#i put too much thought into this but this is how it would go

[girlatmirror]

baby, baby | jjk

why would jungkook need to entertain other women when you have enough personalities to keep him completely occupied?

husband! jungkook x (kinda crazy!) pregnant!reader

warnings: reader is sooo bratty but very pregnant so it’s justified, jungkook is the president of i 🫶🏼 my wife club, in my mind this is bend my rules jungkook and reader in the future, smut (minors leave immediately), degradation!!!, slapping (only once), spanking, use of the word slut, penetrative sex, bj, i didn’t proofread 💔, i had entirely too much fun writing this (i’m just a silly girl in a non silly world), idk what else, but i love this jungkook and reader

_

Your mood swings had never been worse. you, 4 months pregnant with an even worse attitude than before, were a lot to handle, but your husband was beyond resilient.

Jungkook worked extremely hard as well, owning a big law firm and juggling a needy, pregnant wife who needed his constant attention and love was almost impossible. Well, it was actually just impossible.

He gave you everything you needed; a cleaning lady, a private chef, a masseuse, a personal midwife that would visit you whenever he wouldn’t be able to go to the appointments with you.

But you didn’t want any of that, you simply needed him.

He didn’t work more than he used to, he actually reduced his work hours as much as possible when you two found out about the pregnancy, but that didn’t seem to satisfy you.

Picking fights and using his ‘absence’ against him was now your go to, but jungkook was always calm with you, simply saying ‘baby, it’s just 9 hours and you sleep through half of them anyway.’

sometimes, the problem was his calmness.

You thought back to those days where you were dating, or engaged and you would have the arguments that would lead to the filthiest, roughest sex. You missed seeing his face scrunch up, his nostrils flare up and his eyes darken.

He was always your sweet, understanding jungkook, but back then, it was easier to make him lose his cool.

Ever since you got married, he became a big softie, never raising his voice, even when you did and never showing you the fiery side that you could not admit you yearned for. You could do or say anything and he would simply listen and abide. Especially while pregnant.

You obviously loved him for it and thanked God for giving you a husband as wonderful as Jungkook, but since you got pregnant, you started craving the jungkook that would voice his anger and later, turn it into passion.

You didn’t know if it was something about your hormones changing and what-not, but you just simply knew you needed him to react to your brattiness the way he used to.

Longing for the Jungkook that would put you in your place, you (semi-unintentionally) went on a mission to bring him back.

_

You woke up and waddled your way to the spacious kitchen, where you found jungkook making a big breakfast for you two - it was his day off after all.

Once he saw you, his face broke out in a huge smile and he kissed your lips softly. “good morning, my baby, how are you?”

You simply huffed, taking a bite of the crispy bacon. your lips were pouted and your eyes slightly squinted.

Jungkook was not even confused by your behavior, he was already used to not being able to foresee your mood.

“What’s wrong, yn?”, he carefully asked, planting a kiss on your forehead, resting a hand on your growing belly. “did you sleep well?”

You just shook your head in response and turned your back on him.

“How could i sleep well??”, your dramatic response caused him to slightly chuckle under his breath. “you cheated on me!!”

That accusation made jungkook drop everything he was doing and look at you with the most questioning face he could muster; what could possibly make you believe he cheated on you?

“huh?”, was all he was able to say.

You rolled your eyes and lightly, but not playfully punched his arm. “I saw you with that girl last night! you were kissing her and whispering things into her ear..”

Jungkook’s confusion seemed to grow even stronger, trying to understand how you could be so serious and sure of something that never happened.

“Baby, i don’t know what you’re talking about”, he expressed his confusion very calmly, a soothing hand running over your arm. “you do know i was with you the whole night last night?”

“That was before!”, you let out, which confused him even more. “I went to sleep.. and i saw you there in bed with .. her and you were so in love.. how could you do that to me, jungkook??”

Actual tears formed in your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Babyy”, he cooed and wiped away some tears from your face. “that happened in your dream, it wasn’t real at all. i promise i’d never do that to you, princess.”

“But”, you sobbed silently. “it felt so so real.”

Jungkook took you into his arms and gently held and swayed you, of course not without adding a kiss on your head.

“I’m sorry, baby”, he muttered genuinely against your head. “if i ever do that again in your dreams, i’ll make sure to make it up to you, okay? i’m sorry, please forgive me.”

You nodded, against his chest, which had been dampened by your tears. “okay.. i guess i’ll forgive you.”

Not all days started off this way, of course, some days you would wake up and attack him with kisses, some others you wouldn’t wake up until after he’s gone to work (which meant waking up to a handwritten note from him) and then there were days where you would either find a reason to be mad at him or hold onto him so tightly and tell him not to go and then get whiny when he did go.

It wasn’t just your desperation to get fucked hard, it was also just the fact that you, for some reason (pregnancy), felt lonelier and more bored than ever before.

You can only go on shopping sprees and sit in cafés and gossip with your friends a certain amount of times before you get super bored.

At least before the pregnancy you were a working woman, which was not that fun either to be fair but at least you were productive.

Jungkook suppressed a chuckle and just held you for a while.

Despite you being so difficult sometimes, he enjoyed every single moment.

_

The worst thing about being pregnant was, without a doubt, the sleep. you were actually a side sleeper and for obvious reasons that wasn’t possible at the moment.

You had about an hour of actual sleep (and it wasn’t even satisfying) before you gave up trying and just decided to sit on the bed with your hands dramatically resting on your belly.

One thing ran through your mind like usain bolt; food. You tried to think of any snacks you had in the house but quickly remembered you ate them all the other day and didn’t restock.

Watching and low key envying the way your husband was peacefully sleeping with his pretty snores and his even prettier face, shirtless as he always slept. You suddenly had an idea.

“Jungkook”, you softly nudged his naked arm.

He didn’t budge.

“Jungkooook”, you repeated, dragging out his name and softly poking his nose.

A low grunt escaped his lips as he slowly started to stir.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “jungkook, wake up.”

Once his body recognized you were talking to him, he jolted up with wide eyes. “what?! what’s wrong?? are you okay? is it the baby?”

He was now sitting up straight, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to be able to properly see you.

You pouted, dramatically nodding. “the baby’s hungry.”

“Huh?”

“The baby wants snacks. and we don’t have snacks at home.”

Jungkook glanced at the clock and said, “baby.. it’s almost three in the morning.”

You tilted your head and adorably shrugged your shoulders, lips still pouty. “well, your child doesn’t know the concept of time yet.”

With a groan, jungkook got up and stretched.

“What kind of snacks do you want, baby?”, he asked mid stretch, before putting on a shirt.

“All of them”, was your ambiguous answer. “I want sweet, sour and salty stuff. If that cookie store on Bel Air drive is open, get me three of the marshmallow-filled ones.”

“Alright, baby”, he leaned down to kiss you. “You just text me whatever you need. I’ll be right back. I love you.”

you grinned up at him, so satisfied with his lenience and kissed him again, “i love you more.”

Simultaneously hearing the car start and your stomach rumbling, you found yourself trying to occupy your mind with something other than food, but you were so impatient.

Moments later, your phone rang.

Incoming FaceTime Call from Hubby🧎🏽‍♀️

You immediately picked up. “Hey.”

Jungkook’s still sleepy face took over your phone screen, seemingly looking down at something. “Hey, baby, just wanted to make sure these are the sour patches you like.”

He went on to show a bag of sour patches, holding it up for the camera.

You squinted, dramatic as always. “hmm… those are the right ones. but get two. the baby’s feeling greedy.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “you sure it’s the baby?”

“Are you calling me greedy?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d just committed a felony.

“I would never, baby”, he chuckled again, his raspy voice doing things to you.

While he was still out, being your knight in shining armor, you decided to pull out your wedding photo album (something that never failed to make you break out in tears) and look through every single picture taken that day.

It was by far the most precious day of your life. a destination wedding in a venetian palace, just as you had requested (of course jungkook had to fulfill your wish).

Before you could even flip to the second page, your eyes started to water.

He was so handsome that day, even more than normal, which was a very hard thing to achieve and the way he looked at you.. ugh.

Pictures of him kissing your hands, your photoshoot on the palace stairs and the gondola brought back instant memories.

The calming melodies of ‘over and over’ by Bobby Vinton replayed in your mind.

you swore you could hear the ‘wows’ of the guests as you walked down the aisle in your wedding dress, a breathtaking dress designed by Elie Saab himself, and see a teary eyed Jungkook waiting for you at the altar.

you couldn’t even hear the front door open, that was how invested you were.

“Baby?”, Jungkook’s concerned voice interrupted your crying. “what happened?”

you got up from your spot and walked up to him, directly throwing yourself into his arms, which resulted in him dropping the bag of snacks on the ground.

“i missed you.”, you sniffled against his neck and kissed it.

jungkook coo’ed at you and swayed you gently.

“I was gone for 20 minutes.”, he murmured against your hair.

“but..”, your voice started to quiver a little. “that’s way too long.”

he held onto you for a while, “i know, baby, i know” and then ultimately let go to grab the snacks. “alright, what do you want to eat first?”

you both sat on the bed and he dumps all the snacks onto the bed. your mouth started watering; a whole lot of chips, cookies, sour patch kids, drinks and chocolate bars.

that man knew the way to your heart and walked it.

you instantly grabbed a cookie and bit into it, groaning, “oh my god.. this is so good right now. just what we needed.”

holding it up for jungkook to take a bite, he chuckled and took a big bite.

suddenly, you felt a kick in your stomach and excitedly waved your hands, pointing at your stomach. “oh my god, the baby is kicking. i think it’s trying to say thank you to daddy.”

ever since you got pregnant, you and jungkook became the cheesiest couple you swore you would never become but here you were.

jungkook instinctively laid his head on your stomach gently to hear the kick, before he kissed it lovingly.

“hey, baby”, he whispered against it. “mommy and daddy love you so much and we can’t wait to meet you.”

your heart warmed at the sight of jungkook being such an amazing dad; it made you want to give him everything. your eyes traveled back to the photo album that was now back in its original place.

brushing through his dark hair soothingly, you watched him with an amount of adoration that was so palpable.

the baby kicked again.

“i think the baby likes your voice.”, you noted softly. “it kicks whenever you’re around.”

jungkook couldn’t help but smile, now his head was sleepily pressed against your chest, which was obviously his favorite place in the world. “i’m its daddy, of course it love me.”

you scoffed jokingly. “well, it better love me more, i’m the one carrying it.”

that made jungkook let out a laugh. “of course, baby. you shall be the most beloved.”

you stayed in your positions for a moment in silence and then, you felt and heard Jungkook’s cute snores against your chest.

poor him, he had to wake up for work just 4 hours later.

not much later, you also felt yourself getting closer to sleeping.

_

You felt a little bad about waking Jungkook up at night when he had work in the morning.

So, you decided to make him lunch and visit him at the office, like the good wife you were.

You packed plain white rice, sautéed veggies, and some grilled chicken along with a spicy sauce (what can you say, your husband loved spicy food). It wasn’t much, but the expectations for you weren’t high right now.

Besides, the lunch was just a front to have an excuse to see your husband. You needed to look good, so while it took you less than half an hour to prepare the food, it took you an hour to pick out an outfit and do your makeup.

You opted for a flowy pink sundress that showcased your little baby bump you had grown to adore. You were pregnant, not exempt from looking gorgeous.

You checked the stove, called the driver, made sure your keys were in your bag, and finally, he arrived.

“Where to, Mrs. Jeon?” your driver, Mr. Petrov, greeted you with his usual kindness.

He had been driving you everywhere since your 21st birthday. You admitted to Jungkook a couple months before that you hated driving, so he got you a personal driver for your birthday. In a way, you considered him family — an uncle or something like that.

After all, he had witnessed your relationship through almost all its stages: from being a couple, to becoming engaged, then married, and finally, soon-to-be parents.

“To my husband,” you replied eagerly. “I want to bring him lunch.”

The drive went by as it always did: Mr. Petrov telling you stories about his teenage daughters that you always loved hearing, asking about Jungkook’s wellbeing (which you found adorable), and, of course, giving you parenting advice.

Once you arrived at your destination, Mr. Petrov made sure to help you out of the car (the privilege and disadvantage of being pregnant; people always thought you were incapable of doing anything by yourself) and watched you enter the building to make sure you got in safely before driving away.

The building was as tall as ever. The guard immediately recognized you and personally escorted you to the elevator.

Your walk was confident (at least you thought so). Despite your pregnant self, you looked like you owned the place — which, you kind of did since it was your husband’s company.

The receptionists and all his employees already knew you; you liked to think you had built a good relationship with them. As the boss’s wife, you took that responsibility seriously.

The elevator doors opened to the executive floor and you waddled out toward Jungkook’s assistant.

“Mrs. Jeon, how good to see you!” she greeted you eagerly, with her usual nervousness. “Mr. Jeon is in a meeting right now. He should be done very soon.”

You thanked her and made your way to the meeting room. Through the glass windows, you could see your husband in action, ever the perfect businessman.

He looked so effortlessly commanding and authoritative, but there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes you couldn’t overlook.

Your eyes met his and suddenly, his entire posture changed; the tension in his shoulders softened and a small smile formed on his handsome face.

You waved, and for about four minutes, you waited — which in pregnancy minutes felt like an hour.

He rushed to you once he dismissed all the meeting participants, giving you a tight hug, careful not to press on your belly.

“Hey, beautiful,” he uttered, placing a kiss on your forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my handsome husband and I brought him lunch,” you smiled. “You look so tired. I feel bad for waking you up so late.”

Jungkook shook his head gently, adoring you with his gaze. “Don’t feel bad,” he murmured. “Let’s go to my office. I’m starving; I want to eat that food you made.”

He sat down at his desk and you positioned yourself on his lap immediately, not needing an invitation, pulling the lunch out of your Goyard bag.

“Eat,” you practically demanded, handing him the spoon.

Jungkook, who had been hungry for a while, immediately dug in, taking big spoonfuls of the food. He offered you some, but you informed him you already ate at home.

“This is so good,” he mumbled through a mouthful, scrunching up his nose like he always did when something tasted especially delicious.

Of course, you loved seeing him like that — and even more when you were the reason.

He quickly finished his food and went back to giving you all of his attention, his hands drawing soothing circles on your back.

“Do you love me?” you asked out of nowhere.

“Yes,” Jungkook didn’t even hesitate to answer.

Nor was he weirded out or surprised by your randomness.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my head?”

Jungkook chuckled, his hands now gripping your waist. “Yes, you’d still be the prettiest woman in the world.”

Your heart smiled. You lazily traced his sharp jawline.

“What if I were a worm?” you asked; it was a question you had asked a million times before.

“Ugh, that question,” he feigned annoyance. “How would I even know it’s you? Hypothetically, if I saw a worm, how would I know?”

Hand on your chest, you pretended to be offended, much to Jungkook’s amusement. “If your wife, I, were to suddenly vanish from your life, you’re telling me you wouldn’t look for me everywhere and in everything?”

He shook his head again.

“Of course I would!” he explained, the smile never leaving his lips. “I just wouldn’t think you’d turn into a worm… more like a fox or a lynx.”

You giggled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

_

“I need everything to be perfect!”

The workers didn’t know whether to admire your dedication or be scared of you; either way, they appreciated the hefty sum and the hospitality they were given.

The decorations for today were carefully chosen by you (Jungkook was allowed input too, but not too much). You opted for a classy lavender theme and wore a white maternity dress that perfectly sat on your body.

Today was an especially special day: the gender reveal party for the demon living inside you.

Your sister was picking up the cake that you insisted had to be a white chocolate cake with cream pistachio frosting.

Jungkook was in charge of the guests; he made sure they all arrived safely and were taken care of.

There were, to the surprise of absolutely no one, a lot of guests: besides your and Jungkook’s close and extended family, there were your numerous friends, a few of his workers, neighbors, a couple of women from your prenatal Pilates class, and of course, Mr. Petrov and his family.

You already knew his two daughters; they were self-proclaimed fans of yours. “I want to be just like you when I’m older, Mrs. Jeon.”

“Hi, sweeties.” As soon as you saw them, you hugged them. “How are you guys? I missed you.”

They were practically squealing at the sight of your pregnant stomach, exclaiming how “Wow, your stomach grew so much!” which was received with laughter.

“Girls, has no one taught you basic manners?” Mr. Petrov scolded his daughters semi-jokingly in his thick accent. “Seriously, who raised you?”

The girls didn’t even bother to look at their dad, simply too in awe of how beautiful and pregnant you were.

“That kid is gonna be so gorgeous!” Natasha spoke with excitement. “I mean, with your genes and then Mr. Jeon’s… oh my god.”

“Oh, thank you, my love,” you patted her cheek lovingly.

More guests kept arriving, which left Jungkook, who was very used to being in charge, looking like the perfect host he was.

“Seriously, I hope it’s a boy,” Daria admitted, an eager look on her face. “So we can raise him to be a gentleman.”

That statement quickly turned into an argument between the two sisters; Natasha wanted a girl, and Daria wanted a boy.

You, wanting to give them a bit of space in their sisterly fighting, made sure to greet all the other guests after offering Mr. Petrov a drink.

Jungkook had a moment to spare, using it to make sure you were doing okay. He came over to you, placing a hand on your back. “How’s my princess doing?”

You instinctively put a hand on your stomach (something you did quite often these days) and gently smiled at him. “I’m doing well, just waiting for my sister to come through with the cake…”

“Is the photographer already here?” you suddenly started panicking, realizing you momentarily forgot about somebody.

Jungkook tapped you on the shoulder reassuringly. “Relax, he’s right there by the bar.”

That didn’t reassure you though; on the contrary. “Why is he drinking?! That could mess up all the pictures. Oh my god… Jungkook, go and tell him to stop drinking!”

You pushed him toward the bar and immediately left, leaving him with no other choice but to actually go up to the photographer and prevent him from drinking.

Right then, your sister finally arrived with a huge cake box in her hand, puffing from the sheer weight of it. “…I’m here, oof… damn!”

Just as you wanted to go over and help her, your dad took it from her hand and placed it onto the table.

The cake arrived, the buffet looked good, the music was great, the kids were having fun on the bouncy castle, the adults were happy about the free drinks and food, and there was nothing to complain about…

Jungkook was hoping you would not find anything to complain about.

“I’m so excited,” your fingers almost trembling as you wrapped them around Jungkook’s big arms. “Do I even want to know? Like… what if we waited until I give birth to know… so many moms do that, maybe I should too.”

Jungkook couldn’t believe his ears; first, you turned the entire world upside down to make this party as epic as you could, and now, you were practically objecting to it.

“Baby,” he spoke ever so gently. “You’ve been wanting this for a long time now. You’re just nervous, don’t worry. We’ll know the gender and nothing bad will happen regardless.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Okay.”

A few hours of dancing, gift opening, and games passed, and now you were all ready to witness the sole reason for this party.

When you were planning the gender reveal party, you wanted something classic and simple for the reveal.

The good old cutting into the cake to find out the gender. Nothing more, nothing less.

So, there you both were, standing in front of the podium where the cake sat in all its glory. Your shorter body was in front of Jungkook, and he was positioned right behind you, his hand on yours, both holding the knife.

Your heart pounded; you didn’t even know why. This wasn’t even an anxiety-inducing situation. Your hormones were messing you up.

