#i just turned a corner and my eyes were drawn to this

[hyuniemyunie]

Jason todd x gn reader˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

doing his makeup!<3

sfw

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(ФωФ): hes sooooo wifey i love him sm

THIS IS FOR EVERYNYAN. MEN WITH MAKEUP. WOMEN WITH MAKEUP. NONBINARY PPL WITH MAKEUP.

men who do makeup..r..like. so hot. sorry..not sorry..

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Jason Todd was many things—an ex-Robin, a vigilante, a walking, talking trauma case—but a guy who let someone put makeup on him? That was where he drew the line.

At least, he had drawn the line. But you had this look in your eyes, that mischievous little sparkle that made it real hard to say no.

“Come on,” you pleaded, holding up a fluffy makeup brush like it was a weapon of mass persuasion. “Just let me do a little bit.”

Jason crossed his arms. “I’m not gonna look like a clown, am I?”

you gasped, placing a hand over your heart in fake offense. “How dare you. I would never make you look bad.”

He squinted at you. “Uh-huh.”

You scooted closer, eyes shining. “Please?”

Jason sighed, already feeling himself caving. “Fine. But if I look ridiculous, I’m making you watch all my shitty old Westerns shows with me.”

You grinned. “Deal.”

And that was how Jason Todd, Gotham’s brooding menace, ended up sitting on the edge of the bed while you happily went to work on his face.

At first, he felt stupid. you started with some primer and foundation, muttering about “undertones” and “coverage” while he sat there like an idiot. Then came the contouring—something about sharpening his cheekbones, which he thought was unnecessary because his cheekbones were already sharp enough to cut glass.

Then you moved to his eyes.

“This is where the magic happens,” you declared, pulling out an eyeshadow palette.

Jason groaned. “I swear to God, if you give me rainbow clown eyes—”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, dusting warm brown and reddish shades onto his lids.

Jason stayed quiet after that, mostly because the feeling of the brush against his skin was oddly relaxing. You blended, added a bit of shimmer at the inner corners, then pulled out the eyeliner.

“Keep still,” you warned.

Jason tried to keep still, but the moment you got close to his eye with that little black pen, his survival instincts kicked in.

You huffed. “You stare down thugs with guns on a nightly basis, but this is where you flinch?”

“It’s a reflex,” Jason grumbled.

you rolled your eyes and cupped his jaw, gently tilting his face. “Look up.”

He did. And maybe—just maybe—he liked the way you were touching him, all soft and careful like he was something delicate.

Once you finished the eyeliner, you moved to mascara. Jason blinked too hard the first time, getting some on his eyelid. You scolded him, wiped it off, and tried again.

Then came the final touch—the lips.

Jason narrowed his eyes as you picked up a tube of lipstick. “No bright red,” he warned.

You rolled your eyes. “I know. Trust me.”

You picked a deep, natural shade and carefully applied it, your thumb tilting his chin to keep him still. When you pulled back, you studied him, eyes wide with satisfaction.

“…Holy shit,” you muttered.

Jason frowned. “What?”

“You look really good.”

Jason snorted. “You’re supposed to say that. You did the makeup.”

“No, but like—really good.” You grabbed your phone and flipped the camera so he could see.

Jason expected to look ridiculous.

Instead…

Oh.

The guy in the reflection wasn’t some overgrown crime alley stray. His skin looked flawless, his cheekbones more defined, his blue eyes sharp. The eyeliner made them pop, the mascara darkened his lashes just enough, and the lip color—damn.

He turned his head slightly, raising a brow. He looked—

“…I look hot,” Jason muttered, genuinely surprised.

You burst out laughing. “I told you!”

Jason kept staring at himself, tilting his head like he was studying a piece of art. “…I look like I could scam rich men out of their fortunes.”

You snorted. “You totally could.”

Jason leaned closer to the mirror. “This is bullshit. Why does this work?”

You smirked, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Because, babe, I’m the one who did it.”

Jason gave you a sideways glance. “…So you’re saying if I let you do this every time, I could be the prettiest crime-fighting menace in Gotham?”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Jason hummed. “Huh.”

He turned back to the mirror, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

“…So how do I take selfies?”

Jason stared at his reflection, turning his face slightly to the side, then back. His sharp jawline looked even sharper under the contour, the dark eyeliner made his blue eyes pop like something out of a painting, and the lip color—deep, natural, and just glossy enough—gave him a dangerous kind of charm.

You watched him with barely contained laughter, chin resting on his shoulder. Oh, he was eating this up.

“So,” you drawled, watching his expression shift between admiration and disbelief. “What do you think?”

Jason exhaled through his nose, tilting his head again like he was analyzing a priceless artifact.

“…I look like I scam rich men for a living,” he muttered.

You grinned. “And you’d be good at it.”

Jason let out a soft, amused scoff, still not looking away from the mirror. You could see the way his brain was working—turning over the fact that he, Jason Todd, could be pretty in a way he hadn’t really considered before.

His fingers brushed over his jaw. “This is bullshit.”

You snorted. “What’s bullshit? That I made you look hot?”

“That it works,” he grumbled, squinting at himself like the makeup had personally betrayed him. “I mean, I expected to look like some try-hard clown, not—” He gestured vaguely at his face. “—whatever this is.”

“A masterpiece?” you supplied helpfully.

Jason shot you a look, but there was no real bite to it. He was too busy admiring his reflection.

You grabbed your phone and flipped the camera, holding it up. “Wanna take some selfies?”

Jason hesitated. His instinct was probably to say no, but you could see the little flicker of consideration in his eyes.

“…If you send them to Dick, I’ll throw your phone off a building.”

“Duh,” you said, like that should’ve been obvious. “These are for us. For documentation. For history. For—”

Jason rolled his eyes, but you caught the way his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

“…Fine.”

You gasped dramatically. “Did the Jason Todd just agree to take selfies?”

“Shut up and take the damn picture.”

You beamed and held the phone up, making sure the lighting was just right before snapping a couple of shots. Jason barely even tried to pose, but he didn’t need to—his natural sharpness, the way he glanced sideways at the camera with that slight, lazy smirk, made him look effortlessly cool.

After a few shots, you checked the photos, grinning. “Okay, but you actually look so good.”

Jason leaned over, eyes scanning the images. His expression softened for just a second before he covered it up with faux nonchalance. “Yeah, yeah. You’re just saying that ‘cause you did the makeup.”

“No,” you said seriously, nudging his arm. “I mean it. You’re gorgeous, Jay.”

Jason blinked, caught off guard. He cleared his throat, looking away like you hadn’t just turned him into putty with one sentence. “…You’re so full of shit.”

You just grinned.

“Alright,” Jason sighed, stretching his arms above his head. “Time to wash this off before I start getting ideas.”

You gasped. “What kind of ideas?”

Jason smirked, standing up and flexing dramatically. “I dunno. Maybe I should start conning rich old ladies.”

“Oh my god.”

“I could be Gotham’s prettiest crime lord. Make Bruce’s life a living hell.”

You laughed, standing up with him. “I knew this would go to your head.”

Jason slung an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Your fault, babe.”

And yeah—maybe it was your fault. But looking at Jason now, with his newfound appreciation for just how good he could look, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

Jason wasn’t one to fuss over things like makeup. Sure, it had turned out better than expected—hell, he’d even admit (to you, and only you) that he looked good—but after a few selfies and some teasing, he was ready to wash it off and go back to his usual, rugged, Gotham-worn self.

At least, that was the plan.

You, however, had different ideas.

Jason stood in front of the bathroom mirror, rolling up his sleeves as he turned the sink on. His reflection stared back at him—still sharp-jawed, still intense-eyed, but softened just a bit by the expertly blended makeup you’d applied. He reached for a towel when, suddenly—

SMOOCH.

A pair of lips landed on his cheek, warm and deliberate.

Jason froze. “What are you—”

SMOOCH. Another one, this time dangerously close to his jaw.

“Babe—”

SMOOCH. SMOOCH. SMOOCH.

He turned just in time for you to attack with another kiss, smacking your lips dramatically against his face. Jason stumbled back against the sink, hands bracing himself as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to keep him in place.

“Alright, alright!” he laughed, hands coming up to ward you off. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

You grinned up at him, smug as hell. “Just appreciating my work before it all goes to waste.”

Jason gave you a suspicious look, but when he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand—his eyes widened.

A bright red lipstick stain smeared across his knuckles.

He turned back to the mirror.

Oh, shit.

There were marks everywhere. Little red imprints covered his cheeks, his jawline, his nose, and—he rubbed his lips together, realizing you’d definitely gotten him there too. His mouth was slightly smudged, like he’d either been thoroughly kissed or had just finished robbing a bank with Harley Quinn.

Jason looked back at you, you looked way too pleased with yourself.

“Are you serious?” Jason groaned, rubbing at his face. The lipstick refused to budge.

“Very.” You crossed your arms, proud of your masterpiece. “I think it suits you.”

Jason ran a hand down his face. “I look like I got mauled by a very aggressive valentine.”

“You look loved,” you corrected sweetly, batting your lashes.

Jason exhaled through his nose, staring at you like he was this close to enacting revenge. Then, with zero warning, he grabbed you by the waist, hoisting you up onto the bathroom counter.

“Jay—”

You barely had time to react before he pressed his face all over yours—cheeks, nose, forehead, even down to your neck—rubbing against you like a damn cat.

You squealed, trying to push him off. “Jason, no—!”

“What?” he murmured, voice smug and low against your ear. “You don’t wanna match?”

You huffed, knowing damn well he was transferring all those lipstick marks onto your face. When he finally pulled back, he took a second to admire his work.

You glared at him. “You’re an ass.”

Jason smirked, running his thumb over your now-stained cheek. “You love me.”

You tried to look annoyed, but the way he was looking at you—smug, sure, but with that soft glint in his blue eyes—made it impossible to stay mad.

You sighed dramatically. “Yeah, yeah.”

Jason chuckled, leaning down to press a much gentler, slower kiss to your lips. This time, neither of you cared about the mess.

[vitalverstappen]

The Manuscript - F. Colapinto

summary: looking backwards might be the only way to move forward

pairing: Franco Colapinto x playwright!reader, Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

warnings: age gap (~8/9 years), mentions of sex, use of y/n

word count: 3.3k

a/n: after a brief hiatus, and one of my moots telling me I should post something, i'm BAAAACKKK

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

It had been a few weeks since you moved to Barcelona for work. You were a playwright, and were drawn into the bustling theater scene that the city had to offer. With your first production gaining worldwide popularity, the move had been relatively easy. 

You were in the corner of a cafe, the one down the street from your apartment, working on the next script. The warm air from the open windows blended with the fresh smell of espresso and pastries. Outside, the city hummed with life, the sound of bicycles ringing by, the chatter of locals and tourists mixing in the vibrant street. 

The notebook before you was filled with scribbles - ideas, dialogue, fragments of scenes that were still in their infancy. You were trying to catch the muse, to shape the story into something that felt right, but the words weren’t flowing the way they had before. 

“You know,” A voice said, causing you to look up from your notebook. “I’m not an organ donor, but I’d give you my heart if you needed it.” 

You rolled your eyes at the man’s remark, but gestured your hand to the empty seat in front of you. “Yeah, like you’re a professional.” 

“No, just a good samaritan” he said, taking the seat. “I’m Carlos”

“Y/n” you replied, closing your notebook, putting your full attention on the man in front of you. But if you were a good samaritan, you’d offer to buy another cup.” you teased, giving Carlos the invitation to flirt just a bit. The rest of the morning was spent learning about the man instead of working on the play. 

The coffee dates became a weekly thing. You’d get there an hour or so early to write and design, then when Carlos would show up, you’d put everything away and talk with him. You quickly learned he was older, a whopping thirty compared to your freshly twenty one. 

“You’re incredibly wise beyond your years” he had said when he learned your age. “I never would have thought you to be so young.”

Those morning coffees in the cafe soon turned into late night drinks at the local clubs. The same intelligent conversations flowed, but now they were accompanied by the hum of bass and the clinking of glasses. You didn’t mind the loud music or the flashing lights, but it was far from the quiet cafe mornings you had adored. 

But even then, the mornings are what stayed with you. You would wake up next to him, tangled in sheets, his body pressed against yours, skin to skin. The familiarity of it was comforting, yet there was a part of you that couldn’t shake that you were somehow too young for this. 

The simple act of sharing coffee - something so ordinary - soon transformed into something entirely different. No longer was it about caffeine and ideas. You found yourself sitting together at his kitchen table, him expertly brewing coffee with his French Press while you tried, and failed, to learn how to use it yourself. It took a few tries to get the method down, but now, after countless mornings spent in his kitchen, you were practically a professional.

One morning you found yourself alone in the kitchen, brewing a fresh pot of coffee in the French Press. The silence of the morning was peaceful, comforting even, reminding you of the life you had when you woke up alone. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor. Carlos wrapped his arms around you, nestling his head into the crook of your neck. 

“Morning” he mumbled, the sleep still thick in his voice. 

“Morning” you mumbled back, mimicking his tone 

You could hear Carlos laugh as he released his arms from around your waist. “God if only the sex was half as soon as the conversation was. We'll be pushing strollers soon.” he remarked 

But as soon as the relationship started, it was over. Thankfully, your job didn’t tie you down to the city, allowing you to fly back home and spend time with your family. You found yourself sleeping in your mother’s bed a little more than you’d like to admit, and most of your meals consisted of Lucky Charms and Coco Puffs. 

It took a few years, but eventually, you found yourself back in Barcelona. You don’t know why, but you felt the need to return, like the city was calling you. Maybe you needed another change of pace. The play you had written while you were involved with Carlos had been released and performed, but didn’t do nearly as well as your debut one did. Your spark had been lost, and you were having a hard time getting it back.

To occupy your time, you enrolled in a few classes at the University of Barcelona to try and spark something. The classes gave you a sense of structure amidst the chaos of the uncertainty. While the classroom setting was different - less free flowing than your usual writing process, but at least it was a way to sharpen your craft and relearn the discipline you had once thrived on. 

“For your next assignment,” your professor began, her eyes scanning the classroom, ensuring that everyone was paying attention. “I want you to write what you know. I want you to reflect on something in your life, and write a scene based off of it.” 

You sat up straighter, the weight of the assignment settling in. The professor’s words lingered in the air, as if the universe itself had conspired to drop the challenge in your lap. Write what you know. You had spent the last few years running from what you knew, avoiding the raw, messy parts of your life that still clung to you like a shadow. 

The sound of your professor’s voice faded to the background as you thought of the past few years - your time with Carlos and the messiness in the aftermath of it all. The late-night conversations, the mornings in the kitchen, the feeling of being caught between two worlds. And then, the way it ended. The slow unraveling that left you with more questions than answers. 

Your time in your mother’s bed, eating sugary cereal to numb the discomfort, was a chapter you tried to ignore. But now, it was all rising to the surface. You had never written about it, not in any way that felt real. You had always skirted around the pain, hiding it behind clever lines and distant characters. But this assignment - write what you know - gave you the chance to meet it head on. 

You found yourself back at the cafe you used to meet Carlos all those years ago. The familiar hum of the place, the clink of the coffee cups and the rhythmic chatter of clients, immediately transported you back to a time when things felt simpler. The same warm air from the open windows, the same scent of pastries and espresso, hung in the space. 

You were beginning to settle into the rhythm of writing, the ink flowed freely for the first time in a long time. The quiet hum of the cafe was broken through by a voice. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

Startled, you looked up to find a man standing beside your table, a half-smile on his face, his dark hair messy like he had just walked through a windstorm. His eyes were warm and inviting, the kind of brown that reminded you of autumn, deep and rich.

You got to know him, inside and out. His name was Franco, and he was a professional racecar driver. Getting to know him was like a breath of fresh air, a stark contrast to the cold nights you had spent with Carlos. He laughed at all of your stupid jokes, listened to your ideas, and supported you through your writing process. 

