#if it didn't mean anything to him he would have just tossed it in the trash

[mariasont]

A Puddle in Running Shoes A.H.

summary: your boyfriend finds out you have a praise kink and is having way too much fun with that information

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: some suggestive content, hotch being a menace, reader having a praise kink, end suggests something may happen but nothing explicit in this one folks im getting my libido under control swear, also count how many times r refers to hotch's face as stupid im crying

wc: 1.9k

You hated running. No—loathed it. Detested it. Despised it with every fiber of your being. If there was a stronger word, one that captured the burning, irrational rage you felt whenever someone suggested going for a jog, Spencer might have known it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to ask. Simply put, running was not your thing.

But when Aaron—your boyfriend and somehow the most persistent man alive—asked you to join you on a run, you couldn't exactly say no. He didn't beg—Aaron Hotchner did not beg—but his version of asking, that soft it'd mean a lot to me paired with an encouraging smile, was close enough to begging in your book. Besides, you figured there'd be some sort of reward when you got back home. Aaron was good at those.

So here you were, contributing absolutely nothing to your marathon-obsessed, fitness-loving FBI boyfriend's training. Sweat coated every inch of your body, your legs felt like lead, and your lungs burned with every ragged breath you managed to suck in. The sun blazed overhead, making you feel more like a roasting chicken than a willing participant in this so-called fun activity.

Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he'd stepped out of a fitness ad—shirt clinging to him in ways that felt outright scandalous. Even the sweat on his face somehow made him look even more attractive.

He was at least ten paces ahead of you and every few steps, he'd glance over his shoulder, probably checking to make sure you hadn't spontaneously combusted or snuck off to find an air-conditioned cafe. Honestly, both were real possibilities.

Aaron's pace slowed until he was running beside you, throwing you a smile so unfairly handsome it made your legs feel weaker than they already did.

"How are you feeling?" The question felt retorical—anyone, profiler or not, was sure to be able to read you like an open book right now. "Still alive, or do I need to start figuring out the best way to carry you home without breaking any traffic laws?"

"I think I'm alive," you managed between gasps, wiping sweat from your brow. "But if carrying me is on the table, I'm not above playing dead to make that happen."

"Not necessary—I'd carry you anyway, if only to reward you for keeping up this long. You're doing great."

You foot caught a crack in the pavement, nearly hurling yourself into it, but Aaron's hand was there quicker keeping you upright as you tried to ignore the terrifying way your body had reacted to his compliment.

"Okay you can't just say stuff like that while I'm trying to run," you blurted out, avoiding his gaze. "You're trying to kill me, I swear."

You planted your hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath, secretly relieved to have a break—even if it almost involved a face-first meeting with the sidewalk.

"Stuff like what?" He tugged at your ponytail and you swatted his hand.

"Nothing," you said way too quickly, shaking your head like you could physically toss what you said aside. "Forget I said anything. Let's just... keep running."

You quickly realized your mistake as soon as you started jogging again. You would never willingly suggest to keep running. Unfortunately, Aaron was actively aware of this, moving to come up beside you. You didn't need to look at him to know he had the stupidest smirk on his face.

He didn't say anything at first, to your immediate relief, just kept jogging beside you. The silence stretched on, his calm breathing only seeming to make your wheezing sound worse.

"You're breathing too shallow," he said after a moment, his tone completely casual like he wasn't even winded. "Try to take deeper breaths—match them to your strides. It'll make it easier."

You glanced towards him out of the corner of your eye before attempting his suggestion. You had no intention of letting him know that it worked. His ego was far too substantial for that.

"See? You're a natural," he said, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Atta girl."

Your brain flatlined and you almost tripped over your feet again, every rational thought replaced by static. What was wrong with you? You vaguely remembered reading somewhere that people with unresolved daddy issues were prone to developing praise kinks. Was that what this was? Whatever the reason, hearing Aaron talk like that shouldn't make you feel all gooey inside, but here you were, a puddle in running shoes.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yup, fine!"

You stared at the ground so intensely, it was a miracle you didn't bore a hole into the pavement. Your voice had betrayed you, far too shaky and way too rushed, and you knew Aaron was probably filing away every bit of your reaction.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand brushing against the back of your neck as he spoke. "Stop staring at the ground. You'll run better if you keep your head up—it'll open your chest so you can breathe easier."

His hand lingered for a second too long than what your body could handle, leaving you completely flustered and fighting every urge to do exactly the opposite of what he said.

"There you go," he murmured, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. "That's good, honey. Just like that."

His voice—his god forsaken voice—was like a jolt to your system, and not in a good way. Or maybe it was a good way, which was the problem. It was bad enough to hearing it out here, on the jogging trail, but your brain decided to replay it in an entirely different inappropriate context: one that involved you, him, and a bed.

Your face burned, and you couldn't tell if it was from the exertion, or the very real possibility that your body was too receptive to those words. And now, not only were you fighting for every breath, but you were trying to figure out if the dampness between your legs was entirely from sweat. Surely it was sweat. Right? Gods, you hoped it was sweat.

You stopped so suddenly that Aaron jogged a few steps ahead before he realized you were not longer beside him.

"Okay, I'm calling it. I'm done. Can we please go home now?"

He jogged back to you, an easy smile on his face, and placed his hands on your shoulders as he reached you.

"Alright, we can be done," he teased, thumbs brushing lightly over your collarbones. "You survived, and you did great. I'm proud of you."

He leaned down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips that made the ache in your body a little easier to ignore.

When he pulled away, you barely managed to keep standing.

Aaron let out a low laugh, his hands squeezing your shoulders. "Alright. What's going on? What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said over your shoulder, practically power walking towards the car.

Aaron's laugh deepened and you ignored the funny feeling curling in your chest.

"Sweetheart," he said, gently tugging your elbow to slow you down. "Come on, talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, I'm fine!" You avoided his eyes as you tugged your elbow free. "I'm just tired, and, uh, need a shower."

A cold shower, your brain screamed, but you shoved the thought down.

"I know, I know you're tired," he said, lips curving into a smile, "but that's because you actually pushed yourself. I'm proud of you for sticking with it."

You were pretty convinced you were you were about to go up in flames. Your obituary would read death by too many unnecessary compliments. When your heart inevitably gave out, Aaron would have to explain to Rossi and the others how his dumb smile and sweet words had resulted in second degree manslaughter.

But then you saw it—the smirk. The one that said he absolutely knew what he was doing.

"Oh my gosh, you know!" You groaned and threw your hands in the air. "You know, and you're enjoying this!"

Spinning away from him, you stormed to the car, and slammed the door like it might shield you from his stupidly smug face.

You barely had time to exhale before the passenger door swung open, revealing Aaron, casually leaning against the car.

"You know," he said lightly, his tone far too casual for your liking, "slamming car doors isn't a great habit. You could hurt yourself."

"And you know," you snapped back, pointing at him, "torturing your girlfriend isn't a great habit either!"

He leaned in slowly, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he grabbed your seatbelt. As he clicked it into place, his face lingered close to yours.

"I wasn't trying to torture you, baby. Just wanted to give you the chance to admit it—that you liked it."

Before you could muster a reply, Aaron's hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb moving along your cheek. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was so deep, leaving you no choice but to sink into it, even as the faint remnants of your annoyance tried to surface.

By the time he pulled back, you felt like you were under his spell. Then, without another word, he shut your door and headed to the driver's side.

"That's not fair," you muttered, crossing your arms and pouting as you stared out the window.

Aaron's hand found the back of your neck as he backed out of the parking spot, rubbing gently into smooth circles.

"I don't mean to be unfair," he said with a small smile. "I just needed to hear it, because sometimes people don't even realize what they need until they say it out loud. And I wanted to make sure I didn't misread anything—though I'm rarely wrong, as you know."

"Trust me, you remind me every chance you get." Your tone was dry, but you were well aware that the twitch in your lip was giving you away.

"Alright, smartass," he said, chuckling as his fingers pressed a little firmer into your neck. "Now tell me—how does it make you feel when I say those things to you?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I don't know, okay? I just... like it! Do I have to explain it?"

"You don't have to explain it if you don't want to," he said, "but I'd like to know what it is you like so much."

Aaron's hand moved from your neck to your hand, his fingers sliding between each of yours while his eyes stayed glued to the road, a thing that only came from months of familiar motions.

You let out a long breath. "I don't know. I just like hearing it. It makes me feel good. Special, I guess."

"You are special, sweetheart." His eyes flicked to you before returning to the road. "You're my best girl."

Your stomach flipped violently. You shifted again, trying to disguise the way your thighs pressed together tightly as your face burned hotter than ever. The debate earlier in your head was officially over—absolutely not just sweat, you thought miserably.

Aaron let out a soft chuckle, fingers brushing over your knuckles. "Something I said?"

You swatted his shoulder, your glare losing all its bite thanks to the flush all over your body. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"I can't help it," he murmured, voice dipping just enough to get you on edge. "But don't worry—I'll take care of my best girl once we're home."

You slumped in your seat, muttering something unintelligible that made Aaron chuckle again. And even though you wouldn't admit it, you found yourself smiling, already dreading and anticipating whatever he had planned when you got home.

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[honeygrahambitch]

Cause yeah sure Wil, burning the letters from Hannibal isn't dramatic, personal and intimate at all. It doesn't even suggest that you can't stop thinking about him. Or that you miss him. God forbid that. You are a straight man having a fulfilled family life. Skeletons in the closet? Nevah

[19catsncounting]

Therapy isn't enough I need the CW to go back and re-film Season 11 to prove that Lucifer could have been saved if Michael didn't abandon him like Dean refused to abandon Sam.

[kittlyns]

I had yet another long, strenuous day yesterday and didn't finish work until super late and then I couldn't fall asleep until well past 2am cuz I was in so much pain from standing literally all day

[bi-writes]

who to call to clean up after an "accident" than your sick and twisted military boyfriend? :D (dark!ghost x dark!fem!reader, 18+)

cw: dark!reader, dark!simon, horror movie vibes, graphic depictions of character death/murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one slip of daddy, smut, unprotected piv, simon "spit in my mouth" riley, reader and simon are kinda psycho :D

you've been so nice to her. really nice. you've let it slide off your back whenever she doesn't do her dishes. you pretend you don't notice when she borrows your shoes from the hallway and wears them out to dinner. you hide yourself in your room when she has her awful, loud guests over, and you have never once said anything about how she takes her sweet time in the shared bathroom in the morning and makes you late 2 days a week for work.

but this? this?

she needs to keep simon's name out of her fucking mouth.

"excuse me?" you say finally. your roommate is shrugging on her jacket to leave, her purse in her hand as she types on her phone, using it as a way to not make eye-contact with you. her long nails are tapping against the screen, and it feels like fucking drip water torture. "what the fuck did you just say?"

she sighs, irritated, rolling her eyes as she keeps tapping away at the screen.

"you're so dramatic, it was just a fucking joke."

"you know, i let a lot of things slide," you laugh, humorlessly, and you cross your arms over your chest as you follow her into the kitchen. "but you need to be careful what you say."

"i don't do anything except call it like i see it," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at herself in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall. "you need to just...go out more. man like that isn't gonna stay for long if you don't give him something to go for. he's bored, you know. when you have him over here all the time. and i've totally caught him peeking at me after i shower, y'know."

"well why the fuck are you wearing nothing but a towel when my boyfriend is here, anyways?" you snap. "he's trying to be polite, he's a guest. what if i wore a fucking towel when you had your guy friends over?"

she laughs, poking at the edge of her lip to fix the gloss of her pout. "trust me, honey, no one's looking at you in a towel."

you step back, a little shocked. she rolls her eyes again, sighing.

"i didn't--"

"are you kidding me?" you retort. "you're the worst fucking roommate in the world, and i put up with all your bullshit, and now you're going to go so low as to insult the way i look just to make yourself feel better?" you make your way around the kitchen island. "you don't wash your fucking dishes, you steal my fucking clothes, you're always late on your rent so i have to spot you--"

"you know what, just because i'm fucking happy, and you're not, doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!"

"i am happy, you sorry bitch!" you cry. "i'm so fucking happy, you're the only thing in my life making me constantly miserable!"

"oh, shove it up your ass, you ungrateful little shit!" she snaps. "you're just so fucking insecure and hate me so badly just because simon would rather fuck a girl like me than have to spend another minute with--"

the crack of cast iron against her head shuts her up. it dents the side of her head easily, and her face smacks against the countertop before she crumples to the floor.

it's so fast. one minute, she's yapping, high-pitched voice straining your ears. the next, she's silent.

and she won't say simon's fucking name again.

you watch with bated breath as she folds into herself, her head hitting the hardwood last, a slow puddle of blood beginning to grow under the tendrils of her hair as your eyes move to the heavy pan you're still holding in your hands.

fuck, that's a lot of blood. god, you thought she was just full of fucking air.

you drop the pan once the rush of anger leaves your chest. it thunks onto the ground, and your hands shake as you see the specks of blood that are on the back of your hands, sprinkled over the shirt you wear. it stains your bare legs, even your toes, and you don't even want to look at the spray of it along the counters.

you should be crying, you think. you should feel bad. you're trembling a little, but you think it's just the adrenaline beginning to fade and not the guilt you know is supposed to be racking your insides.

you turn your eyes back to her. her eyes are dull. she doesn't move. it's so quiet now, utterly silent, and you take a deep breath as you take in the silence that you've craved for a long while now. you make your way quietly out of the kitchen, stepping over her body before going for your phone that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you keep your eyes on her as you put your phone to your ear. it rings, and you tilt your head to the side as the blood begins to spiderweb under the kitchen table.

"'ello?"

you blink, looking towards the door. you clutch your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"simon?" you say softly. "a-are...are you busy?"

he hums lowly, chuckling, "no' at the moment, swee'eart, why?" he asks. "mmm...missed y'r voice..." you close your eyes as you hear the buckle of his belt. you try not to picture your giant of a boyfriend leaning back on his worn couch and shoving his jeans low enough to fuck his fist. "tolk t'me, luv...tell me 'ow much ya miss daddy."

you clear your throat gently, willing yourself to ignore the soft squelch of what you know is his hand around his cock, to not let it distract you from what's more important. "uhm...i liked the flowers you gave me, simon. t-they were beautiful."

the sounds on the other end of the phone quiet. you hear shuffling, and then a few moments later, the clink of his car keys.

"tha' right, baby?" he asks, and you close your eyes as you hear the front door of his flat opening. he's already on the way, already coming.

"yeah," you sniffle. "really nice sunflowers."

a yellow flower. he huffs on the other end of the phone, breathing a little easier.

"good girl," he murmurs, and then the line cuts. you set the phone down, making your way back to the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. you watch as the blood continues to curl over the floor. you make no attempt to help her; you just swing your feet under you as you look at her spoiled outfit, just grateful she isn't wearing your shoes or one of your jackets. you would hate to have to throw something out that she got all dirty.

there's a curt knock at the door ten minutes later, and then it opens. simon shuts the door behind him, cracking his neck by moving it from side to side before narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip, blinking, forgetting suddenly why he is here when he looks so fucking good. he's got a sweatshirt on under his windbreaker, worn jeans tucked into his boots; you like these jeans, his ass looks incredible in them.