All the guests were watching curiously and with full attention as you and Jungkook cut a piece of cake.

The frosting was pink. Cheers broke out.

“It’s a girl!” Jungkook announced with joy in his voice, hugging you so tightly.

You, of course, cried tears of happiness. “I can’t believe we’re having a little baby girl…”

He kissed you on the lips passionately, both of you completely forgetting the camera and the guests.

“She’s gonna be a handful,” he joked, holding your chin and caressing your tear-stained cheeks. Finally, you laughed.

He was probably right.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed with him. “But you’re gonna spoil her, so it’s gonna be all on you.”

Jungkook couldn’t deny it, so he just tilted his head. “What can I say? It’s my thing.”

_

it was dinner time, your favorite time of the day. on most days, dinner is the only meal you really got to sit with Jungkook and enjoy the food, unlike the hurried breakfasts and the lunch that you either eat together during his ‘break’ or just completely separately.

that’s why you got so annoyed whenever something distracted him from dinner; this was supposed to be your time together.

you crossed your arms, nostrils flaring while he was on the phone with Selene, a new employee of his that seemed to come to him whenever she was overwhelmed or unfamiliar with something at work.

you completely understood that this was a new job for her but you didn’t particularly like that she felt the need to call your husband outside of work; if she needed help, she could just ask any other employee.

it was excessive.

“Yes, i’ll tell Jason to bring a copy too”, jungkook spoke into the phone, his tone professional. “don’t worry about the presentation, the material you showed me today was good.”

fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you very passive aggressively poured juice into your glass and drank it.

“finally.”, you said once they hung up.

jungkook’s eyes narrowed a little but he didn’t say anything, he just scooped some more rice onto his plate.

“she just needed some help, baby.”, he explained after he noticed your sour expression wasn’t going anywhere.

“pf. why are you even talking to her outside of work? what’s so important that can’t wait until literally tomorrow morning?!”, you spewed, louder than intended. “and you just pick up, ugh. you should’ve ignored her but nooo, of course you had to pick up.. almost like that phone call is more important than having dinner with your wife.”

“yn.. that was a 2 minute conversation.”, he started getting more irritated by the second. “what are you even implying here? do you think i’m cheating on you cause i answered my employee’s phone call?”

“i don’t know, maybe you are.”

you were so obviously trying to push his buttons and see how far you can go; you wondered if he noticed or if he didn’t.

he knew you knew he would never ever cheat, perhaps that’s why the accusation irritated him even more.

“yn, don’t piss me off. you know damn well i would never cheat.”, he spoke with fire in his voice. “and why would i? you have enough personalities to keep me completely fucking occupied.”

it was true that you were a woman of multitudes and normally, you would have laughed at that statement but you could not give him the satisfaction.

you knew you were getting closer to your goal; he already looked like his veins were about to pop.

it wasn’t like he didn’t know how you were; he had to endure you every single day of his life, but he was bound to break eventually.

suppressing a smile, you simply huffed and stated, “that’s honestly hard to believe.”

jungkook’s nostrils flared and he looked down at you with an expression you hadn’t seen in months.

you were looking up at him with big eyes, your hand on your hips as you seized his reaction.

“yn..”, he fought the urge to raise his voice but ultimately lost. “i’m so serious right now, do not piss me off. i’ve been so damn patient with you.. i forgot that’s not the fucking way to deal with you..”

his hands were now gripping your waist tightly; if it hadn’t felt so damn good, it would probably hurt.

“what is the way to deal with me then?”, your voice was soft, almost angelic as you held eye contact with his fiery eyes.

“you know.”, he lowly spoke against your lips.

“no”, pushing him further and further, you held onto his muscular arm. “show me.”

that was when he crashed his lips into yours with a sense of desperation mirroring your own, his hands roaming your body like he memorized it. he gripped your ass hard, getting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

your baby bump wasn’t making any type of difficulty for either of you, thank God.

he carried you all the way to the couch and practically (yet very carefully) threw you onto it. he quickly took off your night gown and threw it aside, before taking off his own shirt.

“is that what you want?”, jungkook’s voice was now merely a growl as he started undoing his pants. “to get fucked hard? huh?”

his pants were off, leaving him in only his boxer shorts; the sight delicious.

the wetness in your pussy was almost unbearable at that point, even pressing your legs together didn’t help.

you nodded, reaching for his boxers and kneading his dick almost desperately, before completely taking them off, revealing his hard dick.

as horny and perverted as that sounded, there was almost nothing in the entire world you loved as much as seeing Jungkook like that. So in control, yet so needy for you.

there was already precum on the tip of it, you licked it off.

jungkook reacted with a groaned ‘fuck’.

you wrapped your hands around his thick shaft and massaged it up and down, then gently wrapped your full lips around it, sucking it while holding eye contact. his moans continued.

despite you barely being able to take all of him at the same time, he thrust his dick further and further into your mouth, making it difficult to breathe.

“you can take it, baby.”, he breathed, hands gripping your hair. “you run your mouth all day long, this shouldn’t be so hard for you.”

you let out a groan, pressing your legs tighter together.

Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you enjoyed the feeling of his dick in your mouth. you moaned around it, big, innocent eyes meeting his.

he rammed his dick into your mouth in steady, aggressive motions, making you choke on it, causing your saliva to coat his dick.

the moans that he released were enough to make your head dizzy; you were nothing but mush.

your face was now a teary mess.

before he could cum, jungkook pulled back suddenly, his dick sliding out of your mouth and slapping gently against his lower abdomen. he grabbed your jaw and said, “i’m not gonna cum in your mouth.”

you knew what he was doing, he was being an asshole. he was aware of how much you loved swallowing his cum or even having his cum all over your face and he denied you of it. your brows furrowed just slightly.

You whimpered, the ache between your thighs unbearable. “Then where?”

he didn’t verbally respond, simply putting his big hands on your thighs and separating your legs roughly, making you gasp. he pushed two fingers inside your wet mess of a pussy without warning and started curling them teasingly.

“fuck”, he let out. “that pussy’s so fucking wet.. shit, you fucking love making me mad.”

you started desperately grinding against his fingers but he removed them before you could truly enjoy it, grabbing your jaw again and approaches your face so you’re facing each other directly, breathing against your lips. “open your mouth.”

you obeyed. then, he spit in your mouth.

“swallow it.”, he demanded.

you swallowed.

“good girl.”

“jungkook..”, you whimpered, overwhelmed by your own arousal, needy for any kind of friction.

jungkook just pressed his index finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. “you don’t get to talk right now.”

that was what you were waiting for for a while; the sheer dominance and degradation that jungkook seemed to have shyed away from lately. you were craving the side of him that completely shut you down and put you in your place.

he pumped his dick before slightly bending his legs to teasingly slowly slap his dick on your wet pussy. your breath hitched and jungkook smirked at your state.

“i don’t think you deserve to get fucked.”, he declared after almost slipping his dick in, enjoying the power he had over you entirely too much. “good wives get dicked down.. the ones that obey their husbands.. and don’t drive them insane.. not spoiled brats like you who don’t know when to shut up.”

with every breath, he slipped his tip in and out, causing you to arch your hips up in desperation.

“please”, you begged with almost tears in your eyes. “i’m gonna be good, i’m gonna be so good, jungkook.”

jungkook laughed, almost evilly, and breathed through his teeth. “i don’t believe that.”

you reached for him and clung both your arms around the broad shoulders you were unhealthily obsessed with and hid your face in his chest.

you sniffled with teary eyes. “but i promise.. please.. please just put it in.”

with that he entered you, completely too slow for your liking. your head curled back at the pleasure.

he started thrusting very slowly, teasingly so, his breath getting heavier against your ear, before he began fastening the pressure.

the thrusts were so deep, he made sure to hit the spot right. his grip was almost unbearably strong, making your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

his lips moved to your full breasts, taking your hard nipples in his mouth and sucking on them.

“still so fucking tight.”, he groaned, before crashing his lips against yours.

your whiny moans met his as he suddenly picked you up, his dick never slipping out.

before you could realize, your naked back hit a cold wall, making you gasp.

the angle made it easier for jungkook to completely plow into you mercilessly.

you were so lost in the moment, almost felt like you were in heat. you didn’t think, you couldn’t.

the sounds of slapping skin and wet arousal spread across the room.

jungkook slammed his hips against yours, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark with hunger. “don’t forget your place, yn. you exist to get fucked by your husband and do as he says, not disobey him.”

you knew this was all just sex talk, this wasn’t truly what he believed but God.. you wouldn’t be mad if it were. you instinctively clenched around him, replying with soft cries.

“shit.. look at you”, the strokes became harder with every second. “even pregnancy can’t stop you from being a dick crazy slut, huh?”

his pace was relentless, yet steady. he held onto your hips, controlling your movements, ensuring you take every single inch of him.

When all you could manage were broken, whiny moans, he seized your jaw in a tight grip and delivered a sharp slap across your cheek.

You gasped, the sting spreading warmly across your skin and you both knew you loved it.

“Answer me when I speak to you, fucking slut,” he growled, his fingers digging harder into your jaw.

“yes, jungkook.. please don’t stop.”, you whimpered with teary eyes. “i love that dick so much, ah.. i’m just.. a fucking whore for you.”

a wicked grin tugged at his lips as his thrusts became gradually slower, yet deeper.

“that’s right,” he growled, “that’s what you were made for, to get fucked and bred. the only thing you’re good for.”

you clutched his neck even tighter, hiding your fucked out face in his shoulders, moans spilling out shamelessly.

you could practically feel your pussy juice dripping on his dick, your body tightening against his as you felt your climax nearing.

“kookie..,” you whimpered, voice trembling, “please… don’t stop. I need you. I’m so close.”

he only nodded as he continued with the same force, driving you closer to the edge with every brutal thrust. a mixture of moans and sobs flooding the room.

your entire body tensed with the last couple of thrusts and waves of uncontrollable pleasure rushed through you, your pussy squeezing with urgency and then, your vision blurred, leaving you dizzy and breathless.

chest heaving heavily, “ah, ah, ah” and the intensity built up until you came undone blissfully, collapsing into a trembling mess.

a couple of seconds later, jungkook’s hips stuttered, signaling his own orgasm. his big hands left bruises on your hips, a rough growl leaving his lips, “fuck, fuck, fuck”. he fucked the last thrusts into you with force, his breath heavy. with a guttural groan, he spilled his hot, thick cum deep inside of you. he stayed buried inside longer, making sure every drop of cum entered your pussy.

your heartbeat was faster than ever, you felt (good) pain all over your body. before you could climb jungkook like a koala bear and demand him to carry you to your bedroom, he turned your still aching body around, your body facing the wall.

then, he slammed his heavy hand down on your ass.

“ouch!!”

“stop whining, you asked for this.”, he hissed, delivering another spank to your ass. “i told you to fucking behave.”

your whimpers were almost pathetic. you could never admit to him that you enjoyed the pain, but something told you he already knew. your pussy was still soaked, his fingers lightly brushing against it from the back while his palm met your generous backside.

“you’re so fucked out, you can’t even speak”, he whispered, now kneading your ass. “that’s how i fucking like you.. if i could fuck another baby in you right now, i would.”

you tried to suppress your moans, but failed.

His fingers grazed your slick folds, sending another shiver to your core, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release.

He removed his hands completely and you turned around, too scared and turned on to look him directly in the face.

He caught your gaze and softened instantly, the fire in his eyes melting into something quieter, more tender.

“Come here,” Jungkook murmured, pulling you into his chest with surprising gentleness for a man who’d just wrecked you.

You melted against him, your breathing still uneven as his arms wrapped securely around your swollen belly and your trembling body.

the earlier degradation was replaced by his usual warmth.

You stayed like that for a long moment, your fingers tracing lazy circles over his back, both of you finally still.

Slowly, he carried you to the bed, careful and deliberate as if you were the most fragile thing in existence.

after cleaning up, the both of you settled under the soft blankets, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your eyelids growing heavy.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he whispered, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Goodnight, Kookie,” you breathed, already slipping toward sleep.

_

the next morning, jungkook woke up way too late. you were already awake; he couldn’t feel you when he sleepily slid his hand across your shared bed.

scenes of the night before played in his mind, causing a smile to spread on his handsome face.

looking at the clock, he couldn’t believe you wore him out so well that he woke up about three hours later than he usually did. he didn’t even care that he missed work; he was the ceo after all.

damn, that pussy truly got power.

after freshening up in the adjacent bathroom, he started hearing voices from downstairs; certainly more than just yours.

making his way downstairs, he found you in the dining room, surrounded by both of your mothers, animatedly talking about some new recipe you wanted to try.

his heart warmed at the sight. they must have dropped by unannounced or you might have forgotten to tell him they were visiting.

he immediately walked up to the three of you, greeting his mother and mother-in-law.

“good morning, ladies!”, he greeted, giving each one a kiss on the cheek.

and there you were, now quiet and admiring the interaction, looking beautiful in your yoga pants and that fitted shirt that did nothing to conceal your baby bump.

“and good morning to my beautiful wife”, he was practically beaming at you, approaching you with open arms. “and my future princess.”

he first kissed your lips and then, he squatted and lovingly put his hands on your bump.

“good morning, my handsome husband.”, you smiled up at him, your cheeks heating up from the flashbacks of last night. “you’re finally awake!”

both of your mothers knew what type of couple you were, even before pregnancy. they admired you two deeply.

“aren’t you supposed to be at work, jungkook?”, his mother’s playful voice broke the moment.

“I slept in”, his head was now resting on your shoulders from behind, his hands holding onto your waist. “this one kept me up all night.”

his suggestive tone made your moms laugh; they understood exactly what he meant. for you, It was embarrassing because, surprisingly, you're not as shameless as he was.

it wasn’t that big of a deal though, they could tell a couple of hours ago when you couldn’t stand properly from all the pain your body was still in.

jungkook immediately started eating breakfast like the food was going to run away, as per usual.

after a heated 15 minute discussion over the baby’s name, you decided to change the topic without hurting your moms’ feelings and just directly tell them you didn’t like any of the names they suggested.

“you two go sit on the couch, i’ll be right back with the tea and cakes”, you told them, not wanting them to lift a finger, despite their constant need to stand on their feet.

“i’ll help you”, jungkook insisted and followed you to the spacious kitchen. “when the hell did you have time to make cake?”

he asked you in such a confused tone, it almost made you laugh. did he forget you were at home basically the entire day?

“tsk.. acting like i don’t have all the time in the world”, you replied, cutting into the chocolate cake you knew jungkook’s mom would love. “taste this.”

without hesitation, he took a big bite.

“hmmm”, he took another bite and then another. “so good.”

you snatched the fork away from him with feigned offense. “leave some for the others.. greedy.”

he bursted into laughter at your offended face and pinched your cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

you looked at him and just breathed in the happiness; he was your husband, yours.

as long as he was yours, you didn’t care about anything else because there was nothing you wanted except for him to be with you.

you were so grateful for his existence, for his love, that life brought you together.. and it was always the most simple moments that made you appreciate him even more.

you put your head on his shoulders.

“Marry me.”, you whispered.

He blinked. “We’re already married.”

“Well, I wanna marry you again, Jungkook.”, desperation was evident in your voice. “Please.”

and then, he got on his knees, taking your hand in his, a goofy smile on his face. “yn jeon, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife again?”

you teared up, getting on your knees with much effort and engulfed him in a hug, gripping his arms like you’re never letting go of him.

“yes, yes, yes. a million times, yes.”

_

i love writing unserious stuff honestly 😭 hope you enjoy this!!! 😘💗💗

[potato-lord-but-not]

HOLY GHOSTS OCS 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

these guys (except Abraham) show up in the first part of the story, playing a large role in exploring Oscar’s relationship with his church and community. I think about them too much oufhh…..

Yapping about them (mainly the old priest guys) under cut because I’m ANNOYING

We’ll get Cynthia and Jamie out of the way first- they play a larger role within the current plot. Cynthia and Jamie are childhood best friends and are leading the new wave of younger folks working within the church. Jamie is new his responsibilities as a priest but is determined to serve the lord and his community. Cynthia is also very hospitable, constantly seen at the soup kitchen. Both of them look up to Oscar as an older brother of sorts, even when he’s at his lowest they never lost faith in him. Oscar has a hard time separating himself from his duty as a man of God, and sometimes fails to realize the impact he has on those around him, good and bad. Yeah idk they’re both very silly, Cynthia is the certified yapper and gossiper while Jamie prefers to sit back and listen. I love them sm��.

NOW FOR THE OLD MENNNN OUFFGHH

Abraham and Seymour are very very old friends, having worked together for decades. Abe always joked about how they were inseparable by the will of God, as no matter what they always seemed to end up back together. Seymour is more reserved, calculated, he prefers to stick to the book. Abe was more spontaneous, he liked to go with the heart and gut. Abe took Oscar in when no one else was willing to, even Seymour was skeptical but trusted Abe’s judgment. He helped Oscar find a path that he could channel all that anger and need to help others, he supported him throughout everything and never gave up even when it seemed like everyone else was against them.

Abe was also an exorcist. Seymour thought he was being reckless with his decision to dabble in that practice, but Abe was determined to help those suffering through the horrors beyond this world. He had plans to have Oscar take his place when he passed, and was slowly preparing him on how to deal with such things. However, he was struck with a sudden illness a few years before the events of malevolent, and passed away. This shook up the whole church, but mainly Oscar, starting his downward spiral back into alcoholism and worsening his lingering depression. Seymour didn’t take it well either, but had to put on a brave face since he’s the pastor of st Jean Baptiste. Seymour has grown more protective of Oscar, knowing those two had a father-son relationship of sorts, and wants to be there for him as much as he can. Even if he’s less outwardly empathetic.

Were Seymour and Abe lovers ?? hard to say. They would never say they had any sort of romance going on, obviously, but if they hadn’t chosen this path I think they would’ve moved out of the city and grown old together in the same home.

Are Cynthia and Jamie lovers ??? most definitely. Their families were not keen on interracial relationships, especially Jamie’s, and that was a big factor in him deciding to become a priest. He decided if he couldn’t be with her, he didn’t need to be with anyone. Cynthia felt the same, refusing to date and instead focusing on helping her community with her favorite person.

OKAY INCOHERENT YAP SESSION OVER SORRYYYY

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love love all your writings!!

I like your depictions of John Constantine.

I'd like to see you write the sad trenchcoat persona as just that a persona in the same fashion as how Brucie Wayne is a persona.

Maybe he's been the de-aged Danny/Dannies father for years and is an actual functional adult. The sad trenchcoat is just used to keep people from calling on him to frequently because he's a dad and has dad-like things to do.

He could help tim with the time stream thing, like 'oh, yeah that does look like Bruce. Alright kid pack a bag we're going in the time stream I know a guy. No Nightwing I'm not joking this looks like solid proof'.

Maybe Bruce has a oh shit he's actually competent and could kill me, that's hot moment. (Kids I have found your other father, help me get him home)

"I would love to offer more of my time to waste on monitor duty, but I have a previous engagement. A particular fit lady needs help getting her dress on the floor. The cloth always gets stuck on her horns. " John leers, wagging his eyebrows at the grimaces his words cause.

He takes a puff of his cigarette, inhaling the smoke like a drowning man. He never smokes at home, not with Danny's sensitive lungs or Dani's general disgust at smoking, so he only had the chance when called away on missions.

