was sitting at the dining table, his glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose, papers scattered in front of him.

But these weren’t work documents. They were lists—half-scribbled, messy things that you’d never seen from him before. You squinted, your eyes catching glimpses of his handwriting.

“Dinner together—at least three nights a week.”

“Put work away by 9 PM.”

“Ask her about her day. Listen.”

Painfully, your throat tightened as you stepped closer. Kunikida looked up, his expression soft and open, uncharacteristically uncertain. He held the notebook in his hands as though it might break.

“I stayed up thinking,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with something you couldn’t place—regret, maybe, or guilt. “You were right. I’ve been… absent. I thought I was doing what was best, but I was leaving you behind.”

You swallowed hard, words escaping you as he stood, stepping carefully toward you. His movements were deliberate, as though he was afraid of scaring you away.

“I don’t want you to feel alone,” he continued, his voice low, steady—different now, like he was peeling himself back just for you. “I’ve been so focused on building a future that I forgot to be present with you, here, in this moment. And I swear to you, I’ll fix that. I’ll fix us.”

Looking down, your eyes stinging with tears as his words settled over you like a balm to an old wound. When you didn’t respond right away, Kunikida exhaled a shaky breath and reached out—tentatively, carefully—until his hand cupped your cheek.

“Please,” he said, his thumb brushing against your skin, gentler than you thought him capable of. “Let me try again.”

For once, Kunikida let go of everything else. His ideals, his plans, his need to control every outcome—none of it mattered now. He held you like you were the most fragile thing in the world, his hand cradling the back of your head, his lips pressing softly to your hair.

,

The fight began with fire, as it always did with CHUUYA. It started with sharp words, thrown back and forth like daggers. You were yelling, your voice hoarse with frustration, while Chuuya paced the living room like a caged animal, his boots heavy against the floor, his anger a storm threatening to break.

“You never listen,” you shouted, your chest heaving as tears burned behind your eyes. “All you do is shut me out. Every time I try to talk to you, you shut me out like I don’t matter!”

In a matter of seconds Chuuya’s eyes snapped toward you, his temper flaring, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t shut you out!” he barked, his voice rough, defensive. “I’m trying to keep you safe! You don’t understand what it’s like to have—”

“To have what?” you cut in, your voice cracking. “To care about someone who won’t let you in? You think I don’t know what that’s like? I’m right here, Chuuya! I’ve been here, and you’re the one who keeps pushing me away!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Chuuya froze, the words sinking in like stones, and you could see the flicker of something breaking in his expression. His anger, once so loud, melted into something quieter—something heavier.

“I’m done,” you said finally, the words trembling as you turned toward the door. “If you don’t want me here, I won’t stay.”

Chuuya didn’t stop you. He couldn’t. He stood there, his hands trembling, his breathing uneven as the door slammed shut behind you. The echo of it hit him like a physical blow, a hollow ache spreading through his chest.

And then the silence swallowed him whole.

“You’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”

You were right. He knew it. He had spent so long building walls—walls made of iron and pride and fear—that he hadn’t realized how much it was hurting you. How much it was pushing you out of reach. Chuuya thought keeping you away from the darkest parts of himself was the only way to protect you, to keep you safe in a world that had always been cruel to the people he loved.

But instead, he was losing you.

The thought made something snap inside him. Chuuya was not a man who sat still when something he cared about was on the line. His love was not quiet or patient—it was fierce, reckless, and alive, and he couldn’t let you walk away believing he didn’t care.

He grabbed his coat and left, the door slamming behind him.

It was raining when he found you. The sky had opened up, and the streets were slick with water that pooled along the curbs. You sat on a bench under the dim glow of a streetlamp, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you stared at nothing. The rain soaked through your clothes, your hair plastered to your face, but you didn’t move.

Slowing as he approached, Chuuya‘s boots splashed through puddles. His chest ached at the sight of you—so small, so still, like the fight had drained every last bit of you.

“You’ll get sick sitting out here,” he said quietly, his voice soft in a way it rarely was.

You didn’t look up. “What do you care?”

The words cut him, sharper than any knife. He swallowed hard, stepping closer. “I care,” he said, kneeling down in front of you, his gloved hands hovering near your knees like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. “I care more than I know how to say, and that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Finally, you looked at him, your eyes glassy, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. “Then why do you keep shutting me out?”

As Chuuya’s jaw tightened, he stared at you, the words tangled on his tongue. He hated this—hated how raw he felt under your gaze, how exposed he was now that he couldn’t hide behind his anger. But you deserved the truth, even if it was ugly.