Late one night, the two of you were in his apartment, your boyfriend aimlessly throwing darts at the board that hung from his door, and you writing your next project. The class you had taken was long since over, but your professor’s words stuck with you as you wrote. Instead of trying to force something fantastical, from a world made up, you opted to continue with the scene you wrote, turning your experience with Carlos into a full length play. 

“How’s it coming along?” your boyfriend asked, throwing a dart in the process. It bounced off the board, landing on the floor in front of it. 

You looked up from your notebook, a small smile tugged at your lips as Franco picked up the dart from the floor and sat back down on the bed. The simple motion felt so at ease, so natural, a reflection of your relationship. 

“Honestly, really good. It’s nice to finally write everything down and let go.” you said. Franco knew about your ex and the baggage that came with it. It’s not that you didn’t feel comfortable telling him who it was, you just didn’t want to be the reason if things got awkward in the paddock with him. “Though the sound of darts hitting the floor is quite distracting” you told him.

He scoffed, pretending to be hurt. “Rude, I can make it.” he said, adding a little more force to the dart throw. It hit the board with a satisfying thunk, landing right in the middle. 

“See? Told you.” he grinned, leaning back on his bed, looking quite proud of himself. 

A laugh escaped your lips at your boyfriend’s antics, the light of the moment making you forget, even if just for a second, the weight of everything you were writing about. “Okay, okay, you win. You’re officially the dart champion.” 

Franco smirked, tossing another dart onto the board with dramatic flair. “I don’t just win, y/n. I excel at what I do.” 

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Next time I need someone to win a race, or become the champ of something less pointless like darts, I’ll let you know.” 

He rolled his eyes with a playful chuckle, but there was a softness in his eyes that didn’t go unnoticed. 

As you continued to write, you stole occasional glances at him. The way he lounged on the bed, the ease in his posture, the quiet joy he took in the simple things - it was the kind of presence you had always needed, but hadn’t recognized before. It was different than what you had with Carlos, less intense, but much more grounded. It didn’t try to be everything. It just was. 

The pen moved fluidly across the page as the world you were creating started to breathe, taking on a life of its own. You weren’t just writing a play anymore. You were writing a part of your own healing process, turning the messy reality of your past with Carlos into something artful, something that could be explored and understood from a distance. The rawness of it didn’t feel like a burden anymore - it felt like a gift, a chance to move forward. 

Franco broke the silence, his voice light. “So, this play, is it gonna be your next big hit?” 

You looked up from your notebook again, the corners of your lips curling into a small smile. “Maybe. I think it’s more about finally getting it out there. I just need to write it and let go of everything.”

He took your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. “I’m sure it’ll be amazing.” 

It took a while, but you finally got the manuscript wrapped up. After countless hours of critiquing and editing, you found a venue, held auditions, hired a team, and got to work. Months were spent watching your written work come to life, scenes of your past relationship on stage. 

When Franco was in town, he’d come with you to rehearsals. He was quiet and attentive, sitting in the back of the theater, a comforting presence amidst the chaos. He’d watch as you worked with the actors, ensuring they were hitting their marks. He chimed in occasionally, making notes on the script, offering suggestions, but mainly stuck to observing how the scenes evolved. There was something about his focus that made you feel seen, like he understood the weight of what you were doing, appreciative he got to see this side of you. 

His support had become a quiet foundation beneath the entire process. His belief in you never wavered, even when the doubt crept in. There were moments, late at night, when you found yourself staring at the script, unsure if it was the right story to tell. And those were the moments when Franco would gently remind you that your truth was enough. That it was always enough. 

Opening night went beautifully. The audience laughed at the jokes, but cried during the heart-wrenching moments, the kind of tears that came from somewhere deep. You could feel their reactions, their collective breath held during the tense silences, the weight of the emotions filling the room. It was more than you had hoped for.

When the show wrapped up, you, along with the actors and the crew, were out greeting the audience members. Your family and friends had come and gone with praises and congratulations. You and Franco were walking out, when a voice spoke that you hadn’t heard in years. 

“Y/n!” 

You turned at the sound of the familiar voice, a rush of emotions flooding you before your eyes even found the source. Standing there, in the midst of the crowd, was Carlos. 

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. The noise of the night, the laughter, the chatter of some of the people around you faded into a distant hum as you locked eyes with him. He looked the same - older, sure, but that familiar spark in his eyes was still there. His smile was still warm, though there was a quiet uncertainty in his expression, as if he didn’t know what to expect from this reunion. 

“Carlos” you said, your voice coming out a little softer than you intended. You hadn’t thought about him in so long, seeing him in person felt surreal. 

Franco, standing beside you, shifted slightly. You knew he was questioning how the two of you knew each other, but he said nothing, only moved his hand to rest on your lower back. 

Carlos stepped forward, “I had to come” he said, his voice genuine. “I heard it was your opening night… and well, I couldn’t not see it.” 

You smiled, a little awkwardly, but still, there was something comforting in his words. “It means a lot. Thank you for coming.” you replied, your gaze flickered briefly to Franco before returning to Carlos. 

Franco, having put the pieces together on how you and Carlos knew each other glanced at his fellow driver warily, then back at you. There was a brief silence between all of you, and you could feel the tension in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just… a remeeting of two different chapters in your life, coming together in one moment.

“I’ll let you two catch up.” Franco said, a smile in place, though his eyes held a different story. He placed a small peck on your cheek before he took a step back, giving you the space to reconnect with Carlos. 

You watched as your boyfriend walked away, feeling the weight of his gesture - giving you this moment, yet without a hint of jealousy or hesitation. It was something you admired about him. He trusted you, trusted that this was a chapter of your past that needed its own space. 

Turning back to Carlos, you found yourself smiling again, a little more genuinely this time. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” 

Carlos gave you a small chuckle. “I’m full of surprises.” He paused, studying you for a beat. “But seriously, I’ve been meaning to reach out. I heard about your play… and I couldn’t let it pass without coming.” 

You nodded, unsure of what to say next. There were so many things left unsaid, but somehow, it didn’t feel like the right moment to dive into all of them. 

“I’m glad you came.” you said finally, “It’s been a while.” 

Carlos smiled back, the kind of smile that felt familiar, yet still so distant. “It really has. But you’ve done something amazing here, y/n. I’m proud of you.” 

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you let them settle into the space between you. The old hurt, the unresolved emotions - those things, for a moment, didn’t seem as heavy. Not with Carlos standing in front of you, not with the weight of the past turning into something more like a memory than a burden. 

“Well, thank you.” you said, feeling a weight lift off your chest that you hadn’t realized was still there. “That means a lot. It’s… it’s been a journey.” 

“Yeah, I can tell,” Carlos said softly, his gaze flickering to the stage behind you. “But I’m happy that you have someone who genuinely supports you, even if he is a few garages down from me.” he added, a small chuckle laced in his words showing there were no hard feelings. 

“Yeah,” you said with a soft chuckle, your gaze flickering over to where Franco was now talking to some of the actors. “I’m lucky. He’s been a big part of all of this.”

Carlos nodded thoughtfully, his eyes following your gaze. “I can see that. You two seem… good together.” 

Though there was no jealousy in Carlos’ tone, it was clear that he was reflecting on the changes both of you had undergone. The years that had passed between you, the people you had become. It was strange how time could shift things, yet certain parts of the past had a way of resurfacing, unbidden but not unwelcome. 

“We are, yeah.” you said, finding comfort in the truth of the statement. “It’s different, but it’s good.” 

“Well,” Carlos began after a brief silence, his expression shifting to one of lightheartedness as he shifted on his feet. “I’m sure you're busy tonight, celebrating opening night, and I don’t want to take up your time.” 

“No, of course” you said quickly, understanding where he was coming from. “Thank you for coming, Carlos. It really means a lot.” 

With that, Carlos offered a small nod and turned to leave, his figure slowly merging with the crowd as he walked away. You stood there for a moment, letting the quiet settle around you, processing the unexpected yet peaceful encounter. 

It took a while for you to make your paddock debut, the show’s performances conflicted with the crazy schedule of Formula One quite a bit, but when the championship made its way to Barcelona, you had no reason not to go. 

Most of your weekend was spent in the Williams garage, getting to know Alex, Lily, and Franco’s engineers and mechanics. The atmosphere was oddly similar to that of a production going through rehearsals - chaotic, messy, but building into something greater. 

You had a moment to slip away from the madness in the Williams garage to get a peek at all of the other teams. Of course, the one that stood out the most was the red of Ferrari, and one of its inhabitants. Not a lot of your time was spent there, just enough to drop off a present for the driver. 

It didn’t take long for Carlos to find it, the black cover stark against the sea of red surrounding him. Even though it had the name of your play on the front, he wasn’t too sure what it was until he opened the book up, reading the note inside. 

One last souvenir from my trip to your shores since the story isn’t just mine anymore - y/n

[insidekatmind]

Math-Hector Fort

Request:yes!

You're sitting on your bed, textbooks and physics notes scattered in front of you. Hector sits beside you, legs crossed, a notebook resting on his lap, twirling a pencil between his fingers. He should be focused on the exercises you're explaining, but his eyes are fixed on you heavy, attentive, unwavering.

You pretend not to notice. You flip through the pages, find the right example, and try to bring him back to reality. “Okay, let’s try again. Here, you need to apply this formula.” You point to the step with the tip of your pencil, but Hector doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even glance at the paper.

You turn toward him, only to find his gaze already locked on you. Dark, slow in its movement, tracing every detail of you like you’re the only thing worth paying attention to in this room.

“Hector.” His name leaves your lips as both a warning and a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Mmh?” he asks, looking at you with feigned innocence.

“I asked you to focus.” you answer seriously.

He tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving up in a ghost of a smirk. “I am.”

You know full well he’s not talking about math. Heat rises to your throat, but you try to keep your composure. “On your exercises, I mean.”

“It’s not my fault there’s something much more interesting right in front of me.”

Your breath catches for a second. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t joke like he usually does. His gaze is different this time deeper, more intense.

You wet your lips without thinking, and his eyes flicker downward, following the motion in the most subtle way. The tension between you thickens, silent, dense like the air before a storm. The textbook in your hands suddenly feels useless forgotten.

“Hector…” you try again, but your voice is softer now.

He leans in slightly,just enough for his knee to brush against yours, just enough for his breath to mix with yours. “Tell me,” he murmurs, and there’s something in his tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

You should take control, pull him back on track, remind him that he’s here to study… But when his hand moves slowly, barely grazing the hem of your shirt as he presses it onto the mattress beside you, every rational thought dissolves.

“You said if I did my exercises, we could negotiate a break,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper. “But since I can’t seem to focus…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to. The way he looks at you, the way every inch of his body seems drawn toward yours, already says everything.

Hector smirks at you and pulls you into his lap. His arm wraps around your waist effortlessly, his grip firm, yet his touch is unusually gentle. He positions you on his lap, a smirk still playing on his lips. The unexpected proximity makes your breath hitch, your body reacting to his touch almost instinctively.

“You should focus on math, you're behind,” you whisper, placing your hands on his shoulders for support. Hector's smirk deepens, his grip on your waist tightening for a moment as he pulls you even closer.

"Math can wait," he breathes, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. "I've found something much more interesting to focus on." The heat of his body is intoxicating, his closeness making it difficult to keep a clear thought.

His gaze flicks to your lips, then back to your eyes. "Besides, you're more distracting than any math problem." His thumb brushes lightly against your hip, sending a shiver down your spine. The air between you is charged with electricity, both familiar and tantalizingly foreign.

“Baby, you have to do math,” you whisper softly. Hector leans in closer, his face now just a few inches from yours. "But look at you," he murmurs, his voice low, dripping with a mix of amusement and raw desire. "You're all flushed, your eyes are wide, your breath is ragged... And you're in my lap. What's a guy supposed to focus on in this situation?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words, but you try to maintain your composure. "You can focus on the equations you need to solve," you manage to reply, but your voice sounds weaker than you'd like. The proximity of his body, the feel of his hands on your hip, his breath grazing your skin, it all makes staying focused on anything except him impossible.

“Equations?” Hector repeats, a hint of mockery in his voice. “That’s not what I want to solve right now.” He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body pressed against yours. His lips are so close that you can almost feel the heat radiating from them. “I want to solve you.”

You gasp lightly, your fingers involuntarily gripping his shoulders, his words hitting right on your nerves. “But you need to study-” you start to say, your voice a soft protest against the mounting pressure between you.

Hector’s smirk widens, his gaze traveling from your eyes to your lips. “I’ll study later.” He leans even closer, his mouth hovering just above your ear, and his next words are a hot whisper across your skin. “Right now… I have other things to focus on.”

His mouth moves down, grazing lightly against your neck, and your breath hitches. You want to protest, argue for his education, for rationality, but your arguments are fading away under his touch. The math book lies ignored on the bed next to you, its contents losing relevance with each passing second.

“Baby,” you whisper, gently pulling his face away from your neck. "you have to do math". Hector's gaze flicks up, a hint of surprise in his eyes as you pull his face away from your neck. He looks at you for a moment, a mix of frustration and desire in his expression, but mostly just pure adoration. "I don’t care about goddamn math," he mutters, his voice almost a growl, but there's a hint of amusement behind it.

He leans in again, his lips brushing against the skin just below your jaw, his hands roaming across your back, pulling you closer, almost possessively. "I care about you,” he whispers, the sincerity in his voice taking you aback. “And right now, all I want to do is this.” His mouth finds your neck again, this time with more urgency.

You sigh softly and cup his face, kissing him softly. Hector reacts instantly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against him as he kisses you back. The kiss starts gentle, soft, but there’s a hunger beneath it, a need that quickly starts to grow more urgent. His fingers dig into your back, his touch possessive, eager, as if trying to pull you even closer, as if trying to make you a part of him. He deepens the kiss, his breath coming in ragged, and you can feel the restraint he’s holding back in himself.

Your fingertips trail along his jawline, tracing the sharp line of his cheek, before your hand comes to rest at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips move against yours with a growing insistence, his tongue tasting and exploring, his body pressing against yours with a desperate hunger. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the intensity in his touch, and it makes you want more.

Hector drops his book and math notebook on the floor while he was still kissing you and you giggled breaking away from the kiss. Hector chuckles, the sound low and sultry, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don’t wanna study anymore,” he mutters, his eyes roaming over you, filled with unconcealed desire.

His hands slide down your waist, gripping your hips with a possessive grip. "I’ve found something much better to focus on."

[olderwomenenthusiast]

game of power (emily prentiss)

PAIRING: emily prentiss & fem reader DESCRIPTION: emily finally as her way with you & vice versa CAUTION: the usual smut, swearing, bit of arguing, power dynamics WORD COUNT: 3.6k AUTHOR'S NOTE: seriously need to lower my sex drive

The tension between you and Emily had been festering for weeks—longer, if you were honest with yourself. Every case, every briefing, every sideways glance across the bullpen had been laced with something dark and unspoken. Sharp words, lingering touches that lasted a second too long, glares that burned hotter than they should.

And tonight, it finally erupts.

The case had gone south in the worst way. A last-minute call had changed the plan, and you had ignored Emily’s order to fall back, pushing forward when she told you to wait. The unsub was taken down, but not before a gun was drawn, a bullet missing your head by inches. The entire ride back to the hotel had been suffocating in silence, tension so thick it pressed against your ribs. Emily’s knuckles were white against her crossed arms, her jaw tight as she stared out the window. You could feel the anger radiating off her, but she said nothing—until now.

The moment you step into the hallway, Emily is on you.

"What the hell was that?" Her voice is low but sharp, cutting through the quiet.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you pull your key card from your pocket. "We got him, didn’t we?"

Emily’s hand slams against the wall next to your head before you can turn away. "That’s not the damn point. You disobeyed a direct order, and you could’ve been killed."

Your pulse spikes. Not just from the anger, but from how close she is, the heat of her body radiating against yours. "I handled it. I don’t need you babysitting me, Prentiss."