Plus, Danny was trying out for ballet soon, and he wasn't going to ruin his son's chances of being a star because of his own poor habits.

It helped that the rest of the heroes believed he was consistently pumping nicotine into his system. Rather irresponsible for the hero to publicly commit frowned-upon activities - at least in the States. Back home, no one cared that much.

It didn't matter that the Justice League was a global team; the main hard hitters and founders were nearly all American, and they tended to uphold those social expectations, either subconsciously or not.

One more reason why they shouldn't bother John, he can't have him smoking at a big awards ceremony or seen going through an entire pack of cigarettes mid-fight. Oh no.

John Constantine was one of the best magic users of this universe, but he was a last resort. There were plenty of other magic users like Zatanna, Dr. Fate, Zatara, or even Etrigan that came to mind first.

John was likely too busy drowning his misery in bottles or the arms of any willing partner. That's what they all thought.

Or more importantly than what he wanted them to think.

"Well, this has been a time." He announces, snapping his fingers to open a portal to his house. "But I have to run. My lady needs a knowledgeable hand to help her-"

"Enough," Batman growls. Though he has complete control over his emotions, John can tell he's irritated by the meaningless detail. He smirks as the hero waves a hand, "Just go."

He offers the rest of the meeting room a cheeky two-finger salute as he struts out, letting the portal close behind him so his trench coat flares dramatically. It's a nice view, he's sure, but it's also unnecessarily showy, and he is sure at least three pairs of eyes are rolling at his exit.

A chuckle escapes his mouth, straightening from his slouch to properly stand straight and bend it far enough to pop. Goodness, his act always leaves him with a sore upper back; maybe he shouldn't hunch over so much, even if he was playing the part of a no-good punk.

John only had a few seconds to shiver at his own thoughts- he was a punk. A real one! He was in a band!- before he heard the tell-tell sign of a rapidly approaching double set of footsteps echo down the hall. He scrambles to fling his lit cigarette into a water portal, chucking the pack for double security, while summoning a random suitcase from thin air.

All that's left is his rather eye-catching coat, a little too worn down and old to work well with his well-put-together outfit underneath. Without it, John has a clean, pressed white shirt, a respectful tie, and a pair of slacks that make more than one head turn as he walks.

All in all, he looks like the office businessman his worthless father always wanted to be.

John throws off his coat over a chair at the same time the door is thrown open with a pair of excited yells. "Welcome home, Dad!"

A grin stretched across his face before he could think about it, feeling his heart swell at the sight of them, as he knelt down, arms open wide. Two tiny bodies slam into him without a second of hesitation, nearly knocking John backwards.

He lets out a soft grunt as Dani's arms attempt to wrap around his left arm and right shoulder. She clashes against Danny, who's trying to bury himself into John's right side, little face squished against one of John's pecs, like a bunny burrowing into the snow.

"Hello, my little lambs!" He gushes, squeezing the kids close. "How was your day with the House of Mystery? Did you two behave?"

"They were angels," Black Orchid confirms, gliding into the room at a much slower pace. They had their regular, impassive expression on their faces, but John could tell that Orchid was happy with the kids by the way they gently tapped the tops of the children's black hair.

"Dad! Dad! Now that you're home, can we please go get my new ballet shoes?" Danny begs, bouncing on his toes.

For a moment, John doesn't see his son, but rather his own blue eyes staring up at his father, when he was also five, begging to join Lily, the next-door neighbor, in beginners' ballet class.

His father had beaten him nearly to death for wanting such a girly interest. It was the last time they spoke about it. It was also the last time John ever bothered asking to start new hobbies.

"Dad! Dad! Can I do Karate?" Dani asks then, snapping John from his memories better left buried, as she presses her check against her brother's in an attempt to get John's attention. "I want to break a board with my fist!"

He gives the children another squeeze, laughing at the squeals he gets. "Of course you can do karate, little lamb. We're going to get your brother his shoes, and then I'll find a gym that offers the classes at the same time."

"I already provided that service." Orchid cuts in, holding a flyer for Flying Graysons' gym, founded and run by the eldest Wayne in Gotham. "I took the liberty of signing Danny up for a class with Casnadra Wayne, and Dani will join Duke Thomas's class. It starts in a week."

"Plenty of time to go get them everything they need and a new book series for our bedtime stories," John announces, loosening his arms so his children can cheer and bounce up and down in excitement. His knee is starting to cramp up, but he ignores it so he can hold his kids.

It's moments like these, so small and mundane, that John is grateful he thought of his persona. When he first learned how to use the magic he was gifted, he always made himself available for any crisis.

This was before the Justice League days, so anyone who sought him out was familiar with the occult world. He adored helping, and he built an incredible amount of skill and knowledge in magic, but soon John was facing disaster after disaster, dragging his exhausted body from one place to another.

Those who came searching for him never cared. They wanted John to jump at the drop of a hat. He tried for years to always be ready, always be willing, but years of isolation and desperate battles tried him to the core.

Then he took in Danny and Dani, finding the pair of babies in a basket at the feet of the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. He had gone to investigate the legends of the famous King Pariah Dark, only to find what he assumed were originally sacrifices, well and truly alive.

Their names were attached to their feet with a letter written by a Jazz Fenton begging the two to grow and live well. She had died to save them. In her honor, John kept their names.

Daniel "Danny" Fenton and Danielle "Dani" Fenton. He often wondered what Jazz had been to the kids, with their identical last names. It is a question he will never get the answer to.

They could have been no older than five months, but when they opened their eyes and reached up for him, John realized he no longer wanted to be the go-to man of magic.

He wanted to be their father.

To discourage people from calling him away from his children, John created his persona of a man barely honorable enough to join a team. Over the five years of his raising his kids, his reputation plummeted until only Batman called to him unless absolutely necessary.

It was a breath of fresh air. John had fought for too long and too hard. He was retired now, just like his band days, the days when John would speed off to save the world were behind him. He only stepped in if a friend asked for a favor.

He had other priorities now.

The best part? The Justice League would never know that.

"Dad!" Dani screamed into his ear, making him grimace.

"Inside voice, darling."

"Sorry." She twirls her fingers, a nervous habit she picked up from John, before brightening up "I'm just super excited. Orichad said Mr. Bruce Wayne will be at the gym! Do you think he'll sign my Wayne Space shirt?"

Ah, yes, the man who was funding some space program or another. He only knew about this because his twins adored anything to do with space travel, as if though he couldn't just teleport them to a different planet.

"I'm sure he will, darling."

[mwphisto]

SnowCrow

Warning, this post includes: smut, threesome (MxMxF), oral (both Zayne and reader receiving), Sylus brat taming his favorite hunter and favorite surgeon, teasing, and dirty talk.

Maybe I’m ovulating but I cannot stop thinking about how perfect the SnowCrow x Reader dynamic would be.

Banner from @cafekitsune <3

Sylus has come to adore the both of you very much, finding Zayne to be a sweet black cat while you are his spunky and unpredictable orange. You both bring beautiful additions to his life, lighting up his dreary nights.

Sylus is rather addicted to watching you and Zayne interact, finding the surgeon’s soft smiles and sparkling eyes utterly adorable. Your shared laughter and soft touches tug at his heart. He used to grimace at the idea of sharing you, but now he realizes there is no sharing involved. Somehow, Zayne has won his heart too.

All three of you have quite the bad habit of staying up late, sometimes for work, sometimes due to overtime, and sometimes due to insomnia.

Sylus has always thrived at night, so he doesn’t mind the company. But when both of you are bleary eyed and have dark circles beginning to form, the leader of Onychinus takes it upon himself to coddle the two of you until you’re in his bed, under his covers, sound asleep.

His brave little hunter and his smart little surgeon.

Though, it’s not always that easy. Sylus thought you were quite stubborn, but he didn’t realize how stubborn you could be when Zayne was right there with you.

“I thought you were more mature, Zayne.”

But there is a flash of something in the surgeon’s tired eyes that makes Sylus nearly choke on his saliva. Crimson eyes find yours next, innocent written all over your face but that similar glimmer is residing in your eyes too.

You’re both daring to challenge him. How cute.

Zayne’s laptop and your phone are yanked from your hands by a nearly invisible force. Sylus’ evol snatching both and placing them high up on a shelf neither your nor Zayne would be able to reach without help.

“I don’t think you two understood me the first time around.” He starts slowly, stalking towards where the two of you were snuggled up on the couch. “It wasn’t a choice when I said you two need to go to bed.”

But the air is charged with something else now, effectively snapping you and Zayne out of the half-awake trances you had been in seconds prior. “I don’t wanna.” You start first, eyes holding Sylus’ despite your heart beginning to pound.

“Me neither, my report was nearly done.”

You shift your position when you feel Zayne cross his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t asking.” Sylus’ tone dropped an octave, sending heat straight down your spine. Judging by the way Zayne tensed, he felt the same.

“You’re both going to bed, even if I have to tie you down.” You felt it then, the ghost of his evol wrapping around your body, daring either of you to disobey.

Before your mouth could open to retort, you were being yanked off the couch and tossed over Sylus’ shoulder.

“H-hey!” You thrash a little, wiggling your hair from your face to look down and see Sylus had Zayne under his other arm. He was holding both of you as if your combined weight was nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

“Sylus-“ Zayne’s tone was wary, but his cheeks were burning a shade of a crimson.

“Hey this, Sylus nothing, you’re both going to bed.”

You were both being tossed onto the mattress before you could even process what was happening, Zayne landing on his stomach while you bounced on your ass.

“Sylus c’mo—hmph!” Your words were cut short, the towering man was crushing you beneath his weight, lips melding to your own. You barely recognized the sound of Zayne’s sharp inhale over the muffled groan from Sylus.

“Quit putting up a fight, you two are such brats.” You were breathless when he pulled away, lips swollen from the intensity of his kiss and slightly dazed.

Long fingers threaded through raven locks, yanking Zayne’s head closer to deliver another devastating kiss.

“I won’t be satisfied until the two of you are knocked out.” Sylus started as he pulled away, leaving Zayne equally as dazed. “I don’t care what I have to do to achieve it.”

Oh you were both fucked… literally.

It was a flurry of movements, and by the time you could think straight, you were naked. “How is this—“ Zayne was equally undressed, cock standing at attention and twitching. “I only have one mouth.” Sylus states plainly, still fully dressed and taking note of your dripping cunt.

“So I’ll just have to be creative. Two brats don’t deserve anything more than my tongue.”

Sylus’ eyes shift between the two of you. “Zayne, lay on your back. Kitten, lay on top of him, chest to chest.” For once, neither of you give him any trouble. Too curious and needy to know what was coming next.

You did as you were told, flashing Zayne a look. The surgeon only smiled back, hands coming up to cup your cheeks and place a sweet kiss on your lips.

Sylus’ hands found your hips, tugging at them and separating the two of you. “You can do wherever you please to each other, just let me get this right.

You glance over your shoulder, fingers toying with Zayne’s earlobe. A habit Sylus had noticed, one the doctor didn’t seem to mind. “What are you-“ he cut you off again, watching in amusement as your words died off.

Instinctively, Zayne’s hands shot down to your hips, a subtle groan vibrating his chest. His aching cock was between your spread thighs, twitching against your cunt.

“Like I said, I only have one mouth and two birds to kill. I have to be creative and efficient… can’t have the two of you staying awake much longer.” Sylus is dipping down, just out of your view. Now, you have to rely on feeling.

“Sylus this—“ but Zayne’s mouth fell open as your grip on his earlobe pinched. Sylus flattened his tongue against Zayne’s cock, dragging it upwards. You shivered at the warmth, not quite reaching your cunt but enough to have your hips wiggling in response. You wanted attention too.

“Use him, baby. Grind yourself against him, I’ll keep him steady.” You whimper, eyes flashing towards Zayne’s. He’s already dazed, pupils blown wide as he glances down at your breasts squished to his chest. “Be a good girl, listen.”

You’re a fucking goner, the second Zayne gives you his permission your hips begin to drag up and down his length, nearly timing it with Sylus’ tongue.

Every time his head catches on your clit, you’re mewling, burying your face in his chest and nearly sobbing and pleasure ebbs through your veins. Between Sylus’ saliva, Zayne’s precum, and your own arousal, it’s a slick mess.

“Could have…” another lick “…had so much more…” there’s a kiss on the back of your thigh, then your ass. “… had you two not been…” he’s panting, grabbing your hips to kiss your sloppy cunt and leave Zayne twitching on the brink.

“… such fucking brats.”

You whine as he spits, the glob of saliva sliding down your cunt and landing on Zayne’s cock. Sylus let’s go of your hips, letting you continue your erratic humping.

“Sylus please…!” Zayne humps upwards gliding along your cunt and nearly snagging on your entrance. He knows Sylus won’t let him have you, as badly as he wants to slip inside and fuck you stupid… maybe even while Sylus fucks him stupid at the same time.

“Be a good boy, doctor Zayne.” You’re both moaning at that, your orgasm just out of your reach as Zayne twitches and pathetically spurts on Sylus’s tongue and your cunt.

“Coming without my permission? Guess it can’t be helped.” Sylus sighs, licking his lips and pushing upwards to grab your ass. “Still gotta make our princess cum, don’t tell me you’re too sleepy to help.”

One look at Zayne and you knew he was a goner, even as Sylus forced your hips upwards and pressed you further into Zayne. His hands were snaking under you, finding your puffy clit and rubbing as fast as his hand would allow.

“Atta boy, Zayne.” Sylus purred, mouth descending on your cunt and fucking you on his tongue. The orgasm you had been so close to obtaining finally came crashing down on you, a weak cry tumbling out of your lips.

The exhaustion you and zayne had been fighting hit the two of you at the same time. Bodies going limp and breathing slowly steadying as Sylus admired his messy handy work. Cum and saliva ruining you both.

“Sweet dreams, you two.”

[bdbdbdbdmn]

"every time" i wish! what if i headcanoned every male character as a cis woman, would that make you feel better? what if i headcanoned that everything was the same except that our world's gender roles were swapped? all the chicks are dudes now? also uno reverse card, your headcanon that the charaters in people's trans au's are/should be cis is actually stealing from trans people! it's always the masc women that you always steal every single time, every single woman does this. yep. you hcing them as cis is transphobic now because why can't a character be made without you forcing them to be cis? if only cis people would stop hcing characters as cis, then there'd be no more transphobia! your headcanon personally erased my trans friend, i can't find him anymore! you see a trans man and your first thought isn't respect, it's conversion therapy! oh, the horror of your bias against trans men! your bias against your own sex, saying that you must be a good girl or else!

anyways i don't care if they hc more masc than fem women as trans guys. it would make sense considering they have to go through life being treated as "gnc women" and most likely grew up seeing themselves in a masc lady or two. idk why you think your gender has a moral monopoly over y'alls side of the sex spectrum, you're literally cis. if we're going by stupid marginalization points, trans men clearly have cis women beat by a long shot. imagine dealing with every sex and gender related issue you've ever had, and then on top of that you were also trans and had to deal with all of the issues that come with that (including being talked to by everyone the way you just talked to me). yeah, fuckin sucks. and it's technically more progressive too, so. yeah. i'm fully on trans men's side on this one, this petty fight over the right to control their hcs is doing nothing but stripping everyone except perisex cishet men of all of their rights. all anti-trans laws and beliefs ultimately stem from sexist cis men feeling like they have the right to tell You what to do, to keep you away from "male spaces," to define you out of humanity and into another species. you don't have to be trans, you don't have to be comfortable with transness, but right now in the US they're gonna put cis women on the sex offenders list for going topless just so they can more easily stop trans men from swimming shirtless after top surgery. they're segregating your sex from society even further to discourage trying to transition. they've successfully diverted the feminist movement away from abortion rights and convinced them to try and eradicate the less than 1% of the population that threatened cis male power and egos just a little too much.

also, it's not about only valuing women after turning them into men, it's about valuing the entire sexual and gender spectrums. if it were about valuing women if they're turned into men, it's still better than whatever you're doing because at least their love is unconditional. for you, a woman has to be a lady for her to be worth existing, even just as a thought about a character. why are you trying to control what someone does just because they're not born with the genitals that you despise? you'd think that'd give them a free pass, and yet...

also what'd i fuckin say about how they Are making their own characters, and in addition to that, headcanons are an entirely different skillset with different rewards? do you seriously not know what a headcanon is or why people like them? anyways, obligatory how fucking dare you compare a trans male headcanon to colonization you racist insensitive asshole lmao. and it's not even the best racist allegory for the situation! there's clearly no point to continuing on with anymore of my arguments because that alone disqualifies you. white 😃👉

I can't believe I gotta be saying this shit but. a trans guy headcanoning a masculine or strong female character as also being a trans guy doesn't take anything from cis women just so it's clear. first of all, it's a headcanon. in his HEAD. about a fake not real character. an angel has never had their wings "violently ripped off and thrown into a shredder" because of a headcanon, especially not for trans headcanons. it's not misogynistic for trans men to find common ground with girl characters, especially likable, cool, masculine ones who struggle against sexism. they know women can be strong too. they know that girls can like boy things. why are you assuming that everything they do is a betrayal and sexist? why do you think they skipped believing cis men and cis women are equal and went straight to transitioning? you have to not be sexist for the entire concept to work

[differenteagletragedy]

Simon doesn't remember the name of the woman who took his virginity. At this point, all these years later, he's not sure if he ever knew it. It was a chance encounter, quick and a little dirty but fun. Fine.

He'd been in the neighborhood pub, the one he escaped to when he didn't want to be at home, shooting pool. He wasn't that good at it, not then, but he practiced for something to do, and as he racked up the balls for a third round against himself, he apparently caught her eye.

A bit older than him, the woman was immediately forward and flirty, and it wasn't a secret, even as inexperienced as Simon was, as to what she wanted. His body must have felt some kind of desire with the way it reacted to her, blood rushing south as she slid her hands over him in the dim light of the nearly vacant bar, but when she invited him to her flat down the street, it wasn't lust that made him agree.

It was curiosity. He wondered what it would feel like to be wanted, even on a base level like this, and if it would fill up whatever hole that had been inside him for as long as he could remember.

And it did. A little.

He'd never even kissed a girl before, always too closed-off to get in any kind of position to do something like that, but that night, he kissed the woman from the pub, over and over again. He followed her movements, let her put her hands on him and place him where he needed to go, and it was something.

When their clothes came off, left in a haphazard heap around her cluttered living room, it was something more, and when she pushed him to the couch and sunk down onto him, the unfamiliar warmth almost overwhelming, for a second, it was everything.

He came too fast, and it was over too soon. That night, he slid back into his own bed, alone again. He couldn't tell if he felt better, knowing there was something he could do to soothe the ache in him, or if it was worse, having the relief for a moment then going back to nothing.

A few nights later, when the weekend hit and the pub was more crowded, he caught the eye of a pretty girl in the corner, shyly checking him out, and he got his answer.

For Simon, for years, it was better to have a little bit of comfort. Just a little bit, because he never saw a way that he could have more. A stranger from a bar, one from the grocery store that asks him to reach a high shelf and flirts a little too much ... he gets good at spotting whatever that first woman saw in him. The part of someone that's open to a quick, needy fuck.

He sees it in you. Clocks it straightaway, but he also sees something more.