“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice low, unsteady. “I’m scared of what happens when I let you in, when you see all the things I’ve been trying to hide. I don’t want to lose you, and I thought… I thought pushing you away would keep you safe. But all I did was hurt you.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the crack in his voice, by the way his shoulders slumped as though he was finally letting himself break.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his head lowering. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I swear to you, I’ll try. I’ll try to let you in—to be the person you need me to be. Just… don’t leave. Please don’t leave.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the rain falling steadily around you, cold and endless. And then, slowly, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his soaked coat before curling into the fabric.

Melting into him, your tears finally fell freely, though the rain washed them away before they could linger. Chuuya held you as though he could hold the pieces of you back together, his warmth seeping into you despite the cold.

,

Pacing the apartment, your frustration swirled in your chest like smoke. Dazai sat in the armchair near the window, his coat draped lazily over the back, his posture slouched in that same infuriating way—as though nothing could touch him, as though nothing mattered.

And that’s what broke you.

“Do you even care?” you asked, voice trembling as you stopped mid-step.

Dazai’s eyes flicked to you, dark and unreadable, the faintest quirk of his brow betraying his surprise. “What do you mean?”

The casual tone of his voice—the utter detachment—sent something sharp through you. “This,” you said, gesturing to the space between you, to the invisible walls you couldn’t tear down. “Us. Me. Do you even care, or am I just another distraction to you?”

Something flickered across his expression then—gone too quickly for you to name it. He stood slowly, his movements calculated, measured. “That’s unfair,” he said quietly, though there was an edge to his words now.

“Unfair?” you echoed bitterly, your chest tightening. “You shut me out, Dazai. Every time I try to get close, you laugh it off, or you disappear, or you pretend like none of it matters. I can’t keep reaching for someone who’s not even there.”

Instead of answering, he stared at you, his silence louder than any scream. And just maybe it was the silence that hurt most of all.

Letting out a shaky breath, your hands trembled as you wiped angrily at the tears spilling over your cheeks. “I can’t keep doing this. If you won’t let me in, then… then maybe I shouldn’t be here at all.”

Dazai’s eyes widened just slightly, but his lips pressed into a thin line, his mask sliding perfectly back into place. “Maybe you shouldn’t,” he said softly.

It was meant to be a shield—to protect you from him, to protect himself from the possibility of losing you. But the words struck like a knife, and you staggered back as though he’d hit you.

You grabbed your coat, ignoring the way your breath came in broken gasps, and you left without another word.

But he didn’t stop you. He couldn’t. As he stood there, staring at the closed door, the silence of your absence rang in his ears.

All this time Dazai had been good at pretending—at wearing masks so convincing that no one could tell where the act ended and the man began. He could laugh, charm, and lie his way through anything, weaving a persona that fit any moment, any room. But when the door closed behind you, the mask cracked, and the emptiness that lived in his chest reared its head, gnawing at him like it always did.

The mafia executive found you a few hours later, standing alone at the edge of the park, your figure small under the dark sky. He hesitated for a moment, guilt settling in his chest, but he couldn't stay away. Slowly, he approached, his footsteps quiet against the pavement, unsure of what to say. When you turned, your eyes red but calm, his heart sank. He knew this was his last chance.

“I’m sorry. I… I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to keep you close. I thought I could keep pretending that I didn’t need anyone, but that’s not true. It’s you. It’s always been you.” His words were raw, unguarded in a way he had never allowed himself to be, and the vulnerability in his eyes mirrored the openness in his heart. He took a step toward you, his voice thick with sincerity.

In the quiet of the night, under the gaze of a thousand stars, you closed the distance, your hands gently cupping his face, soft and warm. “I won’t leave you,” you whispered back. “But you need to let me in. You have to trust me, Dazai.”

Nodding, his eyes brimming with a kind of quiet desperation, as if you were the last thing that made sense in a world that had always been confusing to him. “I will,” he promised, his voice rough, but certain now. “I will.”

And for the first time in a long while, Dazai felt like he wasn’t alone.

<3

[juststrawberrytea]

thinking about cuddling s1 Viktor ♡

It's no secret that Viktor practically lives in the lab. The countless hours of tinkering and testing often meant long nights for him. He doesn't even know how or when but you managed to convince the scientist to spend the night with you.

An hour after midnight you hear a knock on your door. A tired Viktor stands at your door's entrance. His disheveled hair falling over his forehead, the bags under his eyes more noticeable now. You take his hand, cold skin against your warm palm, and bring him inside. Your cozy dorm sheltering you from the cold winter outside.

"I apologize for coming over so late." His tired voice, sounding almost like a whisper, comes from behind you as you lead him into your bedroom.