"wot happened?" he asks. you stand, remembering your place. your lip starts trembling, and simon's eyes soften just a little. he's wearing his balaclava, hood up over his head and jacket zipped up, shadowing any true expression on his face. his gait sounds heavy as he lets his hands out of his pockets, coming towards you. when he steps into the kitchen, his eyes dart towards your roommate who's still on the floor, laid out unnaturally just by the oven.

he lets out a low breath, clicking his tongue under the mask. you hold your breath as you wait for his reaction.

"bloody hell," simon mutters, reaching up and throwing his hood off. you wring your hands together nervously, your eyes beginning to sting with tears. you brace for the accusations, for the inevitable terror of facing the music. simon is military, for fuck's sake, why the fuck did you think turning to him would be a good idea?

"i...i-i--" you start, looking up at him, and he holds up a hand, taking the side of your face into his palm before smoothing a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. you blink in confusion, not understanding.

"'s olright, baby," he shushes you, shaking his head. "don't cry."

"simon, i--" you sputter a little, gripping his wrist gently. "i just--i couldn't do it anymore, she just--"

he pities you. maybe you can explain. maybe if you tell him a warped story of what happened, he can help you. he must know someone. he must have important friends, he must--

he uses his free hand to move his mask up over his nose, and you lean into him when he bends, kissing you warmly. your eyes flutter shut, and you shuffle closer as he kisses you sloppy, kisses you hot. you mewl as he slips his tongue into your mouth, licking over your teeth and humming low as he pulls away. his eyes are flashing.

mmm. love.

"hmm..." simon licks his lips, smiling a little. he looks over you, almost pensive, his eyes scanning over your face before he settles back on your eyes. it's tender, the way he looks at you. romantic. "let's get this off of ya."

he reaches for the large shirt you are wearing, pulling it up and over your head. he crumples it into a ball before tossing it on top of your roommate, nodding his head behind you.

it's then that you realize simon isn't going to do the noble thing. he isn't going to call the police. he isn't going to turn you in, make you explain, he seems uninterested in knowing what really happened. no, he already knows what happened. but that's not important.

his pretty, perfect girl got into a little trouble. and he's going to make this go away.

"go on, luv. take a nice shower, yeah?" simon turns you around and pushes on your back gently. you suck in a shaky breath when he fondles your ass, pulling on your panties gently. "mmm...take these off, too."

you slip your panties down your legs, handing them to him.

"they have blood on them, too?" you ask, wiping your face, and he chuckles lowly.

"nah," he shrugs, stuffing them into his back pocket after taking a little sniff. "these are just for me."

jesus fucking christ, there's really something wrong with him. there's something really, really wrong with him.

and something wrong with me.

simon looks you up and down, his eyes catching on your naked body for just a few moments before he nods his head again.

"go on," he tells you. "before i get distracted." you pause for a moment, tilting your head back a little as he reaches out and cups one of your breasts in his big hand. you bite your lip, swallowing back a heavy breath as he flicks his thumb over your nipple gently. "greatest tits 've ever seen," he mumbles, scrunching his nose under the mask before he lets you go. "yeah, go on, baby." it takes everything in you to walk away when you see him reach down with that same hand and grip his bulge through his jeans, adjusting himself as he turns back to the mess in the kitchen.

when you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear shuffling in the living room. the coffee table scraping. the couch being pushed. the rustle of the rug you have there. he grunts a little, and you hear his boots track from the kitchen back to the living room.

you turn the water on hot. you decide to take a bath, not looking at yourself in the mirror as you sink into the tub and plug the drain. you make the water scalding, and it soothes your sore muscles as you rest your cheek against the edge of the tub and stare at the door.

you're not sure how long you stay there. long enough for the water to nearly slosh over the edge of the tub and for simon to swing the bathroom door open, seemingly done with his...tasks.

he's taken his sweatshirt off. just a black t-shirt tucked into jeans, and there's a slight pant to his breaths that tell you he's exerted some energy. you notice he has his gloves still on, but before he touches you, he takes them off and tosses them into the sink.

"move over," simon mutters, starting to undress. you look up at him as he undoes the button on his pants, shucking his shirt off and into the corner before dropping his jeans. the water swishes as you sit up, and you swallow hard when simon kicks his boots and pants off, his cock hanging heavy as his mask is the last to hit the floor.

fuck, he's so pretty.

he has no regard for his size. he simply steps into the tub behind you, taking a seat. he looks comically large in your small bathtub, and you squeak a little as the water spills over the edge of the bath and wets the floor. he hums as he feels the hot water on his back. you don't say anything as his hands start to turn the water a little red. you just look up, away, at him.

you shuffle between his legs, tucking yourself into his space. you can't help but look him up and down, admiring his naked physique. he's just hot. big arms, thick thighs, sunburnt tattoos and scars cutting across his face. he hasn't shaved today, so there's some stubble along his jaw, but your eyes focus a little too much on his girthy length, heavy as it sits on his stomach and leaks a little there. his fat stomach, all solid and pudgy, such a nice place for you to rest your hands.

"you did good today," simon says finally. you look at him, and he tilts his head to the side. his approval makes your chest warm. "callin' me like tha'. wot a good girl you are."

keeping quiet on the phone is what he doesn't add out loud.

you purse your lips, trying not to keen at the praise, but it's hard not to when he reaches over and slides his hand over your shoulder, thumbing at your jaw.

"i-i didn't...didn't know what to do," you admit, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you didn't know what to do, so you called him. level-headed enough to not do something rash and call someone else, no, you called him.

"mmm...tha's wot i'm 'ere for, luv," simon soothes you. "made such a little mess..."

you close your eyes. it's sick. deranged. fuck, it feels nice.

why don't i feel anything?

"i know. i'm sorry."

"nothin' ta be sorry about."

you slump into his arms, resting your cheek on his solid chest. you can feel his cock pulsing against your tummy, and you adjust yourself in the water, straddling him as you rest your chin on his pecs and look up at him through watery eyes.

you aren't sad. no. not sad at all. simon has shown you what he will do for the you. the lengths he will go. what he'll forgive just to take care of you. he's so capable, so understanding.

sick. twisted. mine.

"then i'll just say thank you," you mumble, grinding your hips slowly. simon hums, a wicked smile coming over his scarred face. he licks over his bottom lip, big hands gripping you by the fat of your hips as you grip the edges of the tub for stability. "say thank you to my big, strong man for taking such good care of me..."

he chuckles, his eyes lowering, watching your tits sway as you fit your pussy over his length and grind down on him.

"tha' so, baby?"

you nod.

"mhm," you whine. "how can i thank you, my big boy? how can i show you how grateful i am for cleaning up after me, hmm?" you bend at the waist, kissing him wet and warm, and he hisses as you suck his tongue into your mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, and normally you would curse him for it, but right now it tastes so much like him, and you lick around his teeth trying to taste more of that sweet nicotine.

"fuck--such a naughty little girl..." he snickers, reaching down. you sigh when he slides his big palms over your ass, forcing you to grind slower, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds leisurely. you grip the edges of the tub tighter, pressing down to give you more leverage to grind down harder. "make such a mess, oll the time..." you gasp when he presses into you just enough, the tip breaching your entrance and forcing you to squeeze around him, your cunt trying to suck him in. "olways needin' me ta pick up afta ya..."

you giggle, sliding your hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders for leverage as you sink down onto him. he grits his teeth as you do, his eyes focused on the way his cock disappears inch by inch until you're seated down in his lap, his length kissing deep and twitching excitedly. he always feels like a teenager again whenever you fuck--like you're the first pretty girl to ever wet his cock.

you cup his cheeks finally, smoothing your thumbs under his eyes as you bring his gaze up to meet yours. you swallow hard, looking down at him.

"i-i love you, simon," you breathe. he stills underneath you, his jaw clenching as he frowns just a little. you come a little closer, nuzzling your nose against his, your thumb falling to trace the outline of his torn lip. "i should've said it a long time ago...i-i..."

"heart's beatin' out y'r chest, luv," he mutters lowly. "'s olright...'m not goin' anywhere."

it's so disgusting. you should be fucking ill. you should be scrambling to the toilet, your breakfast halfway up your throat. you should be crying, emotional, begging simon to tell the cops that it was all your fault, because it is. he should've come here and made you do the level-headed thing and confess your terrible crime.

he shouldn't be here, sitting underneath you in your tub, cock-deep inside of you after helping you commit murder and then fucking clean it all up.

"what did i do?" you gasp, sitting up. you move to get out of the tub, but simon growls, putting two firm hands on your ass and shoving you back down on his cock, making you cry. "w-what did i do? s-simon, why don't i feel bad, why am i not sorry--?!"

simon tsks, feigning comfort. he juts his bottom lip out into a pout, mocking your little cries.

"oh, luvvie, don't start cryin' now," he chuckles. "don't start pretending like y'care."

uhm...

"simon--"

"no one likes a liar."

you're still trying to pretend, and he knows this. you're still trying to act how someone normally would react. someone normal, someone who thinks rationally, would never have picked up the pan in the first place. and even if they had, they would've scrambled, cried, picked up the phone and confessed, called an ambulance as they tried to get her to start breathing again, put both hands on her chest and tried to get her wake up.

but you didn't. you watched, unnervingly calm, as she stained the hardwood with her blood. you watched as her eyes glassed over, lifeless, and you watched as her insides began to paint the floor in abstract shapes as you gave it time to spread. and not once during that time, or waiting for simon, did you think to help her.

you didn't want to help her. and you certainly didn't think she deserved to get back up. maybe she hadn't done anything quite harsh enough to deserve death in someone else's eyes. annoying, overbearing, rude.

but it's hard to feel bad when she talked about simon. when she called him by his name. when you've seen her let her towel slip when he's in her vicinity, trying to coax him into her room when you're looking away.

you should've taken one of the throwing knives that simon hides in his boot and thrown it at her then, just for that.

"we're cut from the same bloody cloth, baby," simon says, almost accusingly. you grip the edges of the tub, trying to stand again, but he cants his hips and fucks up into you, drawing a frenzied moan out of you. you reach for his shoulders as he does it again, his tongue darting out before he licks a fat stripe over your pebbled nipple. "'s olright. 's okay, luv. don't worry. don't hafta get y'r hands dirty, swee'eart, i've got it."

"but simon," you whine, but all he does is shake his head. you don't have to put on this morality act for him. you don't have to pretend that you are sorry for something that you had every right to do, you don't have to explain to him why you aren't feeling the way you should be feeling.

simon doesn't care about how you should feel. he only cares about how you actually feel.

"she was in y'r way," simon grunts. "always bein' a bloody brat." he fists your hair and brings your mouth to his, groaning as you tighten around his cock. "'ow many times did she fuck ya over, baby, hmm? 'ow many times did she steal y'r fuckin' things, come outta the loo wearin' nothin' but her fuckin' knickers, yeah? 'ow many times?"

you kiss him, frantic, digging your nails into his pecs and dragging them angrily.

yeah. fuck her. fuck what she did to me, fuck the way she behaved, fuck her stupid face and her stupid attitude and her stupid little games.

"called ya names..." he's hitting your sweet spot now, making you cry from pleasure. your pussy feels so hot, squeezing him because you know he's right, and the way he fucks this time makes you think he really knows what you are and knows exactly how to get you there. "wot a fuckin' twat. deserved every bit o' it, baby."

you meet his eyes, dark and cruel. he's still moving, still holding onto your hips and drawing out little whines, but it's different suddenly, it's more. you nod, understanding.

simon is terrible. no good. his head isn't in the right place, maybe it never has been. you wonder, briefly, if this is what he does when he's at work, if these are the things that he's used to. maybe simon has been in service too long--maybe he doesn't understand that you aren't at war here, that you can't just kill and clean up, that you aren't in the field.

"she deserved it," you whimper, and he grins, all teeth, all mean.

"tha's it."

"she was such a bitch."

"fuckin' right."

"she got what was coming for her."

"nnghhh--fuck, baby, gonna make me fuckin' cum, tolkin' like tha'," he hisses. you practically smack him as you grab onto his scarred face, gritting your teeth as you glare down at him. his lips part, and you spit in his mouth as he fucks up into you, thighs hitting your ass with a wet smack that makes your head spin.

"and i'll get rid of the next bitch that so much as looks your way, simon."

the kiss is searing. hot, blinding, white noise fills your ears as he cums with you, stuffing you full as he cums hard, a pained groan leaving him as he collapses against the porcelain tub with a harsh thud. you follow him, chasing after him, kissing him between heavy breaths as you don't make any effort to move off of him. when simon opens his eyes, he can't help but smile.

he's never seen his reflection without a mirror.

[redeemingvillains]

veritaserum - mattheo riddle

summary: when mattheo drinks veritaserum on a bet, he's confident he doesn't have anything to hide... until you show up.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: gosh i love this messy boy. just a little something sweet + fun!

"I don't know... shouldn't we save it for something... important?"

"Like, what Blaise?" Malfoy responded, exasperated.

"Yeah, got any plans you want to share?" Theo asked.

"All ears, bud" Mattheo joined in.

Blaise threw his hands up. "Fine, fuck it, do what you want with it" he said, resigned, referring to the small vial in Malfoy's hand that had the group's rapt attention as they huddled in the corner of their dormitory like they were first years at a sleepover.

"We should put it in somebody's goblet at dinner."

"We should slip it into Dumbledore's cup, Merlin knows what the geezer would say."

Theo got a wicked look on his face, "I'll give any of you lot 100 galleons to drink it."

Eyes widened around their circle at that.

"You're joking."

"Piss off."

"No, listen to me, we think we know everything about each other, don't we?" Theo continued, letting the sentiment linger "Which means the things we don't know are deep."

He grabbed the vial from Malfoy and dangled it in front of them; Veritaserum, the most powerful truth serum in the wizarding world, even having it in their possession was breaking about 15 Ministry laws.

Members of the group stared shiftily at one another, but Theo found Mattheo's gaze staring boldly at him as he leaned casually against his four-poster, a smirk on his face.

"Make it 200 and you've got yourself a deal" Mattheo grinned.

Snickers of laughter took the group as they punched one another in amusement and excitement.

"Bottoms up" Theo said, tossing the vial at him.

"I've got nothing to hide" Mattheo replied with an air of emblazoned confidence as he deftly popped the cork and threw the liquid back like a shot of firewhiskey before anyone could stop him.

It didn't taste like anything other than water, and for a moment Mattheo thought this was the easiest 200 galleons he'd ever make, but then he felt a sort of bubbling in his chest, like every feeling, every sentence he'd ever held back wanted to burst forth.

"...Well?" asked Malfoy, cautiously, leaning in, "How do you feel?"

"Bloody weird" Mattheo said, looking down at the empty vial in his hand. "And apprehensive, like I definitely don't want you to ask me things." His eyes widened at the words that had come so truthfully and vulnerably out of his mouth before he could stop them, suddenly realizing that he'd made a horrible mistake.

Theo was howling with laughter, leaning in and rubbing his hands together as he got ready to obliterate his best friend for being so cocky; he was going to make every galleon worth it.

"Did you take Blaise's Chudley Cannons scarf last term?" he asked.