It's in the way you pull back after he kisses you hard and deep, the only way he really knows how to kiss. He stops, thinking you've changed your mind, but you're still there, still close, with such a soft look in your eyes now. You initiate the kiss this time, your hands sliding up to cup his cheeks, keeping him in place as you slow things down.

It's disorienting almost, he tries to shake it off, to get back to how this is supposed to go. He yanks your shirt off, and you let him, but when he moves his hands to roughly palm at your chest, you patiently pull them back down to rest on your waist.

"Slow down," you murmur, smiling up at him. "We've got a little time."

It's muscle memory for him at this point, finding a woman and bringing her to a quiet, private place, pushing into her, feeling the brief reprieve it brings. But with you, the rhythm is all off. It's somehow very good and very bad, all at the same time.

"Thought you wanted something here," he mutters, his meaning clear -- he thought you wanted him.

"I do," you answer. "I just don't want it to be over in five minutes. That ok?"

He's not sure what else to do, so he nods. And he slows down.

It's different, sex when you're not rushing towards the end-goal. His hands, used to action in moments like this, pushing and pulling and gripping, instead find yours. Your fingers intertwine, and you kiss him, almost lazily, like you’ve got all the time in the world. Like he’s worth it.

To Simon, it feels strange and new, but not really -- like it's all happening through the filmy haze of a dream, where somehow he knows every step of this dance and yet nothing at all, all at once. To you, from the soft sounds slipping from your lips, it feels right.

When it's over, and you're both breathless and sated, he feels like that boy again -- the one who'd never been kissed and who didn't know where to put his hands. But now, he notices, one hand is still grasping yours and he squeezes it, just barely.

"That ok?" he asks softly, and he's not sure if he's speaking to you or to himself.

"Perfect," you tell him, turning your head to give him a smile.

He doesn't know if he'll ever see you again. But he's memorizing the weight of your hand in his, the steady sound of your breathing as it returns to normal. And even if he never has this with you again, in the moment he knows that he's capable of it. And that's enough.

[harrysredroom]

Playing With Fire

word count: 4.5k

summary: 18+ content! basically just smut with loads of angst. enemies? lovers? who knows. they sure don’t. dominant/switch harry, submissive/switch y/n…they don’t discriminate. Harry and Y/N just can't seem to decide if it's love, hate, or lust.

a/n: hiiii, this is my first time posting something i’ve written. It’s not something i ever thought i’d do, so go easy on me lmao. let me know if you want to see more! 

"Hello?"

"We're doing pleasantries now? I'm here."

"I'm home."

"Then buzz me in."

"I'm watching a new episode of Criminal Minds."

"Jesus. You can watch it while I fuck you from behind. Buzz me in, Y/N. Now. I don't have the time -or the patience- for your attitude tonight."

That's about as long as their phone calls ever got. The pair sighed in unison before the call ended, the tension bubbling beneath the surface from the second Y/N saw Harry's name pop up on her phone screen. She hadn't seen him or heard from him for the past three months. 

Her and Harry had a complicated, long-standing situationship…and that was putting it lightly. A friend of a friend, a few drinks, a few months of connecting, heartbreak, and a mess of blurred lines. They were the kind of almost-couple that never quite got the timing right. 

Every goodbye was temporary, every reunion accidental but inevitable. The inability to stay away from each other? That was the real reason things never worked. Too much chemistry, not enough clarity. It was passion tangled with pain, affection mixed with avoidance, like trying to hold onto smoke.

Incompatible. 

Harry was consistently gone on tour and afraid of commitment. Y/N never left her tiny bubble of life and was emotionally unavailable. 

They didn't see eye to eye on most things. 

But...their sexual tension? 

It buzzed consistently like a live wire, twisting, crackling, and sparking to life. 

Harry was a constant thrum beneath her skin, rooted deep in her veins like a heartbeat she couldn't quiet. He had this way of making her feel like she mattered even if it only lasted a second. When he'd breathe into the curve of her neck, voice low and ragged, whispering how she was his, her walls would crack just enough to let him in. In those moments, she wasn't cold or closed off. She wasn’t numb. She could feel—really feel—something other than the dull ache that usually lived inside her. It was fleeting, sure, but it was real. And sometimes, that was enough to pull her back under.

Y/N was like a drug to Harry. He was always twitching, in desperate need of a fix. Being inside of her was addictive, his head in the clouds and far away from everything. But the comedown from the high? Brutal. The crash after they were done, after the kisses cooled, after the silence settled in, always hit harder than he expected. Each time left him hollow, questioning everything. Why had he stumbled back into her life again? What part of him kept confusing chaos for comfort, or her bed for safety? He’d lie there, heart still racing, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. But it never did. Just the same ache, the same regret, curling up beside him like a second skin.

Y/N adjusted the sleeves of her oversized jumper, fingers fidgeting for a moment before she stood from the couch. Padding toward the front door, she hesitated for just a second before pressing the buzzer to let Harry in.

The soft buzz echoed down the stairwell, but to her, it felt like a warning siren.

She had to stand her ground this time.

She couldn’t keep letting him drift in and out of her life like a tide she had no control over, especially not after this long. Usually, it was a few weeks, a handful of texts, and a night that bled into morning. But three months? That was different. That was silence she’d almost started to believe in.

Almost.

Harry’s lips curved into that familiar devilish smirk the second he heard the mechanical whirl of the front gate unlocking. That soft hum, the one that granted him access, always felt like the first drop on a rollercoaster. He pushed the door open once the metal gate slid back into place behind him, shutting it with a click that echoed in the empty hallway.

He practically jogged up the two flights to her flat, his pulse quickening with each step, a boyish eagerness he never could quite shake when it came to her. But when he reached her door, any fantasy he’d built on the way up hit a wall. Literally.

She was already there, standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, hips tilted, gaze unimpressed. No soft smile. No warm welcome. Just that unreadable expression he’d seen too many times before.

His grin only widened.

Of course she wasn’t amused. He couldn’t blame her.

But he was already in too deep.

“Aww, s’my sweet Bunny girl angry?” Harry crooned, voice dripping with mock concern as he looked down at her, eyes glinting with mischief.

Without waiting for a response, he brushed his shoulder past hers, slipping into her flat like he owned the place. The scent of her hit him instantly, intoxicating, wrapping around him as easily as her silence did.

"No." Y/N's tone was sharp and low, giving her away.

Harry clicked his tongue as he slipped off his shoes and hung his coat on the rack. Y/N followed him inside, closing and locking the door behind them. 

"Now, now, now...s'that what we're doing? Lying to each other? Thought we both agreed it’s just easier to be honest, did we not?" He tutted as he turned to face her. 

Before she could protest, his hands were grasping at the plushy flesh of her hips with rough vigor, tugging her frame flush against his own. Harry hummed, the sound gravelly and guttural as it rumbled through him. Y/N let loose a shaky breath, her lashes fluttering against her cheekbones.

A simple touch.

Just one very simple touch. 

That's all it took for them to fall back in head first. 

That’s all it took for their resolve to crumble.

Harry leaned in slowly, his movements unhurried and deliberate. His nose brushed against hers, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver down her spine. He breathed her in, sweet and familiar. That scent always did something to him, settled low in his gut and curled around his ribs. He could feel her heartbeat, rapid and erratic, thudding so hard in her chest it might as well have been echoing in his own. The corner of his mouth twitched. "There's my little Bunny, so nervous and jittery around me. S'addicting, y'know that? God, three months without you has been fucking torture."

His voice held the kind of yearning that made her lips itch to feel his own. 

His words were a plea, needy and desperate. 

Her hands moved up to hold the sleeves of his t-shirt, curling around the fabric, trying to ground herself.

"Need you t'use your words for me, love. S'that what's the matter, hmm? Been too long without me?” 

His thumb and forefinger came up to gently grip her chin, tilting up her head. “C'mon, sweet girl. Y'know I can tell if you lie. You wanna be good for me, don't you? Bad girls don't get what m'about to give you." 

Her entire body felt like hot molten lava, and she looked up into his eyes. 

Harry blew out a breath. Those big doe eyes of hers were going to kill him someday and he was certain it would be a happy death. “Fucking hell. I missed you. There. I said it.” 

Now it was her turn to tsk and chuckle, her cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink. “I don’t even have to speak and you’re a sputtering mess for me, Harry. It’s pretty desperate, don’t you think?” 

She watched the way his jaw clenched, felt the way his fingers dug into her sides, and how his pupils blew out, his eyes darkening. “You’re playing with fucking fire, Y/N.” He growled, low and primal, before driving her backward until her spine hit the front door with a quiet thud. In one fluid motion, his hands gripped her hips and lifted her, catching her beneath the thighs. She gasped as he pinned her there, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

His body pressed hard into hers, firm and unrelenting, holding her in place like he had every right to. The force of it stole the breath from her lungs, but it wasn’t just the impact. 

It was him.

It was always him.

Their breaths tangled in the charged space between them, shallow and uneven, like they’d both run miles only to stop just short of the finish. Their lips hovered, barely apart, neither willing to surrender first, both waiting, daring the other.

“Good thing I’m not afraid to get burnt,” she whispered, her voice low and velvet-soft, brushing against his mouth with every word. “I missed you too, by the way.”

That was all it took.

Harry closed the distance, crashing into her like a wave pulled too long by the tide. His mouth found hers with a heat that trickled through her system and she met him there, fingers threading through his hair, the other hand locking around the back of his neck to hold him close.

A quiet whimper slipped from her as his tongue slithered past her lips, insistent and hungry, tasting the sugary remnants of the candy she’d had in front of the tv before he arrived. He groaned low in his throat at the sweetness, and the sound of it unravelled her, hips moving instinctively against him.

They acted with fluid precision, like two pieces made to fall into place. Her fingers tightened in his curls, pulling just enough to draw another sound from him, and before she knew it, she was back on her feet with Harry pressed against her and his hands grasping the dip of her waist to lead her.

She didn’t remember the walk to her bedroom.

Maybe it was because her frame never left the wall of his chest, or maybe because Harry’s mouth never once left her body—trailing down her jaw, along the curve of her throat, kissing and nipping at the skin until her legs turned jelly. She walked backwards, trusting Harry to lead her in the right direction. The door creaked open behind her, and the next thing she knew, her back was pressed to her velvet comforter and Harry was hovering above, his eyes hooded and stormy with want. Her jumper rose up to her midriff, just a pair of plain pink cotton panties with a bow on beneath. She wasn’t expecting company, not that she’d have dressed differently even if she knew he was coming.

“Look at you…” he murmured, more to himself than to her, tracing the outline of her collarbone with a calloused fingertip. “Laid out all pretty for me, like some dream I haven’t earned the right to wake up from.”

She arched towards his touch, her breath hitching when he leaned in and pressed a slow, reverent kiss just beneath her ear. “Maybe you haven’t,” she whispered, breathless but teasing, her voice trembling with the effort not to beg. She said she wouldn’t crack, yet here she was.

Harry’s grin was all sharp teeth and wonderment, but his gaze softened as it swept over her face. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick, “I’d spend the rest of my life tryin’.”

Then he kissed her again, slower now, deeper. It wasn’t just need anymore. It was months of silence, of missing glances, unanswered calls, aching spaces where the other used to be. It was apology and forgiveness, grief and hunger all tangled into one breathless moment. His hands moved with purpose, mapping out the skin he’d gone too long without, relearning every dip, every scar, every shiver he could draw from her with just the brush of his thumb.

“I can’t wait, I need you right now, Y/N, can you feel my cock? It’s fucking aching.” Harry grunted out, pressing his hips down against her core to prove his point. She could feel the outline of him, rock solid for her, straining against his jeans. 

She whimpered at the friction, a damp spot already present against the fabric of her panties from the second he walked through her front door and looked at her with those eyes of his. 

“I’m going to indulge in you properly later, take my time, bury my head between your thighs like your pretty pussy deserves after bein’ so neglected. But right now? I just need to fuck you.”

Harry’s hand slid beneath the back of her thigh, pulling her leg around his waist and tugging her panties to the side as he breathed heavily into her neck, his lips trailing hungry, greedy kisses along her skin. 

“Then fuck me already.” Y/N bratted through deep breaths, her hands finding the hem of his shirt and tugging, needing him unclothed and fast.

Harry’s jaw clenched as he sat up just enough to look down at her. She was absolutely sinful like this, her pussy glistening with arousal, her eyes hazy with that smug, lustful expression. He scoffed out a breath as he ripped his shirt off from over his head, tossing it across the room as his fingers nimbly found his belt buckle. “Get it all out now, Bunny. S’not gonna be so funny when I’m pounding into you so hard you can’t breathe, and you know it.” He growled, his eyes meeting hers with stern warning. 

The metal clinking sound of his belt coming undone echoed in the small space, and he pulled it from the loops of his jeans with one smooth tug. He looked into her eyes as he looped the leather in half before snapping it together, the sound crackling the room. “Behave,” he warned.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her mind flashing back to the time that Harry had tied her wrists behind her back with that exact same belt. She gulped, a glimmer in her eyes as she nodded, deciding this was her time to be quiet if she wanted to get her way.

A devilish smirk coated Harry’s lips, the dimple in his cheek protruding. “That’s my girl.” He murmured as he tugged down his boxers, his hard cock now resting heavy in his palm. He leaned down, the head pressing against her entrance. He slicked through her folds, each of them sighing in relief at the feeling. Without warning, he thrust in, hard and deep. She cried out, her back arching, her head tipping back against the mattress as he tore through her without remorse.

“That’s my fucking girl.” He growled as his body rocked into hers. The pace was unhurried but purposeful, like he was trying to relearn her from the inside out. Their sweat-slicked skin was sticking where they touched, their breaths loud and shallow in the dim light of her bedroom.

Every move he made felt like a question. Are you still mine? Do I still fit here?

And every answer came from the way she held him, close and needy, her nails dragging angry red lines down his spine, her hips rolling to meet his like she was trying to etch the shape of him into her bones. She wanted him to remember. Each time he caught a glimpse in the mirror, or the hot water of his shower cascaded over his back, he’d remember her and the marks she’d left him with.

It was messy. A little unsteady. Every shift, every gasp, threaded with the weight of what they were too stubborn to say out loud. She whimpered when his mouth found that sensitive spot beneath her ear again, the one that always made her body quake.

“Fuck,” he groaned, dragging his teeth across her jaw. “You feel the same. Still so tight f’me. Still so fuckin’ perfect.” Harry thrusts his hips forward, burying his cock deep within her. Each movement had her bed creaking, the sound of her arousal gushing around the base of his cock obscene and lewd in the best possible way. It coated his pubic bone and thighs, sticky and wet.

Y/N bit her lip, her head lolling back against the pillow, exposing the long line of her throat. “You think saying shit like that makes this less complicated?”

Harry didn’t stop. Couldn’t. “No,” he admitted, voice rough and low, “but maybe it’ll make it easier when I leave.”

Her chest hitched, a shiver rolling through her—not from his words, but from the ache in them. That aching little crack in his voice that sounded like regret finally catching up to him.

She shouldn’t have answered. She knew she shouldn’t have. But her voice came anyway, soft and breathless. “You’re the one who always comes back.”

That struck somewhere deep within him. His rhythm faltered for half a second, just long enough for the truth to land. But then his mouth crashed into hers again, hungry, silencing the sting with his tongue. He kissed her like he could steal her words, bury them inside his lungs so they wouldn’t echo back at him later.

And she let him.

Because she needed to feel something that wasn’t heartbreak. Something real. Something alive.

Her legs tightened around his waist, and her back arched into him, her body shaking under his touch as her release crept closer, hot and consuming. Y/N’s moans were nothing short of pornographic, breathy and sultry whines. 

Harry cursed under his breath, the sounds she made unraveling his restraint thread by thread. He reached his hand between them, two fingers finding her clit with ease, puffy and swollen for him. He hissed at the way her jaw dropped open, immediately moving his fingers in fast, tight circles around the bundle of nerves. He knew how sensitive she was, her thighs trembling in their position around his hips. His thrusts never stopped, the sound of wet skin slapping wet skin echoed her bedroom as he fucked into her. Harry watched the way her tits bounced beneath her jumper, each of them still half clothed, having been too caught up in the moment to worry about undressing fully. He didn’t need her nude to know how her body looked, how she felt. Her soft, blissed out features and the warm squeeze of her cunt around his cock would be plenty for him.

“C’mon, Bunny,” he murmured, voice shaking, forehead pressed to hers. “Wanna feel you. Let go f’me.”

The weight of him pressed down, grounding her, anchoring her to the moment, where nothing else outside the walls of her flat existed. Just Harry, just Y/N, and the quiet crackle of something neither of them dared name.

She could feel every inch of him, his breath against her collarbone, his fingers rolling over her clit with eagerness, the slow, torturous grind of his hips as he buried himself deeper, like he belonged there.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he always had.

“Say it again,” she whispered, her voice a velvet thread in the darkness.

Harry blinked, chest rising and falling against hers, lips ghosting over the curve of her jaw.

“Say what?”

“That you missed me.”

His throat bobbed with the swallow. His voice, when it came, was rough with more than just lust. “I did. I do.” His forehead pressed to hers. “Every fucking day I miss you, Y/N.”

That admission cracked something open inside her. Not all the way, just enough to let the ache bleed out, soft and messy. Just enough to let him in again.

She arched into him, her arms circling around his back as if she could pull him beneath her skin, as if she could memorize the weight of him and keep it when he left again. Because he would. That much she knew.

Everything about Harry was too much yet perfectly enough. His teeth nipped at the column of her throat before his tongue soothed the ache, his panted breaths hot and heavy against her neck as he fucked into her. 

Y/N was practically mewling, whimpering and trembling as she got closer and closer. Her stomach coiled up tight with each deep thrust, the head of his cock punching through her walls, rough and gentle all at once as if he couldn’t decide which half of himself to give into. Harry’s cock twitched inside of her, a telltale sign he was close. 

“Fucking hell…this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, Bunny? C’mon, tell me who’s pussy this is and I’ll let you cum.” His voice was shattered, deep and sultry as his fingers slowed against her clit to a barely there pressure.

Y/N whimpered, the noise near pathetic as she tried to roll her hips upwards, desperately chasing her high. “It’s yours, Harry. I belong to you.”

Harry puffed out a breath as if her words were too much to handle. 

“Good fucking girl. My girl.” He whispered against the shell of her ear, his tongue flicking out to lick a strip against her jaw before, without warning, he sat up, his hands gripping the backs of her calves and pushing her legs up towards her head for an entirely new angle. 

She gasped, feeling his cock slip out to the tip in their shift. Harry smirked down at her, his grin devilish. He knew how much she loved this position, how perfectly it let his cock hit that spongy, sensitive spot inside of her. He didn’t waste a second before he tightened his grip and pulled back his hips before slamming them forward. 

Y/N cried out his name as he rocked into her with fervent need, groaning at the way her walls clamped down around his cock, desperate to milk him dry. He let one of her legs fall from his grasp, only to slip his hand between their bodies, his thumb rubbing messy, relentless circles over her clit. He drove into her again and again, burying himself to the hilt, never letting her forget exactly how perfectly she took him. His breaths were mixed with shattered low groans as he watched the way her chest rose and fell, how her cheeks had pinkened and her lips hung parted in a perfect, petal pink pout of pleasure. The headboard slammed against the wall in a frantic rhythm, just barely drowning out the filthy wet sounds of his cock plunging through her slick, stretching her open and claiming her in every way. He found his home deep inside her pussy—exactly where he belonged, exactly where he was meant to be.