"I'm surprised you came." You softly chuckle. You help him take off his coat, placing it over a chair in the corner of your room. You notice the way his eyes fell onto your bed.

Viktor's gaze locked onto the plush blankets that adorned your bed. He noticed the soft glow of your lights which gave your room a warmth that was very inviting. The air in your room alone was a stark contrast to the metallic tang of the lab. He couldn’t ignore the faintly laced, intoxicating trace of your perfume, no matter how hard he tried.

"I'm surprised as well." He quietly mumbled. His eyes glanced over your trinkets and decor. Your room was far more comfortable than he had imagined.

You sit up on your bed and pat the empty space beside you.

"Right. I'll, uh... I’ll just get comfortable.” His heart suddenly in his throat.

"I won't look. I promise." You say as you grab a book from your drawer. You pretend to read, your back facing him, but all you can do is imagine the way his long fingers unbutton his vest. The soft material sliding down his back. You wanted nothing more than to help him unbutton his white shirt. To see his collarbones peaking through, his chest being exposed after each button becomes undone. You wanted to-

"I should probably keep these... on." His quiet voice cutting off your thoughts as he slides into the bed. You put your book down as you feel the bed dip beside you and get under the bedsheets, noticing he stripped down to his underwear. Like a magnet, your hand finds his and you intertwine your fingers together. His skin was still cold compared to yours, the tips of his fingers and his knuckles slightly red from the bitter wind outside.

"Come here." He pulls you in, wrapping his arm around you. Unable to refrain himself, he buries his nose in your hair, breathing in the sweet fragrance of your perfume as he holds you close against his chest. Your warmth immediately soothing him, his body melting and relaxing into your bed.

There was a comfortable silence between you two. His buzzing mind slowly comes to a halt when he feels your body go limp against him.

"Darling?" He calls for you softly but is only met with a soft hum as a response. He smiles as he watches over you. God, you looked so peaceful. The way your face softened as you slept, the way your lashes looked... he could never find the right way to put it into words but dammit he knew you were everything to him.

Viktor lets out a small sigh, his head falling back on the pillow as he savors the moment. For once, he actually relaxes. For once, the tightness from his shoulders and back fades away. The thoughts of his mind now occupied by you... your room, your warmth instead of numbers and scientific theories. He felt safe here, a different kind of safe. His heart tightened in chest as he noticed he would never be able to sleep without you.

He could feel his eyelids slowly getting heavy, eyebrows no longer borrowed tightly, realizing it had been a while since he actually slept. Here, in the quiet of your room, he could hold the world at bay even if it was just for a little while.

Viktor experiences his first deep sleep in a very long time, only stirring when he feels your body shifting against him.

[sturnmeovr]

Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader - Plan B

Your white sheets drape loosely around Matt’s waist, daring to fall each time he pumps himself in and out of you at a steady pace, going so deep he teases your cervix each time. Low, raspy grunts escape his lips with every snap of his hips, one hand glued to your waistline, not letting you squirm out from his grip one bit while the other dangerously thumbs at your clit. “Ahh! — Matt,” you croak out, your eyes low from the little ball of pleasure building up in your stomach, “I can’t — Fuck!”

You hadn’t had a senseless hook up in months, you were too focused on work and isolating yourself, you had no time for distractions. You didn’t know how you got in this position – pinned underneath your obnoxiously rude and loud upstairs neighbor whom you’ve hated up until twenty minutes ago when he was forcing his tongue in your mouth and clawing at every article of clothing you had on. 

His blue orbs suck you in much like a heavy current. His bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he stares down at you with a gruff expression sewn deep into his face. He was so focused on making those sweet, sacred moans roll off the tip of your tongue, he almost failed to respond. Too busy fucking you into a mindless state, studying the way your face contorted in pleasure with each thrust. It was all due to him. His mouth gapes open as your eyes roll back, "all that — Mph! — shit you were talking," he manages to get out all while plowing into your sopping cunt, "now you can't — take it, huh?"

Wetness drips from your arousal at the sound of his voice, so deep and husky like he had been holding back his groans. Your wet pussy spits out squelching sounds adding to the mixture of your heavenly moans and Matt’s thighs slapping against yours as he rams himself in and out of you. The sex sounds are so satisfying, you both find yourselves leaning in, foreheads pressed together just to watch how his cock glides in and out of your wet cunt with such ease. You look up at Matt, his eyes already fixated on your face, “look at you," he coos before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, "y’almost there for me, sweet girl?”