"Yup, sold it to a fifth year for a bag of weed— SHIT" Mattheo said quickly, eyes wide before slapping a hand over his mouth.

"Mate, what the fuck?—" Blaise started, but Theo was on a tear.

"—Did you cheat off of Lorenzo's potions exam this week?"

"Of course" Mattheo admitted, the words blasting by his hand, "I've been doing it since fourth year, his handwritings the size of my fist, thanks for that by the way" he said, looking at Enzo.

"Prego, amico" Lorenzo said smiling and shrugging, "happy to help."

"Alright then" Blaise said, the anger and frustration clear in his voice as he eyed Mattheo, "better own up, didn't you slip McLaggen a galleon to let Theo score on him last match?"

"Yeah, fuck, and I'm not sorry about it. I'm tired of hearing Theo piss and complain about losing when he barely shows up to practice and lets the rest of us down."

"OOHHH!" shouted several of the guys.

"Fucking harsh mate!!"

"What the fuck?!?" Theo shouted angrily as he lunged for Mattheo and the others tried to hold him back.

Amidst the shouting and commotion, they didn't hear you knock on the door.

"Guys?" you asked, raising your voice to be heard.

Five heads turned your way as they stopped mid-brawl and began to stand up and right themselves, adjusting their ties and smoothing their robes. For his part, Mattheo's heart nearly shot out of his chest. No, no no no not right now he thought as you pushed your way into their room. On any other occasion he'd be thrilled to see you, but now the bubbling in his chest was reaching its peak at the sight of his deepest, most tightly held secret: you, and every single thing he felt about you.

He took in your amused smile, the light laughter on your lips, the way it made your eyes sparkle and he felt his palms tingle with sweat as he grasped them into fists and swallowed deeply, like he could ingest his own thoughts. You were his best friend, had been since the moment he met you on his first train ride to Hogwarts and he had no illusions about ruining your friendship by trying for anything else; girls like you didn't end up with guys like him.

"Are you alright?" you asked, looking at him strangely before his friends chimed in for him.

"S'fine!"

"Yeah, yeah!"

"Never better!"

"What do you need, love?"

"I am NOT fine!" Mattheo said boldly and rather loudly before he could stop himself and your eyes shot to him with concern.

"Wait, what's wrong Matty?" you asked, using the nickname he only tolerated coming from you.

He pursed his lips tightly and shook his head, averting his eyes to the floor, physically warring with the words that were flooding his subconscious.

What's wrong? A lot of things are wrong, YN. For starters, I love you. I love you so much it physically pains me to spend as much time as we do together and not to grab your hand, to pull you onto my lap, to nuzzle into your neck, to kiss you; I have a list of things I want to do to you every time I see you. Especially in that godsdamn skirt you're wearing. It's my favorite. You should know that. And I wish you would stop wearing it, you have no idea the ways guys look at you. I wish you'd wear it only for me. I wish you'd want me the way I want you, because I want you so badly. I wish you were mine, but I'm scared, no, fucking terrified of the way I feel about you because love is vulnerability and vulnerability is weakness and I can't tell you any of this so please, please don't ask me anything and please, please stop looking at me like that.

"Matty?" you asked again, now thoroughly concerned as your best friend slammed his hands over his ears as you walked towards him.

Theo was burning hot with anger, stewing over what Mattheo had said about him, he wanted to take him down a notch, to embarrass him in return. "Admit it" he interrupted, staring at Mattheo "you have a thing for Pansy and you've tried to make a move on her even though she's with Draco."

You stopped short of approaching Mattheo and stared at Theo.

"What?" you whispered, feeling physically ill, jealous and hurt even though you had no such right.

Mattheo straightened up and glared at Theo.

"What the fuck did you just say?!" Draco said, brushing past you as he came for Mattheo.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Theo pushed further, so smug, so certain he was right.

"No you fucking prat" Mattheo spat at him.

Draco grabbed Mattheo by the front of his robes. "You swear it, you haven't made a move on her?"

"I swear it."

"Not even before we were dating?" Malfoy pressed.

"Not even before you were dating" Mattheo confirmed.

"What the fuck is going on?" you said, exasperated, almost to yourself as you tried to calm down.

"Veritaserum" Blaise said by way of explanation as he leaned in to be heard over the continued shouting of your friends. "Theo bet one of us to drink it and, well..." he said, gesturing his hand by way of explanation at the calamity in front of you.

Malfoy was shouting questions at Mattheo who looked genuinely surprised if not annoyed, and Enzo was looking back and forth at them like it was a tennis match. Theo had a deeply skeptical look on his face as he listened on, "No, you're always weird around Pansy and YN though, I thought..." then, like a lightbulb went off, Theo looked at you, to Mattheo and back again.

"Do you think Pansy's hot?" Malfoy continued.

"Bro, give it up" Blaise said finally, stepping to pull him back, "I think you're in the clear."

"I mean yeah she's hot, but she's not my type. FUCK!" Mattheo replied, rubbing a hand over his face at the admission.

"She's not, but YN is" Theo said finally.

Mattheo bit his bottom lip and stared at the floor, concentrating very hard on the tassels of the rug beneath his feet as he shook his head, a grimace on his face.

Your heart trilled in your chest, which was literally rising and falling in both panic and excitement. Mattheo was shaking his head no, but his whole body was fighting something, there was something he didn't want to say... about you.

"So, she's not your type? Not attractive to you at all?" Theo pushed.

Mattheo's face was turning a dark shade of red as pursed his lips closed and shook his head vehemently, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, his own nearly watering with the exertion of fighting the potion within him.

"Totally platonic? Didn't give a shit when Seamus Finnegan asked her out last term?"

Mattheo glanced at Theo, gathering himself, as he tried desperately to say the only truth he wanted to share. "He's a prick, no secret I didn't think it was a good idea—"

"—You never told me that" you said quietly, confused, and not a little bit angry. "But you avoided me for a few weeks after, I remember..." you said, trailing off as you stepped closer to him, and Mattheo's looked genuinely afraid, outstretching his hands to stop you from coming any closer.

"What don't you want to say?—"

"—I don't want you here right now!" he said loudly.

You physically reared back at the harshness of his words. You caught his eye, trying to communicate the way you often did with one another, to ask things that could only be said without words, but you got nothing in response.

"R-Right" you said, your voice wobbling as you turned to leave, thoroughly embarassed.

And the sound of it nearly broke Mattheo's heart.

"Wait, wait, I didn't meant it like that, I don't want you to be upset, please don't be upset" he said, moving to reach for your hand urgently, the unmasked care and compassion in his voice making you turn and making Draco and Blaise bat at each other's arms in excitement like school girls at the scene unfolding in front of them.

"I don't want you to hear my truth" Mattheo said quietly, and just like that it was just the two of you, you who knew more than any of these idiots, you knew about Blaise's scarf (you had told him not to sell it), about him cheating in potions and paying off McLaggen, but even you didn't know his most deeply held secret and this isn't how he wanted it to come out.

"Please" he begged, in way none of his friends had ever heard him speak before.

"I just... I thought I knew all of your truths?" you said vulnerably, your chin wobbling, saddened at the idea that there was a part of him you didn't know.

"You don't. I'm sorry" he said simply.

"But they get to hear them?" you said, gesturing towards your friends.

"No, they don't know them either."

"What would be so bad that you wouldn't want anyone in your life to know, Matty?"

He bit his tongue as he tilted his head. "It isn't bad. I didn't say it was bad" he said.

You could tell he was playing with you, selectively choosing his words. Your curiosity piqued as you turned to face him fully with your arms crossed.

"What don't you want us to know?" you asked.

"How I — FUCK — feel — mmhmm" he tried to physically shove the words back into his mouth, clapping his hands over his mouth again as his body betrayed him.

Theo stepped forward, trying to pry his hands back. "Say it!" he said.

Mattheo tried to wiggle out of his grasp, the two of them thrashing back and forth.

"C'mon mate, time to earn those galleons! Cough it up! How you feel about what?" and Theo yanked Mattheo's hands away from his mouth just long enough for Mattheo to all but shout:

"HER!" he said, loudly, pointing to you. "About YN. I — FUCK — fucking love her."

You could have heard an owl feather hit the floor.

"Oh shit" Malfoy whispered.

Theo took a step back as he realized the enormity of what he'd just done. He'd thought Mattheo had a little crush on you, I mean, didn't they all? He thought it was just a bit of fun. But love? He'd know Mattheo for 7 years and he never so much as heard him say the word, let alone direct it at another person, in fact he knew just how much the concept had been beaten out of him as a child.

"Mate, I'm—" he started.

Mattheo glared at him in way that reminded you for a moment about the family he came from, and it was the first time you'd ever seen Theo genuinely afraid as the smile dropped from his lips and he took an unconscious step back.

"Fuck you" Mattheo said, stepping towards him, the measured control in his voice somehow more frightening than the alternative. "You always take shit too far, you know that? That's why—"

"—Matty?" you said, your quiet whisper and the questions that lingered behind it tugging at his heart and pulling his attention back to you.

He met your eyes and the fury he felt at Theo dissolved in an instant, like it had apparated from the room, because the way you were looking at him was an expression he'd only seen in his dreams. You didn't look angry or confused, you weren't laughing or embarrassed, the sparkle in your eye was back and a soft smile rested on your lips, your eyes were blown wide, hopeful even, with a hint of something else underneath that had a sensation like melted honey spreading throughout his entire body.

"Can we maybe talk... outside...?" you asked.

"Yes, for the love of the gods" he said, walking quickly to your side, letting his hand rest gently at your back, the intimate gesture not lost on anybody as your friends wolf-whistled and snickered and he flipped them the finger over his head.

Now that the truth was out, there was nothing stopping the words that flew out of Mattheo's mouth as you led him to a nearby secluded corridor.

"I really want to talk to you about this" he said, the moment you were outside of the dormitory, "I am so embarrassed that it came out that way, that's not at all how I wanted to tell you, well, I didn't want to tell you at all, I was terrified actually. I've liked you for a long time, really since the first day we met, do you remember? On the train? You were wearing that blue jumper, you smelled like cinnamon and vanilla... You always smell so fucking good—"

You laughed as you pulled him with greater urgency by the hand away from prying eyes as he continued to ramble on, the truth serum creating a veritable waterfall of words out of his mouth.

"—You're so fucking beautiful, I love your hair, your eyes, your smile, your nose... that sounds weird, but it's true, it's so fucking cute—"

"—Mattheo" you said, as you stopped, placing your hands on his chest and pressing him gently against the stone wall to get him to slow down. "Breathe."

He shook his head.

"No, it's out now, and I don't know how long this shit lasts and if I don't say this stuff now, I'm not sure I'll ever have the balls to say it to your face, I've held onto this for 7 years YN."

Your lips curled into a small pout at how sweet he was being, at the idea that your best friend had been pining for you since you were 11 years old.

"I love you" he continued breathlessly, "and not like a little bit. Like, a lot. I don't know..." he said, carding his hand through his brown curls, "I've never felt this way about anyone, anything. I'm all consumed with you. You're the only thing I think about, the only girl I want, I'd do anything for you. And I'm sorry if this is going to totally wreck our friendship, if you want things to stay the way they are, I will try my level best—"

But his words were cut short as you pressed your lips to his, capturing his truth, letting it wash over you, every word you had been desperate to hear, every thought you'd shared the same. It surprised him for only a second before his hands grasped your face and he pulled you further into him.

"You're fucking perfect" he whispered after a moment, his eyes dancing over your features.

"Remind me again why I didn't give you veritaserum like years ago?" you said, smiling against his lips.

"It's a felony?" he said, laughing.

"...Right" you said, laughing back.

You were only gone a few minutes, but as you scurried back to the dormitory you tried to fix your hair, and wipe the lipgloss off of Mattheo's face as he smiled down at you with puppy dog eyes.

"They're going to lose their mind" you said quietly just outside the door, "let's just play it cool, alright?"

And before he could respond that there was no way on earth he could possibly do that, you pushed the door open and all conversation stopped.

"...Alright?" Theo asked, turning to face you both, nervous at the potential mess he may have caused.

"Fine, we were just talking—"

"—She macked me!!" Mattheo shouted truthfully with a huge grin on his face as he wrapped his arm around you.

You gasped and swatted at him playfully, your cheeks blushing a rosy pink as your friends erupted into cheers, hoot and hollers, descending on you both as Mattheo looked down at you, glowing, happier than you could ever remember seeing him.

taglist: @girllblogging777, @iamdnb, @bookworm124, @zatannasrealgf, @r-a-c-h-e-l

[eevenus]

⋆˚࿔ drabble!! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - b.c.

I have thoughts and need to get them out of my head before I go insane.

genre: PURE SMUT TBH!!! MINORS BE GONE!! I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

pairing: bangchan x fem!reader

warnings: chokeholds (sue me okay), a bit of degradation, rough channie 🥴, reader is called a whore once, size kink if you squint

a/n: I wrote this on my phone because I needed it out of my head NYEOW, I'm going insane over him. dividers by @sister-lucifer

(this is what I was writing to if you wanna listen along 😛😛😛)

✩ thinking so much about Chan having such a horrible day, and I mean absolutely retched. Maybe had some arguments back and forth with staff over a track he was really proud of, a dance practice with small fuckups just out of his control (loose shoelaces tripping him, stumbling over his words, etc), maybe even something as simple as all his anxieties and worries on new tracks and performances have manifested into a boiling anger he can't contain.

✩ he wouldn't want to say anything he doesn't mean, or hurt anyone's feelings, so he wouldn't talk much throughout the day if he can help it. Simple nods and "mhm"s to just get through it. A few texts from you ping his phone every now and then, he's short with you but responds nonetheless. It would almost make him angrier that he can't shake the feeling, I feel.

✩ so he'd try to blow off some steam at the gym, he always hit it on the way home so you wouldn't find it out of the ordinary. But he'd stay a little longer than usual. Trying so, so hard to just shake the feeling off so he can come home to you and relax. But he can't. It sits on his chest worse than any of his anxieties ever could. So he cleans up the area he was using, throws his things into his duffle, and heads home.

✩ he'd show up back to your shared apartment and throw his duffle somewhere out of his sight. His shoes discarded by the door and keys dropped somewhere next to them. And then you'd walk out.

✩ "Hi baby!" So sweet and so kind, already in your pajamas, waiting for him to come home. "Long day?" It was an innocent ask of course, but it clicked a gear in place in his mind. All that anger seemed to quicken the blood rushing through his veins, if you listen close enough in the quiet you'd hear his heartbeat.

✩ no response but he's just stomping his way over to you, and his hands grab your face to smash your lips together. It's messy, teeth knocking every now and then, moving from upper to bottom lip, a bit of spit would connect you when he finally pulled away. Leaving you in a bit of a daze. But before you could question the absolutely hungry look in his eyes his lips would be on you again.

✩ his HUMONGOUS arms would work to pick you up while keeping your lips connected, your hands in his curls as his wrap under your thighs. And he's walking you back to your shared room and his skin is just fiery hot, and he's deepening the kiss while expertly navigating his way down the hall. thank god you walked out and left the door open, because as soon as he is even near your bed he's tossing you onto it and climbing on top of you.

