#it was driving me crazy so I got up to make this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

badhee · 2 days ago

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𝑼𝑵𝑩𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬 ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

pairing: musician bf!heeseung x skater gf!reader ft. jake & sunoo genre/tags: smut, fluff, some angst, takes place in the year ‘08, scenecore aesthetic, forbidden relationship, references to old media n other stuff, mentions of weed, way too much dialogue, very cringey texting (it’s fitting for that time period tho lol), y/n has a toxic home life, heeseung and y/n get into an argument but gets resolved quickly, mentions of crying, switch!hee (he do be switchin’), fingering, oral (m. rec), semi-public sex, piv, unprotected sex, creampie words: 7k+

[ note. ] — this is another old fic of mines from my old blog that i wrote over a year ago (05/30/23), i felt nostalgic reading this again so i wanted to share it on my page!

No one likes being given lectures or told they can’t do something. If anything— it only drives the person to want to do it more. Unlucky for you, you were about to receive yet another antagonizing speech as soon as you arrive back home. It’s past 10 o’clock and way beyond dark, you should’ve been home a good hour ago. This was all Jake and Sunoo’s fault though; they were the ones who kept distracting you from keeping track of time.

They wouldn’t stop bombarding you with messages on MySpace. Spamming your inbox asking you to meet them at the mall after classes. Sunoo really wanted to get a Skelanimal hoodie from Hot Topic and Jake wanted to look around Spencer’s. You only bought a fuzzy Domo-Kun keychain for your bag. The only goal you had was to save as much money as possible in hopes of being able to eventually move out.

You had overbearing and controlling parents, they were strict and had extreme core values for the household. It was nearly impossible to live up to their excessively high standards so you started going against them. Self-expression was not something they celebrated, instead they treated it with disdain. They thought your dyed hair, dark clothes, and excessive use of eyeliner was “too eccentric” and the work of the “devil”. It also didn’t help that they absolutely hated all your friends, including your boyfriend, Heeseung.

On a random night, you had him over while you thought everyone was gone for a while. Turns out they arrived back earlier than expected and ended up catching you and Heeseung red handed, making out in your bed. Your parents were completely mortified to see a boy covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings with their daughter. Not exactly the ideal man they had in mind for you. It was hell to pay for you after that, they never wanted you seeing him again. Threat after threat to kick you out all because they believe he was nothing but a bad influence on you.

Will you ever listen though? Of course not, you love him like crazy. There was nothing getting in your way from seeing him. You’re an adult and can make your own logical decisions, they still treated you like a baby which infuriated you. Naturally your only choice now was to date in secrecy, sneaking out the house so you can go hang out at his place. You had a solid routine at this point— just wait until everyone was asleep and sneak out through the window. Your house was only one level so ideally it worked out perfect. Once you got out successfully, Heeseung would pick you up and just drive around for a bit sometimes. Today would be no different, you were on your way to sneak out again.

You skated all the way back home from the mall since neither Jake or Sunoo had a car. Listening to Bring Me The Horizon on your iPod while sipping on a slushy from 7-Eleven, one more block until you got home. You pivot your board to the side entering your driveway; feeling that pit in your stomach knowing what’s about to erupt. You lift your board up from the ground and walk inside the house with it.

“Where the fuck have you been y/n?! It’s 10:45 pm on a school night! You better not have been hanging out with those damn junkies again!” Your mom practically screams in your face the minute you walk through the door.

“I was just at the skatepark after class, leave me alone!” You snap back at her viciously, “and for the last time, they’re not fucking junkies they’re my friends!”

Now seeing her face visibly redden with anger, she points her finger at you harshly. “Who the hell are you talking to like that? I’m the one who runs shit around here, not you. Speak to me like that again and you’re going to wish you’ve never been born, got it?”

You really couldn’t help but laugh in her face, you’ve heard it all at this point.

“That’s hilarious, you make it seem like even I asked to be brought into this shitty world to begin with!” You shove her out the way, walk to your room and block out the rest of her nonsensical hollering.