His Bunny let out a string of whined moans, her thighs quaking, and he knew she was right on edge. “That’s it, sweet girl. Cum all over my cock, show me how much you missed me.” He panted.

Between the desperation in his voice and the way he slammed into her, it only took seconds for Y/N to come crashing down. Her pussy pulsated around Harry’s cock as she let out a low, breathless moan, the sound like music to his ears. The way her walls clenched around him had him thrusting in as deep as he could possibly go, his body surging forward to capture her lips in a hungry kiss. His orgasm hit him hard, pouring into her in long, hot spurts that left him whimpering against her mouth. Sounds of raw yearning and need spilled from him, muffled by their kiss, as her nails dug into the muscles of his lower back. His hips stuttered against her, his body desperate to stay as close to hers as possible, every last drop of him filling her completely. He rolled forward, pushing his cum impossibly deeper as if it would keep it there, keep him there.

Harry stayed buried inside of her, his forehead dropping to press against hers again as they both struggled to catch their breath. Their chests heaved together, sticky skin sliding, the heat between them nearing unbearable. He pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then the hollow just beneath her ear, murmuring sweet nothings too soft and slurred for either of them to really understand.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he panted, voice rough and wrecked with pleasure. “Missed you. Missed this. Missed being inside you.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, still feeling every delicious throb of him, every aftershock rippling through her sensitive body. She tilted her head back just enough to meet his blown, dazed gaze, smirking despite the lingering tremors in her thighs. She’d missed it too, but she wasn’t about to say it, not now, not when she hadn’t gotten her chance to have the upper hand and remind him why he kept coming back here, back to her.

“You better catch your breath, pretty boy,” she whispered against his damp temple, her voice a low, teasing purr. “Because it’s my turn.”

Harry blinked slowly, still half drunk off the high she had just pulled him into. “Your turn?” he repeated, the lazy smile that tugged at his mouth making her want to kiss it clean off.

Y/N grinned, sliding her hands down the damp, muscular plane of his back before giving his hip a playful little squeeze that made him grunt against her. “Mhm,” she hummed, shifting her hips beneath him just enough to make him hiss, his sensitive cock twitching inside her pussy. “You think you can just come in here, fuck me like that after three months, and not deal with the consequences of your actions?”

He let out a rough chuckle, his body still twitching with sensitivity, but his hands found her hips again on instinct, holding on like he already knew she was about to wreck him.

“You’re playing with fucking fire.” She murmured in a mock of his earlier words against his jaw, nipping at his scruff with her teeth, loving the low growl it dragged from his chest.

“Is that right?” Harry rasped, the words barely a thread of sound. “Well…It’s a good thing m’not afraid to get burnt.” He mused, humming out her own response to the same question. 

“Mmhm,” Y/N purred, and before he could say anything else, she rolled her hips up into his with a slow, devastating grind. His whole body jerked, a broken moan escaping his throat. “And you, Mr. Styles, are about to find out exactly what happens to bad boys who don’t think they can be outmatched.”

She tightened her legs around his hips, flipping them with a surprising surge of strength and adrenaline that made him grunt out a startled, breathless laugh. He fell back against the mattress, wide-eyed and grinning even as he tried to process the shift.

Y/N straddled him now, hands splayed on his chest, hair wild around her flushed face, a gleam in her eye that promised nothing short of absolute, blissful ruin.

“You think you can handle it?” she teased, rolling her hips again, slow and purposeful, making him gasp and clench the sheets beneath him from the overstimulation.

Harry let his head fall back, the cords in his neck straining as he fought for control. “Fuck, Bunny,” he groaned, voice breaking on the nickname. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She leaned down, brushing her nose against his before catching his bottom lip between her teeth and tugging gently, making him groan again.

“Good,” she whispered against his mouth. “That’s the idea."

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 5

Late but not as bad as before! (ᵕ ´ᗜ`) It doesn't feel as long as it is like, I actually questioned the word count. (´∀｀；) But at least I put the right title this time!

I promise I really do love Tim so much. I love all the robins so very very much. (ᵕ,—ᴗ—,)

I hope you enjoy!

Reader ages 15 - 17

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

So, you lied to Alfred about your new spider friend, telling him instead that it was dead. Worried about what kind of experiments it would most likely be put through. Plus, it's kinda cute. Now that it's got the little nipping thing out of the way it's warmed up considerably to you. In fact it seems almost drawn to you in a way. Tapping at the little aquarium you bought for it when you come in. Even, dwindling webs around your fingers excitedly when you greet them.

"You'll be nice to our friends, right?" They catch on the tip of your nose before letting go to swing from your fingers, "Good baby."

The last time you saw your friends was as they were stumbling down the crowded halls with no hope of closing the gap. Everything was too sudden and confusing, it didn't even feel real at the time.Your week out of school has been spent at home, then the gym as you mastered your new... abilities.

Of course, you've kept in contact with them, let them know you hadn't died or anything crazy. Well, not that something didn't happen, you just couldn't face them about it. Until now.

"Finally! God, I've been waiting for you to spill it!" Mj practically cheers from her spot laid out on your bed. She sits up, emerald eyes wide with an almost child-like excitement, "I'm totally grateful that it was Flash you laid the fuck out like you did but like.. how did you?!"

Gwen finally pulls herself away from the spider tank to huff at the redhead, "How sensitive of you.." Spinning her chair to face you, she gives you a more sympathetic look, "We wanted to wait for you to bring it up first."

Now, you wish you hadn't waited so long to open up. They don't care how strange your situation might be, even if they did criticise your decision making abilities. Of course, you had to show off your new strength, lifting your bed up with both of them on it. Along with your.. web things. Which was still a little tricky to get a hang of and it felt so odd, creating this incredibly strong substance that stuck to everything concretely. The two of them were ecstatic, even saying you could be a hero.

"Well, if you can get over being in the spotlight. Like when you're in a competition!" MJ is squeezing your hands and while it's nothing to what you can withstand now you can practically feel her excitement from the contact.

It made it so much harder to say, "I don't, um, well, it's just that-" Literally, especially when you can see the stars in her eyes, "There's.." No way someone like you could do what they do, "So many heros and vigilantes out there already..."

"That would be quite a chance in your life, we are still pretty young for all that..." Gwen, your voice of reason, pillar of sanity, your- "Maybe you could train until you're an adult and we can work on your brand before that."

"No, not you too."

Life at the mansion is quiet as always, the familiar desolate kind of quiet you've grown hate rather viciously. You've only crossed paths with your father in glimpses since the funeral. In fact, you hardly see Alfred anymore, always busy tending to Bruce and minding the cave. Of course, It couldn't stay quiet for long, it's something you both dreaded and anticipated. After weeks that bend together life rises in the somber walls again.

There's something going on. Something big if the sudden commotion around the manor is anything to go by. Some kid is hanging around Alfred, he's got to be the one stirring up the birds. Not to mention you catch sight of Nightwing, stupid big collar and all. You thought he was too busy off living his own life to actually come around anymore, not that he ever paid you much mind but... it made Alfred sad! Stupid jerk.

It's not until the next day that the old butler does his best to explain the situation. "He's a young boy that's been observing Master Bruce since... Well, since he was mentoring Master Richard." Oh, so he's a weirdo like you. It's strange the two of you didn't cross paths sooner. "I'll bring him around some time soon." So, he's sticking around, that could only mean one thing.. "The two of you could be close.. Young master." You could practically hear 'like Jason' on the tip of his tongue. The unsaid words burn your ears and twist up your chest.

Opening the top of your aquarium you let out your like friend. The excited skitter of your dear spider up your arm leaves a silken trail in its wake. Giggling you guide the bitty spider onto a finger, holding them up to eye length.

"Would you like to come take some pictures, little one?" You coo as they dangle from your index. "We'll see how the-" No, you couldn't say that. Ha, yeah, new Robin. That old one's dead. So? Just shuck a new one in again and keep going. Fuck you hated it and you hated feeling so bitter and you hated not being able to just- fucking scream at someone. Let rage that's building in your heart out on something.

You can feel your back hit the wall. Thoughts swirl as you steady yourself with a hand against the wall. This was the kind of situation you could only talk to Alfred about. The old man was all words of wisdom and you felt too ashamed to bring such thoughts up to him.. He was mourning too, it was all too much, too heavy. You just wanted laying around and whining like you did with Jay, like you can with your friends.

But, if Bruce found out you knew and went blabing? Spilling secrets, even to your closest confidants.. People outside the family things you shouldn't even know? Telling them would surely spell your end. Hell, not to mention the actual risk you're friends could be in by letting them know something so dangerous. If someone found out they knew who The fucking Batman was..

As the feeling of the winding emotions tighten your lungs, two little spider legs tap against your nose. "Okay, okay, I'm alright." The laughter slips from your mouth before you realize it's yours. Little legs dance across your face. Your breathing evens out and you realize that your room seems.. smaller.

Like you've suddenly outgrown the room entirely. Looking down you realize your feet are not, in fact, on the ground. Instead they, along with your free hand, are stuck to the wall. You've unconsciously backed yourself into the corner... of your ceiling.

"Is there anything else you like to tell me about?"

The thought felt so far out there but... maybe you really could use this? Go out, fight crooks, help people, be a real vigilante. The thought squeezed at your heart and burned at your ears, you're well rehearsed in running about Gotham and capability in fighting. It has crossed your mind as so unachievable... until till now.

Now, it actually feels within your grasp, all too sudden and yet... all too late at once. If you could have worked at his side. What would he think? Would you tell him right away? Would he accept your strange changes? Would he think to do the same? To finally tell you?

Does it matter?

He's gone.

Feet hitting the ground silently you lower your spider back into its enclosure on your desk. You collapse on your bed. Tears slip down your face as your gaze blurs at the ceiling. The kiss of twilight lying lazily across the white surface in soft dim rays.

When the lights are suddenly flipped on you shield your red eyes with your hood. Sitting up your knees tuck to your chest as you glare at the intruder. Two, standing awkwardly in your doorway. Oh, Alfred, what impeccable timing you have, old man.

He smiles, calling your name gently, "This is Master Timothy-" Hand laid on the young boy's shoulders, he presents him.

Breaking from the butler's grasp he strides over, "My name's Tim. It's nice to meet you." Another black haired, blue eyed boy stands before you. Reach out a hand for you eagerly, "I guess we'll be seeing each other so-"

That simmering anger boils over and you snap at him, "Yeah, cause your- what? Here to replace Jason, right?" You couldn't take this, not again. "Sorry, I'm not looking for a new brother."

"What-?" The look on his face makes you feel like shit, but it can't plug the hole it's opened.

Hissing bitterly, you turn away from him, "I'll make this easy for you," Pressing the balls of your hands into your eyes, you force away the tears. "We don't have to know one another. You might as well forget where my room is now." Glaring at him over your shoulder, face burning and chest aching, "I'm sure we won't be seeing each other."

So, this is Robin. What? Because he figured out Bruce is Batman? If you told him that you figured that out years ago, would he suddenly see you? Would he see your hard work, all that you fucking went through? Would he finally take you in as his own? If he knew of your powers, your skill, yours achievements...

Would you be his next tool? Thrown as his extension until you were of no good to him? Until your use is exhausted and you're tossed aside again?

No.

You are your own person and will use your own powers for your own good. Never have you needed him, any of them. You most certainly don't need them now.

You can't say you blame Tim for shutting you out following your outburst, Alfred had also scolded you soundly. Yet, you were too tired to hope anymore, to try for such a close connection, and he made sure to pay you in kind. From snubbing you on the rare occasion you crossed paths in the halls to out right leaving a room you've entered.

Making your way into the dining room after an exceptionally long day, you freeze in the doorway. The hand that was rubbing at the crook fell to form a fist at your side.

Bruce leans over to swoop up the paper he was helping Tim with, "It's okay, chum. Just rest up for now." He snatches up the rest of the studying material scattered on the counter piece by piece. "We'll get back to work when your head is clear."

Oh, what a diligent father he is...

Tim, clearly not willing to be pushed into taking a break, snips back at him, "I can't rest now! What if-" His words die in the throat as those cornflower eyes catch you.

Before you can retreat and save both of you from this encounter, Bruce notices his newest son's hesitancy. He finally sees you, pinned in place by the doorway, "Oh, Good-" Pausing to look out the window over the sink to assess the time he turns back with a smile, "Evening, this is actually good timing. Have you met, Tim?"

"Yeah." He's only been around for months but, of course, you're oblivious.

Suddenly, Tim bolts up from his seat, "I think you're right, Bruce. 'Should probably head home, get some rest." Study supplies gathered in his arms, he nods in departure as he pushes past you, "Night."

Returning to your room, you watch the car pull away and Alfred returns him home. Having him around grated on the parts of your grief that were still raw. A small part of you took some pleasure in knowing he would go home eventually. Back to his own house with his own parents.

Despite any lingering animosity, you couldn't help going out to watch the new dynamic duo.

Tim, well, the kid makes a damn good Robin. What he lacks in strength he doubles in agility and triples in cunning intelligence. It's fascinating watching him go, embracing his part so fluidly. Like he was born to play his role in this show of justice and brutality.

Speaking of, Batman and Robin were now long gone, having hopped in the batmobile and sped off after their latest lead. Normally, this would be time for you to head home. Climbing walls was a neat trick that got you out of most situations you got into while getting your shots. The tingle in the back of your head, hairs raised and skin prickling that makes you whip around to spot two figures at the end of the alley is new.

"Hand it over, lady," The man's gruff voice is muffled by the cloth obscuring his face, "and no one gets killed." He jabs something into the stomach of the woman he's cornered.

Wincing away, her back hits the wall, "No, please.." She clings to the plastic pharmacy bag, shaking her head vehemently, "My son, he's sick, please!"

This wasn't time to evade, it was time to intervene. Scaling the grimy bricks of the wall, you descend silently. Feet touching the ground just behind the man, his looming figure blocking the woman's view of you.

"It's not very nice to go through a lady's purse." The sudden sound of your voice makes him all but jump out of his skin and you can't fight the grin that pulls at your lips.

He looks you up and down, "What the hell do you want, kid?" Eyes honing what's hung around your neck, he chuckles under his mask, "That's a nice camera ya' got there."

Lifting the device up, it dangles on its strap, "Oh, this?" You tilt your head, "I was just in the neighborhood, getting the scoop on Gotham's latest scum. You'll make a good headliner." You're not really sure where this cockiness came from but it seemed to spill out whenever you used your powers. "Local loser gets ass kicked by teenager." Especially against assholes like this.

Finally shoving away the trembling woman, he turns to you fully, "So, you're just asking for it then?" The weapon he'd threatened her with, a handgun, now focused on you.

"Cute toy, let's play." Before he can react you've thrown your hand out, hitting the barrel with a web and yanking it from his hands.

He stands there for a moment, looking at you, the webbed gun, the woman and then back to you. "No, no I'm not about to be a part of some superhero background bullshit." Muttering almost hysterically under his breath, he backs out of the ally, "Fuck this, fuck Gotham.. I'm outta here!"

With that proclamation, he runs away leaving the two of you standing there stunned. With a sigh, you straighten yourself, hoping to give an air of confidence as you turn to the distressed woman.

It doesn't seem to matter though as she throws her arms around you, "Th-thank you, so much." Tears stream down her face as she trembles in your awkward arms. The stress of her life threatening situation washes over her and like a true gothamite she shakes it off like a champ. Brushing herself off, she gives you a thankful smile, "Please kid, if there's anythi-"

Your hands shoot up, waving off her offer, "No! No, no! Just don't, uh-" However in vain it may be, you pull at your jostled hood, trying to obscure your face. "don't tell anyone about me, what you saw, here, today- night.. Please?"

It feels like a weight off your chest when she agrees earnestly, giving you an affectionate pat on the heads and wishing you a good night.

Maybe you were getting a little ahead of yourself. To say you were inspired would be an understatement. Emboldened by your sudden victory, you use your.. fair skills in art and sewing. Ment for patching not to piece together a whole suit. Your first drafts are... bad.

It's a blessing and a curse when MJ stumbles upon your spider costume concepts.

"What are you making?" She gasps, flipping through your concept book.

"Don't look!" You squawk in horror, flailing for your book as an artist's worst nightmare happens before your very eyes.

"You know, this isn't all bad... Yeah, yeah I could work with this." Says the perpetrator of the heinous acts as she giggles at your dismay.

"Work with-?" before you can ask, she's pulled a small tape measure from who knows where. Lifting your arms up and around as she notes your measurements in nimble calculated movements.

"Hold still tiger." She smiles up at you, moving her work down your body until she has every inch of you jotted down. "So, what's the basics of what you're thinking?"

"Something bright, a nice red," like your dear round of Robins, "and blue to contrast. But, maybe that was too Superman-y?"

Mj suggests stitching black webbing across, and a spider.. where a bat would go, you liked that, differentiating yourself from them. Because you aren't them.

You are Spider.

Ya'know, like, Robin.. but, a spider.. the Spider? Oh wow, is that terrible? Are you dumb? You can't even tell anymore. What are you doing? Is this real? Are you really going to do this? Could you really go through with it after everything you've experienced?

After a day Mj is back with a design that immediately captivates you, "Holy shit.." You take the page, admiring the webbing over the blocking of the colors and the added large white eyes.

Looking rightfully proud of her work she wiggles ginger brows at you, bumping your shoulder with hers. "Nice right? It won't be very protective but you'll look damn good." Throwing your arms around her you both giddy at the prospects.

It would be entirely asinine of you, yet..

Using the abilities you've been honing for as long as you've lived in the manor. Not to mention studying every move of the renowned dynamic duo. The bite only enhanced what you already had.

You could actually help people, not just watching as they get rescued.

Dick showed you how to out maneuver your enemies, Jason showed you have to take them down soundly, and now Tim is showing you have to crumble them from the inside. Witnessing the swift ways he hacks into anything, taking out controls, shutting things down, using them to his advantage. It was truly fascinating. The skills he presented even reignited your interest in tinkering.

Of all the little things you've made, none ever had much of a use before. Mostly novelty things that you'd either give to your friends or gift to Alfred. Simple devices only meant for mundane tasks.

"Gwen. What if, hear me out, we parent trap our dads." Mj muses, from her end of your bed.

Rolling her eyes from the other end of the bed Gwen shushes her, "Stop yapping nonsense and listen." She gestures to you, standing there waiting for their attention.

"I dunno, I'm kinda interested." You chuckle lifting up the device in your hand. After a brief explanation of what it is and how it works you ask them as they stare in a mix of disbelief and confusion.

"So... what does this do?" She eyes the pair of inconspicuous goggles resting in your palm, "In, like, plain english please?"

"It should let you see." You grin, offering them up to her and she accepts them readily, "Wanna see?"

It's just the heat signature and outline of people in the vicinity. Hesitantly she takes them, slipping them over her head until they're in place.

"Holy shit that's cool..." Whipping her head around, she gasps, "Wait is that-?"

Gwen perks up, leaning in as if she could catch a peek, "Huh? What is it?" She nudges Mj's knee when she doesn't answer right away.