That euphoric feeling you had been chasing the last twenty minutes finally reaches its boiling point, sending you over the edge and making your legs shake in an uncontrollable manner. A loud mewl erupts from your lungs and your body goes limp, collapsing onto the memory foam bed beneath you as you moan out, “oh my – god!” You cling onto the bedsheets for dear life, digging your nails deep as he fucks your thru your orgasm, his thumb still working tight circles around your small bundle of nerves.

“Fuckk — y’pussy squeezing me so tight,” he drags out, his eyes clenching shut as your walls convulse around his thick shaft, the feeling becoming too much for him to handle. Matt gives you one final thrust, burying his cock so deep, your entrance sits around the base of him as he spills his full load into you, his dick twitching with each spurt of cum he shoots out. As much as he’d love to stay buried as deep as he could be in the best pussy he’s ever had, the realization quickly sweeps over his mind. Not only did he have his bitchy downstairs neighbor that he couldn’t fucking stand under his complete control, cumming so hard on his cock she was shaking, but he just came in her. He fucking came in her.

Matt tries not to let the awkward silence take over the mood. Letting exhaustion take over his body, he collapses on top of you. Your heart thumps in your chest as he presses a light sloppy kiss to your collarbone, almost like it's an apology. “Fuck, sorry. I’ll uh –,” he breathes out, his nostrils flaring in an attempt to catch his breath, “I’ll insta cart plan b.”

Meanwhile, all you could think about was his cum dripping out of your pussy and onto the silky, freshly washed bed sheets below you. That asshole better buy you a plan b.

Introducing Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader

wc - 713

♡‧₊˚ New au incoming 🫣👀 ofc im still doing babydaddy!Chris, just miss writing about Matt 🥰 Let me know what you guys think?! Also want to say thank you @sweetshuga, @strnilolover & @chrislilcumslvt for their second opinions. This probably would've sat in my drafts forever if it wasn't for them lol

Posting the intro next!

Tags - @lvrsturniolo @ribread03 @unknvhx @m11rx @sweetshuga @loveparqdise @emely9274 @frickin-bats @delusional-4-fake-people @katie-tibo @leila-marie4 @thepubeburgler @shadowthesim @immy08 @trevorsgodmother @watercolorskyy @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @luvr4miya @strnilolover

© M00NL1GHTS1VT - please do noy copy my work

[onlinedolly]

Pllsss hear me out- dad leon with a alt kid, they're socially awkward and don't have any friends- but it's okay, leon can be your friend, he's all you need after all! And his kiddo smokes weed, not being too bothered by it, it helps with your anxiety-

But he can't help but get hard when you smile up at him with hazey red eyes and a big toothy grin! Stuttering and mumbling over your words because your brain is just too fogged up, Your just too cute!

So when you were smoking the next time he saw you, you were watching a movie and he asks to join you, sitting behind you on the bed, only starting with a hand rubbing on your back as you both watch the movie- but every hit you take leon gets more and more touchy until eventually he pounding into you, holding your face into your bed until your both crying, you from overstimulation, and leon crying that he's sorry, he'll make it up to you, he always does! (*￣∇￣*)

ohhhhh anonnie i’m wet LOL!!!!

cw warning: drug use, incest, dd:dne, rough sex, noncon, loser perverted leon, rough leon

“feelin good, hm?” leon would ask as he climbs into your bed, stroking your hair as some movie, he doesn’t really care that much about, plays in the background. leon had always been a lax dad, you were a decent enough kid and you didn’t have many friends, meaning you didn’t go out much (which he was thrilled by), so you found yourself hanging out with your father more then anything.

yes, he was a cop and yes you smoked weed but he wasn’t going to tell, he’d promised when he first found out. if that’s the worst thing you’re doing, how could he really be that mad? besides, it made you so kind to your sweet father.

you nod your head as he runs his fingers through your hair, sinking next to you on the bed. you’re fixated on the movie but all he can do is look at you, he watches as you smoke in your joint, leaning into his touch as he keeps running his fingers through your hair. as you get more hazy and high he moves his hand to rub small circles on your back, moving around a bit as he feels his cock start to stiffen.

why was his cock getting hard? why was he thinking these thoughts? your father thought to himself, he’d noticed you before in your little dresses and pretty makeup, but he always pushed it to the back of his mind. but now? now he couldn’t resist, how would he? not when you were sprawled out on the bed for him, leaning against his touch as he runs circles in your back.

so your dad tests the water first, moving his hang to grip your waist pulling you closer to him, when he notices you don’t shift away from him moves his hang up and down on your hip, that getting your attention.

“what are you doing?” you asked, soft, hazy, n sweet.