✩ discarding his tank top as you're ridding of your own, his lips moving after to connect with your neck. You'd swear you felt him bite and lick his away along like a hungry animal playing with its prey. And his hands are on your hips, squeezing so hard to keep you in place that it would def leave bruises in the morning.

✩ before you can even register it, you're both without clothes and he's got you on all fours. pulling you down onto his mouth that is just devouring you like your his last meal on death row, like you held a cure for whatever is making him act this way, not like you'd want him to stop.

✩ "Bad day?" You'd question with rutting hips and your hands gripping his hair, he'd simply mumble against you and pull you down further. "Take it out- oh god- on me." You didn't have to tell him really, but it was more like giving him a green light for doing whatever he needed too to blow off the steam that was so pent up. It was rare this happened, but you ate it UP every time.

✩ moments later, after he'd rip at least two orgasms out of you, he's sinking himself into you. Pulling at your hips to meet his, forcing an arch out of you with a flat palm pressing down at the top of your spine. with no mercy does he rut into you, so rough it was physically moving you forward. Your cries and moans muffled with your cheek against the sheets, though you'd have probably been muffled regardless as his moans and groans and growls would be just a bit louder. Feral even.

✩ and when your moans alone weren't enough, he'd slow himself just enough to lean down and wrap his arm around your neck. keeping a hand still on your hip to keep your arch in place when he lifts you up from the bed in a chokehold and returns to his previous pace. Your moans now cut-off whines and groans from the pressure, just enough to slightly bring pressure to your airways but not enough to make you lose all your air. A delightful euphoria of floating and the feeling of his cock pumping into you, you swore in this position he was kissing your cervix in the most delicious way. feeling floaty and so full. so full. (pushing the bde Chris agenda ok).

✩ "fuckin' take it." He'd growl in your ear, and though his arm stays around your neck his hand moves to hold your chin. Relieving the pressure as you take in shaky gasps, keeping you perfectly in place. "Yea? You're my fucking whore, mine- letting me use you, huh? letting me fuck my anger into you?"

✩ he'd be so far gone that he's just mumbling out the nastiest shit he's ever said, and just abusing your pretty little cunt all he wants. And when his growls turn to whines and gasps and groans of his own, his hand reaches between your legs and quickly circles your puffy pretty clit. Silently begging you to cum with him.

✩ ugh and he'd cum so much too. letting you out of his hold halfway through, to lay back against the sheets, but still pushing you through your own orgasm. It would take him a bit to register he's real again before he's pulling out and walking to grab things to clean you up, water, a snack, the works.

✩ "Better?" You'd incoherently mumble after, when you're all laid up together. Snuggled close and naked and safe and warm.

✩ "Mm. Sorry if I was too rough." He'd mumble back, pushing some hair behind your ear before promising to tell you what was bothering him first thing in the morning. But of course you never mind him that way, if you can help him.

✩ he'd apologize PROFUSELY in the morning when he notices your bruised hips and a few red marks of teeth on your neck. Doing his best to mend you. Draw you a bath. Snuggle you as soon as he gets home from the studio. Apologize again. And again. And one more time for good measure. cuz he's just too sweet, and even if he was pent up and needed to channel his anger in a (proactive) different way he could never actually hurt you and he'd feel awful if he ever did. Making sure you feel loved in every way he can in the following days. Cuz he's Channie and an absolute angel, who just loves a rough night every now and again. 😜

EEP KQJDJSNF there's my first spicy drabble, I just needed this out of my fucking head OMG. Need him to chokehold me so BAD KADJNDNF. this is probably a mess because I was trying to get a vision across without turning this into a 7k word fic okay 😭😭. Lemme know if y'all want more of this from meeee by commenting, liking, reposting!! Theenk yewwww ❤️✨🤞🏻

taglist: @possum-playground (taglist is open! Feel free to ask to be added to my general one or the one for my Bangchan series!! or if you'd like to only be added for non-spicy/spicy-only posts!)

[ms-spkhd]

Robin plucks a fry from the container and dunks it into her vanilla milkshake. "Look, I'm probably the last person you should ask about this."

Steve frowns. "Who else, then?"

"I don't know, Eddie?"

"Nope, no, absolutely not." Shaking his head emphatically, Steve swipes the fry from Robin's fingers. He stuffs it into his mouth in frustration.

"Hey, what the fuck!"

"I can't ask Eddie because he's the problem," Steve says through a mouthful of fries.

"I thought the problem is that you're gay now."

Steve levels her with a lethal stare and Robin rolls her eyes. She can't believe that this is fucking happening to her. "I'm not gay. At least fully. I like girls."

"Okay--" Robin throws her hands in the air in exasperation. "So you can't consult Eddie because, what? He's the one who turned you gay?"

"Half gay?"

"Fuck it, half gay, I guess. You like Eddie and you want to ask him out but you can barely figure yourself out."

"There's gotta be a word for that, right?" Steve asks. Robin blinks at him. He blinks back with equal fervor as she reaches for another fry and swirls it into her milkshake. "Come on, you're a lesbian, you gotta know this."

Robin groans before taking a bite into her ice cream fry. "Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I have any authority on this."

"You gotta know more than I do, at least."

"Okay, I'm gonna level with you, Steve. I like boobs. I know that there's a word for a girl liking boobs because assholes like to sling it around"--Steve opens his mouth to interject--"but, just because, I'm more learned than those assholes doesn't mean I know shit about dip. Sure, I like foreign films and listen to Patti Smith, but I don't know anything about the larger concepts. I'm not your guru on this."

Steve frowns. Bites his lip and pinches his nose. "No, you're right."

"I don't know anything about guys liking other guys, and I guess there's gotta be something that defines your predicament, but we're two dingbats living in the middle of nowhere. We don't have a roadmap or anything."

You know, for the longest time, Robin thought she would be alone in all this. She remembers pressing her face into the pillow and sobbing until the whole damn thing became moist with puddles of tears and snot, because no one would ever understand the way she really felt. She'd have to pretend for the rest of her life.

When she grew older, she knew that one day, she was gonna run off to the city and find girls like her who would get it. But she's never been able to go to the city for herself, couldn't afford a license or a car, so it was just her. Lonely Robin Buckley who loved girls who didn't even think of her.

But Steve's looking back at her now the same way he looked at her in the bathroom back at Starcourt and he's asking her how to live his own life. Fuck, she doesn't even know how to start hers yet.

"You know," she says, swallowing, "one day we'll figure it out. You and I."

Steve cocks an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Figure out the mysteries of the universe and everything?"

Robin chuckles and tosses a fry in Steve's direction. She says, "How about we figure out how you'll woo Eddie first, tiger."

[sanguineterrain]

Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up

idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon

jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words

****

"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."

"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.

"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."

"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.

But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.

"You haven't visited in a while," you say.

You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.

"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."

And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.

And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.

But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.

Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.

"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.

This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.

Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."

You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.

"Do you even want to see me?"

He tilts his head. Dangerous.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"

Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.

The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.

Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?

He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.

"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.

Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.

You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.

But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.

"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.

"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.

"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."

Your eyes widen. "Wh—"

His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.

His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.

"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."

"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."

He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.

"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."

This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.

"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?

Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.

"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.

He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."

Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.

"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."

"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"

"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."

You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.

He is still. You have made him still.

"I'm yours too," you say.

He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"

"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.

"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."

Your heart is still. He has made it still.

"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."

"I do. I'm yours."

His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.

"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."

But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.

"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."

His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.

"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."

"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."

"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."

"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."

Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."

"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."

[bucketofpaint]

Danny is Damian's clone.

He's well aware of it. He wasn't just any clone. He was the very first. That was the difference between Danny and other clones. He was made before the League started using brainwashing and stuff into their cloning process.

When Danny was fresh out of the tube, the League had sat him down and explained his the purpose of his existence, gave him some intense training, and immediately tossed him out into the world.

But the thing was, he just didn't care. He had absolutely no loyalty to his creators, and he had no desire to kill/kidnap his original. So he just started walking. The next thing he knew, he was at some orphanage in Illinois.

And then the rest was history. He got adopted by a pair of enthusiastic scientists and their red-head daughter, got his own name, and he could finally start living his own life.

Danny had put the past behind him and had barely even thought about it at all for a long time. That was unill his original showed up at his school.

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

Damien was annoyed. He was stuck at some random Illinois town (supposed to be the most haunted place in the world, which was a bunch of ludicrous.) On a transfer program. He tried convincing Father how illogical it would be, but Father had told him it would be good for him to meet new people.

___

Danny was annoyed.

"I don't understand what the big deal about him is anyways," Danny complained.

"He started being the ceo of Wayne Enterprise when he was a teenager." Sam countered.

"Ok, so, nepotism."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I still don't understand why you're so against him."

"One, billionaire. Two, Tucker is way cooler than Tim Drake.

Sam's eyes soften. " Tucker is just gone for a few weeks."

Danny's cheeks felt warm. "I never said anything about that. I just want Tucker to find a cooler role model, is all.

Sam gave him an all-knowing look. "Well, if you say so. I'm going to get in line."

Sam, all ways waited last to get in the lunch line. Claiming she didn't want to hold up line when the lunch ladies had to get the vegetarian option. Which was fine, but now that Tucker was doing the dumb transfer student program, all he could do was eat his mediocre lunch and mindlessly play on his phone.

Untill someone grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the cafeteria into the hallway. Danny turned around to face the person. He froze at the sight of his own face. Or well, a glaring rich kid version.

"Oh, it's you." Danny said nonchalant, even though he was screaming inside.

"You're not going to play dumb, clone?"

"No, why would I, The resemblance is uncanny.

"What are you doing here?" His original demanded

"You dragged me here."

His original scowled. "You know what I mean, clone. I won't hesitate to end you."

"Just trying to go to school, honest."

Original glared at him, scanning him with his eyes. The grip on Danny's arm loosened. " I'll be watching you, clone."

" Whatever you say, template."

Danny walked back to the cafeteria, blocking out the yells of rage behind him.

___

It was about a week of Damian watching his clone, and he was confused. At first, he thought the league sent the clone to trade places with him before he went back to Gotham, but now he wasn't sure. The Clone seemed to fit in the community to well to have show up recently, but that didn't disprove the theory entirely. It could be a long-term plan from the League. They could be responsible for putting the transfer program in place in the first place.

The other theory was that the clone escaped and made a life for himself, but that didn't explain how he got past his programming.

After the last period, Damian found his clone and pulled him aside.

"What do you want?" His clone asked, irritated.

"You're different then other clones, explain."

"I don't know. I didn't really stick around very long to find out."

"What about your programming?"

"I didn't have any?"

Damian thought about it before giving a small nod. "You don't seem to be a threat, but I'll still keep my eye on you, clone."

"I've got a name, you know." He held out his hand. "Danny Fenton, nice to make your acquaintance."

Damian heistently shook his hand. "Damian Wayne."

That started their unsaid agreement. You don't mess with me, I don’t mess with you. They interacted with each other sometimes, but not very offen. They were impartial to one another, and both sides weren't very keen on getting to know each other. And that was their relationship till the day Damian was leaving.

Damian was waiting for the bus when Danny approached him.

"What do you want, Daniel?"

"I told not to call me that, but uh, here." Danny handed a piece of paper to him. "It's my phone number if you ever need help from the League or anything."

Damian slipped the paper into his pocket. "Give me your phone." Danny handed over his phone, and Damian started typing.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked.

"I'm putting my number in. If you ever require assistance."

Danny smiled, "Thanks."

____

A few months later.

Tim was peeking over a corner.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked.

Tim didn't say anything and just waved him over. He walked over and stared in aw at what he saw. Damian was slouched on the couch, his hair messy, playing on his phone.

A few minutes later, Jason joined.

"Am I hallucinating?" Tim whispered.

"Nah, I don't think so... unless we're all hallucinating." Jason whispered back.

"Do you think he has brain damage or been possessed or something?" Tim asked.

Dick shook his head. "That seems unlikely."

"This is so trippy. I've never seen him wear anything that casually like ever.

"What are you imbeciles doing?"

"We're watching Damian."

All three of them froze and turned to look at a glaring Damian.

Damian walked past them and went right up to the second Damian.

"Daniel, what are you doing here?"

The causal Damian 'Daniel' pulled out a letter. "Your pops invited me, and I didn’t want to risk the chance of batman showing up at my front door."

Damian scoffed, "Of course, Father found out."

Alfred walked in. "Master Daniel, I'll be taking you to Master Bruce."

The double got up and went to Alfred.

"Cookie, Master Daniel?"

"Sure, and call me danny."

[writingouthere]

exboyfriend!Sukuna x f!reader.

cw: smut, outdoor sex, angst, controlling behavior.

Your date was a disappointment.

The guy wasn't an asshole or anything, but at some point he'd talked about cryptocurrency for ten minutes straight without you saying a word and there was no coming back from that.

"I had a great time," he tells you as you stand on the subway platform after finally escaping the restaurant. You nod noncommittally and wonder if this is the part where he asks for your number. You're calculating the risk/reward of giving him a fake number and having him potentially call it while you're still right in front of him when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you.

"I doubt it," the voice says and you close your eyes. Maybe if you wish hard enough you can develop teleportation and not have to deal with this.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" your date asks, his voice only wavering a little as he looks at your ex-boyfriend. Honestly, you admire him. The sight of the tall, heavily tattooed (alleged) criminal was usually enough to make people cross the street to avoid him but not this accountant? Investment baker? Dentist? Fuck, he'd talked about his job for thirty minutes and you had not been listening. You would have guilty if you weren't actively judging him for not even noticing your lack of engagement.

Whatever, he probably wasn't brave, he was probably just an idiot.

Sukuna seemed to agree as he laughed again and put his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm her boyfriend."

Your date looked at him, looked at you, and seemed to be weighing if this was worth one mediocre date. He seemed frozen for a second until Sukuna took a step forward and the guy's previously dormant survival instincts seemed to awaken and he booked it down the train platform.

Once he was out of sight, you took Sukuna's hand and dropped it off your shoulder like a fallen leaf that had got stuck on your jacket.

"Are you following me, now?" You wouldn't have put it past him. You turn to face your ex who looks not only unrepentant for his little routine but vindicated. Or maybe he just looks vindictive, you can never tell.

"Are you going on dates with any loser that asks?" He tosses back and you roll your eyes.

"You didn't even meet him."

"So, he wasn't a loser? And you weren't deciding if it was worth giving him a fake number and having him call you right then?"

You hated that he knew you so well.

"He seemed the type to call," you concede and Sukuna scoffs.

"Absolutely, that fucker is. Women have been giving that dumb fuck fake numbers since he was begging for them with his little Nokia flip phone."

"Is Nokia still a thing?" you ask and Sukuna glares at you.

"Do I look like Google to you? Hey, don't try to district me, princess. We were talking about how you seem to have gotten it into your mind that you can cheat on me with any guy with a pulse."

"I'm not cheating on, we're not together," you tell him as your train pulls up. You don't bother protesting as he follows you on it, even though you know the old apartment you used to share is in the other direction from your new place.

"The fuck we're not," he seethes. The other riders look at you and you see one or two guys deciding if it's worth trying to get involved but you're more concerned about the teenage girl who looks ready to fight this asshole for you. God, you loved women.