Her jaw clenches, nostrils flaring. "Oh, is that what you think this is?" She leans in, voice dropping to a near growl. "You think I give a damn because it’s my job? Because I need to control you?"

Something in her tone makes your breath hitch, and she catches it. Her eyes darken, tracking the subtle shift of your throat as you swallow. A slow smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, dangerous and knowing.

"Say it," she murmurs, voice thick with something heavier than anger. "Tell me you don’t feel this."

You grit your teeth, your hands curling into fists at your sides. "You’re insufferable."

Emily chuckles, dark and knowing. "And you’re a brat."

Before you can bite out a reply, her hands are on you, gripping the front of your shirt and yanking you forward. Your back hits the wall with a dull thud, and then her mouth crashes against yours.

It’s not gentle. It’s a clash of teeth and tongues, a battle for control neither of you are willing to surrender. Emily presses her body flush against yours, pinning you between her and the wall, and the heat of her seeps into your skin, making your head spin. Her knee nudges between your thighs, spreading you open just enough for her to feel the slight hitch in your breath, the involuntary way your body reacts to her.

You gasp as she nips at your bottom lip, and she takes advantage of the opening, her tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your knees weak. One of her hands tangles in your hair, tilting your head back as she deepens the kiss, her other hand gripping your hip so hard you’re sure it’ll bruise.

"You drive me fucking crazy," she growls against your lips, her teeth grazing your jaw as she trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. "Reckless. Stubborn. Infuriating."

Your head tilts back against the wall, a shuddering breath escaping as her tongue flicks over the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. "Then do something about it."

Emily pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes black with desire. "You sure you want to play that game?"

You don’t hesitate. "I can handle it."

Her smirk is wicked, full of promise and punishment. "We’ll see about that."

Before you can process it, she grips your wrist and tugs you toward her hotel room, the lock clicking behind you before she shoves you against the door. Her hands make quick work of your shirt, yanking it over your head before her lips are on your collarbone, teeth scraping against your skin as she undoes the clasp of your bra with practiced ease. Her tongue flicks over the newly exposed skin, lips closing around a sensitive peak as her hands work their way lower, fingers teasing the waistband of your jeans.

She watches your reaction, waiting for the moment your breath stutters, your pupils dilate, your body arches into her touch. Then she grips your thighs and lifts you, pressing you hard against the door as she rocks into you, slow and deliberate, making you whimper in frustration.

"So eager," she murmurs against your skin. "You like this, don’t you? Pushing me until I snap. Until I take what I want."

Your breath hitches, fingers digging into her shoulders. "Shut up and do it already."

Emily chuckles darkly before dropping to her knees, hands gripping your hips as she tugs your jeans down, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your inner thighs. The way she looks up at you, lips slightly parted, pupils blown wide with lust, makes you tremble.

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmurs, pressing a teasing kiss to your already aching core. "You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into."

A shudder wracks through your body as Emily’s breath fans over your soaked cunt, deliberate and teasing. She’s savoring this - relishing the way you tremble, the way your hands grip the doorframe behind you as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

"Emily," you grind out, voice rough with frustration.

She hums against your inner thigh, lips grazing your skin. "Patience," she murmurs, dragging her tongue upward but stopping just short of where you need her most. "You push me until I snap, but now you can’t wait?"

Your glare is half-hearted, your breath uneven. "I swear to God --"

Whatever threat you were about to make dissolves into a strangled moan as Emily finally licks a broad, slow stripe through your slick folds, her tongue pressing firmly against your clit before she pulls back just enough to tease.

"Fuck," you gasp, your body jolting at the first real touch.

She grins against you, lips brushing your cunt as she whispers, "That’s more like it."

Her hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you spread open for her as she goes back in, her tongue flicking and circling with devastating precision. She’s thorough, drinking in every sound, every desperate buck of your hips, every sharp inhale as she builds you up.

"You taste so fucking good," she groans, voice muffled as she buries herself between your legs, lapping at your pussy like she can’t get enough. "You get this wet just from fighting with me?"

You can’t form words, just a whimper, your fingers twisting in her dark hair, tugging hard enough to make her moan against you. The vibration sends another sharp jolt through you, your back arching against the door.

Emily chuckles darkly. "You like that, don’t you?" She wraps her lips around your clit, sucking just right, her tongue flicking against the sensitive nub before she drags two fingers through your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

"Emily," you whine, pushing your hips forward, desperate for more.

She rewards you by thrusting two fingers deep inside, curling them instantly, pressing against that spot that makes your vision blur.

"Fuck, yes," you gasp, legs threatening to give out.

Emily holds you steady, fucking you with slow, deep strokes as her tongue keeps working your clit, relentless and precise. You can feel the coil in your stomach tightening, your body winding up so tight you think you might snap in half.

"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?" she taunts, her breath hot against your cunt, her fingers fucking into you faster. "Come on, let me feel it."

It only takes one more flick of her tongue, one more press of her fingers, and you’re gone - your orgasm slamming into you so hard it steals the breath from your lungs. Your entire body locks up, pleasure surging through every nerve as you cry out her name, legs shaking, pussy clenching around her fingers as she works you through it.

Emily groans, licking you through every pulse, dragging it out until you’re twitching from overstimulation. She presses a final, filthy kiss to your swollen clit before pulling back, her lips and chin glistening as she watches you struggle to catch your breath.

She rises to her feet, gripping your chin between her fingers as she smirks down at you. "Still think you can handle me?"

You’re wrecked, boneless, but your smirk is just as wicked as hers. "I think you’re the one who’s in trouble, Prentiss."

Her eyes flash with something dangerous, something hungry, and then she’s crashing her lips against yours, letting you taste yourself on her tongue as she pushes you back toward the bed, stripping off her shirt in one smooth motion.

"Get on the bed," she orders, voice thick with lust. "I’m not done with you yet."

A slow smirk spreads across your lips as Emily tugs you toward the bed, but instead of following her lead, you dig your heels in, flipping the script. In one swift motion, you push her backward, and she stumbles onto the mattress with a soft gasp, caught off guard.

"Think you’re the only one who knows how to take control?" you tease, climbing over her, straddling her waist as your hands press against her shoulders.

Emily blinks up at you, surprise flickering across her face before something more playful and more challenging replaces it. "Oh, is that what you’re doing?" she muses, arching a brow. "Trying to take charge?"

You lean in, dragging your nails down her toned stomach, feeling the way her muscles tense beneath your touch. "I don’t try, Prentiss. I do."

Her lips part slightly, and for a moment, you think you have her exactly where you want her. You dip your head, nipping at her jawline, trailing kisses down her neck, savoring the way her breath hitches when your teeth scrape against her pulse. Your fingers trail lower, reaching for the button of her pants

And then, in an instant, she moves.

Before you can react, Emily twists, flipping you onto your back with a breathless laugh, pinning your wrists above your head as she looms over you. "Nice try," she breathes against your lips, her grin smug.

You huff, tugging at your hands, but her grip is firm. "Oh, come on, you couldn’t just let me have my moment?"

Emily chuckles, shaking her head. "You’re adorable when you think you’re in charge."

You narrow your eyes at her, lips twitching despite yourself. "You’re so damn smug --"

But then she shifts her grip, and somehow, the movement is just awkward enough that you both end up toppling sideways on the mattress, tangled in limbs, laughing.

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, and you don’t even try to suppress it. Emily laughs, too; real, unrestrained, her face buried in the crook of your neck as she shakes with amusement.

"This is ridiculous," you manage between laughs, trying to untangle yourself, only to make it worse. "We’re supposed to be having angry sex, not rolling around like idiots."

Emily pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Oh, don’t worry," she murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I’ll still ruin you."

You shiver at the promise in her tone, your laughter fading into something softer, something charged.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you challenge, voice dipping into something sultry.

Emily grins, leaning down until her lips barely graze yours. "Patience," she whispers. "I like to take my time."

A shudder rolls through you as Emily’s lips move lower, her teeth grazing the curve of your neck before she soothes the spot with her tongue. Your pulse pounds beneath her touch, your breath coming quicker, heavier.

Her grip on your wrists is firm but no longer restraining. You could break free if you wanted. But the way her body presses against yours, the slow, deliberate drag of her lips down your collarbone, makes you forget why you’d ever want to.

"You’re so quiet now," Emily murmurs against your skin, her voice dripping with amusement. Her fingers trail along the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath the fabric to skate across your stomach, teasing but not quite giving you what you want. "Where’s all that attitude from earlier?"

You exhale sharply as her nails rake lightly over your ribs, your back arching involuntarily into her touch. "You’re so damn smug," you breathe, though there’s no real bite to your words.

Just need.

Emily chuckles, her lips curving against your skin. "And you love it."

Before you can argue, before you can do anything at all, she shifts, moving down your body with agonizing slowness, her hands pushing your shirt up, her lips following the path her fingers carve. Each press of her mouth is soft, teasing, deliberate. Your skin is burning, desperate for more, for something less restrained.

You tangle your fingers in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her look up at you. Her dark eyes flicker with something wicked, her lips swollen from where she’s been kissing her way down your torso.

"Impatient?" she muses, her breath hot against your stomach.

Your fingers tighten in her hair. "I swear to god, Prentiss -"

"Relax," she murmurs, her voice velvety smooth as she glances up at you, her hands sliding possessively over your thighs. "I told you—I like to take my time."

A growl of frustration builds in your throat as Emily drags this out, her hands gripping your hips like she has all the time in the world. Your body is burning, every nerve alight with need, and she knows it. She loves it.

"Prentiss," you snap, voice rough, wrecked.

Emily just smirks, her fingers digging into your thighs, holding you down as she presses an open-mouthed kiss just above where you need her most.

"Still so demanding," she muses, her voice thick with amusement. But there’s a hunger in her eyes now, dark and molten, and when she moves this time, it’s with purpose.

And then she’s on you, her mouth hot and unrelenting, her fingers pushing your thighs apart without hesitation.

A sharp gasp rips from your throat at the first touch of her tongue - no teasing now, no patience, just raw, desperate hunger. She devours you, her grip bruising against your hips as she holds you in place, taking exactly what she wants.

You writhe beneath her, hands flying to her hair, gripping tight, tugging, trying to ground yourself as pleasure crashes over you in waves. But Emily doesn’t let up. If anything, the slight pull at her hair only fuels her, makes her groan against you, the vibrations sending another shock of pleasure straight through you.

"Fuck—Emily—"

Emily’s mouth is relentless, her tongue flicking and circling, dragging you closer and closer to that razor-sharp edge. You’re already trembling beneath her, your thighs twitching, your fingers tangled in her hair as she devours you like she needs this—like she can’t get enough.

And then fuck, she bites.

A sharp, deliberate press of her teeth against your clit, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure that sends a violent shudder through your entire body. The sensation is electric, too much and not enough all at once, and your back arches off the bed, a strangled cry ripping from your throat.

Emily growls against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure straight through your core. She soothes the sting immediately, her tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves, but the damage is done.

You’re wrecked.

Your breath is ragged, your body taut like a bowstring, and Emily knows she has you now. Her grip on your hips tightens, her nails digging in, bruising. She loves watching you break.

"Fuck, Emily..." Your voice is raw, desperate, your hips jerking against her mouth, seeking more, everything.

She hums in approval, then does it again. A sharp little nip, followed by the soothing slide of her tongue, pushing you higher, driving you to the edge of madness.

Your vision blurs. Your entire body burns. Every nerve ending is focused on her. Her mouth, her hands, the way she’s tearing you apart piece by piece, devouring you with no intention of stopping.

You’re close, so dangerously close, teetering right on the brink. And Emily knows it.

"Come on," she rasps against you, her voice wrecked, commanding. "Let go."

And with one last flick of her tongue, one last bite - sharp, perfect, devastating - you do.

Pleasure slams through you, white-hot and overwhelming, a cry escaping your lips as your entire body locks up before shattering completely. You feel Emily’s hands gripping you, grounding you, holding you through every wave as she rides it out with you, drawing it out until you’re nothing but a trembling, gasping mess beneath her.

Only when she’s sure you’re done, completely spent and twitching, does she finally pull back.

She crawls back up your body, her lips slick, her breathing ragged, and she smirks, so damn smug, so utterly pleased with herself.

"You look good like this," she murmurs, dragging her teeth along your jaw, her voice thick with satisfaction. "All wrecked and desperate for me."

Your pulse is still erratic, your body still trembling, but you still manage to huff out a breathless laugh.

"Smug bitch," you whisper, your fingers tangling in her hair as you yank her down, your lips crashing against hers.

Because now?

It’s her turn to break.

Emily is a fighter. She's stubborn, defiant, smug. But right now? Right now, she’s crumbling.

Her wrists are pinned above her head, her body taut beneath you, her breath ragged as you hover over her, just out of reach. Your fingers skim down her stomach, featherlight, barely touching, just enough to torment.

"You want something, Prentiss?" you purr, lips brushing against her ear, your nails dragging over the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Emily exhales sharply, her body twitching at the ghost of your touch. But she’s holding on, biting back the words, refusing to give in so easily.

You grin. Oh, this is going to be fun.

Slowly, painfully, you trail your fingers lower, brushing against the heat between her thighs - slick, soaked, aching. You feel the way she tenses, the way her hips jerk instinctively toward your hand, but you pull away before she can get what she wants.

Emily lets out a frustrated groan, her head tipping back against the pillows. "Fucking tease," she grits out.

You chuckle, biting down on the side of her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. "Oh, I know you can do better than that," you murmur, sucking at the sensitive skin just below her jaw, making her squirm. "Come on, Emily. Ask for it."

Emily’s breath hitches, her nails digging into the sheets, her body shaking beneath you. But she’s still clinging to control, still trying to hold onto her pride.

So you make it worse.

You barely brush your fingers over her clit, the softest, most infuriating tease, and Emily whimpers. It’s quiet, barely audible but you hear it. And it’s the hottest fucking thing.

"You’re so wet for me," you whisper, dragging your lips down her throat, your fingers spreading her open but not giving her what she needs. "I could just stay here all night, watching you squirm."

"Jesus fuck," she rasps, her hips rolling up, chasing your touch. "Please --"

You pause.

Oh.

Your smirk widens as you lift your head, staring down at her. "Please, what?"

Emily glares at you, her dark eyes flashing, but it’s weakened now. She’s panting, her body trembling, her thighs shaking with need. She wants it, but more than that, she needs it.

"Say it," you demand, slipping just the tip of one finger inside her before pulling back out, watching the way her body jerks.

Emily breaks.

"Fuck me," she gasps, her voice wrecked, desperate. "Please - just - fuck me."

And fuck, you’re gone.

You thrust into her in one smooth motion, burying two fingers inside her, deep, stretching her open, and Emily screams. Her back arches violently off the bed, her hands flying to grip your arms, her nails raking down your skin as she clenches around you.

"Jesus, fuck --" she gasps, her head tipping back, her entire body trembling beneath you.

You don’t give her time to recover. You fuck her, hard, deep, fast, giving her exactly what she begged for, what she needs. Her moans are loud now, wrecked, raw, and you love it, live for it.

"That’s it," you growl, lips dragging over her jaw, feeling the way her body shakes beneath you. "That’s what you wanted, huh?"

Emily can’t even speak. Her nails dig in deeper, her thighs trembling as you thrust into her harder, faster, relentless.

And when she comes, she screams your name, her entire body shattering beneath you, her walls clenching so tight around your fingers that it nearly makes you dizzy.

You don’t stop until she’s wrecked, until she’s done, until she’s nothing but a trembling, breathless mess beneath you.

And then, finally, you slow, pulling your fingers out of her with a deliberate slowness, dragging one last moan from her lips.

When you meet her gaze, she’s ruined - her eyes dark and hazy, her lips swollen, her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths.

You grin.

"Good girl," you murmur against her lips.

And Emily?

She just laughs low, breathless and wrecked.

"Round two," she whispers, voice hoarse, hungry. "You’re mine."

And then she flips you again.

Because this?

This is far from over.