“just trust me baby,” leon speaks back just as kindly as he moves his hand to hover over the front of your panties. this was it. the point of no return. how would you react? he thought. would you push him away, call him a pervert? god he kind of was a pervert, a terrible man. a disgusting man who can’t help himself as he ghosts his fingers over clothed cunt. you late out a hazy gasp, but not moving much as he sneaks his fingers into your panties.

“this okay, baby?” he speaks low, running a finger up your cunt teasingly. you shudder and look at him with glossy eyes.

“daddy i…dunno.” you speak earnestly, you talked like you didn’t want it but from how wet he could feel you getting he kept on, spreading your puffy cunt with two fingers.

you sink down into his touch, grabbing his wrist with a limp hold, “daddy this….” you gasp a bit as he rubs past your clit, “…this ain’t right.”

“i know babygirl, im so sorry.” leon speaks as he places a kiss to the top of your head, rubbing soft circles into your fat clit. he felt terrible about it, touching you like this, he was your fucking father and now he’s nothing more then just a perverted man touching his daughter. “daddy’s so sorry.”

the circling around you clit speeds up as he watches you let out soft moans underneath him, twitching. he replaced his fingers with his thumb on your clit we he tries to insert a singular finger in you. you gasp at the pain and he practically moans at how tight it is. once inside he gives you a second to adjust before thrusting his finger in and out of you listening to how your whines turn into deep moans.

“d-daddy—“ your broken voice calls out as he picks up the pace, “we should stop.” you plead, but leon sees right through your facade as you wiggle around in his touch moaning softly.

“i know baby, i know. daddy’s so sorry, daddy’ll getcha whatever you want after, okay? just—“ he picks up the pace, rubbing your clit hard as he fucks you with his fingers, “let daddy do this okay?”

you’re about to cum, you can feel the coil of heat inside you and it’s about to snap. when you do cum, it’s hard and you’re bucking against your fathers fingers. the sight alone could make leon cream himself, but he’s not done. no, not yet.

he gives you time to adjust from your orgasm before he’s pushing you into the bed, face in the pillow and ass propped up as you’re on all fours. he’s fumbling around anxiously now, anxious to feel your tight cunt suck in his cock, as he unbuckles his belt and hurriedly pulls down his jeans. you’re in nothing but a pretty nightgown and black lacy panties making you the easiest of access.

once leon has his cock out he strokes it, letting out a deep guttural groan at the sight of you. and then he’s pulling down your panties and you panic, sobering up the tiniest bit as you try to raise up, to no avail since leon has you pinned to the bed.

“daddy this really isn’t okay—“ he slaps your ass, sending your body forward and you whine out loudly.

“sorry daddy hit you baby, daddy’s so so sorry,” he leans his head back in ecstasy before hes lining himself up with you, pushing himself into your tight cunt. “just let daddy do this, please baby.” and god you feel like heaven. tighter then he thought and so wet and hot. it’s almost impossible to work himself into you as you cry and whimper and clench around him. but oh, does leon love a challenge. so he thrusts harder as he finally gets himself fully inside of you.

“daddy!” you yelp, sobbing into the pillow as your clit pulses at the delicious feeling of him ripping you open. and then he starts, a brutal pace, a downright mean pace. especially for fucking his daughter who he knew was a pretty little virgin. but he couldn’t help it, you felt so good when you clenched in pain around his cock as he thrust into you with such force it made your head bang against the head board.

he had your hair a ball in his fist as he pushed your face into the pillow, muffling your screams and soft moans as he tears you from the inside out. your cunt is dripping all over his cock, the bed, as you let out little pleads asking him to stop but he just can’t.

he brings his free hand to your nipples under your shirt, squeezing them harshly as he collapses his body on top of yours, biting roughly into your shoulder, “jesus fuck baby, feel so so good. daddy’s so sorry he can’t stop, your just—“ thrust “so fucking—” thrust “—tight” thrust. you’re a mess at this point, sobbing and drooling into the pillow as he continues his brutal pace.

once leon finally comes, it’s a lot, hot and it fills you so full you think your going to pass out. his hips stutter as he jerks against your body, cumming and growling loudly in your ear. you’re a mess of tears and snot as he pulls out of you, his soft demeanor returning as he places a kiss to the back of your head. “daddy’s so sorry baby, getcha whatever you want to make it right, please forgive me?” he’s tearful now, stroking the back of your head as you lay there limp and out of it. leon was a perverted terrible man.

[ultravi0lence14]

Salt & Burn

dean winchester x fem!reader

837 | hurt/comfort, spn level violence

summary: after what you assumed to be a simple salt and burn goes completely sideways, dean is there to help you with not only your physical wounds, but your mental.