"You're making a scene," you tell him and he looks ready to make the scene Oscar worthy before you give him the look that used to make him not call your friends' babies ugly when you went to birthday parties.

"Where can we talk then?"

"I'm not taking you to my place," you say and he sucks his teeth.

"Then let's go home."

"You mean to your home."

Sukuna looks furious but you're not in the mood. You had just spent the past two hours on a terrible date, which made you think about how dating was just going to be like this until you found a new boyfriend or gave up, which then made you think about your break up and how up until a few months ago, you thought you would never go on a first date with anyone ever again.

You hated that Sukuna had put you here and you hated that you still loved him.

"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

You're so tired, Sukuna is so close and it's been so long since you got to smell him or feel his warmth. Your apartment was still barely furnished but everything in it was new and it still didn't feel like home. The one sweatshirt of his you'd let yourself take had stopped carrying his scent weeks ago, and just being close to him now, it made something in you relax. Like you were finally home.

"There fucking is," he hisses and now he's so close you can make out the scar on his jaw and the fullness of his lips. You used to tease him that you'd never met a man whose lips were as soft as his. He may have looked like tough shit, but you would never catch him out of the house without lotion and chapstick.

You wondered if he was still using the cherry chapstick you had bought him at the grocery store the week before you'd broken up.

"Are you going to marry me? Are you going to give me a baby?"

"Princess-"

"Then there's nothing to talk about," you say and you thank whoever's watching that the train is pulling up to your stop. You get off and Sukuna is right on your heels.

"You don't even want those things right now, why the fuck does it even matter?"

"I want them eventually and if you're not willing to give them to me, then I just don't think I need to keep wasting my time."

You're roughly dragged into a nearby alley and tossed against a brick wall. Sukuna's hand cups the back of your head, taking the force of the slam and you hate that he watches out for you even when he's being a controlling jackass.

"Being with me is wasting your time? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Not your girlfriend," you snap back. "Let go, I want to go home."

"Fuck you," he tells you and you're about ready to fight him, grown scary man or not when he leans down and his lips are on yours.

They taste like cherry chapstick.

His hand on the back of your head tightens, his thumb pressing against your neck and making you shiver. His other hand is pressed tight to your jaw and when you gasp against his mouth, he presses down as if he can hold you open and consume you so you can't leave him again.

His muscled thigh is in between yours and you can feel the rough texture of his jeans, the same pair he wore to work, the same pair you'd put through the washing machine a thousand times, rub against where your legs are only covered in tights. The shorter than usual skirt meant to entice your date, and instead it was being taken advantage of by your ex-boyfriend.

Sukuna let go of your face so he could put his hand underneath the fabric of your skirt.

"New outfit?" He teases as his hand slides to the top of your tights.

"Got it for my date," you snap and he growls at you before he rips the seams of your tights. Before you can complain, he's dragging them down your thighs and diving into your panties so he can get to your cunt. The underwear is new too and a pained noise leaves you at the sensation of them snapping against your inner thigh, both at the pain and the thought of how much they cost.

"I still have those blue ones you like at home, the ones you wore for my birthday last year," he tells you as he slides his finger down the seam of your cunt. You're wet and it annoys you because orgasming has been a bitch to achieve since you had to start giving them to yourself again.

"You can keep them," you tell him and he bites your lower lip between his teeth, they'd always felt too sharp for a man and you know you're a twitch or a less than playful nibble away from a busted lip.

"They're not really up for wearing anymore anyway."

You want to ask him what he means by that as he kisses down your neck and thrusts one finger into you, the slide almost unholy.

"So fucking wet, your cunt was always better at talking than you were."

The sensation of being filled even though it's not enough it's not enough begins to itch at your need to be satisfied as your mind fills in the gaps of his previous words.

You can imagine Sukuna in the bed you used to share, the dark blue sheets and the comforter covered in a black pattern that had reminded you of the marks that covered his body. One hand holding your favorite pair of panties and the other his big cock, that sometimes you missed even more than him.

Did he use the panties to jerk off with, the fabric just an expensive tissue for his cum? Did he hold them to his nose and pretend he could still smell your pussy on them in the bed that used to smell like both of you? You had tried watching porn and reading smut, the stuff you had relied on before you were together, and nothing compared to what it felt like to come from his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

The only times you had touched yourself when you were together were when Sukuna had wanted to watch, his commentary pushing you to the edge. He had always known what to say.

Good girl, now try two fingers for me. Not enough? Do you need my cock? Fucking slutty princess, eh?

No matter how demeaning his words were, you had never felt true shame because his desire for you was always apparent. Sukuna never held back praise where he felt it was deserved, and he had always been quick to let you know that what you were doing was pleasing him.

"Pay attention to me, princess. I'd hate to think I was boring you." The words are laced with cruelty and the added pressure of a second figure is harsh, too soon, and still not enough.

The hand in your hair tightens, but the grip still careful not to mess it up beyond repair. Something you'd been adamant about in the beginning days of your relationship. The gentleness of it, of him, makes you cry out.

Since Sukuna was the only one who still seemed cognizant of how you were in an alley, only a right turn from being on a public sidewalk, he was quick to catch your moan in his mouth. Nearly purring in reply, a ridiculous thing for a ridiculous man to do.

"Fuck, that's it. No one else can make you feel like this, this cunt is fucking mine."

"Yes," you hiss out in agreement. Pleased with your concession, Sukuna's thumb swipes over your clit as he continues his punishing rhythm with his fingers. You can hear how wet you are as it echoes off the brick around you. Even though it's cold outside, you feel almost too hot between the warmth of his body shielding yours from the world around you and the heat that's continuing to build up in your core.

"So close, I know you are. Beg me, princess and I might let you come," he whispers in your ear and you would feel embarrassed of the whine you let out if you weren't so close.

"Please, Sukuna. Please, let me come!"

"I don't know. Not sure if I should reward you since you've apparently being going around giving this pussy to fucking anyone."

You shake your head. "No, I haven't slept with anyone since we broke up."

Sukuna kisses you so hard, you're grateful for the hand behind your head because you know his knuckles must be bruised from the force he kisses you with. Sukuna pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours and you hate that you find that hot. That this whole thing is hot.

For a second, the softness in his eyes takes your breath away and you almost forget about where you are and what you're doing and why it's the worst idea you've ever had. He's just Sukuna, the love of your life and you miss him so much.

You think he might say something crazy like he loves you or even propose but then the softness is gone and he just grins at you.

"Alright, come then, you've earned it."

With permission granted, Sukuna focuses his attention on your clit in just that way you like in the way that only someone who's done this hundreds of times could do. He's definitely leaving hickies around your collarbone and neck, but for now they feel good and when you come, you bite your lip knowing it will be bruised. A reminder of how you're an idiot when you look at it in the mirror tomorrow.

Still soft with your orgasm, you reach down to return the favor but Sukuna grabs your hand.

"I'm not walking around with cum in my jeans," he tells you, kissing your palm. Typical of him, to end something crass with something sweet. You sigh as he puts you back down on the ground. You pull up what remains of your tights, the fabric uncomfortable on your quickly drying thighs. Your ripped panties lie on the ground and Sukuna looks at them forlornly before shaking his head, dirty alleyway panties apparently being too much even for him.

Sukuna grabs the bag you'd dropped when he'd kissed you and gestures for you to exit the alley. A few passersby give you strange looks but you figure if you were going to be arrested for public indecency, it would have happened already.

"I guess we're going to mine," you say. "I live like another two blocks this way."

"I know," Sukuna says already heading that way.

You blow a piece of hair out of your eye. "Of course you do."

When Sukuna actually types in the passcode to your building you almost lose it, but you're tired and honestly you had kind of expected to just come home to him already in your apartment at some point. Sukuna had never been great at respecting boundaries. Or the law.

You unlock the door to your apartment, it takes everything in you not to ask if he already has a key. You don't want to know. He follows you in and the two of you sit at the dingy two person table you have set up by one of the only windows.

"Cozy."

"Fuck you." He smirks in that way that has always made you want to punch him and you're reminded that you're currently wearing shredded tights.

"Sukuna, you wanted to talk. So talk."

The smirk leaves his face and he looks at his nails, pressing his thumb against the one on his pointer finger and then looking through the 'o' formed there. "You left."

"I did."

He looks at you. "Why?"

"You know why," you say, tired again.

"Sure, you want to get married at some point. You want a baby at some point. I don't see what that has to do with us, right now."

"Because right now leads to that some point. It doesn't just happen. There are things I want, that are important to me. If they're not important to you, then I need to find someone who has the same priorities as me."

"Because I'm not your priority," he says and this is the rehash of an argument you'd had a thousand times. Sukuna was selfish and possessiveness and while that had always granted you a certain security, it had also been a chain you'd constantly worn around your ankle. You weren't going to defend your time at work or with friends to your boyfriend. That belonged to a different time, to different women and it had been a nonnegotiable early in your relationship that he figure that shit out with himself.

"Sukuna, I love you but I'm not going to give up what I want for my future because you don't want it. You don't have to want it, in fact I appreciate that you've been honest about it-"

"So appreciative, you left me," the words are almost snarled and you sigh.

"That's not fair. You can't be mad I want something else, the same way I'm not mad that you want something else. It's not a character flaw to not want to get married, or to not what kids. It just means you have a person out there for you who shares that view. Because it's not me."

"Why can't it be enough to just have a life with the two of us?"

"It's not about whether or it's enough, it's about me wanting something else."

There's a pause. Sukuna claws at the dents already in your battered table and deepens the grooves as you try not to flinch at the sound of his nails bearing down on wood.

Finally, he responds. "You know, I spent my childhood, my teens and a lot of adulthood raising Yuuji because our piece of shit parents couldn't be bothered and let me tell you. It's fucking hard. It is constant and they need so much for you. I didn't do anything but work and watch him for almost two decades and I don't want to do that again. I want my own life."

"I understand," you tell him. "That was a lot, even if you did a great thing by taking him in."

"It wasn't because I was nice. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a murderer. And you want me to fucking watch Bluey with some brat."

"You may not be nice but you do right by the people you care about. I also don't think you've murdered a baby, it would probably be okay."

"That's more incidental than a conscience choice," he says and you know he has to hear how ridiculous he sounds.

"Alright. I respect your decision but for what it's worth, we're not kids anymore and you wouldn't be doing this alone. I think Yuuji turned out pretty great because he had you, and I think any kid of our would be lucky to have you as a dad."

"You would really do all that with me," he says and his voice is as close to wonderous as you've ever heard it. "You really are a lost cause."

You try not to react, remind yourself that this is always how Sukuna responds to affection. He'd laughed at you the first time you'd told him you loved him. You'd punched him and broken your hand on his chin. He'd told you he loved you in the ER as the attendant resetting your hand looked on in horror.

"I think that's enough for today. Thanks for stopping by and for the orgasm, appreciate it," you say, rising from the chair. You walk the short trip to your door and open it. "Hope you have a safe trip home."

Sukuna stays seated. "That's it?"

"Yeah, Sukuna, that's it."

"And if I said I could do this, I could give you those things."

You think about it and look him over. How his hands twitch as if only his ego is preventing them from clenching. The clear trauma that was informing his previous stance.

"I'd say take some time and maybe talk to someone. I don't want to do this with someone who can just bring themselves to bear it. I want them to be as excited as me."

"That's asking for a lot from a guy."

"But someone will do it." Sukuna looks angry again and when he steps in your space, you push him gently away with your hand. He goes to hold it and even the familiar scrape of his calluses against your skin can't make you waver.

"Bye, Sukuna."

Sukuna looks at you, waiting for you to give in you know but you won't.

He leaves without another word.

When the door to the stairwell slams shut, you finally let yourself cry.

----------

It's been a month since you've seen Sukuna and you're on another date.

The guy is unoffensive. He gave you a hug when you met up and he'd made a joke about the plethora of other couples at the restaurant. You two started playing a game where you tried to guess how many dates each couple had been on?

"Three, she's finally figured out she can't put up with how he chews no matter how nicely coiffed his hair is," your date says as you take another sip of your drink.

"That's a second date, his chewing is a commit or quit type of deal and she looks ready to go. Bet they didn't eat together on their first date."

"Is he telling the plot to Dune, he has not stopped talking since we sat down," he says and you giggle despite yourself.

You've just started on the couple both looking determinedly at their phones by the window when your phone rings.

"Sorry, I need to take this," you say and he smiles.

"No worries, I'll let you know how many times she misses her mouth while looking at her phone."

You wave as you go to stand outside. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"Hey."

"Hey, princess. Bad time?"

"No, just, what do you want?"

"Well, I'm planning this first date with this girl and I'm having trouble figuring out how to explain something."

You want to throw up, what kind of test is this?

"What do you want to say?"

"Well, I've heard that it's important to be straightforward with your intentions, so you don't waste anyone's time."

"And what are your intentions?" You manage to spit out and he laughs, his smugness almost seeping out the phone.

"Well not anytime soon, but eventually I think I'd like a little brat. You know, prove to Yuuji that he wasn't a fluke."

You heart is pounding and you hate him. You love him.

"Uh huh."

"And I guess it would probably be easier to do that if we just got married. You know, taxes, healthcare, I still don't have healthcare but my wife will and I've heard you can add people to that."

"This proposal is the fucking worst one I've ever heard," you say, trying to ignore the fact you are now crying in front of a restaurant. People walk by giving you pitying looks, probably think you got stood up.

"It's not a proposal, it's a framing of intent."

"Why do you talk like such an old man, we are almost the same age?"

"Why do you talk like such a brat?"

"You know-"

"Probably," he says and you laugh despite yourself.

"So when is this date?"

"Tonight," he says. "You can wear that dress you're wearing, it looks perfect on you."

"Are you fucking here, you creep?"

"That's no way to talk to your future husband and no. That place is a shithole, I'm at our usual."

"Good, I've missed it. No one makes my drink the way I like it," you tell him and he hums.

"Well, it will be waiting for you when you get here. So get here soon."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

Sukuna hangs up and you stand there. There's a perfectly nice guy inside. One who makes you laugh and who maybe one day you could grow to love.

But there's another guy across town who is sitting at your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite drink. His lips taste like the organic chapstick, he claims to be too tacky to be worth wearing but keeps it in his pocket anyway. He built all your furniture and let you paint your bathroom green even though you live in a rental. He's held your hair back when you were sick and cleaned it up even as he bitched at you for the mess and done a rather cruel impression of you retching.

There's another guy that you love.

So you go back into the restaurant to tell your perfectly nice date that something has come up.

Maybe you're a fool, but what else could you do?

Maybe this will be a series, idk. Being an adult is weird. This is def ooc but you know, let me work through things and call them fiction. That's what this account is for.