[synthetickitsune]

S.Coups (SVT) | Manifestation crack | 0.7k | gn!reader warnings: dick size discussion A/N: never let me talk to @hanniedream this isn't what i thought i'd be writing today. also why did this turn out so angsty

“What did you do?” Seungcheol’s quiet growling, his no-nonsense tone, doesn’t carry too far in the silent cafe.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sipping the drink you paid for, and slide his own cup closer to him. He’s so enraged that he almost crushes the cup with his grip.

“You know what I mean,” he snarls.

You hum and look out of the window. Perhaps you do, but you want to hear him say it loud and clear. Although maybe not that loud, you don’t need people to start turning your way. It’s revenge but it’s not part of your plan to publicly humiliate him. At least for now. So you clear your throat before he can slam his fist on the table.

“I mean it, Cheol,” you sigh and blink up at him, the picture of innocence, “Whatever do you think I’ve done?”

He sets his jaw, his fists clench and unclench. There’s a fire in his eyes that you know too well. That same fire once was the beginning of your undoing.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he looks like he’s about to hit you but you know he wouldn’t. 

“No, I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” you pout your lips only slightly. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes scan the cafe but you’re sitting in a pretty secluded corner - again, a mercy he doesn’t deserve. He leans closer, gritting his teeth. His muscles bulge with the way his body gets tense. And suddenly despite everything, you find yourself drawn to him. Desiring him.

“My dick is shrinking,” he says, point-blank and without beating around the bush. You almost spit out your drink. He narrows his eyes at you.

“So I guess it’s working,” you snicker and the look in his eyes is priceless.

“You little-” 

He never gets to call you whatever he was about to call you, silenced by a curious look from a guy sitting a few tables over. There’s something very satisfying about watching Cheol withdraw back into his seat with fury still ablaze in his gaze.

“How and why?” he growls.

“Art of manifestation,” you shrug and chuckle at the confusion written all over his face, “I know, right? I guess not all of it is a scam.”

“As to why, do I really need to explain?” you quirk a brow at him. He just gives you a very straightforward nod. You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible, Cheol. You’re so annoying, walking around like you own the world. Like everyone needs to bend to you will just because you have a massive dick - oh wait, had a massive dick.”

“What?” he looks ready to pounce at you, and not in the way he usually does, “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?” you huff incredulously, “Have you ever heard yourself talking? Cheol, you’re lucky nobody’s fucking done this before.”

“You’re so petty!” he spits and buries his face in his hands.

“And you’re so infuriating. Sorry but you need to be humbled, I’m basically doing this for you,” you take another long sip of your drink and feel yourself relax. What’s he gonna do? Only you can help solve his little problem. And he looks sort of adorable being helpless like this.

“What can I do?” he finally whispers. You’d be lying if you said it doesn’t hurt just a little bit that he never spoke this softly to you before, not even in the early hours of the morning when you were both sweaty and breathing heavily after your nightly escapades. No, instead he’d be boasting about how good he made you feel. He deserves this lesson.

“Be a good person. Be nice, be kind, the usual stuff,” you look away but you feel his eyes burning holes through you anyway.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I am nice, just not to you?” he bites back.

“Careful,” you smirk through the hint of hurt, “As you said, I’m very petty and you wouldn’t want your situation to get worse.”

You get into a silent staring contest that you end up winning. But still, somehow, despite it all, you feel like all you did today was prove his point.

You end up getting asked out on a date, as if something inside of Seungcheol broke and he accepted his fate. Not what you expected but sure, why not if he’s on his best behavior. Let’s see where this goes.

[ironinc]

Rivalry's Reward.ᝰ.ᐟ 

Spider-man/Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ While attending your dream college in New York, you and Peter share a competitive dynamic. Constantly trying to outdo each other in class. However, when you both find yourselves locked in detention together, your tension takes a different turn. With the professor temporarily gone, you're left alone, free to explore the attraction that's been building between you two.

⤷ Oneshot, smut very detailed so here’s the warning. Public sex since it is in a classroom. And lowkey enemies to lovers.

⤷ A/N: This is my first story for Spiderman aka Peter Parker so please do bare with me 😫. Btw this space “__” Is just your name. I just don’t like typing Y/N. Also in this story they are attending college so essentially Peter is aged up to 20 years old. Just wanna make that clear.

⤷ Word count: 2,070

⤷ Special song to add spice: Pretty Little Birds by SZA ft Isaiah Rashad

જ⁀➴

The air in the detention room was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch. You sat at the desk, arms crossed, staring daggers at Peter Parker across the room. He leaned back in his chair, that infuriating smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Of course, he had to look so smug. You’d been at each other’s throats all week, competing for the top spot in every class—calculus, chemistry, even gym. And now, here you were, stuck in detention together, the universe’s idea of a cruel joke.

“Still mad about the pop quiz?” Peter quipped, his voice dripping with faux innocence. You could hear the laughter in his tone, and it only fueled your irritation.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward, fingers drumming against the desk. “You only won because you cheated,” you shot back, though you knew it wasn’t true. Peter was annoyingly smart, but you’d never give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Cheated?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “You’re just mad because I outsmarted you. Again.”

The room felt smaller with every passing second, the walls closing in as the heat of your frustration mingled with something else—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. But it was there, simmering beneath the surface, a fire neither of you could ignore. You glared at him, your chest rising and falling with every sharp breath. “Outsmarted? Please. You’re just lucky.”

Peter leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes locking onto yours. There was a spark in them, a challenge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Luck has nothing to do with it. You’re just too stubborn to admit when you’re beat.”

The words hung in the air, charged and electric. Your pulse quickened, and you felt the heat rising in your cheeks. But it wasn’t anger. Not entirely. It was something else, something dangerous. You held his gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch. “I’m not beat,” you said, your voice low, almost a whisper. “Not by a long shot.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall. Peter’s eyes never left yours, and you could see the shift in them, the way the amusement faded, replaced by something darker, more intense. The air between you crackled with unspoken desire, a tension so palpable it felt like it could shatter with a single touch.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Peter stood up. You watched him as he walked towards you, each step deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath catching in your throat as he stopped just inches away. “Prove it,” he said, his voice soft, almost a challenge.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. This was Peter Parker, your rival, the boy who drove you crazy in every sense of the word. And yet, here you were, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t explain. You stood up, meeting his gaze head-on, your chin tilted in defiance. “Fine,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “But don’t blame me when you lose.”

Peter’s smirk returned, but it was different this timeless teasing, more predatory. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Oh, I’m not worried about losing,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “I’m more interested in seeing how far you’re willing to go.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt your resolve waver. But then, something inside you snapped, a defiance that refused to back down. You stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, and looked up into his eyes. “Careful, Parker,” you said, your voice a whisper. “You might just get more than you bargained for.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then, his hand was on your waist, pulling you closer, his body flush against yours. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made your head spin and your heart race. “I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice barely audible before his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was fierce, desperate, a clash of wills as you gave as good as you got. His hands were everywhere, in your hair, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling slightly, eliciting a low growl from him that sent a shiver down your spine. The desk behind you was cold against your back, but you barely noticed, too consumed by the heat of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy, Peter’s eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged. “Still think you can outsmart me?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

You smirked, your confidence returning as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “This isn’t about smarts, Parker,” you murmured. “This is about who’s in control.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, as he traced a finger along your jawline. “And who’s in control?” he asked, his voice teasing.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear once more. “Let’s find out,” you whispered. 

Your fingers found the hem of your shirt and slowly, teasingly, began to pull it up. His eyes followed your every movement, his breath hitching as you revealed more and more of your skin. The tension between you was electric, and you could feel the heat of his gaze as you finally removed the shirt, leaving you in just your bra. 

His eyes darkened with desire, and you knew you had won this round. But Peter wasn’t one to back down. He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck.

 “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. You shivered, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you tilted your head back, giving him better access. “Maybe I like dangerous,” you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation. 

His hands moved lower, gripping your hips he pushed you back, pressing your back against the desk. 

His lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate. You could feel the heat of his body as he pressed against you, and you moaned softly into his mouth. 

Peter smirked against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. 

You shivered at his words, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. 

His hands moved to your waistband, slowly sliding your pants down your legs. You stepped out of them, your heart racing as he stood back to admire you. “God, you’re perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

His hands found your hips again, pulling you close as he kissed you deeply. You could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and you moaned softly into his mouth. 

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice shaking with desire. He pulled away, his eyes dark with need as he looked down at you. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky. You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you reached for his belt. “You,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t stop you. Instead, he let you unbuckle his belt, his hands moving to the hem of your panties. “You’re so fucking sexy, __” he murmured, his voice low and rough. 

You shivered at his words, your fingers trembling as you undid the button on his pants. He stepped out of them, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled you into another kiss. 

The heat of his body against yours was overwhelming, and you moaned softly into his mouth. “Peter," you whispered, your voice shaking with need. 

He pulled away, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he said, his voice husky. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you reached for his cock. "I want you," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

Just from the small touch, he let out a small groan. His lips brushed against your ear. "Good," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

 "Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name." You shivered at his words, your fingers trembling as you guided him to your entrance.

The anticipation was killing you, every second feeling like an eternity. "Peter," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "Please." His eyes darkened, and with a low growl, he finally pushed inside you, filling you completely. 

You gasped, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, slow at first, then faster, harder. 

The desk creaked beneath you, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the feel of him, the way he made you feel alive in a way you never had before. "God, you’re so tight," he groaned, his voice rough with need.

“I cannot get enough of you” You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as he thrust into you, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Peter," you gasped, your voice shaking with need. 

"Don’t stop." He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Not a chance," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "You’re mine now." You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. 

"I’m close." He smirked, his eyes dark with desire. “Not so fast beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name." You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

 You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. "Peter," you gasped, your voice shaky with need as you clung to him. 

"I’m so close." His lips brushed your ear, his voice a growl. "Let go. I’ve got you." And with that, your entire body tensed, pleasure crashing over you like a wave as you came undone beneath him.

 He groaned, his own release following quickly after, not forgetting to pull out of you. His body shuddering against yours. For a moment, you both froze, breaths ragged, hearts pounding as you came down from the high. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the faint tremor in his hands as they gripped your hips.

"Guess I lost this round," you murmured, your voice soft and teasing. Peter chuckled, a low, breathless sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

 "Not a loss," he said, his lips brushing against yours. "Just the start of something new." You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "So, what now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Now," he said, his voice low and filled with promise, "we see who really has the upper hand tonight… Let me take you downtown for a quick swing.” 

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his comment about 'swinging' around the city. Challenged, you nodded in acceptance. He smirked, already eager to one-up you, as your friendly rivalry kicked into high gear once more. 

After quickly getting dressed, you sat down just in time, as the professor walked back into class. It seemed this game of wits would continue, fueled by the tension that lingered between you two.

Mr. Harrington narrowed his gaze at both of you, his stern tone leaving no room for protest. "You two better have put this 'who's smarter' thing behind you."

You and Peter quickly exchanged a knowing look before sharing a mutual chuckle.

"Yeah, we made up, Mr. Harrington. You don't have to worry."

Mr.Harrington reluctantly let the matter drop, resuming the silent detention session. 

MY SHAYLAAAAAAAA!#%$*# - Guys, how did I do? I hope my stories aren't really repetitive but what can I say?? I just know past me would of been sliding down a wall reading this, and that's the best part of this all.

(Credits: 888hnh)

- Please let me know if you want more ᥫ᭡.

[cherryredz]

Ink & Heart

Harry Styles one-shot

Summary: Harry gets a new tattoo dedicated to you after years of being together and it's more meaningful than you thought

Warnings: none

Word count: 573

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It was an ordinary afternoon when Harry came home, his sleeve rolled up slightly higher than usual, a faint glint in his eyes that suggested he was up to something. You were curled up on the couch, flipping through a book, not suspecting a thing—until he stood in front of you, a boyish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“What’s with the smirk?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers casually tugging at the edge of his sleeve like he wasn’t sure whether to play it cool or just spill. “Went out today. Got a new tattoo.”

You sat up instantly, book forgotten. “Another one? Show me!”

Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Wait. Lemme explain first.” He sat beside you, his knee brushing against yours. His gaze softened, that glint turning into something warmer, deeper. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Wanted something small, but… meaningful.”

Your heart skipped, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation bubbling inside you.

He slowly rolled up his sleeve, revealing fresh ink—simple yet beautiful. It was a delicate outline of a small paper plane, its path drawn with a fine, looping line that subtly shaped into an infinity symbol. Right at the end of the trail was a tiny heart.

You blinked, taking it in. “A paper plane?” you whispered, tracing the air above his skin, careful not to touch the fresh ink.

Harry nodded, his voice softer now. “Remember when we first met? You were sitting in that café, doodling little paper planes in your notebook. You told me they reminded you of freedom, of not being tied down, of going wherever your heart wanted.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. That was such a small detail from years ago—something you’d probably mentioned in passing. But he remembered.

“I guess,” he continued, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, “you’re my paper plane. You changed the way I see life, love… everything. You made it feel like an adventure. And the little heart?” He smiled sheepishly. “Well, that’s where you landed. Right here.” He tapped his chest gently.

You couldn’t stop the tears that welled up, blurring the tattoo in front of you.

“Harry,” you breathed, your voice thick with emotion.

He cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tear that escaped. “Didn’t mean to make you cry, love.”

“They’re good tears,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

You pulled him into a soft kiss, one filled with gratitude, love, and all the unspoken words you couldn’t seem to find. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his.

“It’s perfect,” you whispered. “Just like you.”

Harry smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah. Just a man hopelessly in love with his paper plane.”

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Something small. Hope you like it <3

[nanasrkives]

Navigation : midnight records! the starlight EP! haikyuu EP!

── .✦ "ALMOST, ALWAYS" ─ Suna Rintaro

Finally posting about my husband Sunarin content : fluff. soft angst. second chance. 3461 words.

The flickering neon lights of a convenience store sign buzz faintly in the cool night air, casting a dull glow over the mostly empty street. 

The city feels quieter than you remember, or maybe it’s just you—older now, carrying the weight of years that slipped by too fast. You didn’t mean to end up here. You were just passing through town, visiting family, but your feet wandered on their own, drawn to familiar streets and forgotten corners. The nostalgia is almost suffocating, the kind that makes your chest ache in ways you thought you’d outgrown.

The bell above the door jingles as you step inside. The harsh fluorescent lights make everything feel too bright, too sharp. You drift toward the snack aisle without thinking, fingers trailing over shelves until they land on a familiar bag of chips. A small, wry smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

Old habits.

But then—

“That’s still your go-to, huh?” You freeze. That voice.

Turning slowly, your heart stutters in a way that feels painfully familiar. There he stands—Suna Rintaro. Taller than you remember, sharp features softened only slightly by time. His hair’s a little messier, his expression the same unreadable calm, but his eyes—they’re exactly as you remember. A muted green that used to catch the light during lazy afternoons in the gym, the same ones you never quite managed to look at for too long without feeling your chest tighten.

“Rintaro,” you breathe before you can stop yourself, his name slipping out like muscle memory. He smirks, a small tilt of his lips. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

Neither did you.

Third year of high school,

Your phone buzzes with another message from Atsumu: "Hurry up, practice is starting!" 

You roll your eyes, quickening your pace toward the gym. The gym is loud—sneakers squeaking against polished floors, the sharp slap of volleyballs, Atsumu���s voice carrying above the rest like it always does. You’re sitting on the bleachers, pretending to focus on your notes, but your eyes keep drifting.

To him.

Suna Rintarou leans against the wall, one arm resting lazily on his knee, his hair slightly damp with sweat. He’s not even trying, and he still looks—cool. Effortlessly cool in that way that makes your chest ache.

You tell yourself it’s just a crush. Harmless. Temporary.

But when his eyes flick up and meet yours across the gym, your heart betrays you. “Hey,” he says casually after practice, slinging his bag over his shoulder. You swallow down the words sitting on the tip of your tongue. I like you. Instead, you smile and say, “Hey.”