Finally you’re able to text Heeseung in peace. Your heart was still pounding from that whole encounter. You don’t stand up to your mom often enough, praying to God that she doesn’t end up kicking you out right this instant. Pulling out your BlackBerry phone with a sliding keyboard, you text your boyfriend after hours of not talking.

Seungieeee, where r u ? xc

He replies to your message almost instantly,

@ Jake’s. can i scoop?

Yes pls get meee, my mom’s being an annoying cunt again!!

Not again… ok will be there in 10. cul8r

Also Jake is having horror movie night he says i have to come -_-

Tell him we MUST watch bride of chucky or else i’ll fuck him up >:[

I gotchu babe lmaoo :p

You quickly change into different clothes and reapply your smeared eyeliner from earlier. It was safe to say you needed to pack a few things in your bag incase of having to stay over; who knows how tonight might ensue. Since it became frigid outside you put on your favorite hoodie which was previously Heeseung’s. You’ve grown a lot of attachment to it over time. The most sickening part of it was that even after months of wearing it you still never washed it, wanting to keep the scent of him lingering on it for as long as you could. The smell of him brought you a sense of comfort, whenever you’d come home and your mom starts cursing at you you’d just curl up in bed cuddling with Heeseung’s hoodie.

A loud thump clamoring against your window startles you. You come closer in it’s direction to slowly walk up and see what the commotion was.

*Thump*

There it goes again.

You froze in confusion, feeling a bit worried now. Could it just be the wind?

You swing open the curtain to reveal your boyfriend, standing outside the window actively throwing rocks to get your attention. You couldn’t believe he’d attempt something so bold like this, your parents weren’t asleep and could catch you at any minute. Prying open the window so you can finally talk, you tell him to back away and stop causing a ruckus.

“Are you fucking crazy? My mom’s in the living room, quit making all that damn noise!”

“I got tired of waiting, just wanted to see you already!” He whines, anxiously waiting for you the whole time.

He literally just saw you yesterday but is so obsessed that he could never get sick of being around you.

“Gimme one sec.” You pause to grab all your stuff and jump out the window to go meet him.

Almost lost your balance in the process but thankfully Heeseung swooped in to keep you stable. You landed backwards into his chest and felt the warmth of his body against you. Your boyfriend was too dreamy, every part of him made your kitty throb. He was more than just a pretty face though, he was a hard-working musician too. He played the guitar, drums, and could sing beautifully. He was the true definition of a one man show, his real passion was to become a singer and songwriter.

You fully supported him in anything in he does, he uploaded most of his music on MySpace and got thousands of interactions instantly. His songs would continue to grow more popular online and he got more gigs to perform at shows. You were beyond ecstatic for him but also worried about it all in hindsight. The more famous he gets the less quality time he’ll be able to spend with you. You know this sounds really selfish but it always crosses your mind. The fear of losing him was something you just couldn’t fathom or grasp right now.

“Ugh, I’ve missed you so so much my pretty baby.” Heeseung didn’t waste a single minute to smother you in the car. His lips plastered all over your face, always doing the absolute most when showing his affection towards you.

“Missed— you too— babe!” You muffle in between kisses, your heart was overwhelmed with joy.

He looked exceptionally good today too, then again he always does. Bright orange strands hid the side of his face, the semi-oversized black t-shirt he wore clung to his body perfectly, and the snake bites and eyebrow piercing on him was to die for.

“Oh! You like my new piercing I got?” Heeseung announces after pulling away.

He proceeds to open his mouth and stick his tongue out, revealing a shiny silver ball smack dab in the middle. You weren’t shocked that he’d consider another piercing, you’re just surprised by the placement.

“Whoa, your tongue!” You gasp, pointing at it in amusement, “looks so cool, did that hurt?!”

“Not really, and thanks. Got it to please you better babe.” He knew he was causing to get all flustered by this.

“Y-you already please me enough Hee.” It was hard to even get a sentence out without tripping over words.

“I know that! But it can always be improved, right?”