[amaranthinespirit]

I hate to say it but I think we need a pt 3 to piercer!simon once readers piercing is healed

piercer!simon riley when your piercing has finally healed

1 2

after a patient couple of months, a handful of personal checks from simon himself—how helpful and kind of him really—with assistance cleaning the piercing too, it's finally healed.

the pretty little piercing on your sensitive clit is now healed, which is what simon told you that caused a frown on your face. now it means he won't be between your legs anymore! how disappointing!

i mean, you looked forward to these check-ups, being up-close, and personal with the intimidating brute that pierced a very intimate part of you! and chose to stay face level with your pussy, often swiping his thumb through your folds as a means of 'checking the healing process.' he's so kind!

sweet touches to your hips, a hand splayed over your lower back, or a hand across your waist whenever he'd drop by your apartment, often showing up with flowers to replace the wilting ones in the vase by the front door. he's just the sweetest! (who would've guessed)

of course, you didn't want him to feel like you were using him (oh, but he's so smitten with you, he didn't even care), so you often invited him 'round without the intention of getting his face between your legs—even if the thought did make your thighs clench and pussy throb.

I mean, it was hard! you were paying him back by sucking that heavy cock of his, taking it down your throat 'like a good girl' he'd say. he was one to praise!

but it made your cunt ache, desperately dripping and sopping with slick and arousal every time his cock was in front of your face, his cockhead tracing your bottom lip. it wasn't fair!

you couldn't even get yourself off because he specifically told you not to do anything of the sort. so you listened, and patiently waited for the healing time to finally be over.

countless nights of tossing and turning with arousal, whining at the friction of your cotton panties.

warm, burly arms pulling you back against a firm, hard chest, "shhh, luv, jus' g'to sleep," a raspy, sleep-roughed voice spoke softly to you, causing the chest against your back to rumble with each word.

forget to mention how you let him sleep over? it would just get so late at night, you didn't want him to have to drive home! plus more time together!

but now the time had finally come, laid on your back with your panties hooked around one ankles, his head between your thighs as his eyes critically analyzed your now healed clit piercing, his teasing fingers tugging at the metal. a low chuckle escaping past his lips at the small yelp that it excited from you, the warmth of his breathing grazing over your sopping pussy.

the sight was enticing, it would be hard not to notice every time your cunt was dripping and soaked with arousal. he had a lot of self-control to not run his tongue through your folds, to get just a taste—he had already got a sample with every time he thumbed over your cunt, he'd suck his finger clean when you turned your back.

groaning lowly at the hint of your arousal, he grew hard behind his pants, but you were already such a doll, sucking and jerking him off at the time, he could do it himself this time.

but now, pussy laid bare in front of him, he could finally indugle himself in the sweetness you bared to him, the temptations between your thighs.

he couldn't help himself when he ran his flattened tongue along your soaking cunt, his eyes fluttering shut as he reveled in the way you tasted. sweet, as he expected. you flinched, your back arching off the bed at the unexpected feeling of...metal...?

his tongue piercing clanked against yours, and you questioned on how you must've missed this piece of information, though you chalked it up to the mask he always seem to wear.

your head fell back against your pillow at the sudden wet warmth that lapped at your pussy, teeth grazing your puffy folds that had you tugging at the blond strands at the back of his head.

forcing his head closer against your drooling cunt, his nose pressed to your pierced clit, causing a shudder through your legs.

it wasn't long until you had your legs clamped around his head, a chuckle reverberating through your skin, sending vibrations straight to your clit, forcing another cry out of your throat.

like a man starved, he lapped at your cunt, desperately slurping up every drop of your juices, like nectar, sweet and fulfilling. he couldn't help but groan at the taste of you, one hand wrapping up around your thigh, squeezing the fat under his palm as his other hand snaked around your waist.

his fingers quickly slicked with your arousal, spreading your folds for better access, thumb pawing at your clit, now extra sensitive with the piercing through the little pearl. it only caused your thighs to clamp harder around his head, but he didn't mind, he was trapped right where he wanted to be—the gates of heaven.

"fuck, y'taste s'gud, luvie," he muttered into your folds, mewls slipping from your lips at the sensations it caused, "been waitin' patiently like a good'boy t'have y'r cunt on m'tongue."

you could only moan in response, strained, incoherent words that fell off your tongue before they could even form into a proper sentence. you were lucky if you managed to get his name past your lips, legs crossed over his shoulders in an attempt to draw him closer, tugging at his hair only earning a rough grunt from him.

it didn't take long to feel the knot tying in your stomach, the one you had been waiting months for, the one you wanted him to tie into a pretty bow before it unravels by the pull of his teeth, the drag of his piercing along your spongy walls as the pink muscle forced its way into your drooling cunt.

his eyes fluttered shut again, his crooked nose pressing into your clit that caused you to squirm under his face, only held in place by his firm hands.

you had tried to writhe away at the feeling building, the ribbon tying itself in your lower abdomen as it built, and built, and built. a feeling now stronger than you had ever felt because of its absence. it had been too long.

tears pricked your eyes, the way you were simultaneously dragging him by his hair closer, legs crossed behind his neck, and yet squirming away was contradictory, but it didn't matter. only you unravelling on his tongue.

you couldn't even form proper noises anymore, short, strangled whines were the only things that managed past your lips. chants of his name on your lips like a prayer, his merciless tongue lapping at your cunt, desperate to keep the taste of your sweet nectar on his taste buds, teeth grazing along your puffy folds which pushed you over the edge.

you swore your ears started ringing as your vision went hazy, with tears most likely, and noise, like static. your grasp on him loosened momentarily when you were under the impression that he was going to pull away.

he didn't.

you're in for a long night. he's only had his first course so far, and there's four in store for the night. but don't worry, he's just paying you back, little doll.

[thinkinonsense]

I KNEW YOU IN ANOTHER LIFEᰔ

dp&w!logan howlett x past wife!reader

cw: mostly angst, some fluff, sorta mean logan, cussing.

wc: 800+

a/n: this is inspired by a one-shot I read a while back but I cannot remember who wrote it. If anyone knows, please please please let me know in the comments so I can give them credit <3 update!!! this is it!!

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The last person you thought you would find here in the void is Logan. There has never been a Wolverine in here. You almost didn't believe it when you found out; needing to see him for yourself. And here he was. Right in front of you, the Logan you grieved all those years ago. The one who stole your heart.

Your Logan.

"And who the fuck are you?" He barked, pushing you away from him.

Those words broke your heart the second they left his lips.

Wade smacks Logan, informing him of your past together. Logan looked like he didn't believe Wade at first. You were way too beautiful for any version of him, Logan thought. What would someone like you want with a man like him?

Tears well up in your eyes as you leave, not wanting it to sting anymore. Laura follows you, glaring at the man who looked like her father. Logan didn't seem to care about the new information, instead reaching for another one of Gambit's bottles.

"I'm sorry, mom," Laura whispers, wrapping her arms around you.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm not sure what I expected to happen." You sniffle. "He just looks so much like him."

"I know."

Suddenly, Laura stood up and stomped out the door to confront the man who upset her mother. She found Logan sitting outside alone by the fire.

"Look kid, I'm not the man you and your mother think I am." Logan sighs, not even bothering to turn around to check if it's Laura.

"You made her cry," Laura hissed, ignoring his previous comment. Logan looked up at the young girl almost apologetically before shaking his head. "Her Logan would have never made her cry."

Logan felt a sharpness in his stomach at the news. Deep down, he wondered if you two were together at some point. He doubted it though because you looked out of his league. If a past version of him managed to marry you then maybe he did some good during his time.

"If you two haven't noticed, I'm the worst Logan apparently."

"You don't have to be."

ᰔ

It's late when you finally stumble out of bed, not able to sleep. Hours of tossing and turning, trying to get Logan out of your mind. This felt like a cruel joke on your poor heart. You know it's unfair to have him pretend to be your Logan but you desperately wanted it to be him.

All of your memories together haunt your mind like a graveyard. Sweet Sundays spent wrapped in sheets. How he kissed your face every morning, had you wear his dog tags, and ride on the back of his motorcycle. You would give anything to get just one of those moments back.

"What are you doin' awake?"

The voice behind you caused you to jump slightly. A hand coming to rest on your back. You turn around, face-to-face with Logan.

"Can't sleep." You shrugged, opening the freezer to pull out a container of strawberry ice cream.

"That shit won't help you sleep." He grunts, sitting at the table. You ignore his grumpiness and continue scooping the ice cream into a bowl.

"Can we talk?" Logan didn't look you in the eyes as he spoke. Too ashamed of his actions earlier.

"I suppose so." You shrugged, pulling the spoon from between your lips.

"Were we really married?"

You answer by pulling the chain around your neck for him to see. A small diamond ring dangled next to the dog tags he gave you. The moment he saw it, he felt like the biggest asshole who ever lived.

"How many years?" The words stung in his throat.

"Five."

"What was our life like?"

"Perfect." You smile softly down at your bowl. "At least it was to me."

"You did a good job with raising her." He muttered, referring to Laura.

"You would have to."

He's silent for a second, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of being a husband and a father. He wished he knew what it was like to be cared for as much as you cared for your Logan.

"You know, you have the same look in your eyes," Your voice was so quiet, stepping closer to him until you were in front of him.

Logan could see the desperation on your face as you stared at his lips. It would be wrong for him to toy with your widowed heart, but he wanted to be the man you needed. The man you deserved.

"I'm not him, sweetheart," He said, attempting to stop you before you hurt yourself. "And I don't want you to get hurt-"

"Please," You beg, eyes filling up with tears. "I don't care who you are. I just don't want it to hurt anymore."

You were slowly killing him. How could he say no to you? Even if he was the worst Logan, he has a heart. Which is why he lets you close the gap between the two of you. His hands are tangled in your hair while one of yours rests on his jaw before climbing into his lap.

For the first time in years, your heart began beating again. You and Logan could play pretend for now. Neither of you cared what would happen tomorrow, right now was all that mattered.

[cowboybeepboop]

Desire

“Anything you want, baby,” he murmurs, his voice strained with desire. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader

Genre: Friends to lovers, romantic smut

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: Your feelings for Jake resurface after you tried to push them away, leading to an extremely intimate night with your best friend.

a/n: I really hope there's still an audience for Top Gun Maverick smut because I really loved writing for Hangman and Rooster. Also, I’m currently working on the requests in my inbox but as always feel free to send any my way! I hope you enjoy <3

You're best friends with Jake, in fact you're the only one who he doesn't seem to have an attitude with. Working at The Hard Deck allows you to see him even more frequently, which you truly enjoy.

You know not to get too attached to him, you know how he is with women, you know that given the chance he would simply fuck you and leave your life forever. So of course you’ve entirely given up on the chance of ever being anything more than just his friend, his best friend.

The doors swing open with Mav and his team bounding in, he greets Penny, glancing over at you as you lean over a table obviously lost in thought.

“What are all of you doing here? I’m not even open yet,” she starts to scold but Maverick brushes her comment off.

“I thought you could make an exception for us,” he shoots her a sly grin and she rolls her eyes. Hangman gives you a gentle pat on the back as he passes you, saying a soft hello.

Phoenix chuckles as she stands in front of you, “Hey Y/N,” you groan in response.

“Hey, bagman.” Phoenix addresses the blond who's standing at the pool table, “What's up with Y/N?” Hangman turns toward Phoenix and raises an eyebrow in response to her question. He didn't seem particularly interested in the conversation, but his attention was piqued nonetheless.

"Hm? Oh, Y/N? What about her?" he said, leaning against the pool table with a nonchalant tone.

“I mean, just look at her. She looks like she's got something on her mind.” she says, nodding in your direction. Their gazes fall on you, watching as you wipe the same place over and over. He approaches you with a frown on his face, clearly noticing your distracted state.

He stands in front of you, his arms folded across his chest, and observes you silently. "You look like you're in another world, sweetheart," he finally says in a low voice, tilting his head to get a better look at your face.

You glance up at him, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah, something like that.” you mutter.

“Well, don't just say that and not give me the details.” he raises an eyebrow, watching the way you look away. Something was definitely on your mind, he could tell by the look on your face alone. He knew you all too well, and your usual mood was certainly not this solemn.

He leaned down a bit, making sure he was in your field of vision again, his arms still crossing his chest. “Come on, you can tell me. What's going on?” he prodded, a hint of concern in his voice.

“It’s nothing,” your expression softens as you toss the rag into the red bucket under the counter.

“Oh, really now?” he says with a doubtful tone. He knew you were lying straight to his face, you were usually a pretty terrible liar. He leans against the counter a little bit, keeping his eyes on you. “I know there’s something going on in that pretty little head of yours. So spill it.” He spoke in a firm tone, trying to get you to open up to him.

“It's just,” you purse your lips as you choose your words carefully, making sure he doesnt find out you're talking about him. “Just some guy, has me distracted.”

“A guy?” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. There was something off about the way you spoke, like you were intentionally being vague. But his curiosity quickly shifted into jealousy as you mentioned you were distracted by another guy.

His arms tensed across his chest as he leaned a little closer towards you. “Who is this guy? Is he bothering you?” he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He didn’t like the idea of someone else capturing your attention, let alone making you distracted.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over it.” you tease him, your mood becoming a bit more lighthearted.

He rolled his eyes at your teasing, a small hint of a smile appearing on his face. But he was still determined to figure out who this other guy was, who was taking your attention away from him.

He pushed off the counter, moving to stand in front of you so that you were now face to face. “Come on, spill it. Who is this guy?” he said, a hint of insistence in his voice.

“I don’t want to make you jealous.” There was a hint of a smirk on his face as you mentioned making him jealous. He knew you were teasing him, but his competitive nature couldn’t resist the challenge.

“Oh, you think I’d get jealous?” he said, a hint of mock arrogance in his tone. “I don’t get jealous, sweetheart.” you think for a second, realizing that maybe getting advice from the man who's bothering you so much, might actually be your best option.

“Fine,” you pull yourself up on the counter, sitting on the edge in front of him. “He’s an ass sometimes, all he cares about is getting laid so I know I need to stay away. But.. I just can’t stop thinking about him.” you sigh.

Hangman looks a bit surprised by your admission, he wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt about the situation. He wants to tell you to forget about the guy and focus your attention on him instead, but he knows he doesn’t have any claim over you.

He leans against the counter next to you, his arms resting across his chest once again. “Sounds like a player, why bother with him?” he asks, trying to sound indifferent.

“I don't know, it’s just that he's always on my mind.” you lean back on your palms, “I guess that's why I’m so distracted today.” He can see the hint of frustration and confusion in your expression, it was clearly bothering you that this guy was constantly invading your thoughts.

He’s silent for a moment, his mind racing with different thoughts and feelings. But eventually he speaks, his voice low and firm. “You can do so much better than some player,” he says with a slight scoff, “You don’t need a guy like him in your life.”

Your eyes wander across his face as you sigh, “I know..” your voice trails off. He looks down at you, noticing the way your eyes are wandering across his face. He can see the hint of disappointment in your expression, as you admit that you know you can do better.

He steps a bit closer to you, his eyes never leaving your face. “So why bother with him then? Why waste your time and energy thinking about a guy who doesn’t deserve you?"

“I should get back to work.” you smile softly at him, hiding the frustration at his admission. He didn’t want you to go, he wasn’t ready to let the conversation end just yet. The way you smiled softly at him, a hint of frustration in your eyes, made him want to keep talking to you and find out more.

But he knew you had a job to do, and he didn’t want to come off as needy or overbearing. He nods in response to your statement, forcing a small smile back.

“Y/N,” Penny smiles warmly at you, “How about you call it a day?” she presses her hand to your back.