You wonder if he can hear the way your heart races.

You manage to find your voice before the silence stretches too long.

“Didn’t expect to see you here either,” you say, trying to sound casual, like your heart isn’t beating in your throat. You hold up the bag of chips as if it explains something. “Old habits, I guess.”

Rintarou steps closer, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, the same nonchalant posture he carried back in high school. But there’s something different now—a faint undercurrent of maturity, of time passed. He nods toward the snack. “You used to get those before every exam. Said it was your ‘good luck charm.’’ You blink, surprised he remembers. “Didn’t think you’d still remember that,” you murmur.

Rintarou shrugs, but his eyes linger on you a second longer than necessary. “Guess some things stick.” The conversation feels like walking a tightrope—balanced between what’s being said and everything that isn’t.

“So… what are you doing here?” you ask, needing to fill the space between you. “Came back for a visit,” he says simply. “Thought I’d check out the old places.” You nod, unsure of what to say next. The years have made him harder to read—or maybe you’ve just forgotten how.

Rintarou tilts his head slightly, his gaze steady. “You busy right now?” Your breath catches for a fraction of a second. “Not really.” “Wanna take a walk?”

It’s simple. Casual. But your chest feels anything but.

“Sure,” you reply, slipping the bag of chips into your basket like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The sun is low, casting long shadows over the empty gym. 

Practice ended an hour ago, but you’d stayed behind under the pretense of finishing some notes for class. In reality, you were just waiting. Rintarou’s still there, lying flat on the floor with one arm thrown over his eyes, earbuds dangling loosely from his phone.

You gather your courage like fragile glass, standing and walking over to him. Your heart hammers with every step. “Hey,” you say softly. He peeks up at you, lazy green eyes meeting yours. “What’s up?” You sit down beside him, cross-legged, pretending to pick at the floor. “Nothing. Just… didn’t feel like going home yet.” He hums in agreement, eyes drifting back to the ceiling.

The words are right there. I like you. They’re so close you can almost taste them. But instead, you say, “Do you ever wonder what we’ll be like after high school?” Rintarou turns his head slightly, considering. “Dunno. Guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.” You laugh softly, a little breathless. “You’re so chill about everything.” His lips twitch in a faint smirk. “Not everything.”

Your heart skips.

You almost ask what do you mean? You almost tell him how you feel.

But the moment passes, slipping through your fingers like sand.

The night air is crisp as you walk side by side, the city humming softly around you. 

There’s a comfortable quiet between you, but underneath it, a tension you both pretend not to notice. Rintarou breaks the silence first.

“Funny how nothing’s really changed,” he says. “This street, that convenience store… even you.” You glance at him. “I’ve changed.” He looks at you then, really looks, and it feels like standing under a spotlight. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “But not the important parts.”

Your heart stumbles.

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. The words rise in your throat, unsteady but undeniable. “Back in high school,” you start, your voice softer now, “there was something I never said.” Rintarou doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he looks like he’s been waiting for this. “Me too,” he replies simply.

You exhale a shaky laugh. “I liked you.” His mouth curves into a slow, familiar smirk, but his eyes—those steady, sharp eyes—soften in a way that makes your chest ache. “I liked you too,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

But maybe it always was. You’d just never said it.

Until now.

You sit on a park bench now, the city lights flickering in the distance.

The night stretches on, soft and quiet. The warmth between you and Rintarou grows in the small spaces—in the brush of shoulders, the lingering glances, the unspoken words finally said.

You turn to him, your face lit faintly by the streetlight. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. There's no need.

Then, slowly, like the universe has been waiting for this moment, he leans in. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as if they’ve always belonged there. His lips meet yours, soft and sure, carrying the weight of years lost and the promise of something new.

When you pull away, breathless, he smiles—not a smirk, not a tease, but something genuine, something just for you. “Took us long enough,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. You laugh softly, your heart finally at ease. “Yeah. But we figured it out eventually.”

And this time, you did.

2025 © NANASRKIVES. / do not copy, repost, edit, plagiarize, or translate any of my works on any platforms, including ai.

Taglist (OPEN). / @cherrysurf

[notcaring99]

Bad Decisions (Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader) Part 1/?

Warnings: Alcohol, Possible Smut, and Swearing

Ft: OG Avengers

Synopsis: You usually keep to yourself, avoiding significant social events. You are confident but never cared too much for lavish parties. After Tony and Wanda ask, more like beg, you to go to the party welcoming a new Avenger. The new Avenger is Bucky Barnes, who instantly has your attention. The others warn you of him and how getting involved is probably not best, but you feel drawn to him. May not be the best decision, but you can't help it.

A/N: I have not written fanfiction in a long while, but as I am currently stuck in my career writing, I thought I would give it a shot again.

Wanda and you have not been to any of Tony's parties. You were a bit too antisocial, and Wanda was too 'young' according to Steve. Tonight was different, though. Tonight's party was to welcome a new Avenger. You and Wanda were invited naturally, and after some pushing from Tony, you went. You both were in a corner of the party, watching as the rest of the Avengers were mingling with ease. "Great, we are outcasts," Wanda mumbled as she sipped her sparkling water.

"Well, it could be worse. I could not be allowed to drink," you tease her, making her roll her eyes at you. You bring your drink to your lips, looking around the party for someone to bring you two out of boredom. "Speaking of, where is Steve?" You ask her as you don't see the super-soldier.

"I heard the new Avenger is his friend," Wanda speaks up, making you look at her with a tilt of your head. "Before you speak a smart-ass comment, he does have a life outside of us." Wanda laughs, taking another sip of her water.

"I hate how you get into my head. Could you stay out?" you ask her, making her giggle just as you both hear a commotion. You turn around and see Wanda looking behind you. When you turn, you see Steve standing with someone who made your breath hitch in your throat.

The man was beautiful, with his stormy eyes and black hair hanging below his ear. He wore simple blue jeans, a white shirt, a leather jacket, and black boots. His eyes were darting around the room, and he avoided direct eye contact with everyone besides Steve. That is until you caught his eye, you both stared at each other for a moment till someone shouts your name.

"Y/N!" you feel a heavy hand land on your shoulder, making you look over. Thor stands there looking at you with a big smile, holding a flask in his other hand. "How are you doing?" Thor asks, making you smile at him and then at Wanda, who still looks at the man.

"I am doing alright. Do you know who the new guy is?" You ask him as you sip on your drink again. Thor looks behind you, making you glance as well. You still see Steve introduce the man to the others.

"That is soldier Bucky Barnes. He is one of Steve's friends from when he was a child." Thor tells you before taking a swig of his flask. You nod your head.

"How did he live this long? That would mean he is around 100 years old, and that man looks like he is 25 at most." You state, looking thoughtfully at Thor.

"Well, he is 106 years old. He is an ex-assassin from HYDRA." Thor says, confused at your sudden interest. You were usually one to keep to yourself, well,l besides Wanda. Thor clears his throat, drawing your attention away from the man to him. "Lady Y/N, you should know he is bad news; no one you should be interested in." Wanda chuckles behind Thor, making the two of you look at her.

"Don't you know Thor, that is how Y/N likes them? The bad boys." Wanda laughs as she takes a sip of her water. You are about to counterattack when you hear a throat being cleared. You turn around to see Steve standing before Thor with Bucky beside him.

"I hope we aren't interrupting anything," Steve states, looking at all of us as you stare at Bucky, whose eyes are already on you.

"Of course not, Steve." Thor cheers loudly. "You must be Bucky! Welcome to the team! You have probably heard of me." Thor booms before shaking Bucky's hand, which is covered by a leather glove. Bucky's eyes move from you to Thor, and his smile is awkward as the god greets him. Bucky was glancing at you as he greets Thor.

"I have God of Thunder. Thank you." Bucky smiles as Thor's hand tightens, his veins popping out more. Steve looks at you like your eyes haven't left Bucky's form.

"Wanda. Y/N. This is Bucky Barnes, the newest member of our team and my best friend." Steve introduces, and as soon as your name is said, Bucky makes eye contact. You quickly bring a smile to your face before outstretching your hand.

"Nice to meet you, Bucky. Welcome to the team," He smiles when you speak before shaking your hand.

"Thank you, Y/N." Bucky's eyes don't leave yours as Wanda approaches beside you. You notice the gaze lingering on you, so you quickly let go of his hand before looking at Wanda.

"Like Y/N said, it is lovely to meet you." Wanda nudges you with a shake of her head as her eyes drift elsewhere. You turn to see Bucky hasn't stopped looking at you.

"You two are both a part of the Avengers?" Bucky asks, not taking his eyes off of you. You smirked while you bit your lip, slightly drawing his attention to your mouth for a moment.

"Yes, we are. What intimidated by some strong women?" you ask as you take another sip. Bucky smirks, shaking his head as he takes in your whole form.

"Not at all, doll." You smile at his nickname for you. You snap out of eye contact as someone clears their throat, making you tear your eyes away, looking at Steve, Thor, and Wanda. Wanda has her eyebrows raised, making you sigh as you know she needs to talk.

"Steve, Thor, Bucky." You hold out his name a little longer than the others. "It was lovely chatting with you all. Wanda, do you want to get a refill?" You ask her, and she nods her head. You both loop your arms before smiling at the guys.

"See you around," Wanda calls out to the group before you both walk to the bar. You make sure to accentuate the way you swing your hips while you walk. When you get there, Wanda is quick to express her opinions. "I got a read on both your minds and you both are too broken for anything. You better not get involved with him." Wanda lectures, making you turn to look behind your shoulder discretely to see Bucky's eyes are on you. You turn your eyes back to Wanda, who is glaring at you.

"Wanda, he can't be that bad. He seems perfectly pieced together." You speak with a smirk as the bartender comes over. "One vodka tonic and a soda for her." You ask nicely as you feel your heart flutter. The bartender nods before you look at Wanda, who is still glaring at you.

"I am serious." She states, and you nod your head. The bartender sets the drink in front of you, and you take it, turning your back and leaning on the bar to look out at the crowd.

"It is already too late," You tell her as you lock eyes with him before winking at him, making him smirk deeper as Steve talks with him.

"I know," Wanda mumbles, chugging your drink.

"Hey!" You accuse, making her sigh at you.

"Helps numb the brain, and I can't hear your thoughts about him anymore. Nasty," She states, disgusted, making you glare at her as you return to the bar.

"Fine. Bartender!" You call out, ready to numb your own thoughts.

~

As everyone left the compound, the Avengers settled in the living area, where pizza sat on the coffee table. Everyone was laughing and joking around as you leaned into Wanda, who was just as intoxicated as you. You are all chatting as Wanda was watching you as you were practically eyeing Bucky the whole time. He wasn't shying away from your stare. You would catch him sometimes already looking at you. You are so wet and wanting him so badly, practically licking your lips while looking at him.

After a few minutes, you decided to go to bed as everyone was tired. "Well, this was fun," you stand up, adjusting your outfit while swaying a bit. You were feeling just a little buzzed and felt dead on your feet from the socializing. "I am going to head to bed, though." you were a bit unstable in your heels, so you swayed a bit too roughly, almost landing on the floor, but Bucky was already beside you, grabbing your arm.

"Woah there, doll," Bucky mutters, his voice a bit husky. You hum in response as you take in his cologne that fills your nose. You wanted to bury your head in his chest. "You okay there?"

"You girls are really drunk, aren't you?" Tony asks, laughing a bit as Wanda leans onto the couch with a goofy grin.

"Yess, sir," Wanda slurs before falling slowly. Steve catches her looking frustrated as you take in Bucky's scent and warmth.

"I think we made Cap mad." Wanda laughs as she leans into Steve, who huffs and looks at Bucky holding you.

"I think we did. You seem more drunk than I am, though." Wanda looks at you with a glare as you are getting more and more sober at the thought of Wanda being unsafe and drunk.

"Bucky, can you help Y/N get to her room? I'll take Wanda to hers." Steve suggests making you look up at Bucky with flirtatious eyes. Bucky looks at you in his arms, helpless. He moves his thoughts out of the gutter and looks back at Steve.

"Yeah," Bucky states before guiding you to the elevator while Steve fights with Wanda to stand up. You stand up, stumbling a little, but not as much as before. "Come on, Super Soldier. Apparently, I need a chaperone." You mumble out, making your way to the stairs. Bucky is there instantly, helping you up the stairs.

Once in the hallway, you seemed to be getting more tired. You were slowing down, so Bucky eventually had to pick you up bridal style. You are looking up at him, his eyes looking straight ahead as you study him. "You know you are really handsome?" You ask as you reach out and trace a finger along his stubble if you don't mind. He smiles down at you, catching your finger with his human arm and bringing it to his lips.

"Thank you, doll," He kisses your finger before setting it back into your lap. You sigh as he makes it to your door. You are frustrated, and you let yourself get this wasted before you can make a move on this beautiful man.

"That's me." You try to escape his arms, and he lets you. "Friday, can you open the door? " A hiccup interrupts you." Friday opens the door, bringing a smile to your face. "I love technology." You try to go in, but the lip of the doorway causes you to almost fall into the room.

"Jesus, doll." Bucky catches you by the arm, bringing you to stand before wrapping it around his shoulders. He walks you into the room, turning on the lights to see. "You are really wasted, aren't you?"

"I am not that bad, honestly. I am just exhausted." You stumble on your words as he sets you on the bed. "I was up very early this morning training with Clint. The alcohol doesn't help my exhaustion." You try to lean over to remove your heels but give up with the tiny straps with a groan.

"Here," Bucky kneels before you to take off your heels. Your breath is shaky at seeing him kneeling in front of you. Your core is level to him, but he doesn't glance up. His eyes are focused on your feet. You breathe as his cold metal fingers hold onto your ankle while his warm human fingers undo the straps.

"I love this view," You whisper, your voice raspier than usual. He looks up at you, his eyes widen slightly, but a smirk is on his lips. He doesn't break eye contact as he slips off the first heel.

"Careful darling, you can't say things like that without consequences." Bucky's words were supposed to warn you, but it heated your core more. He moves his eyes down to the heel before working on removing it.

"I can't wait to see those consequences." You whisper out to him, and he sighs, standing up as he has removed the last heel.

"Now, I may be bad news, but I won't take advantage of you." Bucky picks you up, easily bringing you to the bed's head. His touch is electricity on your skin. He helps you get into the sheets with you fully dressed.

"Who says I am not trying to take advantage of you," You slur out to realize you are genuinely more drunk than you think as he pulls the comforter up to your chest. "Never mind, you are right, but my words are true." He chuckles as you settle into your bed.

"Goodnight," Bucky says, leaning close to your forehead as your eyes flutter closed. At the last minute, he moves away and leaves you alone.

[invinciblerodent]

okay, I need someone to tell me if this is a silly idea, or something clever

this.... mildly unimpressed, slightly stankfaced portrait keeps popping up in Villa Dellamorte. I feel like I keep running into it (even if it's just a me issue of exploring and running in circles lol), but it really feels like I've seen multiple copies, and this one in particular is right at the end of a hallway in a way that you can't miss.

..... I'm thinking about altering the way the character I was planning to romance Lucanis with looks, and making her look like this portrait as much as I possibly can.

I don't know, there's just... something really fun (in a.... slightly unorthodox way of meaning "fun") to me, in the idea of him growing up in this vast, mostly empty mansion, among harsh circumstances and rigorous training regimens that would pass for torture everywhere else, with only the lifeless eyes of the portraits on the wall to keep him company. I think it'd be a nice thread of continuity between them, and maybe even a nod as to why he grows so attached so quickly (beyond having been, yknow, deprived of human-adjacent touch and any kindness for the last year), to think that the reason is that Rook resembles a "person" in whom he found solace in his youth, even if she was just a picture of a nameless woman who had lived Ages ago, hanging on the wall.

(Of course, with Coris in particular, this instant feeling of connection would also help in masking her plotting- at least long enough for her to discard the whole 'Lady Macbeth' scheme she had cooked up, and grow some genuine affection for him.)