"You really, truly, outdone yourself this time." She presses her hand to her cheeks which are reddening under the goggles, "I can see his ass so clearly from, what? three rooms away?"

What did- Gwen cuts in, not leaving you to wonder for long, "Dicks home? Damn bitch, let me see."

"No, absolutely not." You practically jump her, wrangling them from her head.

"Hey! I'm not done!" Mj clings to the band as you lift her into the air with them, like a ferret latching onto a stolen shoe.

The leather of the other end of the band cries out in mercy as your eye twitches, "Give. Now." Gwen cackles at the sight of you trying to shake her off.

They may not always be the best but you know these two will always be your biggest pillars of support. No matter what happens.

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

Tag list?!

@butratherbutrather @dorkatron-2000 @mys0cksrwet @nervousalpacalady @notsamaira @facelessisnthere @danir2006 @ryuushou @sirenetheblogger @l3v1us @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @shadowytravelerlover @whatamoodhoney @alittlelostmoonchild @tiarea @tsxukikami @levi-09 @stardustnightfall @antov828 @awawage @kaitense1 @1abi @d3nnji @yhin-gg @ithoughtthinks @cherrydaisymanic @bat1212 @shycreatorreview @mikusamsan @strwberryglass @hebaoffside @kawaiimusiccollection @bunniotomia @wishiwaswritingrn @epicy0n @cristy-101 @timebomb1101 @st4rg1rln @lithiumval

[livinghalfway]

Bury Him with the Roses Pt. 2

Masterlist

Summary: Damian learns that his twin is alive only to learn that he was dead and buried a few hours before his impromptu arrival to the Fenton household. When he goes to visit Danyal's final resting place he finds two individuals digging up his brother's grave.  Word Count: 1129

A four hour flight. 

His brother was only a four hour flight away, and yet it has been five years since they’ve last seen each other. Damian isn’t sure why Danyal hasn’t reached out to him. Sure, his brother did not get to learn the name of their father, but there is no way he was able to avoid the Wayne name. Danyal must have seen the announcement of him joining the family, or at least a picture of him with them after all these years. 

The town had some kind of media block, but that only pertained to hiding information coming out of Amity Park, not going in. It was frankly a miracle that Damian even found the article about the gorillas. 

Whoever put the block up was good admittedly, but there was nothing Oracle couldn't crack into. A single crack in the wall, and it all came crumbling down. 

The "ghost" attacks, the GIW, Phantom,  but most importantly the Fenton's. So much information was now available to them, and yet the only thing he searched for was the address of his brother's home. That was the only thing that mattered. 

Which is why Damian finds himself in the Wayne private plane not even an hour later with his Father and Dick sitting next to him. The others stay behind to look after Gotham, and investigate more about the strangeness of Amity Park. While making sure to give them any useful information about the Fenton’s they find.

From what has been found so far doesn’t paint the most stable of households, and Damian has every intention of taking Danyal home with them when they leave for Gotham.  He’s … he’s excited to show his twin the life he’s built; that he has changed for the better from the boy that he once was. 

“So, Damian,” Dick snaps him out of his thoughts, “What was Danyal like? With all the chaos I don’t think anyone got the chance to ask about him.”

With this question Bruce becomes much more attentive to what is happening around him. In a voice far too soft for Damian as he speaks nostalgically about his twin and their youth, “Danyal was as skilled with a blade as he was kind. Ra’s did everything he could to take that gentle nature from him, but nothing ever phased him. Despite striving in the league, it was obvious how much he hated being there. … He would have loved it in the manor.” 

“He still has plenty of time to make the manor a home.” Dick reassures him. “It sounds like you really admire him.” 

A humorless laugh escapes his throat at those words. “I hated him. Danyal was so much better than I was, and yet he never cared for Ra’s or Mother’s approval. By the time I truly recognized that we were never meant to be rivals he was already gone.” 

Damian hopes that with this second chance he’ll be able to make up for all the years spent being jealous of the only other person who truly knows what his childhood was like. Someone who should have been a confidant was instead seen as nothing more than a competitor. 

He knows why Danyal didn’t reach out, it’s because of him. Damian’s sure of it. 

“Dami, do you care about Danyal?” 

“...Yes.” 

“Then just talk to him. I’m sure you two can get through this together.” 

Damian hopes so; he wants to get to know his brother. He’s not going to miss out on this second chance to do so. 

-

It’s late by the time the three of them finally reach the Fenton household; the sun is already beginning to set. 

The building itself looks like one big safety hazard. Damian is honestly surprised that it’s liveable. Walking up to the front door he notes just how filthy the doorstep is. Dirt covered shoes and gloves lay littered about. He silently takes note of all of this as Bruce knocks firmly on the door. 

To everyone else you would think the man is as cool as ice, to Damian though he can recognize the signs of nervousness and worry coming from his Father. No doubt feeling unsteady from the fact that they have the bare minimum amount of information for what they’re about to walk into.

Heavy footsteps can now be heard from inside now. 

When the door opens it is to the face of Danyal’s adoptive father, Jack Fenton. The man looks tired; his shoulders are slumped and a melancholy smile graces his face. 

“Oh! Bruce Wayne? Hello! Is there anything I can do for you folks?” Jack asks as he looks between the three of them, obviously confused by their presence. His eyes widen when his gaze lands on Damian. “Danny?”

“That’s actually what we’re here to talk about,” Bruce clears his throat before continuing. “It was recently discovered that my son Damian and Daniel could possibly be twins. We’re here to confirm if that is true or not.” 

Strangely Jack looks almost relieved at those words.”Come- come inside.This conversation might be better done inside.” 

As they are led inside towards the living room Jack calls out for his wife Madeline that they have guests; notably not calling for Danyal as well. While they get situated in their seats Damian takes this time to take a look around the room for signs of his brother. 

He sees photos of his twin all along the walls, in most of them he was standing next to the Fenton's daughter, Jasamine. As he looks through his eye eventually notices a red blossom of some sort lying innocently under one of the side tables. 

It’s unlike any flower he’s ever seen before. Just as he’s about to ask about it, Madeline finally joins them in the living room as well. Her eyes widened too once looking at Damian. It looks like she’s about to say something, but before she can Jack quickly whispers something in her ear. 

Dick, who is sitting next to him, gently squeezes his shoulder as the Fentons sit across from them, and is the first to speak up, “Should we wait and get Danny to join us before we start this?”

The two Fenton’s look towards one another with pained expressions; a silent conversation occurs between them at that moment. After a few tense seconds Madeline quietly speaks up, “That … will not be necessary. Danny is- We- I’m sorry to be the one to tell you after you’ve traveled all the way here, but Danny is no longer with us, in fact we laid him to rest just a couple hours ago.” 

At those words Damian knows that he had just lost his second chance to reconcile with his brother. 

[littlegrapejuice]

Too Vanilla | FC43

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: Franco is very open about his past sex life - maybe a bit too much for you, which eventually makes you insecure.

Author's Note: this is super short but i got the inspo after seeing a small extract of franco on the nude project (i then proceeded to watch the entire thing even tho i barely speak spanish lol) and yeah, I'll say more in the end notes lol but iykyk😭

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

“You’re quiet tonight”, Franco pointed out. “More than usual.”

Shit, was the only word now echoing in your mind. You didn’t think you had been that quiet. Franco and you were having a peaceful night in, cuddling in bed while watching some stupid show whose laughing track was way funnier than the actual jokes.

“Just enjoying the time with you, that’s all.”

Franco knew better. He knew from the way his arms were around you, your hands on your lap and not holding his like you usually did. He knew from the way your body wasn’t entirely relaxed against his.

He just knew you.

“I kinda wanna call bullshit on that, I know you’re lying. Or at least hiding something,” he clarified.

“And what would I be hiding?”

“I don’t know”, he admitted.

And that was it. You both stayed silent for several minutes after the exchange. But now that it was out there, you could feel Franco’s eyes on you. And with the way that he was now holding one of your hands in his, his thumb gently stroking your skin? It was just a matter of time before you were spilling whatever secret you were hiding. Which you did, when you felt him hugging you a bit tighter from where he was sitting behind you.

“It’s about the videos”, you eventually blurted out.

“The videos?” Franco repeated.

“That one video where you did the put a finger down thing”, you explained. “And the most recent podcast.”

“What about those?” He asked, slightly straightening up, before muting the TV.

“Well, you talked about having had sex in a car before, and the podcast…”

“Did I say something wrong in the podcast?”

“It’s not something you said, it’s just how I felt about it.”

“Okay.” Franco nodded, still a bit confused. “Please communicate with me, how did that make you feel?”

“You were talking about pre-race sex somehow helping with your performance, because it was like– relaxing. You also mentioned that having sex on the first date was more than fine for you... And then, I got insecure about it.”

“You got insecure because I’ve been whoring around?” There were certainly better ways to form the question, but at least Franco was trying his best. “You know it all happened before we got together, yeah? I haven’t done that in a while.”

“And that’s the issue!” You exclaimed as you shifted a bit away from him, your side profile now facing him.

“What? You’re saying you’d want me to do those things again?” Safe to say, he was lost. “I'm not sure I get it, what’s the real issue regarding us?”

“The sex, Franco!” You had raised your voice a bit, immediately regretting it. You moved again to sit cross-legged, now actually facing him. “Or more like the lack of it.”

“And that’s the issue because…?” He encouraged you to keep going, still not getting your point.

“Because I’m not having sex with you?” You tried to make him understand. “Because I will probably never have sex with you? Because everything between us is just too vanilla – even more than a middle schoolers’ relationship?”

You expected any reaction from Franco, literally anything. Except him laughing. But that’s what he was doing right now. He had just bursted out laughing.

But you weren’t laughing, far from it. You were just looking at him, widened eyes at his reaction.

“Oh my… oh God…” Franco did his best to calm down, slowly breathing in and out to stop laughing. “Since when is the lack of sex in our relationship an issue? You never brought this up before.”

“I mean, we did talk about it when we got together.”

“But still, I thought we were on the same wavelength? Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?”

“It’s not like– important…”

“Kinda seems like it is”, Franco interrupted.

“Okay, maybe it is. But it’s just that– like– yes, we had agreed that it wasn’t necessary between us… but just watching the podcast and seeing you talk about it, seeing people comment on it–”

“Fuck the comments.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t be paying attention to them…” You admitted. “But I just got in my head, and then I started overthinking…”

“And you thought that us not having sex had become a problem for me? Without asking me what my actual opinion was?”

“Bingo,” you confirmed with a dry laugh.

The silence settled once again between the two of you, but it wasn’t as heavy as earlier. Franco took your hands in his, squeezing them in reassurance.

“How much of the podcast did you watch?” He eventually asked.

“The segment of you talking about pre-race sex, obviously.” You rolled your eyes at him as your voice was full of sarcasm. "And the sex-on-the-first-date moment.

“But did you watch what I said after?”

“Yeah, a bit.” You tried to recall how long the extract had been. “The whole thing wasn’t entirely subbed so I didn’t actually watch everything but–”

“So you remember what I talked about after that?” Franco waited for you to nod before he continued. “About the difficulty of creating real bonds with people, finding a connection, something that matters… That’s you”, he claimed. “You’re the person with who I share an actual bond. The person who I know is here for me, who loves me, and who I love back. What’s between us is precious, something I wanna cherish and care for until you’ll stop having me.”

“I’ll never stop, though.” You tried to avoid Franco’s gaze, ashamed of having doubted his feelings.

“Well, I hope so.” Franco squeezed your hands once again, before he let go of them to cup your face and wipe your cheeks. “You shouldn’t be crying because of me.”

“Bro”, you said with a deadpan tone. “You’re out there declaring your love for me and I’m not supposed to cry?”

“When you say it like that…”

He laughed. But this time, you enjoyed hearing it. And it made you laugh too.

The situation shouldn’t have been a laughing matter – not for most people – but still, you were laughing together. Then, Franco leaned in, his hands still on your cheeks. You leaned towards him as well, and he closed the space between you to kiss you.

For every insecurity you would ever have, Franco would be there to appease them. And for every dumb insecurity like this one, Franco would just have to remind you that the ‘vanilla’ relationship between the two of you was worth so much more than any pre-race sex he could ever have. And maybe he would also remind you that despite not having sex, the make out sessions between you two were sometimes far from being vanilla.

..........

Ok so this one's a bit more personal than others (not counting that one logan fic in which i poured my heart lol)

Ik there's this franco persona we all see as being the epitome of no pr training bc bro is sharing loads of private stuff - and it ain't even that deep tbh like he's just a guy🎀 (btw i did watch the entire pod which was super interesting bc i didn't know that much ab franco before f2 so i recommend!!)

But yeah, this one's for my ace girlies out there who, like me, might think that it's impossible to find love bc most people will expect sex in a relationship💜

This was just a short n' sweet fic that i thought went well w franco (who's the green flag we all need in our lives) - mostly written for my own mental health bc i needed some self love & reassurance🤍

Thanks for reading<3 I'll see you soon, take care of yourselves, i love y'all xx

[bonniesbluee]

dilf!art x stripper!reader pt1 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

the first time he saw you he was hooked.

patrick had dragged him to a club after his retirement and divorce with tashi. he was hesitant on going, but he had been rotting in his house, alone. you were basically naked. thong not covering your ass at all, your top piece couldnt even contain your breasts either. your face had glittery make up that make you shine.

but what specially caught his eye was the man you were ontop of. he was ugly. ugly and he could tell he wasn't going to give you good money in exchange of your dance.

he turned to look at patrick but he was already getting danced on by another girl. he sighed, walking towards you. he was nervous, he didnt want to seem like a pervert, even tho he was going to basically give u money for a dance. he gently tapped your shoulder, gulping as your turned around to face him.

you had to tilt your head slightly to look up at him. you were surprised, very. he was tall, broad shoulders, neat button up, a gentle smile on his face. and the most important of all, he looked like he had alot of money. you smiled back, "yes? how can i help you with?" you said in the voice you use with all your costumers. except now your voice was sweeter. he was handsome and looked like he had money? yeah. he was your costumer. you

"i-i um-" he sighs, slightly embarrassed at his stuttering. "how much for a dance?" he mumbles, and you giggle. "that depends, clothes on or clothes off?"

his eyes widen slightly, he looks back at patrick and that's when he realizes the girl ontop of him is naked except for a thong. "oh um," he responds before taking out $400. "clothes on."

your eyes widen slightly, "it's usually only $200 i dont need-" "take it," he insists, softly grabbing your hand and placing the 4 hundred bills in it. you looked so beautiful in the lighting. too beautiful for a place like this.

"okay then, if you insist." you smile softly, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to one of the room where private sessions happen, "sit down." you press your hands on his chest, pushing down on the couch.

"so," you hummed as you straddled him. "what you work on?" you tilt your head to the side, grinding on him softly, hair falling to the side to reveal your neck.

his chest faltered slightly, you were so pretty, in such a horrible place. he could easily 'save you'. get you in his house, spoil you, treat you like you deserve. "i-im a retired tennis player." he mumbles, your eyes widen slightly as you realize. "no wayyy, you're Art Donaldson?" you giggle, smiling even more as you feel his hands shyly touch your thighs.

"yeah. in the flesh," he chuckles, gently caressing your thighs. "whatcha doing in a place like this, Mrs. Donaldson?" you tease. and god, he wishes he had the balls to ask you the same question. "me and my wife got divorced a few months ago, my friend thought going out would be good for me."

"divorced, huh?" you gently rubbed your chest against him before getting off him. "well, since you paid such a generous tip, i dont mind breaking a few rules for you." you winked, slipping your thong down to your knees.

he wanted to stop you, but he wanted it. plus, he could be one step closer to convince you go to his house. not for sex, but for you to experience how to be truly taken care of.

you pressed you ass against his groin, grinning as you arched your back and grinding against him at a measured pace. his hands gently grasped your hips, after a few seconds he stops you. "d-do you want to go back to my place?" he mumbles.

he can already imagine you, sleeping in his shirt, getting held in his arms as you sleep peacefully in his big bed. away from the men in here, away from all the perverts that want to put their hands on you. he doesn't know why he feels a big sense of protection over you, he just does.

"um what?" you laugh nervously, turning to look at him with raised eyebrows. ah, right. "ill give u another $500 dollars if you go to my place." he frowns very slightly. "1k. if you go to my house."

after a few seconds of thinking about it you nod. "yeah, yeah sure."

he lets out a sigh of relief as he stands up, even tho he knows you're mostly doing it for the money. his hand wraps around your waist and he pulls the thong back up. "ill see you outside, yeah?" you nod. gulping as his big strong hands give your thighs a little squeeze.

he walks out, and you're left standing alone with a tinge of nervousness and also a tinge of excitement. biting your bottom lip, you scatter out of the room to your locker to change.

[pazzispizookies]

— — GUARDED — —

Hiii y’all!! This is nearing the end of the series, but don’t worry, I have manyyyy things in the drafts rn ;) I hope y’all enjoy this chapter…….sorry for last chapter lol. Give feedback and ily guys, all 500 of you!! Especially all who are mine and @izzih22 kids lol. ☺️🤞🏽barley proofread, if u see spelling mistakes lmk

It had been a chillingly quiet practice, the notable absence of Azzi.

1 day, 27 hours, 13 mintues.

That was the last time anyone on the team had talked to azzi, last time anyone on the team had seen Azzi.

Her mom told their coach that she was “sick” but no way in hell, the way that girl lived; 2 showers a day, washed her hands at least 50 times an hour, always kept safe distances from people. It was more likely she got “sick” from the party her mom didn’t know she was going to.

Their coaches didn’t know about the post, yet.

Paige had called her manger she’s only had for about 2 months and told him what happened.

He was shocked, obviously. It was embarrassing to say the least, telling a 30 something-year-old man that you were caught making out on a car with your teammate. Even worse being she had to come out to everyone she talked too about the situation, explaining that it was Azzi.

But that didn’t matter. What did matter was wiping the internet of the photo.

The photo that was the reason she hadn’t smelled her favorite scent of vanilla and lavender in a day and 27 hours, seen the smile that could kill an army in a day. It was the reason she hadn’t seen her Azzi.

Practice was a struggle, shots weren’t falling like they should’ve, she was dragging her legs to run, each step a thought about Azzi.

The team whispered, they had mixed reactions.

Some saying sorry about the situation in awkward ways, some pretending they didn’t know what was happening, but only one teammate really helped; Caroline.

Caroline knew how down bad Azzi was for Paige, how she cried in her car, breaking down at the raw emotion that stirred in her, knowing the power it had to destroy her. And now that it did…she worried just as much as Paige.

So when practice came to a close, they headed out to Paiges car to talk.

***

“Still nothing, right?” Paige asked Caroline, knowing it was stupid to be hopeful,

Caroline sat in her passenger seat, shaking her head, mumbling out a small “no”

They sat in silence for a beat, both minds working overtime.

“This cant happen, I just—I need to fix this. I mean, can you imagine her right now? Just the thought of what she’s feeling makes my chest hurt.” Paige admitted, the emotion from her heart pouring into her words.

She had worked hard and tirelessly with her team to get everything wiped, though they still didn’t tell her who had taken the photo. They got into contact with the instagram page who posted it. Threatening to sue if they didn’t take it down.

Along with that, her team worked to take down all repostings of it, which thankfully there weren’t many.

She had immediately put all this into work after racing home that day.