“Are you sure?” you question her, she simply nods at you. You find your way over to the pool table watching the pilots play.

The pilots are in the middle of a game of pool, laughing and teasing each other as they take turns shooting. Hangman in particular is clearly enjoying himself, relishing in the competitive atmosphere. He knows he's good at pool, and he's not afraid to show it.

He’s the first to notice your approach, and his demeanor changes slightly. He glances at you, a hint of a cocky smile on his face. “Finished working already?” he teases, his eyes watching you intently.

“Yeah, but my ride won't be here for a couple more hours.” you bite down on your bottom lip, gazing at him.

He steps even closer to you, his gaze unwavering. “If you don't want to keep waiting, I can drive you home.” his voice lowered as he stares down at you.

“Actually that sounds like a great idea,” you smile up at him, thankful you won’t have to stay any later.

He can't help but feel satisfied that you agreed so easily to his offer, pleased that he'll have more time alone with you. He grins back at you, his arms still crossed in front of his chest.

"Alright then, let's get going." he says, jerking his head towards the exit. He places a hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the doors. You wave goodbye to Penny and Mav who are deep in a conversation.

“Do you maybe have time to watch a movie with me?” you fiddle with your fingers, “I mean, it's been a while since we've hung out just the two of us.”

He listens to your question, his mind racing with different thoughts, but he quickly shoves them down. He would do anything to spend more time with you. He pretends to act a bit indifferent, but his voice betrays him as he replies.

"Sure, we can watch a movie." he shrugs, trying not to seem too eager. "Got one in mind?" you reach for the handle of his passenger side door.

“Hm, we could watch anything. I just want to be with you,” you admit carelessly while getting into the car.

He can’t help but feel a flutter in his chest at your admission, his heart races a little bit faster as he watches you get into the car. He quickly gets into the driver’s seat, trying to act like your words don’t affect him.

“Anything, huh?” he teases, glancing over at you quickly as he starts the car. “Even a cheesy romance movie?” he smirks, knowing how much you love them.

You gasp in response, “Obviously, you *know* they're my favorite.” his mind goes back to the discussion you had earlier as you smile at him.

He lets out a soft chuckle at your response, “Of course I do, I can’t forget your obsession with them.” he teases, his eyes staying focused on the road as he drives. But his mind starts to wander again, thinking about your earlier confession.

As his mood shifts slightly, he glances over at you with a hint of a frown on his face. “So, uh, this guy you were talking about,” he says, breaking the silence in the car. “How… how serious are you about him?”

“Hm?” your eyebrows furrow softly. His grip on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly at your reaction, his eyes staring straight ahead as he continues to drive.

He can’t help the pang of jealousy that runs through him, he glances over at you, his face trying to maintain a nonchalant expression. “I just mean, you said you didn’t want to get in trouble with a guy.” he says, his tone guarded.

“I don’t know.” you sigh looking out the window.

His heart does a backflip at your words, he tries to maintain a neutral expression, but he can’t help the small smirk that appears on his face. “So, you’re single, huh?” he teases, a hint of hope in his voice.

“Mhm, why do you ask?” you question him. He continues to drive, keeping his eyes focused on the road as he answers your question.

“Just wondering,” he replies casually, trying to feign indifference. But he can’t help the nervous energy that’s building inside of him. He glances over at you, his gaze raking over your face thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve been single for a while too,” he adds, an underlying hint in his voice.

“You’re always single,” you retort, “you prefer hook-ups over relationships, right?” you tease him.

He lets out an annoyed huff, not expecting you to tease him like that. His face flushes slightly as he remembers all the past hookups he’s bragged about to you, in an attempt to make you jealous. “Hey,” he says with false annoyance in his voice, “I can be in a relationship if I wanted to.”

“And would you want to?” you question as he pulls into the parking lot of your building.

He parks the car, his heart racing slightly at your question. He turns to look at you, hesitating for a moment. The thought of being in a relationship, with you, was something he’d fantasized about for a while. But he’s also a coward, terrified of being vulnerable and getting hurt.

He takes a deep breath, trying to maintain a casual composure. “Maybe, if it was the right person.” he finally responds, his eyes searching your face for a reaction. You nod in response, slightly disappointed with his answer.

“Who’s your right person?” your voice is quiet. He’s taken aback by your question, the subtle disappointment in your voice stabbing at his heart. He glances down, his mind racing with different thoughts and emotions.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes shifting back up to meet yours. His heart pounds even faster as he musters up the courage to answer you. “Well.. I think you already know.” your eyes widen at his implication, feeling his hand moving to cup your cheek.

He can see the surprise in your eyes as he cups your cheek gently, his thumb stroking your skin softly. His heart is racing as he looks down at you, his eyes searching your expression for a reaction.

He takes a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak. “Do you… do you feel the same way?” he asks, his voice soft and nervous.

“Jake.. I.” your heart races as your words get stuck in your throat. His chest clenches as you struggle to speak, his stomach in knots as he waits for your response. His hand is still gently caressing your cheek, his eyes never leaving your face.

He swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure. “Please, just tell me. I need to know.” he says, his voice quiet but firm. Finding yourself speechless, you respond by pressing your lips to his.

He’s taken by surprise by your action, his eyes widening for a split second before he responds to your kiss. A wave of relief and happiness washes over him as he feels your lips against his, his heart racing with excitement and disbelief as he realizes the asshole you were talking about earlier just so happens to be him.

He moans softly against your mouth, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers burying into your hair as he kisses you back, passionately and hungrily. You lean closer to him, your hands cupping his cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue twirling with yours. He can’t believe this is actually happening, that you feel the same way he does.

He pulls you closer, his hands gripping your hips and guiding you onto his lap. He moans against your lips, his hands roaming down your sides, his touch both gentle and desperate at the same time.

“Jake,” you whisper against his lips, feeling his bulge pressed against your heat. He shudders hearing his name leaving your lips, his eyes darkening with desire for you. He can’t help but moan softly as he feels your body pressed against his, his hips instinctively bucking up slightly in response.

He pulls you even closer, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips trailing down your neck. “Sweetheart,” he breathes, “I want you so damn bad.” you moan quietly, leaning into his touch.

“We need to go inside,” your voice and gaze are filled with desire. His heart races at your moan, his body aching with need for you. He nods in agreement, his eyes filled with the same desire.

“You’re right, we should go.” he mutters, his hands roaming over your hips, unable to keep himself from touching you.

He lifts you off his lap, opening the car door and practically dragging you out with him. He shuts the door behind you before pulling you towards the building’s entrance, his eyes filled with impatience and lust.

He presses you against the wall of the elevator, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch of exposed skin. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” he mutters against your skin, his voice thick with desire. He kisses and nips at your neck, unable to get enough of you, your soft moans fill the cramped space.

He can’t help but smirk to himself as he hears your moans, his heart racing as he realizes he’s the one making you feel this way. He feels a surge of pride and satisfaction knowing he’s the one who has your heart racing and your body yearning.

“Jake, fuck, you’re driving me crazy.” The ding of the elevator pulls you both out of your trance as the doors open, revealing the empty hallway. He grabs your hand, practically dragging you towards your apartment.

You fumble with the doorknob as you unlock it, feeling his desperate hands around your waist.

He can't keep his hands off you, his fingers tracing the exposed skin of your waist as you fiddle with the keys. Impatience floods him, his desire growing with every second.

He presses himself against you from behind, his lips finding your neck once again. "Hurry up," he mutters against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "I need you, right now."

You pull the door open, smirking at his impatience. He traps you between his arms, your back pressed against the closed door, his body pressed firmly against yours. He gazes down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and possessiveness.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters, his voice hoarse and low. He leans down and captures your lips in a fierce and passionate kiss, his body desperate to get closer to you.

You press against him, your palms against his lower abs, as you lead him to your bedroom blindly. He follows your lead through the apartment, his lips never leaving yours. His body is on fire, the feeling of your hands on his abs driving him wild.

He pushes you against the doorframe of your bedroom, his body pinning you to it as he continues to kiss you deeply and hungrily. He can't get enough of your mouth, his tongue tasting every inch of it. He slips his knee between your thighs, pressing into your sensitive pussy. You moan into his mouth, your eyebrows scrunching in pleasure.

His knee presses against your sensitive core, his tongue exploring your mouth greedily. He can hear your moans, your breath hitching as he presses into you. He feels a surge of satisfaction as he knows he’s the one who makes you feel this way.

He nips at your bottom lip, his hands roaming down your sides, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “You like that, sweetheart?” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse. “You want more?”

“Please,” you grasp onto his sides, moaning desperately, “I need more please.”

He can hear the desperation in your voice, your fingers gripping his sides. His heart aches at your plea, his body responding instantly to your need.

He moans against your mouth in response, his hands roaming down to your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifts you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you into your bedroom.

He gently but firmly presses you against the plush comforter of your bed, his eyes devouring every inch of your body. The room is bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting shadows across your flushed cheeks and the passionate hunger in his gaze. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, and it sends shivers down your spine.

With a low growl, he starts to peel away the layers of fabric that separate his skin from yours. His rough hands glide over your smooth flesh, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Each piece of clothing that falls away reveals more of your beauty to him, and he can't help but moan in appreciation. His eyes are locked onto yours, watching the way your pupils dilate with every touch, every kiss.

He nips at your earlobe before tracing the line of your jaw with his teeth, making you squirm under him. His hands are everywhere, exploring the curves of your body, learning every dip and peak that makes you gasp. His kisses become more fervent, his teeth grazing your neck as he sucks soft hickeys into your skin. You can feel the pressure build, the promise of bruises that will be a secret between the two of you.

Your breath comes in pants as he kisses down your chest, his tongue swirling around your hardened nipples. You arch your back, pushing your breasts closer to his eager mouth, your hands tangling into his hair. He groans, the vibration of his pleasure echoing through your body, making your core clench with need. His teeth graze the sensitive skin, and you can't help but bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape.

His mouth continues to travel downward, leaving a trail of hot kisses down your stomach. His eyes never leave yours, the hunger in them growing with every inch closer he gets to your wet pussy. You can feel your heart pounding against your ribs, the anticipation of his touch making your skin tingle with excitement.

With surprising gentleness, he spreads your legs apart, his gaze lingering on the wetness that's already gathered there. He groans, his own arousal evident in the tightness of his pants. He leans in, his breath hot against your sensitive skin, and you can't help but moan out his name as he kisses the inside of your thigh.

The first suck is gentle, but firm, and you feel your pussy clench in response. He starts to suck dark hickeys along the sensitive skin, each one a little harder and closer to your center. Your hands tighten in his hair as he works his way closer to your core, the pleasure building with every mark he leaves.

“More, Jake, please!” you beg him, your voice desperate and needy. He chuckles against your skin, his tongue flicking against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your back arches as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking hard. You moan loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls of your small apartment.

He inserts one finger inside you, feeling the slickness of your arousal. You gasp as he starts to pump in and out, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, teasing and taunting it. His eyes watch yours as he reads every reaction, making sure to hit all the right spots.

You're close, so close, but he knows you can take more. He adds another finger, stretching you just right, the friction making your toes curl. Your eyes roll back into your head as he starts to pump faster, his mouth never leaving your clit. He feels you tighten around his fingers, the warmth of your orgasm approaching.

He keeps his rhythm steady, not letting up even when your moans turn into whimpers of pleasure. You're so close, your body begging for release. His eyes never leave you, the intensity of the moment causing your chest to heave with every ragged breath. And then it hits you, the orgasm crashing over you like a wave.

You scream his name, your body convulsing with pleasure. He keeps his mouth on you, drinking in your release, savoring the taste of your arousal. As the waves subside, he kisses up your body, his hands still holding you in place.

"You taste so good," he murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with satisfaction. He can feel your legs shaking as his own need for you grows with every second. He strips off his own clothes, his eyes never leaving yours, and then he's on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress.

He positions himself at your entrance, his cock aching to be inside you. He looks into your eyes, searching for permission, and you nod eagerly. He takes a deep breath, then gently pushes in, feeling your warmth envelop him. You gasp as he stretches you, his eyes never leaving yours, watching for any signs of pain or discomfort.

As he’s fully sheathed in your wetness, he holds still for a moment, savoring the feeling of being connected to you so intimately. He starts to move, his hips rolling in a slow, torturous rhythm. Each time he thrusts into you, your eyes widen and a moan escapes your lips. He loves the way you react to him, the way your body moves with his.

He keeps his movements gentle, not wanting to overwhelm you, despite his own desperate need to claim you completely. His hands are everywhere, stroking your skin, feeling your curves, as he kisses along your jawline. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your legs tightening around his waist.

Your thighs squeeze around him, your heels digging into his back as he continues to thrust into you, deeper and deeper. His movements become more urgent as he feels your body tightening around him, the walls of your pussy clenching down on his cock. You moan his name, urging him to go faster, harder, and he responds eagerly, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm.

You can feel yourself on the edge of another orgasm, your breaths coming in short gasps. Hangman’s eyes are locked on yours, watching the pleasure build in your gaze, feeling the power he has over your body. He can’t believe how beautiful you look, your face contorted in ecstasy, your eyes glazed over with lust.

Your body begins to spasm around him, your pussy clenching down hard. He groans, his hips stuttering as he feels you start to cum. The sensation is overwhelming, your muscles tightening around his cock like a vice, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

With a sudden jolt, he pulls out of you, unable to hold back any longer, his cock spurting cum onto your stomach with a loud groan. His eyes never leave your body, watching as your orgasm takes over, your pussy pulsing and gripping at nothing.

He's left breathless, his chest heaving as he looks down at you, his expression one of awe and satisfaction. He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, before his eyes drift down to the mess he's made of you.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut, your body trembling with the pleasure he’s given you. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction at the sight of your beautiful, sated body.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire and exhaustion. His eyes rake over your form, taking in every curve and plane, every mark he’s left behind.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he mutters, his fingers tracing the lines of his bites and hickeys on your skin.

“Now let's get you cleaned up, hm?” He lifts you up, wrapping his strong arms around you, and carries you to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, letting the water run until it warms up, before placing you gently under the spray.

He steps in after you, his body pressing against yours as he begins to lather your body with soap, his hands moving over your skin gently but possessively. You exhale contentedly as you press into his chest, relaxing in his embrace.

He holds you close, his arms encircling you, as the water cascades over your bodies. His hands run over your body, washing away the sweat and evidence of your passionate encounter. Jake nuzzles his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, a sense of peace washing over him. He murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

“You’re not just fucking around with me are you?” your voice is uneasy as your stomach twists with anxiety. He freezes, taken aback by your vulnerable question. He can hear the anxiety in your voice, and it pierces his heart.

He pulls away slightly, turning your body to face his, cupping your face gently in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are intense but filled with understanding.

“No. No, sweetheart, I’m not just ‘fucking around with you’.” His voice is firm but tender. “What we did tonight, it meant something to me. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. You mean way too much to me.” your eyes soften as his gaze into yours with sincerity.

“Good, because I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” you bite down on your lip. He feels a rush of tenderness and protectiveness wash over him as he hears your sincere words. He pulls you closer, your wet bodies pressed against each other, his arms encircling you in a firm embrace.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he mutters against your hair, his voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and possessiveness. “You’re all I want too, sweetheart. You have no idea how much I need you.”