(Also then this visit to the Villa might also re-contextualize a lot of things between them, with her getting stuck between flaring resentment to see the riches on display and the sorrow at how much of it is utterly empty, devoid of warmth, but yknow, that's for when I actually get there I think.)

[bunnigumi]

─ A LITTLE BIT HARDER NOW!

WHEN HE PULLS BACK theres drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. You're red in the face, eyes averting in shame 'cause you really do like it when he presses on your tummy like that.

cw. megumi x reader , stomach bulge , tummy pressing , size kink

Right now, Megumi has his grab on your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh, thumbs circling pink bites on the inner sides. It's a routine that's starting to become familiar. Your hips are slightly lifted up from the bed, and he really cant explain why, but when he can see the outline of his dick through your stomach, he absolutely loses it.

You were horrified at the sight when you first saw it, but Megumi on the other hand? He was turned on the most he's been in his entire life.

He just loves pressing on the bulge in your little tummy. Its addicting—watching you squirm and whine and protest with little results. Seeing the way you cant decide if you want to stray from his touch or arch further into it. Loving how big his dick is compared to you.

"Fuck baby," he breathes out in awe. "See that? Feel it? Can you feel my cock deep inside you?" He groans as he pulls out all the way just to slam back into you, starting a fast, rough pace that doesn't seem to let up and makes the sound of sticky arousal totally embarrassing.

A hand retreats from where it's holding up your thigh to grab one of your own hands, wrestling the grip you have on crumpled sheets and guiding it down to your stomach.

"Wha- nghh, M'gumi, don't—!" A long, drawn out moan escapes your lips before the rest of your complaint can. Your hand is trembling, and too weak to escape his grab.

"C'mon sweet girl, don't you like how full I can make you feel?" He coos.

Your head falls to the side, attempting to push your face into the soft pillows, "N-noo... feels so weird..." The drawn out nature of your words make you sound unsure. Megumi doesn't believe that you don't like it, because oh, he knows you do.

"Awwh... you sure you don't like it, baby?" He says, faux innocence laced in his sweet tone. You pout. You know what he's doing to you, and hes so wrong for it. He leans in closer, tilting his head, teasing you so you get all embarrased—hot and flustered. "I should just pull out then if it's too much."

You shake your head so fast you almost get dizzy, unable to form any coherent words. Only small uh-uh's make it past your moans.

It's too hot. Megumi is so, very close to you right now. You're able to feel the radiating warmth of his body, his breath against your ear. With the added weight of his teasing, it becomes far too invading. You bury your face deeper into the pillows.

When you get like that, the heat always pressures you into spilling whatever you don't want to say—always. You make for a terrible, terrible liar.

"What about when I do it like this?" You face him again with curiosity. Your brows are furrowed, sweat beads down your hairline. Glossy eyes search his face in confusion in the cutest way ever before dilating in panic.

He adds more pressure and forces your hand harder onto your stomach, closing the little distance seperating the two of you to kiss you sloppily. You make a noise of shock, whining as he continues to knead your hand onto it.

Your cries melt back into the sound of pleasure, moaning into the kiss, your whining dying down.

When he pulls back theres drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. You're red in the face, eyes averting in shame 'cause you really do like it when he presses on your tummy like that. "Tell me how much you love it," he taunts.

When you're like this, you're able to feel all of him. Able feel every single thrust just grazing your cervix, senses going into overdrive as you subconsiously stop trying to fight his hold on your hand with the little to no strength you were using to begin with.

"I, hahh, love it! Love your cock s-so much! Feel so full... hah- aah—!" With one last thrust, your back arches, core unraveling around his length. Walls tightening, spasming in a way that makes Megumi spill all his praises. As your chest heaves heavily, your abdomen flexes and tightens, revealing the silhouette of your boyfriend's cock stuffed inside of you even clearer now.

The corner of his mouth quirks up in pride, "I bet you do, baby. I fuckin' bet."

He really should start doing this more often.

[catchastarorten]

—Sleep well.

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

Summary: Gi-hun suggested that the group took turns staying on watch in case the other players attacked, him and Jung-bae stayed up while you and the others napped, Dae-ho took his place beside you to rest with you.

Content: fluff, cuddling(?), you head-butting him in your sleep lol, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not really proofread, sorry!

Word count: 808

You were tucked into the corner with your group—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Young-il, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee. Trust was a rare thing in the games, but the six of you managed to stick together, watching each other’s backs through the brutal rounds.

The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but Gi-hun’s paranoia kept your eyes open longer than you would have liked. He wasn’t wrong, though. The fear was palpable.

Your group pulled a couple of mattresses off of the bunks, arranging them as best as possible. One was dragged and laid flat against the wall, the others shoved under bunk frames for some semblance of protection.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there.” Jung-bae asked, sliding a mattress to Gi-hun, who shoved it under a bunk frame.

“Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.” Gi-hun said, his eyes focused and his voice steady. “The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It’s a part of the game they designed.”

You exchanged a look with Dae-ho, who sat cross-legged beside you, holding onto some blankets and pillows. He had been your shadow ever since Red light, Green light. Always sticking close, insisting on protecting you in this place after seeing the way you froze during the first game—when he told you to stay behind him closely so you could use him as a human shield.

“We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.” Gi-hun muttered, sitting down at the foot of the bunk beds, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “I’ll take the first watch.”

The lights flickered out not long after, leaving the only source being the giant piggy-bank hung on the ceiling that was glowing dimly.

It was after a while when Jung-bae rolled out lazily from under a bunk and plopped down beside Gi-hun, the two of them speaking in hushed voices.

You laid down on one of the mattresses, wrapping the thin blanket around yourself. Dae-ho settled beside you not long after, and though you weren’t expecting it, his hand brushed against yours as he shifted to get comfortable, and you were sure you saw his face flush before he hid it, which barely worked, to be honest.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll fight them off if they try to come over here.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. Dae-ho had a knack for looking out for you since you met him in the games, even in the little ways—giving you his portion of food, stepping in when someone got too close. You hadn’t known him long, but there was this easy warmth between the two of you.

Within minutes, you were sound asleep.

Dae-ho’s soft snores filled the small space you both shared. Exhaustion had gotten the better of him, just like it did to you. His arm had draped protectively over your side in his sleep, his presence a cocoon of safety.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae sat near the bunks, their attention now drawn to the sound of soft snoring. Both sets of eyes landed on you and Dae-ho, curled up together on the mattress.

“They’re out like a light,” Jung-bae remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know, seeing them like that... it reminds me of when we went on strike. We were occupying the factory, and management told us to come out. They said anyone who came out voluntarily would be let off the hook and receive more severance pay.”

Gi-hun stared into the distance, as if recalling what happened.

“You were sleeping beside me and you were talking in your sleep. ‘Mom, I’m hungry, give me some food.’” Jung-bae made an exaggerated crying face, and Gi-hun gave him a glare as Jung-bae nudged him with his elbow, smirking.

Their voices echoed, and soon enough, soft laughs filled the quietness.

Jung-bae chuckled again, louder this time. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The noise had reached you, and you stirred slightly. Dae-ho, still asleep, curled closer to you instinctively, his arm tightening around your side. His movement caused your head to shift slightly, and without warning, you head-butted him in your half-asleep state of grogginess.

Dae-ho furrowed his brows, a soft noise escaping his lips as he shifted again, burying his face into the crook of his arm. You tugged the blanket over your shoulders, muttering something incoherent before nestling deeper into the mattress, falling right back asleep.

Jung-bae stifled another laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Gi-hun gave him a glare, but a faint smile was already tugging at the corners of his mouth too.

“They’re like kids,” Jung-bae whispered, his tone fond.

“Let them sleep. They’ll need it.” Gi-hun shook his head and sighed softly.

[thalwri]

STICKY N' WET

synopsis: your agitating ex tries to disrupt your peace again, but he doesn't realise sylus is around. and neither of you realise that your working together to finally get rid of your ex would bring you much closer.

warnings: heavy smut, dry humping, strip tease, riding, creampies, shower sex, couch sex, petnames (kitten, sweetie, sweetheart), squirting, messy and very wet

wc: 5,6k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“where are you off to, kitten?”

you turned on your heel, seconds away from fuming. “i told you to stop calling me that.” 

there had been incessant knocking torturing your door to your apartment. somehow you’ve been letting sylus stay in your place for weeks on end while he occasionally disappeared to the n109 zone for his usual business.

between your tether to him being more intense than usual, and the recent events you’d been going through, you couldn’t tell whether you were grateful for his presence or felt more at peace when he wasn’t around for a brief time.

it had been five minutes. you wouldn’t really think that the knocking was bad but realistically if someone knocked at your door without a break and did it very loudly even without a response, then that would be concerning.

sylus found it irritating in the least, but had the tolerance to ignore it until the relentless fool disappeared on their own. he watched you walk to the door and look into the peep hole. your breath hitched as you stumbled back, covering your mouth with both hands before quickly dropping them to your sides.

“what is it?”

“my ex.” your voice dropped to a monotone line, your body still on the door in front of you. sylus groaned, pinching his brows but he had to admit he wasn’t surprised.

your break up wasn’t revolutionary and chaotic so to speak, but it wasn’t peaceful either. he had been there for you through the process, he didn’t even have to calm you down so he had thought you’d breeze through it and give him more of your attention.

until you started crying.

apparently, the fool had gotten with another woman just weeks after your split and that broke you. so two months following that, sylus had spent his hours of quality time with you helping you recover and move on all while plotting all the crude and illegal things he could do to that insect to avenge you. 

he had thought to impale the guy with a fork, or peel off his skin with a carrot peeler, and make a stew out of him so that if anyone investigated, they’d eat the evidence. hannibal style. if he ever told you that, you would most likely be disgusted.

sylus rose to his feet in solemn silence and gently moved you away from the door. “i’ll handle it, kitten.”

“sylus–“

“i’ll handle it.” the depth his voice had lowered to was an instant indication that you could no longer try to interfere. whatever he was about to do, you could only pray it wasn’t going to get him arrested.

you turned away, pinching the corners of your eyes as the door opened for sylus to be greeted by yelling.

“what took you so long to answer– who are you?”

“the owner of this apartment. who in this bereft city are you?” well, being the owner, so to speak, was a lie. technically you owned it– but sylus began to actually live and function there more than you had in the last few months.

just looking at the bastard in person began to irk him. sylus wholeheartedly believed you could do far better than you had but he knew better than to lose his chances of being especially close to you by questioning your judgement. he was not interested in fighting you for your attention for he knew that you truly were drawn to him.

how could you not be attracted to each other especially after all you’ve gone through together?

sylus looked your ex up and down in disgust and scoffed out a laugh. “what are you doing here? this is the last time i’ll ask.”

“where is my girlfriend?” your ex grumbled, attempting to look over sylus’ body by standing on the tips of his toes. you intuitively stepped back before you stopped. would you really let this happen over and over again? being tormented like this?

not again.

“she’s not–“ sylus began to ball his hands into fists as he spoke before you held him to calm him down.

“it’s okay,” you gave him a grateful smile, patting his chest for him to step back. “i told you to stop calling and coming to my apartment.”

“i just wanted to talk–“ 

“you lost your chance, so do me a favour and screw yourself to another planet before i feed you to the fucking wanderers. we’re over. for a reason. and here’s no turning back from that. so leave.”

“but–“

“out.”

“no, i–“

the sound of a gun– your gun– cocked, you felt a tall figure looming over you oozing murderous energy. sylus aimed the gun directly at your ex’s head.

“you heard my woman,” he snarled, trying his best to hide his prideful smirk. you felt your ears warm. look at you, standing on your own feet against vermin-like that ex of yours. “get out.”

“who do you think you are?” your ex scoffed, sorely attempting to push out his chest to seem confident. 

“he is my boyfriend,” you stepped forward, pushing your ex back by pointing your finger at him with each statement you make until he’s out of the doorway. “he is my man, he is what matters to me now, and you are nothing to me. so get out and stay out of my life before i kill you with my bare hands.”

and with that, you slam the door shut, locking the door quickly. you leaned against the door, catching empty air while your heart rate slowed down from the nerves. you heard sylus chuckle and put your gun down.

“that was impressive, sweetie.” you groaned in your hands, intentionally avoiding his gaze. you called him your boyfriend. your man. and he called you his woman. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find that nice to say, but still!

“look at me,” his voice, both soothing and arousing compelled you to listen to him. you removed your hands from your eyes and looked sylus in the eye.

“i suppose you’re satisfied.” you sighed in exhaustion, you felt so drained from talking to that ex of yours. a snack would be doing wonders at this time.

“i’m proud of you,” he smiled– a rarity from sylus but fully appreciated nonetheless. “standing your ground, defending your privacy, referring to me as your man–“

“you’re terrible,” you choked out a laugh, slapping his abdomen. 

“i’m divine, kitten, and you know it.”

you weren’t going to deny that. especially after being trapped in his homestead, after getting to know him, along with seeing a great many parts of him. he was an attractive man, that was undeniable. 

his wit, intelligence, and sense of control during missions and operations within onychinus and how he spends time with you are all things you’d grown to admire about him. you adored him and felt rather enamoured by the things he does. the things he does to you.

within the last month, you’d seen him in ways that you should have deemed inappropriate. watching exit the shower, water dripping down the lines of his abdomen and disappearing within the towel wrapped around his waist. with his grey lashes holding small droplets above his deliciously terrifying crimson eyes of his.

how his chest always looked larger every time you saw him, or how you’d intentionally bend down with your ass in the air when he was within your proximity. something at the time you thought as harmless. but now you’re standing before him and you felt a new wave of need.

whether it was from what he said or the fact that he was ready to kill for you, you didn’t know. but now you were feeling restless.

“sylus,”

he breathed out your name in response, almost as though he was holding in some pent in energy. you could feel energy swirling in your heart as you watched his eye twitch. the same eye that held his part of the aether core. were you resonating without touching each other?

“thank you,” you began, struggling to find your words. “for earlier.”

“anything for you, sweetie.” he stepped closer to you, making you tilt your neck slightly to meet his gaze. “including covering for your pretty ass whenever your missions went sideways because of that creature of an ex.”

you stifled a laugh through the noise of your aether tethered heart rapidly beating. watching his lips curve, purse, and move as he spoke, watching his eyes kind of lighten just from speaking with you… you just couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“you just can’t seem to take your eyes off me or stop thinking about me, can you kitten?” he smirked, placing his hand beneath your chin. “it would only be fair for me to admit i have had the same sentiment, but for much longer than i’d like to admit.”

“then do something about it,” you brashly whispered, feeling your patience wear thin. this was the closest chance you had at doing something with him without fear. “you’ve got your chance, so use it.”

“oh?” that irritating yet attractive chuckle filled the room other than whatever was playing on the tv. you could just feel your clit tingle from it. “is kitten baring her claws again?”

you gripped the collar of his dress shirt, harshly pulling him close to you– his lips less than a breath away from yours. “this kitten is baring her teeth, and telling sylus she wants him.”

that seemed to be the perfect buzzword. before you knew it, his lips had crashed into yours, his arms wrapped around your torso, and if you weren’t mistaken a short moan had escaped his lips. there was barely a moment for you to absorb the kiss, as you had already begun to peel each other’s clothing off from the jackets to the shirts and eventually the pants. 

you pushed sylus onto the couch and straddled him, his hands held the back of your thighs pushing you up more towards him as your lips danced and tugged away in both passion and desire. he dropped you onto his lap, subtly introducing you to the growing bulge beneath you. it felt so big. you gasped as he began to grind against your clothed pussy, his hands reaching for your ass and tits to fondle and squeeze.

“i want you,” sylus whispered, momentarily stopping to lock his crimson eyes on yours in seriousness. “and i have you. do you want us to continue. we’ll stop if you aren’t ready.”

you smiled in gratitude for his concern for you. “i’m ready, sylus. i’m ready for you–” before you could finish your sentence, your lips are locked in a chaste kiss, your groins meeting each other through relentless grinds and your heavy sighs and soft whines competing with the television’s noise.

you wanted to truly show sylus how much you appreciated all that he has done for you in the past month so you slowly pulled yourself away, gently pushing him back when his lips followed and rose to your feet. 