Even though it was definitely still floating out on some corner of the internet, it wasn’t mainstream anymore.

But Paige saw it, she felt it still.

The way her name was trending on Twitter, on the list right below Azzis name.

She knew their school was talking, the way people looked at her in the hallway.

It wasn’t mean or cold hearted for the main part—just talk.

They were teammates, and two girls, along with being stars. Most people were curious.

“What if….What if we just go there?” Paige whispered, pulling back from her thoughts.

“Go to where-Azzis house?” Caroline replied.

Paige nodded, gripping the steering wheel on the parked car, “Yeah,”

Caroline scofffed, “No way in hell that’s a good idea.”

Paige knew she was right, Azzi hadn’t responded to any texts, any calls, anything.

“I know, but I need to talk to her, tell her I got it taken care of, tell her I’m sorry.”

Paige swallowed, knowing she would do anything to see Azzis face again. To be in her presence.

“I know. Listen, how about you try tonight, maybe think of an idea that can help your situation without breaking into Azzis house?” Caroline added, knowing Paige could get to Azzi better than she could.

Paige nodded, looking out the window, her mind going 100 miles per hour. “Yea, I’ll think.”

Caroline hummed in agreement, the painful silence of worry draped over the car once again.

***

“Azzi, love? You need to eat something.” Katie called softly from outside Azzis room.

“In a second,” Azzi responded back, using all her strength just to say those words.

She laid in bed, phone powered off and locked in her desk, like it had been for the past day.

she hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t had a moment where Paige didn’t control her mind in almost 2 days.

The photo was ingrained in her mind. Worse then that, the memory of what was happening in that photo.

The kiss had changed her,

She knew she was into Paige,

But that kiss? It was more than a crush.

She felt like a different person after the kiss.

It was life changing, but with that came the consequences.

Everyone knew she kissed her, it wasn’t just her memory, it was shared with thousands of nosy people now.

From guys saying gross shit, to guys saying they could “Change her,”

Or from one particular guy.

His name was JJ.

He had DMed Azzi Last night.

She didn’t know him, but when she clicked on his profile, seeing that Paige followed him, along with Ash and a few UConn accounts, she knew he was probably at the party.

Opening it, she was faced with a strange message.

JJ: Hey Azzi, I know you don’t know me. But I wanted to be a man, I wanted to apologize. I took that photo. I was drunk, along with high. I wasn’t thinking…especially that Paige would threaten to sue over it. I kinda was crushing on her, we did a shoot together for Nike. I was thinking with my dick, I’m really sorry.

Azzi hadn’t responded.

She couldn’t.

Wat did she have to say to a the guy who had seemingly ruined her life?

She took a screenshot of it, along with his profile, then blocked him. Shutting down her phone and locking it in her desk.

This stupid message laced with false apologies replayed in her mind.

It was clear he didn’t really give a shit over her, or want happened.

Only reaching out because he was scared for himself.

But Paige..threatening to sue him?

Azzi knew Paige, knew that if this had happened with anyone other then Azzi, she wouldn’t have gave it 2 thoughts, just brushing it off.

But Azzi knew that Paige knew her, knew how this would affect her, and she handled it.

Even thought they hadn’t talked, she knew Paige cared.

She knew Paige was worried.

Which made it all worse for Azzi.

Because Paige was showing up through her actions, she was caring, she was calling, texting. Trying.

And Azzi couldn’t.

She couldn’t talk to her.

Not yet.

She just wished it was easier, wished Paige would just show up. Hold her, force her to come back to reality.

But that’s too much to wish on a person, Paige had to be struggling too, dealing with the consequences as well.

But god—Azzi wanted her.

She wanted her to be right next her in bed, wanted her to grip her waist and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

But she was embarrassed, because if she had that, it came with being out in public, loving a girl publicly.

Which was terrifying.

It wasn’t that she was scared of Paige, but scared of what came with Paige.

She would always be known as a basketball player—but now with that, a gay basketball player who dated her teammate.

It wasnt the worst thing in the world world, but people were cruel.

They would never look at her the same as if she was with a man.

Now people would focuse on her, her personal life, her sexuality and relationships.

And she’s not dumb, she’s been online her whole life. Seen the commments, seen the slander, hell—it had already started on the post.

even though most where just comments on how this was unexpected, some even excited.

There were the negative. The ones saying that she would go to hell, and how much of a sin it was to love.

She didn’t know how people could just say that.

How people would ignore every positive of her—her selflessness, her down to earth personality, her on court performance. And outweigh it by who she loved.

Calling her a sinner, but, wasnt everyone a sinner?

So why did her sin outweigh all of the others,

And why did it sting so much?

These are the quetions that kept her away,

The what-ifs in her head.

She didn’t have the answers.

So she stayed where she was. “Sick.”

In bed, thoughts swirling, missing the one person that came with confusion.

***

Paige rested on her bed, glancing over at the clock; 6:30

It was still bright outside, the sun dimming slowly.

Everything seemed to move more slow now, almost like the universe was teasing her.

Saying “Look at all this time you can’t spend with her”

She wanted to jump off the bed, get in her car and speed to Azzi.

But she had to think it thorugh, think about everything that could happen.

Azzi might be mad, or she could be depresssed.

She could hate Paige—or need Paige.

Or both.

She scrolled on her phone, not paying to much attention.

Till a notification popped up.

A Dm.

From…JJ?

The guy she was at Nike with, the UConn recruit.

Curious, she clicked on it.

A soon as she read halfway through the paragraph-her stomach seemed to drop to the floor.

“Paige, I use wanted to come to you directly and apologize. I took the photo, of you and Azzi at the party. I already apologized to her, she probably told you that already. But I was just stupid for that, I was really drunk, and high. And I was I was jealous, so I sent it in. I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would go viral so quickly, I didnt even think people would care. But at least it’s removed now right? Have a good night. I’m sorry again”

What the fuck?

She…

What?

JJ?

why on earth would he do that.

Then give a fucking half-assed apology like he bumped into her.

And he had the fucking nerve to text Azzi?

Bullshit.

Before she could stop herself she was typing.

“Yo, I don’t give a shit if you were high, dunk or both. That was shitty as hell. You dont even know what you did. Grow up before you get to college, your skills aren’t gonna take you that far if you’re still a dipshit.”

Sent.

Blocked.

She didn’t care to get another apology, she wanted to tell him off then cut him off.

That was all she needed, she needed to go to Azzi.

So that’s what she did.

Grabbbing her shoes, spraying a small amount of the cologne Azzi had complimented. And leaving for her car.

She fumbled with the keys for a second, not even caring to tell her dad where she was going.

As soon as she started the engine, the roar of the car coming through, she took off.

Going 50 in a 25 she pulled up to Azzi house in 4 minutes flat.

She stopped the car, slamming the door to get out.

She feet planted but moving fast towards the door.

The pavement of the her path to her house clicking against her Jordans.

she stepped up, knocking on the door.

She knew it wasnt gonna be Azzi at the door when it swung open, but she hadn’t thought that far.

“Hi, Paige right?” a woman, Katie, Azzis mom said looking up at the blonde slightly.

Paige offered a polite smile, pretending to be to be at ease, “Yeah, um-I’m sorry to just show up, I just really need to talk to Azzi.”

Katie sighed, looking her up and down, hesitating for a moment, “She’s….well. She’s not doing well right now.”

Paige knew that, but still she didn’t like hearing it aloud. “I know..I know why she’s not herself right now. I just think she might need to talk,”

Katie smiled, touched by the way Page was caring. “Okay, but if she gets upset, I warned you.”

She stepped back to let Paige in, “Thank you so much, and got it.” Paige said with a brethless laugh.

Katie pointed to the direction of Azzis room, not knowing that Paige already knew exactly how to get there, and everywhere else in the house.

She walked quickly towards the door,

The floor creaking under her.

It had only been 2 days since she’d seen Azzi.

But it felt more like years.

Her heart was racing, her chest tightening.

Was this stupid?

Just showing up?

Before she could spiral more, she knocked,

Three taps on the door,

a soft, slightly broken voice called out, “Go away mom, I’m not hungry.”

Paige felt her chest tighten more, a lump in her throat with her heartbeat.

She cracked the door open, “Sorry, not mom, just me.”

Azzi knew that voice,

Her glossy red eyes looked over at the door,

She met the blue eyes waiting there.

Then she broke.

Paige shut the door, rushing over to the bed.

She grabbed Azzis shaking body, heavy with tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I promise. I’m here.” Paige whispered into the top of her head, pulling Azzi to her chest.

Azzi let herself be pulled, burying her head deep onto Paiges chest.

Tears that stung streamed out of her eyes while Paige brushed her fingers through her still straightened hair,

Her body warm against Azzis, feeling her heartbeat through her chest.

It grounded her.

It felt Iike home.

She cried, she let herself be vulnerable.

Because Paige came.

she knew she needed her, and she cared enough to come.

She was here.

Paige whispered into the top of her head again, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise, I won’t.”

Paige was scared, she was scared for Azzi.

But she mattered to much to let herself be scared, she neeed to be stable. Present.

Azzi gripped her shirt, pulling Paige impossibly closer, neededing her close.

Feeling this, Paige pulled the blanket over her and Azzi, gripping on to her waist with one hand, one still cradling her head.

Azzis cries turned to hiccups, slowly, calming herself down.

Paige stayed there through it, whispering into the top of her head, planting kisses along with it. Just being there.

Azzi sniffled, her cheeks red, her eyes glossed over with emotion and exhaustion.

“Hey Pretty” Paige whispered as she felt Azzi stirr.

Azzi looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since Paige had walked in.

The soft blue to hurt brown.

Paige looked into her, reading her, still smoothly stroking her hair.

Their faces close.

“I’m sorry.” Azzi mumbled out, her voice soft and broken.

Paige shook her head immediately, hand still in Azzis hair, “No, don’t. Don’t apologize.”

Azzi felt it in her chest.

At that moment she knew.

She loved Paige.

How could she not?

here Paige was, sitting comforting her, holding her, waiting for her.

“Paige..”

Paige still looked in her eyes, “Yea?”

Azzi got scared, she’d never say this to anyone.

But Paige wasn’t just anyone.

“I love you”

A beat passed.

Then, Paige closed the gap.

Their lips met slowly, softly,

The kiss unlike the one that night.

This one was sure.

Positive.

It was home, it was love.

It was theirs.

when Paige pulled back slightly, a little dazed, “Are you sure?”

Azzi laughed for the first time in what felt like forever, “yes. I’m sure.”

A smile broke out on Paiges face, her thumb caressing Azzis jaw softly.

“I love you too”

Those 4 words were all Azzi ever needed to hear.

She felt like there was now 3 stages to her life.

Before the kiss. After the kiss. And those 4 words.

Paige didn’t say anything for a moment, still inches away from Azzi.

Looking down at her, the curve of her pink lips, the way her blown out hair fell softly against her Carmel skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige whispered out like a prayer.

Azzi didnt even know she could feel this way. The way those words made her feel.

She’d been called beautiful tons of times.

But that hit her deep.

Like Paige was calling every bit of her beautiful, because she was.

her soul, her face, her personality. everything.

Azzi laid her face down on Paiges chest, her heart beating slower now.

“We can talk later, just stay with me for a bit?” Azzi asked,

Paige held her closer, “yeah, I’d like that.”

Azzi closed her eyes, not meaning too, just far too at peace to not drift off.

Paige followed her, the grounding sounds of Azzi breathing, and this time, she wasnt sacred of Azzi being gone when she woke up.

They both fell softly into sleep, the warm sunset guiding them.

Their bodies tangled together, trusting each other.

***

Katie hadn’t heard noise come from Azzis room.

She was concerned to say the least.

She knew Azzi and Paige hit it off, she’d never seen Azzi spend so much time with a person before.

And every time Azzi came back from being with her, she seemed to buzz with happiness,

So when Paige showed up, she let her in, call it a gut feeling. but she knew Paige could help.

She knew she cared for Azzi by the way she made her happy,

“I’m gonna go check on the girls,” she said to Tim,

He barely even noticed, just nodding.

She got up off the couch, softly padding towards Azzis room,

Reaching the door, Pressing her head against it, she heard nothing.

Concernd, she cracked open the door, peaking in.

And there it was.

Paige holding Azzi tightly,

Azzi sound asleep on her chest gripping her shirt.

Barely air between them.

Shocked at the sight. She looked for a second longer,

But, somehow, she knew.

This was going to start something.

So she closed the door.

Smiling.

Knowing something she hadn’t before.

[m0nnypie]

I'VE GOT MY EYES ON YOU

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Summary: Just the pov of Finnick loving you over the years, and remembering everything about you

Warnings: cute but with a bit of angst on Finn's part. Other than that, all happiness and love.

a/n: Well, excuse any spelling mistakes, English isn't my first language. And I tried my best to make it as much like Finnick as I could, but this is my first fic of his lol. Anyway, I hope you like it and enjoy <3

Words: 1.8k

Finnick remembers the first time he saw you. He was eight and you were only six. Your father had gone to see his for some reason Finnick can't remember — not least because he hadn't been paying attention to them. What he does remember is you glaring at him. It made him laugh, which only deepened your frown.

He imagines it was because you didn't like him very much at the time. He didn’t blame you. With your older brother constantly saying that no boy was any good, it was hard to be friends with anyone he was always badmouthing. Finnick didn’t blame your brother either — in a world like theirs, any protection, even unnecessary, was better than none. Still, nothing changed how cute and funny he had found you at the time. After that day, you never met in person again.

The time he considers the second was when his name was called at the reaping. He remembers your eyes glued to him; you were twelve, and he was fourteen. He could feel your pity seeping through his skin. He didn’t blame you — after all, like it or not, it was still the Hunger Games. But knowing that you were looking at him made it almost funny to him, and it was with that thought in mind that he entered the arena.

The third time was when he returned home victorious. Of course, there were lots of people congratulating him — his relieved family and everyone else — but the only thing he saw was you, walking toward him. He didn't think it was of his own volition, considering you was with your father and brother, but as soon as you approached, you wore the best, most beautiful smile he had ever seen you give. And for the first time in years, you spoke to him.

"Congratulations on winning, Finnick. I'm glad you're back... well, we're glad."

He could see the smile on your father’s face, though he couldn’t say the same for your brother. Not that he minded. So he just smiled back at you — not the smile he reserved for the Capitol, but a real smile.

"Thank you. I'm glad to see you too."

He saw you get embarrassed, and he wanted to laugh at that. But he wouldn’t — not in front of your father. Not yet.

For the rest of the day, he listened to his father talk about how much your father complained about you, because you wouldn't stop talking about Finnick. His father laughed as he ruffled his hair affectionately. And it’s not like Finnick was going to complain.

Everyone said it was normal for girls to have a little crush on boys who won at something — at least, that’s what the people he knew told him. Maybe that’s why, two months later, it was as if Finnick no longer existed to you. You were back in your own world, with your friends, without him. Not that it bothered him — not really.

The next time he really saw you, you were sixteen, and he was eighteen. He was a mentor now, and when your name was called at the reaping, he could see on your face how much you hated it. Most people didn't care or thought that a dead kid from District 4 wouldn't make much difference, since you wasn’t a Career or someone important. Finnick hated it — but he would never say so.

He also remembers how, for whatever reason, you didn't put any effort into your training. He thought it was because of what everyone thought of you as a tribute, or maybe you just didn't give a damn about dying in the arena. He didn't admit it at the time, but he had been terrified that you wouldn't make it out of the arena alive. He also remembers how surprised everyone was by your training score — including him. It was a ten. He remembers it clearly, and you didn't seem to mind.

On the day of the Games, all you did was say goodbye to your stylists. You didn't look in anyone else's direction, but he didn't blame you. If you were going to become one of the last survivors, there would come a point when you would have to kill someone. It wasn't something everyone wanted to face.

He remembers seeing you in the arena — you did well. For the first few days, you kept to yourself, hiding and trying to survive. But at some point — he can't say exactly when — things changed. Perhaps it was when the male tribute from your district was killed, or when you saw a pair of boys, just twelve years old, die.

It wasn't a change that anyone on Capitol had noticed. But Finnick knew you well enough to say that the deaths of people you barely knew had affected you. He still remembers when one of the tributes from District 4 was a twelve-year-old boy - you didn't know him, but you still went to say goodbye. You were only fourteen.

And at that very moment, you had just thrown an axe into the head of the boy from District 3 who had killed the twelve-year-olds. You hadn't thought — you had just acted. Obviously, this had a positive consequence for you in the Capitol's eyes, because a while later, you were sent food that would last for about four days.

He remembers the exact moment you won. He wanted to say he was relieved, but that wouldn't be fair to you. Until you left for District 4, you didn't say a single word to him. Perhaps because no one was looking at you with such high expectations anymore, you felt confident enough to speak.

"Do you regret killing those people to survive?"

"No."

He had to be honest; he couldn't lie. But after that, he didn't hear your voice again for the rest of the journey — you didn't even look at him. Still, when you arrived in District 4, you acted as if you were fine, as if you didn’t care.

He also remembers when you became friends. It was a good thing — a big step, considering that before, you wouldn’t even look him in the face. Now he understood why. Even though it hadn't seemed like it before, you had lots of friends. You were funny, entertaining, and you cooked extremely well. Finnick admitted that he envied your food — and he couldn’t lie about that.

He obviously remembers the following year, when the two of you were mentors. You were only seventeen, but you didn't seem bothered about directing two people toward a possible death. He saw how hard you worked not to get attached to either of the tributes, because if they didn't come back, you wouldn't feel guilty. But when Annie returned, alive and safe, he also saw you break down. You hugged her as if she were going to disappear. And he didn’t blame you for that either. Over the next year, no one ever brought up the subject of Annie becoming a mentor.

When you were nineteen, things went to another level. Once ignored, now he was kissed when no one was watching — well, that was a breakthrough. He remembers every kiss, every smile. He also remembers when you woke him up at dawn to help Annie. He didn't mind; he was spending time with you and helping a friend.

While he was making tea, if he looked over his shoulder, he could see you hugging her, whispering what sounded like a lullaby — the kind you sing to babies when they can't stop crying. He could see how much you loved and cared for Annie, and that always made him fall in love with you a little more, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

He certainly remembers the time he told you he loved you. You had just turned twenty-one. You said it back. And you held each other for the rest of the night.

He also remembers the 74th Hunger Games. He saw your relief when those two young people, madly in love — though he didn't believe in that farce — survived together. You didn’t know them, but you were obviously happy for them.

He also — sadly — remembers the Quarter Quell. When his name was called, he had imagined it would happen. But that day, once again, he saw you. Annie had been called, and before Mags could volunteer, you did. He saw you hugging Annie, comforting her as he heard her whisper "sorry," but you just smiled at her. And as you hugged, he heard you say:

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't let that happen to her again."

"I know..."

He didn’t know. No — actually, he did. He just didn’t want to admit it, because admitting it meant facing the reality that this year, he’d be going into the arena with you. And he didn’t even want to think about that.

In the arena, he did everything he could to protect you, Katniss, and Peeta. He really wanted the plan to work. He believed that you would be fine if they separated. But when he woke up, you weren’t there with him. You were in the Capitol with the others. For the first time in years, he wished he had died in that arena when he was fourteen.