*based on this request

a hiss of pain breathed from your lips, eyes slightly watering as dean’s hands made repetitive motions of the thread and needle in your skin.

what seemed to be a simple ghost hunt turned into a full moon. which then turned into a werewolf prowling the land of the cemetery. dean had put a silver bullet in it’s head, but not before it had dug it’s long and grotesque talons into the flesh of your back.

no visit to the hospital was needed, but the excruciating pain as dean hauled you from the muddy ground to the impala was something you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. all you could recall was the feeling of a thousand knives in your back and the sound dean’s voice saying, “you’re alright. you’ll be just fine sweetheart.” coming out in murmured jumbles like you were underwater.

now, as you sat cross legged on the sink of the motel bathroom, you really cursed the moon and what it did to some people every month. you were facing the mirror, watching dean in the glassy reflection as he concentrated so heavily on the sutures you were sure his hand was going to cramp up.

you hadn’t spoken since you came back, and dean was starting to get worried. your face was passive, looking into the bathroom mirror like you could look through yourself. the look in your eyes had dean worried. you seemed like a shell of yourself. not that he blamed you, the werewolf attack was pretty gruesome.

the sensation of the thread being tied of jolted you out of the revere you were in. dean’s concern grew larger when you didn’t move a muscle as he suggested maybe ordering your favourite food and staying in. the physical wound on your skin was healed, but now dean needed to help mend the mental scar the werewolf left on your soul.

softly grabbing your arm and helping you down from the counter, the small whisper of dean’s breath on your ear murmuring ‘come here’ brought you out of whatever fog clouded your brain. your muscles were limp and lifeless as the man pulled you toward the motel bed. He could see to toll of the werewolf’s scratch on your face, and all dean wanted to do was make it better.

the plush yet dull comforter on the creaky mattress brought a semblance of comfort to your aching bones. dean sitting down beside you had the mattress dipping, a firm yet comforting hand being placed on your back and moved in comforting circles.

“everything is going to be okay.” he whispered, hands moving so his fingers were tangled in your hair. “you’re alive, you’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”

a whimper tore from your lips at the thought. you were safe, but at what cost? head turning into dean’s chest, tears fell down your eyes as a sob racked through your body. “oh sweetheart.” dean murmured in the crown of your head, arms resting around your frame and hugging you close to his body. “it’s okay. i’m here, baby no one is going to hurt you.”

“i’m so scared.” you cried out, tears stains littering your cheeks as they kept flowing down your face. “i thought i was going to die. it hurt so bad dean, i didn’t know if i was able to hold on any longer.” your words left a piercing gape in dean’s heart. the thought of you dying broke him into pieces. even the thought of you believing you weren’t going to make it hurt his heart.

placing a delicate kiss on the crown of your head, dean felt his own tears fall down his cheeks. “but you made it. you were so brave honey. you held on for me, sam, and yourself.” the sobs had halted a little, but dean could still feel the tears falling onto his shirt. “you are so much stronger than you let yourself believe.”

“i could’ve got you and sam killed.” you said, looking up at dean through tear stained eyes. he hated himself for thinking such a thing at this moment, but dean couldn’t help but stare at your coloured eyes behind the glass like shield of tears. you looked so beautiful, and he couldn’t help but wipe away a tear that fell from your eye.

“but you didn’t.” he reassured, pulling you down so you both were laying on the mattress. side by side, he grabbed your hand and held on tight as you cuddled into his side. “sam and i are okay. you’re okay. no one expected that to happen. all that matters is you getting some rest.”

you weren’t tired, yet the motions of everything you’d been through in one night made sleep cling to you like a vice. with your head delicately placed over dean’s heartbeat, you fell asleep with the rhythmic thump of his heart as white noise.

“i love you.” dean whispered in your ear as you peacefully slept. “i hope you know that.”

[hoshifighting]

seungkwan sporty college fling?? plss 🤭🫦

a/n: first of all— IUSHDIASUHIUNFIABDIASUDIUBFIUHE the fach that he's exactly my type makes me weak on the kneeeeees!! second: WITH THE PICS ALREADY? LOVE YOU! WARNINGS: smut, fluff, med student!reader who's interning in the university's infirmary, handjob, oral (m. receiving)

sporty college fling!seungkwan who's, like, everywhere on campus. if there’s a sport to play, you bet your ass he’s signed up. volleyball, tennis, soccer, basketball, swimming, god, even frisbee if it means he gets to be out there showing off. and, look, it’s not even about the attention—though he loves that, too. he just loves the energy, the cheers from the sidelines, the way he can walk off the field dripping sweat, grinning like he just won the damn lottery.