“stand up,” sylus rose without question, hiding his curiosity with a ‘hmph’. “take off your underwear.”

he raised an eyebrow, his ruby eyes glistened with excitement. “and what about you, kitten? don’t you think this is a little bit unfair?”

“i want to give you a show,” you tug at the hem of his black briefs, which had a wet spot marked around his erection. the more you looked at the shape of his cock, the more you realised just how big he was. you could feel both your mouth and pussy water at that sight alone.

“i think i’m the one entertaining you right now,” in a swift move, he pulled down his briefs and kicked them aside. his cock bounced free and stood so tall and proud, his tip was reddened and shining with leaky precum leaving a mess on his lower abdomen. 

“don’t be shy,” he smirked, taking your hand in his and placing it on his cock. it was so warm and so hard, you couldn’t help yourself from stroking it. sylus closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh as you pumped his cock from the base to the tip stopping to circle your finger lightly over his slit.

“h-ha, kitten, that’s- oh,” you dragged your precum glistened finger down a large vein that travelled to the base then removed your hand. still in a slight daze from your touch, sylus didn’t hear what you said.

“i’m gonna give you a little show,” you boldly repeated, grabbing his face with a hand to give him a chaste kiss, swiping your tongue briefly across his lips before he could react. you stepped back to create some distance between the two of you to give him a bit of a sight to see. 

sylus laughed and plopped himself back onto the couch, spreading his legs to give you constant access to his throbbing, twitching, leaky cock. his hand was wrapped around the shaft, slowly stroking it as translucent drops leaked from his tip. seeing him in his nude, blatant glory brought a flood of heat rush over your body and settle in your clit– which was rudely rubbing against the fabric of your underwear.

“don’t get cold feet now, sweetie,” sylus breathed, his chest beginning to heave and sweat. you’d barely gotten to do what you wanted. 

“best you be patient.” you scoffed, unclasping your bra, slowly peeling the straps down each shoulder. you turned making your back face him and peeled off your bra and tossed it towards him. 

sylus’ hands were long gone from his hard, throbbing cock to catch your bra. he set it on his thigh, resting on the couch arms spread wide intrigued to see what else you had in store for him. “continue, kitten. my patience is wearing thin.”

you slowly turned to face him again, saving your final reveal for much later. you swayed your way back to him and sat on his lap, carefully pressing his cock against his abdomen with your body. his breath hitched at the friction from your underwear rubbing against his sensitive flesh. his warm precum began to soak your panties, but not as much as your pussy was.

you held his cock against you and adjusted your positioning so that you could ride the length of him. going back and forth against him, the raw friction of fabric against sensitive skin sent sylus into a frenzy, gripping the sides of the couch as he watched you basically dry hump him when he should be deep inside you.

“kitten,” he gritted, holding back a guttural groan. you responded with a lascivious moan, almost vibrating from the stimulation from just dry riding his cock. sylus’ hands flew to your hips and lifted you up with just a fraction of his strength. his cock flew back and hit his abs with a soft plap! 

“i’m growing impatient,” he lowly whispered, his eyes slowly darkening with desire and arousal. he was in no position to play along with you anymore. he was ready to fuck you good. “so i’m going to ask you again. are you ready for us to continue?”

you ferociously nodded, holding his face in your hands engulfing him in another kiss. you invited his tongue into your mouth to explore and savour you, occasionally greeting it with your own. as you felt yourself sinking into the kiss, you felt your pantie get moved aside before a long finger slid into you. you gasped momentarily before sylus caught your lips again, swallowing your eventual moan as his finger curled inside you.

“answer the question.”

“yes, sylus, i’m ready for you,” you panted. “i’m ready.”

and with that, sylus did not hold back further. his finger pumped into your wet pussy in slow rhythm before pushing a second in. your body trembled at the feeling, tensing as his fingers pumped deeper into you whilst curling to find that special area of yours.

“so wet,” he commented, pecking kisses along your neck. “soaking through your pretty underwear just for me. imagine how much harder i’m getting just from watching you.”

you didn’t even think it was possible for that to happen. a third finger slid in right as you were about to respond, pulling a deep moan out of you. being stretched out like this was not new, but with sylus it gave a more delicious sting.

“don’t squirm, sweetie,” he purred, curving all three digits in you again. “this is necessary if you want my cock to fit in well without hurting you.”

you couldn’t say much other than nod. getting so mindless over his fingers was worrying. what would his cock feel like? 

sylus slowly removed his fingers, watching how your slick nectar connected to each one before slowly licking it off one of his fingers whilst locking his eyes on you. such an erotic tease. he rubbed his other– still slick– fingers on your lips, painting them in your wetness. you slowly opened your mouth and leaned your head forward to take his fingers in.

“fuck,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch at the sight. he pushed his fingers in and out of your mouth, watching your tongue clean him up slipping and swirling around him. he just imagined what it would be like to fuck your pretty mouth until you were drooling with his cum.

“me,”

“what?”

“fuck me, sylus.” you gave him a look of determination and need. that was all he had to hear. a loud rriiiiiip snapped you out of your daze, and a light draft fanned at your ass. 

“sylus!”

“hmm?” he smiled, pulling off your now shredded underwear from your body.

“that was my favourite set!” you pouted, even though you were heavily attracted to that move from him.

“you know i’ll get you new ones,” sylus scoffed, moving your hips to align your pussy with the tip of his cock. he knew you were on the pill. how? he accompanied you to get them and pestered you whenever you forgot. he adored you but he also cared immensely for your wellbeing.

“i love that you wore that set today,” he grinned looking up at you and pecked your nipples before gently suckling them for a few seconds. “love the red.” he paused, wanting to ask you once more for confirmation.

you nodded before he could ask. “i’m good and ready when you are– o-oh,”

his tip prodded at your entrance and was welcomed with slick warmth sucking him into you. he stopped half way in, slowly breathing to be accustomed to the feeling of your pussy clamping on his cockhead so tightly he almost came on the spot. you had let out a gasp at the feeling, clutching his shoulders with your nails.

“are you alright?” he asked. beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. you nodded. “let’s continue.”

slowly, you sank down onto him swallowing his cock, intentionally squeezing him to watch him squirm and moan from your tightness. you gently laughed, giving away your teasing which sylus quickly caught onto. he scoffed out a laugh and bucked his hips up to yours, ramming the rest of his cock into you with just a bit still outside. 

you moaned from the instantaneous move, barely recovering from it when that evil grey haired man began to thrust into you, pulling his cock in and out gradually increasing his pace. your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you tried to follow his pace, riding him to meet his hips whenever he thrusted up into you.

“oh fuck, kitten your pussy is so tight,” he moaned, pushing deeper and harder into you. your eyes crossed feeling like he reached a spot you didn’t realise existed. “must have hit your g-spot, hm? oh, baby you feel so good around me”

you could barely respond, overwhelmed by the new wave of pleasure you were receiving. hearing his sexy noises while fucking his cock into you was bringing you faster to your climax than your vibrator ever had. and all so quickly too. but it seemed he was also drawing near to cumming too.

“just– ah, fuck– so tight!” he could barely swallow his whines as your hips meet faster and harder. “that tight pussy’s about to make me cum, kitten. g-gosh fuck me– you see what you do to me?”

rendered speechless, you could only nod. and it only took a few more thorough thrusts before you spasmed all over his cock, throwing your head back as you climaxed. just seconds after, a gush of hot, cum flowed into your pussy, making you so weak in the knees you couldn’t move. sylus fuck his cum into you, moaning your name. 

despite that brief finish, you both knew you wanted more.

“again,” his voice rumbled in demand. you rasped your agreement, about to move when an idea came to your mind. 

“sylus,”

“mm.”

“let’s go to the shower.”

he looked up at you with a raised brow. “you feel dirty already? kitten, we’ve barely started.”

“no, you crow,” you smacked his large chest in irritation. “i mean, let’s continue in the shower.”

sylus momentarily paused, blankly staring at you. you always wondered what went through his mind when he did that. in that instance, he rose to his feet carrying you while his cock was still lodged in your pussy. not only that, he was still alarmingly hard despite cumming already, 

“you didn’t think i’d be done after such a small round, did you?” he grinned. “we’re just getting started.” you didn’t know whether to be afraid or dangerously aroused more than before.

you went through your bedroom to your bathroom, where sylus eventually set you to your feet. his cum began to slowly ooze out of you, travelling down your legs and painting them in the evidence of the mess that would have been made on your couch.

the bathroom began to steam slightly as the water ran. a large hand was held out for you– sylus offering it for you to join him. as you entered, your lips were immediately occupied with his, tied in a dance of need and insatiable greed that only the two of you could soothe for each other.

“you’re so perfect, sylus,” you sighed on his lips. “you’ve always been so great, such an amazing person in my life.” you kissed him again. “just want to show you how grateful i am for you.”

“you already have,” he pecked your cheeks. “just by being in my life.”

your kisses, gradually intensified as you touched each other, stimulating your needs before sylus gently moved you against the glass wall of the shower and picked you up hooking your legs over his shoulders and pressing your weight on the glass to keep you in place.

he gently lowered you back into him, instantly filling you up with his cock again. each time felt like it had gotten thicker. sylus regained proper footing on the wet tiles, slowly thrusting up into you before his pace quickened, going faster and harder until your pretty tits bounced from the sheer force of being fucked against the glass shower wall. 

and that wasn’t near how fast he planned to plough your sweet pussy. he had so much more in store for you. so much he’d been waiting to do. control was no longer a word in his vocabulary.

“ooh, just– fuck– just– just like that sy– so good!” you hiccuped, gripping onto his hair with one hand and scratching his nape with the other. 

through the fog, you could see your reflection, his back muscles flexing and shining in sweat along with the heat, his light grey hair flattened and drenched sticking to his flushed skin, his lips so tantalisingly close to your ear, huffing out praises and moans all while nibbling at your flesh.

“how are you still so tight, kitten?” he purred, pounding into you like his life depended on it. his hands tightly gripped your thighs indenting marks onto them, another sign of him marking his territory. “gonna fuck you so deep ‘n paint you with my cum.”

thrust after thrust his cock travelled deeper and deeper into you than it had earlier, pounding your weeping cunt so much that the squelches from a mixture your slick wetness and his cum became louder than the sound of your shower. sylus slowly pulled his cock back until his cockhead peeked out then slammed himself back up into you, finding that carnal spot of yours again. your eyes instantly crossed upon the impact, ripping a raw cry from deep within your throat.

“you sound like music,” he groaned, you could feel him smiling against your neck as he licked and suckled multiple rude, disrespectful bruises onto your skin. marking you as his and his alone for all of linkon and the n109 to see. “beautiful melody for just me to hear, sweetie.” he drew back and pulled out of you slowly and thrust clean into you once more before setting you down to the floor. 

you wasted no time grabbing his shoulders and pulled him into a lustful, needy kiss, engulfing him in your adoration and enticement. he occasionally nipped your lower lip, groaning at the feeling of your hand creeping down his abdomen to stroke his neglected, twitching cock. it was drenched and leaking with precum again, as if there would never be an end to how much he could stuff you and cover you with it. the warm water pelted your skin, making you hotter and more breathless as the seconds went by. 

“i’m going to give you everything you could ever want in this life,” he struggled to say whilst attempting to hold back the noises boiling deep in his chest. “my life, my heart, and my soul is yours, sweetheart.”

within an instant, you found your front pressed against the glass with your hands held behind your back. his lips grazed you ear, whispering his need for you as his warm cock circled your entrance, sliding up and down from the curve of your ass to his tip poking your aching clit.

“sylus,” you shivered, leaning back to rest on him before you lost balance– or even consciousness. you couldn’t tell how long you had been going on for anymore, and frankly you couldn’t care less. the tether between the two of you had wrapped so strongly that you couldn’t spend a second not being on each other.

“yes?” his hand gently tapped your chin so you could turn your face to him. he pecked the corner of your lip and rammed himself back into you without warning, forcing out a loud moan through your lips. those rough, and crude thrusts pounded through your tight, needy cunt, which was squeezing around his girth as much as possible. body pressed against the glass, the reflection of your fucked out face with sylus dazed and so drunk in your pussy made you clench harder.

“fuck, my– fuck,” his hips began to stutter and his cock throbbed in warning. the shower wall began to shake from the continuous impact of your bodies slamming together, clapping and squelching as if you just couldn’t be any closer. “if you squeeze again– oh, kitten, i’m going to fill you to the brim.”

he sunk his teeth deep into your flesh sending jolts of new pleasure down your spine, making you both moaning messes. his hands travelled around your body until his dominant hand settled on your abandoned clit to rub and swirl, and the other attacking your nipples– fondling and pinching them with greed to force out your most animalistic nature. your back arched helping you buck yourself into his hips, wanting to feel so much more of him, even though he had already abused your g-spot so much.

you sobbed and whined, singing praises to sylus for what he was doing to get you so horny for him. “keep fucking me like that, sy- fuck, please!” your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to hold onto him to stop yourself from collapsing. if it wasn’t his cock poking your cervix at this point, it was a sign that you were reaching your limit. “give me– can’t think– give it to me!”

neither of you could think that much, really. with you being so hypnotised and enamoured by his huge cock while he drowned and was drunk in your pussy, there wasn’t much to question. you both had a synonymous goal.

“gonna give it to you, kitten,” sylus seethed while licking your skin in ferocious lust, all he wanted and needed was to feel and taste you so he would do just that.

he felt so good inside your delectable pussy, loved how you tightened around him. he wanted to just cum on the spot, over and over and fuck you in every nook and cranny of your apartment then in each and every one of the properties he owned. he didn’t want to stop until every room you two entered was left smelling of cum and sex. who would he be to not desire such pleasure with someone as beautiful, powerful, and sexy as you?

“look at us, sweetie,” he huffed, momentarily stopping to push his cock as deeply into you as possible, completely bottoming out inside of you until all that would be seen was his balls flush against your pussy. he took long, deep, malicious strokes into you, the glass wall threatening to topple over. “look at yourself while i fuck you good, while i stuff my cock right into you.”

your eyes landed on your reflection but you couldn’t help yourself from watching him reduce you to slutty putty. making you feel like such a needy slut for his cock and his hot, thick cum.

“so pretty,” he moaned, throwing his head back. he could feel his orgasm nearing, his body was beginning to falter. “so definitely mine.” 

the perverted reflection of you fucking yourself on his cock while he simultaneously bucked into you had taken you over the edge. your eyes rolled back and your jaws loosened as your body stilled. you let out a hoarse cry as you unfolded, tightly gripping onto him as you became undone, cumming around his cock, your walls squeezing and fluttering around him causing a wave of cum to fill you alongside his thrusts. 

you were so full already that his cum leaked out your pussy in spurts, dripping down your legs and hitting the walls. another wave washed over you, and you could feel so much spurting out of you, spraying the wall and dripping down your bodies. you paused, still feeling sylus rutting his cum into you from behind. 

you squirted. and he had quickly realised it too, from how his pace quickened again. you had felt his cock grow much harder even though he already came.