He felt it the moment he got you back — you weren’t really there. He spoke to you, but you didn’t listen. And if he tried to touch you, he saw you despair, screaming as if he had hurt you. And he felt that way — he felt guilty for letting the Capitol lay even a single finger on you. They told him to take it easy. He wanted to tell everyone to fuck off, but when he looked at you, he knew they were right.

At that very moment, he was keeping you company, obviously giving you space — he didn’t want you to get hurt. But when he heard you calling him, he admitted he was desperate; you hadn’t even looked him in the face for days. So probably, if you had asked him to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness, he would have — even if he didn’t need to. But he held back.

"Finnick?"

"Yes, dear? Do you need anything?"

"I'm sorry..." It came out as a whisper.

"Hey, hey, what are you apologizing for? You have nothing to apologize for."

"I..." You didn’t manage to finish before tears welled up in your eyes.

"Hey, hey, please don’t cry..." He tried his best to comfort you without having to touch you. But before he could decide what to do, you hugged him — a little hesitantly, but you hugged him. And at that moment, he collapsed. He shouldn’t have cried — not when you were in such a fragile moment — but he couldn’t help it.

For a moment in his life, he had thought he had lost you, that he would never see you again. And at that moment, he decided he would never let go of you — not with the possibility of losing you again. He would never let that happen. He would always see you now.

[moesthoughts]

gonna sound a littleeee crazy but i can't stop thinking about s3 nat coming back to your shared hut after a frustrating day and just wanting to use you to let off some steam, but she uses her knife handle because she doesn't have a strap 🙈

Nat using a knife as a strap on

pairing ⛧ natalie scatorccio x fem! reader

warnings ⛧ knife as a strap on, degradation into praise, spanking but not that much

summary . . Nat has a hard day of being the antler queen, and she can’t wait to take her anger out on you.

➛ Thinking about how Nat bottling up her anger for the whole day, everyone was so aggravating. People yelling at her, grudges still held against her. She’s tired of taking shit from people, yelling at them.

➛ It would be the end of the day, her hands balled into fists, fingers gripping at the fabric of her clothes. She had an important job of leading, her role weighing heavy on her mind. She’s been busy all day, stressed, frustrated, she needs something to take her anger out on.

➛ She’s all riled up, all that’s on her mind is you. It’s you moaning her name, fucking you till your legs are weak. She shook her head, dragging her hand down her face as it turns a soft red at her persistent thoughts.

➛ You would be in your shared hut already, sharpening her knife like she requested you to do earlier. The leather you use to cover the blade of the knife lays next to you, trying your best to sharpen her weapon with a rock.

➛ The second she entered the hut you knew something was up, her eyebrows are knitted and her breath was heavy. She quickly grabbed the blade from your hands, putting the cover back on it.

“What’s the matter?” Of course you were confused, that only fueled her desire.

➛ Before you could react she was on top of you, her lips crashing onto yours with hunger. You could practically feel the anger through your lips, and you liked it.

➛ Her hands worked off your clothes, while swatting away yours when you tried to touch her. You whined, gripping at the dirt under you, not having her hips to grip like you always do. This was new, this was hot.

➛ Nat’s lips kissed your neck roughly, biting down on your sensitive spots, definitely leaving marks. All you could do was tilt your head to give her more access, just wishing you were able to tangle your fingers in her brunette roots.

➛ Once she was able to unbutton your shorts, she flipped you over. A gasp left your lips, your eyes focus on the dirt underneath you, while you desperately try to catch your breath.

➛ You bit your lip as she slid down your panties, Nat scoffed at how soaked you were already.

“So fucking wet for me already, is this really turning you on?” She sounded mean, using the tone she uses when directing the group.

➛ Your breath hitched once you felt something teasing your entrance, though it wasn’t her fingers. You glanced over your shoulder curiously, she was using her knife handle as a strap on. You quickly averted your gaze, excitement filling you.

“C’mon.. beg” You could hear the smirk on Nat’s face, you whimpered while she teased your slit. Were you really about to get fucked with a knife?

“Please, Nat.” You start, arching your back into the knife. A groan came from Nat, her eyes staring at your bare body.

“Please, what?” Nat smacked your ass, causing you to gasp. You were feeling so many emotions, this was all so new to you. Usually she was so gentle. Though, here she was, tapping your clit trying to force the answer out of you. But you can’t deny how much this turned you on.

“Fuck me with your knife, Nat. Please. Oh my god.” You didn’t mean to sound so needy, but it worked in your favor. You moan a little too loudly as the knife handle entered you, you quickly slapped your hand over your mouth. Nat whined behind you, watching you take it so well.

➛ Her pace would be extremely slow at first, wanting to pull any sound out of you, to hear you plea for her to go faster. Her free hand caresses your thigh, whispering degradation which you swear made you more wet.

“You’re so dirty, wanting to be fucked by a knife. Do you know how insane that is?” You could tell she was bluffing, after all it was her idea in the first place. Your fingers dug deep in the dirt, your eyes welling up with tears of pleasure.

➛ Once she was satisfied with being mean, she’d focus on actually giving you the pleasure you seek. Her thumb rubbing your bundle of nerves, her knife pumping in and out of you with a pace you couldn’t keep up with.

➛ Once that knot in your stomach unraveled, she rode out your high. Nat pulled out the knife, watching you roll over to look her in the eye. Her fingers smoothed across your stomach, before she leaned down and gave you a sweet kiss.

“You did so well for me, pretty girl.” All she could muster were praises, that same old Nat you’re used to finally coming back. She helped you clean yourself up and get dressed.

➛ From that night on, you purposefully tried ticking her off during the day. Or you watched the others do it for you.

➛ You would tease her by fidgeting with her knife while she was speaking, noticing how her sentences would break up ever so slightly, a stutter interrupting her words.

➛ You would do anything to see that side of her again.

Natalie scatorccio save me… save me.. I’ve been seeing this with so many other characters, with Nat it hits different

req me!

masterlist

[rhiannonsknife]

I have ideas for the little pervert Jackie, what about the reader who slowly starts to crush on Jackie and it just makes it so much worse. Like arm around the shoulder, or giving Jackie kisses on the cheek before getting up to go somewhere, swinging their legs over Jackie’s lap at parties, resting their head on her shoulder in the backseat while Shauna drives them home? I can just imagine how poor Jackie woukd respond to it, or even how she’d respond to the reader mumbling about how they love her and something about wanting to touch her and hold her close while drunk only to completely be oblivious in the morning.

poor jackie would be the only one who remembers because the minute you kicked your legs over her lap she felt instantly sober while you’re too drunk :((

it didn’t matter that she had multiple drinks in her system or that the music was pounding so loud she could feel it reverberating in her chest. suddenly, all she could focus on was the weight of you, warm across her thighs. you tilted your head back against the couch, laughing at something someone said, hand lazily looping around jackie’s back as if it was the most normal thing in the world for you to lounge across her like that.

it just kept getting worse when you asked her to dance, only to grind your hips back into her, laughing when she grabbed your waist to steady you. every so often you’d toss a look over your shoulder, cheeks flushed as if you knew exactly what you were doing to her, moving your ass against her crotch like that.

the ride home is as much of a blur as the party had been: you slide into the backseat with jackie and instantly lean your head on her shoulder comfortably, your breath warm against her collarbone. jackie doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare breathe too deeply, terrified she’d scare you off or somehow make it weird. (as if it wasn’t already weird before that. as if she isn’t already so wet she can barely think.)

when you finally stumble into jackie’s house, half-asleep and clumsy with exhaustion, you drag her to bed, flopping down and tugging her with you like a stubborn child. once jackie lies down, you curl up against her side, nose tucked against the crook of her neck, one leg hooking over her hips

jackie goes completely still, her hands hovering awkwardly over the sheets, unsure where to put them.

“love you, jax” you slur. “love you so much. wanna hold you forever. wanna-” your words dissolve into a sigh as you fall asleep before you can finish the thought.

now i’m having another thought but like…drunk reader grinding against jackie’s thigh, whining when she tries to stop you because “it just feels so good”…….? OR jackie waking up in the middle of the night because you’re very obviously having a dream…moaning softly in your sleep…

[munsonsmixtapes]

You Were Never Mine

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

After finding out that your boyfriend has been cheating on you with Eddie, you invite Eddie to breakfast to talk things over which leads to more.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut ( p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) public sex, mention of cheating, mention of emotional abuse

The only sounds in the diner that can be heard is the clinking of plates as well as the chatter amongst the other customers. You lift your head from your pancakes to look at the man sitting across from you. Neither of you have touched your food, too much tension in the air between you to do so. You want to say something, to ask him why he did it, but you can’t get yourself to speak. 

Eddie already feels like a piece of shit, but he feels even more like one when he looks into your eyes. He can tell that you’ve been crying and that knot in his stomach gets even bigger. The pain almost rivals the black eye you gave him, but he thinks he deserves it which is why he wouldn’t let you help him when you realized what you had done. 

He should hate you considering the circumstances, but he just can’t. You’re so fucking nice and he can’t stand it. You asked him out for breakfast after finding out that he had been sleeping with your boyfriend and maybe he’s mad because he knew he wouldn’t do the same. He doesn’t even know why he agreed to it in the first place.

Maybe it’s just because he wants closure. To talk it out then move on with his life. He also wants to apologize to you. He doesn’t know what good it would do but he feels like it’s the right thing to do. He wants to assure you that he really didn’t know about you. He just thought he was hooking up with a guy who bought weed from him every once in a while.

“I hate him,” is all you say and the words are filled with so much bitterness, so much pain that it feels palpable. Eddie doesn’t know what to respond or if he even should. You have every right to hate Henry and he’d never tell you that your feelings are invalid. Especially right now. 

“Me too,” Eddie responds. And Eddie does hate Henry. Mostly for what he did to you. That’s all Eddie’s cared about since the two of you found out the truth last night. He didn’t think anything of Henry wanting to keep the whole thing a secret because he’s used to that. Nobody wants people to know that they’re hooking up with Eddie “the freak” Munson. Nobody’s ever been hurt by that besides him, so seeing your tear stained cheeks is hard for him to take in. 

He can’t imagine how you feel. Years gone just because of a stupid mistake that wasn’t even yours. And you’re here blaming yourself for Henry’s actions. Last night after he kicked Henry out, he invited you to stay for a drink and you accepted. After a few beers, you loosened up a bit, going on and on about how you should have seen it coming, should have loved him more, put in more effort. 

The whole thing made Eddie sick. You got cheated on and you’re the one who feels guilty? How fucked up is that? He tried to tell you that it wasn’t your fault but you wouldn’t listen. And why would you believe him? You don’t know him and quite frankly, you don’t want to. 

Or maybe you do. You don’t even really know why you invited him to breakfast. Maybe it’s because you feel bad that he got dragged into this whole mess because Henry can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“You’re what?” He asks, actually offended by your apology. 

“I’m sorry.” You repeat the words with more confidence because you are sorry. You know about his reputation around town but you seem to be the only person who’s gotten close enough to know it’s not true. He’s sweet and kind and you wish more people could see that. That’s he’s not the scary guy everyone thinks he is.

“Why are you sorry? You walked in on your boyfriend and I having sex and you’re sorry?”

“I just feel bad that he did this to you.” You have a pained look on your face and this time, it’s for him. He doesn’t know why, but that almost makes him want to cry. No one besides his uncle has ever cared for him like this so he’s not entirely sure how to feel. 

“Why should I care? We were just using each other for our bodies, but he was your boyfriend. So really, I should be apologizing to you. Which, I am sorry.” Eddie would never admit how hurt he truly is. That would require being vulnerable and he refuses to do that. He just can’t get himself to open up about his true feelings and he’s especially not going to do that now.

“You didn’t know.” You’re saying the words as if you’re defending him and Eddie’s getting really tired of you being so nice. If you were any other woman, you would have treated him like shit, called him all the names in the book. But you didn’t. You haven’t. 

“I’m still sorry. I feel awful, especially since you found out…that way.” He can still hear your screams, the look of horror on your face as tears pour down your cheeks. That image will haunt his dreams forever, he’s sure of it. 

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. Your shoulders slump as you sit there, hands underneath your thighs and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so pathetic. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Especially not you. You’re so sweet and nice and he can’t see why anyone would want to hurt you. It’d be like hurting a puppy. 

“It’s not okay,” Eddie says, anger rising in his chest. He’s not even angry at you, he’s angry for you. Because you don’t seem to be mad enough for his liking. He wanted to see you yell at Henry, to hit him, to take out all your anger on him like people usually do when they catch their partner in that kind of situation. He just hates that your bottling it all up. It’s only a matter of time before you explode. 

“That asshole hurt you. But I guess that just shows how much better you are than me because I would have beat his ass. I should’ve. I can’t believe he tried to blame you, y/n. This isn’t your fault. At all. He knows he fucked up but he doesn’t want to accept the blame.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” You ask, raising your voice and it catches Eddie completely off guard. “He did it constantly and I let him because I thought that was the kind of love I deserved. I know now that I deserve better.” You say the last part more quietly, your gaze lowering to the table. And just when Eddie thought his heart couldn’t break any more. 

Silence settles between the two of you and Eddie pays the check despite your argument and when you both end up in the parking lot, he doesn’t want to leave you. He wants to pull you in his arms and never let go. He wants to protect you, to make sure that you never get hurt again. He’s not sure he could handle it if you did.

He doesn’t know why, but he invites you to sit in his van. Maybe it’s because that’s where he feels the most comfort so he’s hoping you’ll feel that way too. You seem surprised when he opens the passenger door for you and that tells him everything he needs to know about Henry. If he didn’t open doors for you then what other stuff did he not do for you that you clearly deserved? Bring you flowers? Now he kind of wants to buy you some just to see your pretty smile. 

The van is quiet besides the metal music that’s playing at a low volume on the radio as the two of you sit in silence, neither of you sure what you should say. You don’t know why he invited you to sit with him but you’re grateful when rain begins to pour down, hitting the vehicle rather loudly. Eddie would never tell you that’s actually grateful so he has an excuse for you to stay.

He hates that he’s now thinking about how well he’d treat you. How he’d never even think about cheating on you if you gave him a chance. He doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about it because he knows you wouldn’t. No one ever does. He’s just someone that they want to see between the sheets then turn right around and whisper the meanest things behind his back. 

Eddie knows that you would never be so cruel, but he still can’t get himself to make a move no matter how pretty you look sitting in his passenger seat. You just broke up with your boyfriend anyway and he can still see the bandage over your heart so maybe getting close to you in that way isn’t the best idea. 

So why are you scooting closer? Why is your thigh pressing against his as you lean your head on his shoulder? His arms hesitantly wrap around you which gives you room to fully lean into him and without thinking too much about, his hand reaches up to scratch the back of your head gently. It’s something he loves being done to him so he’s hoping that it brings you the same comfort. 

You stay like that for a minute and when you lean back up, his face is so close to yours. You watch his eyes widen as he gulps, his lips parting. His ips that you now so desperately want to kiss. He seems to be thinking the same thing as he leans forward, his eyes flicking to your own lips. 

He brings his hand up to rest on the back of your neck as he pulls you close as your hands press against his chest, the two of you slowly leaning in until his lips finally slot between yours. It’s gentle and sweet but awkward. It’s almost like neither of you have kissed anyone before and the awkwardness of it just makes you both giggle, especially when you acknowledge how weird the whole thing really is. 

But that doesn’t seem to stop either of you as you lean in again, more hungry this time as his hands move up into your hair and his shirt is bunched in your fist as his tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a moan and you’re not sure how you ended up there, but no you’re straddling his lap as he bunches up your dress around your waist as his hands press against your bare back. 

You begin to grind against his crotch and he lets out a moan of his own as he tries his best to buck his hips against yours. He doesn’t know when you ditched your cardigan but it’s now in the passenger seat and he’s kissing the now exposed skin of your shoulder as you continue to grind on him. 

“I need you,” you whine into his mouth when he reconnects your lips and hearing you be so needy for him is making him unbelievably hard. 

“I’m yours,” he breaths and you immediately move to pull down his sweat pants and underwear. You then reach down and pull the lever to lean the seat back, letting out a loud laugh at how it jerks back, causing you to fall forward on top of him. Eddie’s convinced that hearing your pretty has added ten years to his life. 

You kiss him again and gasp when his fingers push your panties to the side, pushing inside and you let out a sound that’s so hot that he’s trying to commit to memory so he can replay it in his head over and over. He pumps in and out, moving slowly, trying to figure out what you like and when you grab hold of his hand and push it farther, he gets the hint. He moves fast and hard, looking up just in time to see you throw your head back, another pretty moan escaping your lips. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says softly. “Sound so pretty. Wanna make some more noises for me?” 

“Please,” you beg and he keeps his eyes on you, wondering how you’ll react when he gets inside you considering that just his fingers are already making you crazy. He pumps even harder and you grab onto his shoulders, squeezing them tightly as you’re already orgasming and it makes you realize how selfish Henry really was in bed.

As Eddie gives you time to catch your breath, you realize how crazy this whole thing really is. How many people end up sleeping with the person their partner cheated with? And how many times does it feel even better than it did with their partner? 

When he asks you what you like and you almost want to cry at how sweet he’s being, how he actually wants to make you feel good. You can’t believe that this is the same man who people are convinced is a vessel for the devil. 

“Can we go slow?” You ask and Eddie smiles, making your heart melt. 

“We can do whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replies as his hands move up and down your hips as his hands slide up your dress to help you remove your panties before you toss them onto your cardigan. 

Once he gets inside, you begin to ride him, slowly moving up and down as your dress comes off to reveal your bare chest that Eddie so desperately wants to get his mouth on. He can’t help but watch your tits bounce as your pace picks up just slightly, his hands resting on your waist as he guides you while bucking his hips against yours. 

The windows are progressively fogging up as the rain continues to hit the roof, but your moans and panting seem to down out the sound. Eddie let his eyes flutter closed even though he knows he could watch you for hours. He can’t believe that Henry actually told you to your face that he was only fucking Eddie because he needed what you couldn’t give him. 

This is easily the best sex he’s ever had and he doesn’t know how he’s going to move on after this. He wonders if he’d be going too far if he asked you to come to his place. He wants to explore all the ways he can bring you pleasure, to show you how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful woman in his bed. 

“Oh my god,” you whine and Eddie knows what’s approaching. He can see it as he gets fully seated inside you, watching you cry on his cock as you take all of him as another orgasm courses through you, his name falling from your lips this time. 

“Eddie,” you practically scream and he's not that far behind you, reaching his own peak, pulling out in just the knick of time as he leaks out all over the both of you. 

“Guess this means we’ll both have to shower,” you tell him and he can’t help but smile widely. 

“Guess it does,” he nods and reaches into his glove box for some napkins to attempt to clean the both of you up as best as he can before putting your dress back on before helping you back into your seat. He then pulls up his pants and puts the car in drive before taking you to his apartment so you both can get cleaned up amongst other things. 

As you sit in Eddie’s passenger seat, coming down from the best orgasm of your life, you can’t believe that you just slept with the guy your ex boyfriend cheated on you with. And you can’t believe even more that you’re about to do it again. 

Eddie’s hand lands on your thigh and he gives us a squeeze as he turns out of the diner parking lot, both of you actually thanking Henry as fucked up as it is, because it led you to each other. And both of you couldn’t be more grateful for that.