so when he catches wind that you’re interning in the college infirmary? oh, he’s already scheming. you had no idea he knew you were there, but seungkwan’s been keeping tabs on you ever since that one history class last semester, where he’d sit behind you just to crack dumb jokes and steal your notes when you weren’t looking. he’s been hovering on the edge of your radar ever since, some mix of a friend and a tease that’s always around, always a little too close, always making you laugh even when you’re trying to focus.

so of course, it’s not a coincidence that today he’s on the field, pulling a stunt in the middle of a perfectly normal soccer game. there’s a loud yelp, and before you know it, seungkwan’s got his ass on the ground, clutching his ankle like he’s been hit by a truck. dramatic doesn’t even cover it. a friend tries to help him up, but he waves them off like he’s gotta handle this himself.

“nah, nah, i need a professional,” he says, wincing like he’s in some world-class pain, all while side-eyeing the infirmary building. eventually, the whole team’s staring at him, and the coach—who’s definitely onto him, by the way—just sighs and gestures toward the infirmary.

“alright, go get checked out,” he grumbles, “and don’t make it a habit, boo.”

so in he limps, or, well, mostly fakes limping. you’re organizing the medicine cabinet when you hear him stumble in, and the second you turn around and see him putting on that pitiful, injured expression, you know something’s up.

“oh, my god,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “what happened this time, seungkwan?”

he sighs, laying it on thick. “soccer injury,” he says, wincing as he hobbles over to sit on the infirmary bed. “took a hard hit. they said only the best in here can take care of me.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing the ice pack and tossing it to him. “you know i can see through this bullshit, right?”

he smirks, barely able to keep up the act as he catches the ice pack and shrugs. “hey, i thought i’d at least get a little sympathy. i could be bleeding out, you know?”

“from your ankle? really?” you quip back, unable to stop the grin forming on your face. he shrugs and presses the ice pack to his ankle, looking around like he’s already scouting out what else he can mess with in here. it’s like he doesn’t even have to try—just exists, and it’s annoying but also kind of cute how he always manages to get away with it.

sporty college fling!seungkwan in those thin-ass shorts that they cling in all the right places, showing off his thick thighs, flexing calves, and the outline that has you looking anywhere but his lap whenever he walks into the infirmary. he’s got that sporty glow, a little sweat-slick, hair sticking to his forehead, flushed cheeks from running around, and that cocky smirk that’s always somewhere between friendly and downright dangerous.

so when you’re shrugging off your white coat, your tank top sticking a bit because the damn AC is broken, you catch him watching. his eyes go half-lidded, looking you up and down like you’re not a damn intern who’s just here to patch him up. he can’t even help it, a tiny little gulp as you reach back, trying to hold his knee steady while you clean up the latest scrape. and you lean over him—just a little closer to get a good angle—but the look on his face is downright sinful. he’s flushed deeper than ever, lips parted, eyes blown out like he’s somewhere far away from just a check-up.

and then you see it. oh, he’s really trying to keep it together, but that bulge is so obvious, so tight against the fabric of his shorts, it’s almost painful just looking at it. he’s shifting in place, his thighs pressing together, his hands gripping the edge of the bed, trying so damn hard to play it cool. trying being the keyword. you glance up, arching an eyebrow, giving him a once-over that has his face going from flushed to wrecked.

“you, uh… need help with anything else?” you murmur, voice dropping a bit, glancing between his lap and his face like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

he damn near chokes on his own breath, a helpless moan slipping out before he can stop it, his hips shifting forward as if he’s waiting for permission. and he spreads his legs wider, scooting to the edge of the bed, that smug smile barely peeking through as he bites his lip, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask for without saying a single word.

when you step forward and slip your hand between his legs, fingers skimming over the fabric, he lets out a broken sigh, tipping his head back with this blissed-out look that makes your heart pound.

sporty college fling!seungkwan whos losing his cool right in front of you, his little fantasy about to come true as you start to pull down those shorts, that look of relief as your hand wraps around him.

he’s biting his lip so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t draw blood, trying to muffle the whimpers spilling out as you give him a few slow strokes, teasing just enough to make him squirm.

“fuck,” he hisses, pressing his palm tighter against his mouth, eyes wide as he glances toward the door like he’s expecting someone to walk in. you can’t help but chuckle softly; the thought of getting caught makes this whole thing even hotter. the university walls are so thin you can practically hear the whispers in the hallway, and seungkwan's face is a so desperate.

“c’mon, be quiet,” you tease, your voice low as you lean in a bit closer, brushing your thumb over the slick tip of his cock. it’s dripping now, and you can feel the pre-cum pooling in your hand, making it so easy to slide your fingers along his length. he whimpers again, muffling the sound with his hand, and it’s the kind of sweet, desperate noise that makes you want to do this forever.