“fuck, you made such a mess kitten, wanna make you do it again,” he panted, pinching his eyes shut. “gonna fuck you so good, you squirt over and over.”

you still couldn’t understand how he got so hard so quickly but your pussy wasn’t done being fucked just yet. he quickly pulled himself out, his cock slapping against his abdomen still spurting out thick globs of cum. he raised one of your legs over his shoulder and bottomed out deep into you again, with a whole new angle. you both groaned at the feeling, your pussy being stretched by the curve of his depth, creaming and fluttering on it before he could thoroughly fuck you again.

he didn’t waste another second viciously stimulating your clit with his fingers while his cock aggressively drove into you, slapping your skin against his in a quickened rhythm. it didn’t take much before your poor, soaked cunt squeezed you into another orgasm, creaming a white ring around his base. you screamed, feeling a rush of pleasure force out an intense round of your nectar going everywhere onto your abdomen and his, ultimately making you squirt for the second time tonight. 

you felt another gush of cum stuff your pussy as a whimper left sylus’ lips. you couldn’t help but love the fact that he got off just from you squirting. and that got you so much hornier, so needy to do more. but you doubted if your body was capable of handling that. you felt his cock slowly soften as you came down from your highs. he muttered something about wanting to stay inside you a bit longer, and you allowed it, also not wanting to be separated from him being in you just yet. maybe it was the aether cores keeping you attached.

moments passed as you both recovered from your orgasms, resting on each other, whispering praises, and kissed each other in dazed exhaustion. the running water rinsed away most of the cum and slick from your bodies, leaving the rest to be cleaned off once you were both ready.

“that was beautiful,” you murmured as you pulled away from his lips. sylus rested his forehead on yours, still trying to regain his breath. he reached to make the water slightly colder.

“you did so well,” he smiled. “i’m glad i was patient.”

as you began to clean each other up, as exhausted as you were, you felt satisfied. and at peace. sylus was a good ally and companion of yours but from the way things are looking now, you’re more than happy to take things much further.

a/n: I literally started playing lads a few days ago and OMG LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ITS SOO GOOD

[slvttyplum]

sukuna won't stop talking during sex.

at first it was cute, endearing; you enjoyed it, but each time you were close to finishing, his never-ending words that slipped through your ears made you lose your edge.

right there, right there, keep going...

fuck.

one last thrust, and he turned on his back, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath, turning to look at you rolling your eyes while you turned to your side, grabbing your phone and laying on your back.

"what's your fucking problem?" sukuna sitting up against the headboard, his face in a scowl.

"what's my fucking problem? i can't fucking nut; that's my fucking problem." muttering to yourself as you flip over to your side, sukuna flipping you right back over, climbing on top of you, his weight resting on your legs

"what? since when? you finish every single time." a pout resting on his lips as he looked at you, scanning over your face then your chest, the realization setting in.

you stay quiet, rolling your eyes. it wasn't every time when you didn't finish, but it was every time where you did, a couple of minutes going by before you spoke.

"you just talk a lot, but that's something that can be fixed." a grin on your lips as you push him off of you.

a few minutes later, he was laid under you, with a piece of tape over his mouth. lining his dick with your entrance and slowly sliding down, your eyes fluttering as he fills you out.

your hands were placed firmly on his chest, holding most of your weight as your hips came down with full force, pleasure surging through you just the way you wanted it to, almost losing yourself.

sukuna's eyes watering, his hands on your hips and his nails digging into your flesh, his body shaking, trying to control how good he was feeling.

the more you moved up and down on him, the more annoyed he got. you felt so fucking good, the way you moved turned him on so much that it got him angry. this is what he was missing?

his moans muffled against the tape, tears falling down the corner of his eyes as his grip on your hips got tighter, his dick twitching inside of you, a long, drawn-out, muffled moan as his grip on you loosened.

it went on like this for an hour, his ego shattering completely each time you slid down on his dick.

still riding out your orgasm as he stares at you, his body still reacting to how good you felt, his vision blurry from tears, but he could still see that smile on your face.

you quickly rip off the tape, his dick still inside of you.

"see what happens when you shut the fuck up?" his face twisting into a scowl, gripping your hips again, a yelp escaping your lips as his hips buck into you.

"watch your mouth." his face softening as he feels you gripping against him. maybe he could benefit from not talking once in a while.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC My Brother in the Mirror

Damian doesn't like mirrors.

He never mentioned the fact to other members of the family, but they are detectives and vigilantes, it's their job to be observant. Which, after so many years, becomes a habit.

Damian doesn't actively avoid the mirrors - he has a mirror in his bathroom, he didn't express any discomfort over going into a mirror labyrinth at some carnival they've attended (he expressed disgust over taking part in something so stupid, in his words, but that's a whole another story), and he actually spent a few minutes in front of the funhouse mirrors when no one was looking, watching his own reflection distort in various ways. He also has no problems with his self-image - he doesn't mind pictures of him taken at any time (unless it's Tim, but that's, again, a whole another story), he's drawn a few self-portraits that were rather accurate and he liked them.

He just doesn't like mirrors. For some reason.

His family, both close and extended, never questioned it. They did some gentle research to see if the dislike was caused by some kind of problem Damian was experiencing without telling anyone, but when they found no proof of that, they've just decided it was some quirk of his. Everyone has quirks. Dick doesn't like eating cereal like a normal person, Tim despises sleep, Steph is at war with any color other than purple.

That is, until one day, Tim witnesses Damian sitting in front of a mirror.

He is not even aware of it - the whole family is having a game night, and through some arguments and rearrangements on the couch, Damian ends up sitting on the left side of it, where his back is turned to one of the three mirrors in the room. Tim, who's lost the last round, is slumping in an armchair nearby, pointedly looking away from the screen where Damian and Jason are enthusiastically competing over the first place in Mario Cart. Of course, Tim can't just not watch it since he needs to know their strategies. But turning back around would also be admitting defeat.

The solution? Easy, watch the screen through the mirror.

Which is when he notices it.

Damian in the mirror doesn't act the same as Damian in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim can see the real Damian moving around, shoving Jason with his elbow, fully concentrated on the game, and yelling something. Damian-in-the-mirror is sitting unnaturally still, the back of his head over the couch unmoving.

Tim forgets all about the game when Damian's reflection starts to turn around. Slowly and carefully, eerie in the way the horror movies are, the boy in the mirror turns his head around like an owl, his neck twisting inhumanely.

His eyes are green. Green like the toxic waste, like Jason's madness, like acid in cartoons, like the Waters of Lazarus.

Damian in the mirror smiles, his unblinking, gliwing eyes fixed on Tim, and his teeth are sharp and pointy, and there are too many of them, humans can't smile this wide.

"-im? Tim!" A hand nudges him in the shoulder, and Tim looks away from the mirror, finding Dick standing over him. The noise of the game room returns all at once, and, wait, when did it become quiet for Tim?.. He must have a strange expression on his face because Dick's easy smile falls slightly, and he frowns, "Is everything okay?"

Tim looks back to the mirror, but the green-eyed boy in the mirror is gone, and the mirror only reflects Damian as he is: sitting on the couch.

"Yeah," Tim shakes his head and forces a smile on his lips, "I just zoned out."

"Okay," Dick pats him on the shoulder and gives him the controller, "It's your turn now."

Tim takes the controller and turns around, facing the screen. Tim throws a quick glance at Damian, who had slid down on the couch so his head would not be in the reflection anymore. Tim sees the cold, warning hint to his eye, a clear do not speak of it message.

Tim doesn't like that the mirror is now behind him.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

35 / 2.1k / shark merman Price and remora mermaid reader for mermay :)

...

Price isn’t stupid. He knows you’ve been following him since the early morning as he makes the rounds through his favorite reef. You’re stealthing poorly—just poorly enough that he knows you’re there, but you’re still small enough to dart into the reef every time he tries to get a good look at you.

He's been ignoring you and hoping you’ll take the hint to buzz off before he makes you buzz off.

You think you’re getting the hang of sneaking up on him when you turn a corner and lose him. And then he’s sneaking up on you.

You peek around the bright lumps of coral, wondering where he’s gone, when something blots out the sunlight above. You look up to see him—the long expanse of muscle and bulk on top and the smooth shark’s tail below—as he peers down at you.

You stiffen, pressing yourself to the sandy sea floor.

He scans you with his dark eyes to determine just what kind of creature has been following him. Not a threat, decides. Even as a mer. You’re too small. Too soft. You have no teeth to speak of. How laughable. And a tiny little thing, at that.

You straighten up, watching him circle you. You’d been looking for an opportunity just like this. That’s why you were tailing him. But now that his shrewd gaze is finally on you, you feel exposed.

He takes his time inspecting you. Then he swims a wide arc around you once more and lowers his clawed as if to touch you. You force yourself to stay still, your tail curled under you on the sand.

“You’ve been following me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

Price hooks one of his claws under your chin and pulls your head lightly upwards. You slowly rise as he tilts your chin up until you're suspended in the water in front of him.

"You should be scared of me,” he says.

You settle your own hands on his wrist in contentment. You look less like a meal being evaluated and more like a kitten being scratched under the chin. "Would you like me to be scared?"

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. He knows exactly what this is. You're a remora mer, which means you instinctively seek out and bond with bigger creatures. Even if that creature is an unfriendly shark mer. Surely you must know how dangerous it is to be within his reach?

"You're very big. You must be king of this reef,” you say.

He pauses as the praise washes over him. He knows how intimidating he is, and you should realize you're nothing but small, soft and fragile. But obviously your instincts for fawning and flattery are finely honed.

He can see the way your little self seems to be drawn to him. A remora mer, indeed. He's seen others like you, but they've always avoided him. He could just as easily kill you as he could accept your company.

There is something pitifully adorable about you. The way you tilt your head and expose your throat unwittingly is endearing. He knows it’s because your instincts are leading you to bond with him for the safety he provides. You're too willing.

"Do you lack the common sense to fear an apex predator?" he asks, voice low and amused.

"Yes," you respond obediently.

He can see the way your little body is pressing up to his hand, desperate to get closer. He moves his arm, gently guiding you closer to him. "Good," he rumbles softly before using two claws to stroke down the curve of your neck. "Very good. You're too small to survive my teeth, you know."

"Of course. Much too small. Your teeth are so big and sharp."

"And you're soft and weak. Soft as a piece of kelp, I bet." He gives the tip of your tail a flick, and his eyes glitter as you bob and shake out your tail fin at the touch. Fussy little creature. "You're not very good at what you're supposed to do, little mer."

You open up your eyes. "I'm not?"

"Following me for hours without even trying to ingratiate yourself to me," he growls. "You're supposed to busy yourself with my needs. Not..." He trails off as you tilt up into his touch, almost nuzzling his hand. He gives your forehead a light flick with his claw to make you pay attention. "Acting like some kind of pet."

You quickly smooth yourself down. "Of course. I know that." You dart closer, putting your small hands on his inner arm, his shoulder, his chest, inspecting him. Your fingers glide over him, brushing and scratching and plucking away bits of sea debris and dry skin. Grooming him. "I just thought you might want me to be scared of you first."

Oh. He’s enjoying this far more than he thought he would. For something so soft, you’re quite bold.

He presses on your hip to turn you slightly as you work, idly inspecting you in return. "Maybe later. Let’s see if you’re worth the effort first." He rests his chin on his other hand to watch you fuss over him. It's been a long time since he had any kind of attention on him. You dart around behind him and busy yourself with his hair next.

He leans into your touch when you start to untangle his hair. "You seem to enjoy this.”

“I do.”

“Good for you,” he drawls. "Are you good for anything else?"

"I'm good for lots of things." You move from his hair down to his tail, trying not to stare.

"Oh?" He reaches up and idly drags the back of his knuckles down your spine and over the fin there. He smirks as your fin flattens with the touch. "Like what?"

"Anything you can think of."

"Anything?" He gives a low rumble in his throat at your words. "Don't go promising favors you can't fulfill, little remora."

"Okay," you chime.

He grabs ahold of your tail fins. "And don't agree with every single thing I say, either. That makes you far too easy to manipulate."

"Yes, sir!"

He rolls his eyes. You really are a pushover. It's like you want him to be cruel to you. He lets go of your tail but twirls his fingers in the tip of your tailfins. "Is it your instincts that are making you so deferential? Or are you just a coward?"

You pretend to think about this for a moment. Then you respond, pleasantly, "Which do you prefer?"

"Mm, so you do have a brain."

"Me? No, surely that can't be. Not a thought in my head, sir. Promise."

He eyes you like a disobedient puppy. You're putting on this fairly convincing act, being a mindless, servile little thing, and it's confusing his instincts to know you're doing a fair bit of manipulation yourself to win his protection.

"Might prefer you a bit more brainless, actually," he says. He nudges the underside of your chin with his knuckle this time instead of his claw, noting how you drop what you were doing to follow the gesture as he guides you out in front of him again. "You're willing to do anything I ask, then? No questions?"

"Yes, sir.” You rest your much smaller body against his forearm again. “Anything.”

He looks down at how you submit willingly to his hand, taking in the sight of your small body pressed up against it. He feels something primal coil in his gut at the display. You let yourself fall under his control so easily. "What if I told you to open your mouth like a goldfish?" He brings his thumb up to your lip. "Would you?"

You open your mouth.

Interesting. He taps your lower lip with the tip of his thumb. "Wide," he murmurs. "Open up wide for me."

You open wider.

"Now bite."

You bite down around the tip of his thumb.

His lips twitch up into a smile at the feeling of you nibbling at him, the little scrape of your teeth. "Good. Harder."

You reposition your grip and chomp down in earnest this time. He grunts. Your teeth are smaller than his, but they're still sharp.

"There you go. Not bad for such a small mouth." He pulls it away, half-expecting you to start hollowing your cheeks on his thumb if he dawdles too long. "Have you ever had to deal with bigger fish?"

"Of course," you chirp. Like it's no big deal.

Price snorts. It's hard to imagine something like you doing anything but darting behind the nearest rock at the first sign of danger. “How many have you killed?"

"None."

"Right, I'm sure you ask them nicely to leave you alone," he says. "And do they listen?”

"Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't."

"And when they don't, what do you do? Do you fight back? Do you give up?"

"Well..." You wring your hands briefly. "You're going to handle it now, right? So what does it matter?"

"It matters to me." For some reason, the thought of you trying to fight back against a larger fish makes him restless. "You still need to know how to defend yourself."

You frown. "You're not going to do it for me?"

He scoffs, but you're starting to make him feel something close to concern for you. He doesn't know why the thought of you being defenseless irks him so. "Are you really that helpless? Are you really so soft that you just want me to fight all your battles for you?"

"I mean, you're a shark."

He huffs irritably at that, his annoyance with you outweighed by his annoyance with himself for feeling concerned over you. "Do you think I'm going to do everything for you just because I'm bigger and stronger?"

You smile at him, pleased.

Ah. He's the fool suddenly. He grabs you around the waist with just one of his big hands and brings you close, his voice lowering in warning. "Stop smiling, little fish."

"Okay," you chime.

"I told you to stop sounding so bloody agreeable. You make me want to bite you." He lifts you up in front of him to get a clearer look at your face. Your eyes are too wide, your smile is too sweet, your body is too flimsy. It's all infuriating to him. He’s been roaming the ocean a long time and he's grown comfortably hard and cold. You’re not changing that. "You have no self-preservation instincts at all, do you? You're just going to get yourself killed one day."

You settle into his hand comfortably. "Maybe so. Can I get you anything else, boss?"

You're hopeless, he decides. With how sweet and docile you are, he feels something clawing at the inside of his chest the longer he holds you.

Instead of answering you, he fits you against his chest, into the crook of his arm. There. Better. He can keep you closer this way without having to look at your silly doe eyes.

“Not now,” he says finally. “Maybe later.”

You lean into the position, tucking into the side of his chest like you're making yourself at home. "Okay, boss."

He can’t decide if he likes you calling him that or not. He can feel the way you nestle against him, settling in comfortably and making no effort to resist. You really are too easy to control. Just a little pull and you're molded against his side. He feels you start to smooth down some of his chest scales without even thinking. Grooming him. Nice and clean. Little busybody.

He's not used to being pampered, but feeling the tension start to bleed from his muscles under your touch… maybe it’s not so bad. He glances down at you, wondering how you're able to look so contented tucked up against him. His chest rumbles as you scratch near his throat. He lets his muscles relax under your hand.

You're an annoying little thing--too innocent, too naive, too sweet, and he conveniently forgets how capable you are of convincing him of that to win him over--but it's been too damn long since he's allowed himself to be comforted.

Maybe it would be alright to let you stay with him for a little while.

...

more Price / more mer au / masterlist tag