[issysh3ll]

Blush ♡ Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Matt is embarrassed when you catch him watching edits of you but he can’t deny how much he likes it Warnings: Sub! Matt, smut, masturbation, humiliation kink, teasing, tears, blushing Wordcount: 2.3k

a/n: I was going to edit this and fix it up a bit before posting but I keep forgetting and don’t want to make you guys wait any longer so here it is but it might be a bit rough

Silence fills the house, the only sounds to be heard are Nick’s gentle snoring and your soft footsteps as you carefully creep out of his room. Falling asleep has always taken you a long time, often finding yourself tossing and turning while you wait for sleep to creep up on you. Tonight has been much the same, and with Nick’s snoring now echoing through the room a trip to the kitchen was seeming more appealing than the boredom of silently waiting for slumber to take you.

Floorboards creak under your feet as you make your way down the stairs. The room is dark, the only light coming from a window above the sink where the moonlight spills into the area. Or so you thought, your eyes are drawn to another light source sitting at the kitchen bench. Matt’s phone balances in his hand, his eyes glued to the screen. The light dancing across his face as he scrolls, music plays quietly with each video he lands on.

“Oh hey, i didn't know you were still up” Matt says, quickly switching his phone off and dropping it onto the bench clumsily. The dim lighting of the room makes it hard to tell but you could swear you could see a slight pink tinge running across his cheeks as he fidgets awkwardly with his phone case. Ignoring the behavior, you head straight to the fridge, leaning forwards to grab a water and throwing your reply over your shoulder, “yeah, I just came down for a drink. Nick’s snoring.” You turn around as the fridge door closes, unscrewing the water bottle now in your hand and meet Matt’s eyes. “What were you watching?” you ask before bringing the water to your lips and gulping down a few mouthfuls. 

Matt’s eyes widen at your question and the pink hue on his cheeks becomes more obvious. “Oh uh, nothin’ really. Just, uh, some videos. Ya’ know, just passing the time.” He clears his throat as he speaks, trying to shrug and act nonchalant but his nervous energy is very clear. Intrigued, you place the water bottle down on the bench and raise an eyebrow at Matt as you question him again, “really? It sounded like you were watching TikTok edits…”

Matt's eyes widen, his cheeks now flushing a deep shade of crimson. Embarrassment bubbles inside his chest – you are the last person he would want to be caught by. His hands fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie, tugging and twisting on the gray fabric as he clears his throat again. “H-how did you.. I mean, yeah, maybe. It’s just so catchy and easy to get lost in, ya’ know?”

“Mhmm, so who’s edits were you watching Matt? You’re blushing like crazy.” You tease, gesturing at his face. He quickly turns away avoiding your keen stare, silently willing his cheeks to stop burning. Embarrassment and something else flickering in his eyes. You watch, intrigued as he chews on his lip nervously, eyes glued to the floor as he stutters and stammers out the beginnings of an answer before trailing off and muttering, “it doesn’t matter”.

You step around the kitchen bench, now standing on the same side as him. Through the dim lighting you can see his throat bob as he swallows nervously at your proximity. A small chuckle crosses your lips with a small smirk growing. “Go on, tell me. It’s ok matty, don’t be embarrassed. Who was it?” You taunt, stepping closer again. Matt’s eyes remain firmly glued to the ground as he shakes his head. 

You know that Matt has always been shy, especially around you, but despite his efforts to hide it you have always noticed how his behavior changes when you’re around. The way he always blushes when you make eye contact, or the way he always does anything you ask him to. The answer to your question is very clear in your mind but you’re determined to make Matt admit it. 

You take another step forward, now standing between matts legs as they hang off the kitchen stool. You reach a hand out to Matt's chin, tilting his head up slightly, forcing him to meet your gaze as you repeat your question, “Who was it, Matt?”

Matt’s breath hitches at your touch on his chin, his heart beating out of his chest and his cheeks burning as he stares up into your eyes. The intensity of your gaze makes his stomach flip as he forces his voice out, “It… it was you” he admits, his voice cracking, “I-I can’t help it, ya’ know?” He stammers, the deep crimson color on his cheeks spreading down his neck as he squirms under your gaze. 

Too nervous to look at you, his eyes flick anxiously around the room. You chuckle slightly and tighten your grip on his jaw as you lean your face down. “Aw look at you, so desperate to see more of me you had to watch little videos on your phone, huh? But now that I'm actually here you can’t even look at me? Come on Matt, look at me”.

Matt gulps, your fingers cold against the hot, flushed skin of his face. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your lips now, watching intently as they move with your teasing words. Embarrassment burns through his body, his cheeks practically on fire and yet he still feels a pang of desire with each touch, each movement. His desire spreads through his body causing a warmth to rise in his crotch. Matt shuffles his hips, trying to hide the way his body is reacting. 

Your eye’s flick down to follow Matt’s fidgeting and the cause becomes clear as you see the tent forming in his sweatpants, his hands rushing down in an attempt to cover it. A small chuckle rises in your throat, entertained by the way Matt’s bids to hide his growing bulge are only making it more prominent. You return your gaze to Matt’s face to find that his eyes are screwed shut in shame and his lip quivers slightly as he utters out a shaky “I- I’m sorry.”

You smile softly at him and tilt his chin up slightly, Matt peaking one eye open slightly to see your reaction. Your thumb strokes gently against his jaw as you speak, “hmm you like that don’t you? You like that I caught you? C’mon open your eyes Matty, look at me when you answer.”

Matt’s breath hitches as he hesitantly peels his eyes open again. He watches as your teasing gaze flicks down again to the growing bulge in his pants, a small twitch jumping through his cock as your eyes land on it once more. He bites his lip before answering shakily, “I… Yes.”

You chuckle lowly and run your thumb across his jaw to his lip, pulling it out from between his teeth, “you’re just so desperate for my attention?” You ask teasingly, your thumb grazing lightly over Matt’s bottom lip again, “You can’t help it can you? I can see your cock twitching already baby.”

Matt’s cheeks burn hotter at your words and he bites his lip again, a pitiful whimper leaving his lips as the fabric of his sweatpants rubs against his growing erection. His embarrassment of being caught, being teased like this is consuming him but he can’t deny the way it feeds his desire for you even more, “Please…”

“Hmm? Please what baby?” you coo back at him, leaning your face closer just inches away from his.

Matt squirms under your touch, his cock pulsing against his sweatpants. “Please, just touch me,” his voice barely above a whisper. He knows it’s humiliating, but the urge to have your hands on him is overwhelming, “I need it,” He admits.

You shake your head and tsk your teeth, “aw look at you, poor baby so desperate to be touched you’re begging.” Your grip on his jaw releases and you move your hand to cup his cheek, gently stroking your thumb along the flushed skin. You place your other hand lightly on his leg, tracing your fingertips softly up and down his thigh.

Matt’s breath hitches in his throat and he leans his face into your palm, a needy whimper escaping his lips. The gentle contact on his thigh making his cock twitch in anticipation. He looks up at you through his lashes with pleading eyes, his pupils dilated with desire, “Please… I need more.”

“More? Hm, you think you deserve more, Matty? Are you gonna be a good boy?”

Matt nods eagerly, a bead of sweat forming on his brow as he anticipates your next move. “Yes, I promise. I’ll be a good boy. I just need you, please,” he begs, his hips thrusting upwards in a silent plea for more contact.

You chuckle slightly at his desperation and point to his hips as you speak playfully, “aw look at you, so desperate you’re humping nothing. How pathetic.” Your fingers run up his thigh again, this time moving further up until your hand is hovering just above where he wants it.

A soft whine falls from Matt’s lips, his hands clenching into fists around the sleeves of his hoodie to steady himself. He arches into your touch, desperate for more friction. His voice is thick with need as he pleads “please, don’t stop”.

Your palm on his cheek trails down to grip his jaw tightly again, pulling his face towards yours slightly as you speak close to his mouth. “Hmm? No, if you’re so desperate to be touched you can do it yourself. Let me see how pathetic you are for me baby, you’re gonna hump my hand, ok?” Your hand pressing down slightly against the bulge in his pants.

Matt’s eyes widen at your command, a mix of embarrassment and arousal filling his mind. He knows it's degrading, but the thought of humping your hand turns him on even more and he nods with a small whimper. He starts to grind up against your palm, the friction making his cock throb in his pants. The pleasure rippling through him from just your palm causes his embarrassment to rise with each thrust. The red color of his cheeks growing as he works to get himself off on your hand. His eyes avoid yours, instead staring shyly at the ground, not wanting you to see how much pleasure he is deriving from so little of you. The humiliation of finding this much enjoyment in something so demeaning is pricking at Matt’s mind. 

“Keep your eyes on mine Matt,” you warn, tightening your grip on his jaw, “I want to see how much you like it.”

Matt hesitates but the tight grip on his jaw forces him to look at you. His brows are knitting together with pleasure, his lips parted as small moans and whimpers pour out with each movement. “That’s it baby, let me hear you too. I wanna hear those pathetic little pretty whimpers.” you coo, pressing your hand down slightly, increasing the pressure against his cock as his movements speed up. 

Your words fuel his shame, and yet it also intensifies the pleasure coursing through his body. A choked whimper escapes his lips followed by a series of soft, desperate groans as he grinds harder against your palm. He feels utterly humiliated, but he can’t stop himself from seeking your touch, your approval.

“Yeah good boy, you like being humiliated don’t you? Feels so good being my pathetic little play thing, huh?”

His moans grow louder, hips jerking erratically as he gets closer to the edge. Your degrading words only add to his arousal. “Yes, yes…” he pants, his voice dripping with submission, “i’m your pathetic baby.”

“Hmm good boy, so good for me aren’t you.” You can feel his cock twitching beneath the fabric of his sweatpants more and more. Matt now struggling to keep his eyes open as they roll back in pleasure. “Look at you,” you chuckle, “you can’t even keep your eyes on me. You gonna cum in your pants, Matty?”

Matt whimpers pathetically at your laughter, a mixture of shame and pleasure twisting at his insides. Tears well up in his eyes as he weakly tries to regain your gaze. His hips bucking uncontrollably, and with a muffled cry, he spills his release. Ropes of thick white liquid squirting into his pants with each twitch of his cock. His body shudders as his grinding slows.

You shake your head and tsk your teeth at him, pulling your grip on his jaw to force his eyes towards the wet patch on his pants. “Look at that, you just couldn’t help it could you?” you tease, pulling his face back up again to face you. “You just had to make a mess of your pants, hm?” 

His gaze returns to your face, the tears that had been welling up in his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure now spilling slowly out of the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. You release your grip on his jaw, moving your hand to wipe away his tears gently and cup his cheek. “Aw, are you crying? So embarrassed about how desperate you are? Isn’t this what you wanted, Matty?”

Matt sniffles, nodding his head slowly as you wipe away the last of his tears. He still can’t meet your eyes but clings to the touch on his cheek. “Yes… I wanted it so bad. Just – couldn’t help myself, felt too good.” He admits, his voice quiet and shameful.

You stroke your thumb comfortingly across his cheek. Matt leans into your touch, grateful for the affection. Your voice contrasts with the soft loving actions as you hum sarcastically “hmm poor baby, no self control, i bet you want more don’t you?”

All my works → here

a/n: what do we think of this one? this is obviously alot longer than my other ones

Taglist: @bernardsbendystraws @gxldenlush @scligit @sturniolo-fann @submattenthusiast @sturni0l0 @colorthecosmos444 @rainuhh @bambi-slxt @evie-sturns

[maybanksprincess]

isnt the same without you.

warnings: comforting, fluff, insecurity, a little bit of blood.

summary: jj goes to a party without reader for the first time, and when jjs phone dies, she starts to overthink. (based off this ask, thank you anon!)

a/n: this is sort of short because its just a blurb, but i really love this request, its so cute!

pairings: insecure!reader x soft!bf!jj

you weren't feeling up to this big party that everyone was attending tonight. unfortunately, you and jj were planning to go for a few weeks now, and since you didn't wanna go, you didn't wanna stop him from attending it as well.

he insisted that he would stay home and look after you, he offered to buy you snacks and even watch those cheesy romcoms that he absolutely despises, but he tolerates them because you love them.

but you assured him it was okay, and he can go even if it made you feel a little uneasy.

you had never done well with being away from jj for long periods of time, let alone him going to a party without you. but you told yourself to 'grow up' and 'stop being a baby' about it. you needed to get a grip.

you decide to text him about an hour in, just to make sure he was safe, and then you promised yourself you would stop bothering him after that.

imessage:

11:01 pm: hey jay! im just checking in to make sure your okay, i dont wanna bother you or anything so im gonna let you have fun! bye i love you <3

-

you chew your nails, anxiously waiting on a response from your boyfriend.

about five minutes went by, and you were constantly picking up your phone, swiping up for any sign that he had read the text or responded. but there was nothing.

you waited another ten minutes, then got back to anxiously checking it again, still nothing. delivered.

you told yourself your being dramatic, and went to occupy yourself with doing the dishes, and sweeping the kitchen floor. by the time you had gotten back to your room about fifteen minutes later, there was still nothing.

you toss your phone down onto the bed, feeling frustrated but also upset at the same time. had he been hooking up with another girl? is he drinking too much? what if hes talking to someone else?

all these thoughts cloud your mind, and you find yourself biting down on the skin beside your nail bed. as your chewing away at your skin, your phone dings unexpectedly, causing you to jump a bit, tearing a piece of your skin off. (ouch.)

the sting of the bare skin makes your eyes water a little, a bead of blood trickling down your finger. "ow." you mumble, before picking up your phone and looking at whoever texted you.

it was jj. all your pain was instantly forgotten the moment you seen his text on your screen.

imessage

jayj🤍: "hey beautiful, im sorry i didnt text you back. i forgot my charger like a dumbass. but im at home now, and i didnt have fun. it was boring as shit without u baby."

you instantly reply to his message after reading it, your heart no longer feels like its carrying a weight anymore.

you: "thank you for texting, i was worried sick baby...i literally hurt my finger trying to answer the phone. I thought you might've been cheated on me or something."

you send that text with a underlying hint of insecurity in it, hoping he wont just brush you off. your in need of some reassurance from him right now.

jayj🤍: "baby you hurt your finger?!! and what do u mean 'cheat on you'? thats not even possible for me mama."

the next text eases your worries a bit, but you wanted to get everything off your chest.

you: "i just hate being without you for a long period of time, i wish i would've let you stay in with me tonight, but i know how excited you were for the party."

jayj🤍: "oh baby, no. parties are not the same without you. i would never cheat on you, im sorry if i made you feel that way, but that isn't me. you know your stuck with me forever mama, whether you like it or not."

now all your worries and insecurities are instantly gone, touched by your boyfriend's loyalty to you.

after you let yourself think for a moment, you remember the minor injury you caused yourself a few minutes back and wince slightly at the sting.

as if exactly on cue, jj double texts you.

jayj🤍: "oh and im on my way with some bandaids and snacks, i love you baby. unlock the door for me beautiful."

after he sends that text, you hear jjs dirtbike pull up.