“i can’t help it,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, and you can’t tell if he’s more embarrassed by how loud he is or by the way he’s getting even harder under your touch. you pick up the pace a bit, letting your fingers work him as his breath hitches, eyes rolling back just a little.

he clenches his eyes shut, the way he arches his back, trying to chase the pleasure.. his grip on his mouth tightens, and you can see the strain in his muscles, how he’s fighting against the urge to let it all out.

his gaze drops, catching on your fingers wrapped around him, nails perfectly manicured and glinting as they move, slow at first and then faster, like you’re testing just how much he can take. his eyes flick up, and the sight of your chest, bouncing with each stroke, almost sends him over the edge. it’s the kind of view he could lose himself in—is losing himself in—and he can’t look away, no matter how much he wants to keep his cool.

the slick, wet sound fills the small space, louder than his shaky breaths, louder than the little whimpers he’s trying so hard to hold back. his hips buck up, chasing the friction, and you can see him practically falling apart in your hand, his lip pulled between his teeth as he fights to stay quiet. it’s no use, though; his control is slipping, and he knows it.

“fuck—” he chokes out, voice breaking as his hand clamps over his mouth again, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching every single move you make. he swallows, pupils blown wide, his gaze flicking between your hand and your face. he looks like he’s about to burst any second.

the second your lips wrap around just the tip of his cock, seungkwan’s hands fly to his mouth, but it’s useless. the control he’d tried so hard to keep shatters instantly. a loud, ragged moan escapes, so reckless it could probably be heard down the hall, but he doesn’t care anymore.

“oh, fuck—no, wait, wait,” he gasp-whines, hands gripping the edge of the infirmary bed. his hips buck, but he’s melting under your touch, eyes rolling back as you swirl your tongue just around the head. its like his body’s got a mind of its own now, the pleasure overtaking everything else, every little shudder amplified. the quiet whimpers turn to full-on, desperate moans—he’s way past caring if anyone outside hears.

and then—before he can even manage a warning so you could take your mouth off him—his whole body tightens, and he’s coming, spilling over your tongue, a hot, sudden burst that has him gasping. his hand fly up, fingers digging into his own hair, breathless as he watches

he tries to collect himself. his legs feel weak, like he’s just finished sprinting through campus, but it’s way better than any game high. his legs are trembling, knees wobbling as he hops off the bed, trying to look at least half put-together while he straightens his shorts. but one look at your smirk, and he’s got that shy, red-faced grin back, a little embarrassed.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who keeps sneaking into the infirmary for a “checkup” every chance he gets, especially after practice, because, according to him, “gotta make sure i’m in top shape, right?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts showing up with snacks for you after practice—sweaty, still in his shorts and jersey, claiming they’re for you so “you don’t have to eat that vending machine crap all day.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who eventually works up the courage to pull you into a storage room between rounds, pushing you against a shelf with that smirk of his, whispering, “you didn’t think i forgot about how good you looked last time, did you?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who practically has your schedule memorized by now, showing up at the infirmary right when you’re alone, leaning against the doorframe as he says, “miss me yet?” like he’s not been haunting your thoughts all damn day.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts leaving you little notes in your bag with ridiculous messages, like “come to my game, i need my lucky charm,” with a winking face drawn on it. and when you finally show up, he plays like his life depends on it, catching your eye in the crowd every chance he gets, shooting you that smirk as he sprints down the field.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gets bolder every time you’re alone, wrapping his arm around your waist in the empty hallway, backing you against the wall, grinning when you shoot him a look. “don’t act so innocent,” he murmurs, tilting his head down to kiss you until you’re breathless, leaving you flushed and slightly disheveled before slipping away like nothing happened.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you his hoodie on chilly nights after practice, watching with a satisfied grin as you pull it over your head. he’d even say, “looks better on you, anyway,” then stroll off, pretending not to be thrilled seeing you in his clothes.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who one day catches you in the library and somehow convinces you to sneak into one of the back study rooms, grinning as he shuts the door and pulls you close, whispering, “been dying to get you alone, you know that?” before pressing his lips to yours, hands sliding up your back as if he’s got nowhere else he’d rather be.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you a hard time for staying late at the infirmary, texting you, “don’t make me come drag you out myself,” and then showing up anyway. he lingers, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking at you with a smug smile and saying, “told you i’d come get you.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who finally asks you to stay over after a game, all soft and flushed from the adrenaline, looking at you with those bright, honest eyes. he murmurs, “you know, i don’t really want this to just be a fling,” his hand slipping into yours.