There was nothing he really needed to improve but he found new ways to do it anyway. You really just loved him for who he is, all the extra stuff were added bonuses. He was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for in the whole universe.

“Do you want anything while we’re out? I can stop at the store and get that pink Monster drink you like.” He asks tentatively.

You think about it for a second but you just had a slushy from earlier, “I think I’m okay for now, hopefully Jake has some snacks at his crib!”

Heeseung nods, “Oh he def will, the guy smokes more than a damn chimney and gets a crazy case of the munchies.”

The whole ride there you listened to Heeseung’s music on a CD he burned. You were definitely his biggest fan, knowing all the lyrics to every single song because most were written about you. One of his most popular songs was an entire dedication to you, he never mentioned your name in it but every aspect of the song includes a small detail of your relationship. He liked the art of hidden subliminal messages in his music, knowing that only you two can fully understand.

Finally, you get to Jake’s house and are immediately met with gusts of clouds from all the smoke. You spot a blue-haired Jake and red-haired Sunoo who were sitting on the couch smoking a joint and giggling amongst themselves. You weren’t against smoking it just wasn’t your thing since you knew that you’d be in so much trouble if you showed up home high.

“Jakey! Sunny!” Your voice becomes more high-pitched when greeting your friends as you go up to hug them.

“Y/n! It’s always good to see you again.” Jake says, hugging you back.

“Hii y/n, come sit and watch the movie with us!” Sunoo scoots over to make room for you both.

Heeseung was just here so he didn’t feel the need to say hi to them again, instead just sitting down and having you on his lap.

“What’re we watching?” You ask, looking at the TV trying to make out what the movie is. “This doesn’t look like Bride of Chucky to me!”

“Jeepers Creepers 2!” Jake replies, “it’s not as scary as the first one to be honest but it’s still pretty decent. Oh, and I don’t have that one on DVD sorry.”

“Are you serious?! I could’ve went to Blockbuster and rented the damn movie out!” You were a little upset you wouldn’t be able to watch one of your favorites.

“It’s okay y/n, we’ll watch it next time. Also, I thought this movie was pretty scary Jake. I still get nightmares after watching it alone…” Sunoo admits.

“Of course you did, ‘cause you’re a big baby!” Heeseung teases, “and you’re baked off your ass? This is gonna be an interesting time.”

“You should’ve seen him earlier, he wouldn’t stop crying while watching Silent Hill!” Jake adds, pointing over in Sunoo’s direction.

“That never happened fuck off! You go try watching that shit in pitch black at 3 am and see what happens then!” Sunoo huffs, getting fed up with the both of them.

You couldn’t stop laughing at the whole debacle, playing with your boyfriend’s hands between your legs. The whole day went pretty well, you had a blast with Jake and Sunoo at the mall and now you’re reunited with them again and your boyfriend. The only real problem was your home life, but you had an escape so it wasn’t all too bad.

“Do you have any snacks Jake?” You ask, looking over at his kitchen to scan the area.

“Duh! I got chips, pretzels, ice cream, frozen pizzas, dino nuggets, really anything you could think of honestly. We kinda overdid it at Target..” He says, looking over at a guilty Sunoo.

“Hey, it’s better to be overstocked and than under!” Sunoo did make a great point.

You slowly get up from Heeseung’s lap and walk into the kitchen to get some ice cream. Luckily, Sunoo remembered to get your favorite flavor while they were out. You got a giant bowl and scooped piles of ice cream on top, putting chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles to finish it off.

“For me? Thanks!” Heeseung reaches his hand out in attempt to snatch the bowl from your hand but you weren’t letting off that easy.

“Not so fast- get your own loser!” Swiping the bowl away and flashing him an evil glare. You did not mess around when it comes to your favorite ice cream.

Sitting back down on the couch again, you finish watching the movie with them.

“Should I get raccoon highlights in my hair y/n? I been thinking about it for a while but I dunno if it’ll suit me,” Sunoo asks next to you.

You nod your head in agreement, “Hell yeah, do it! But you could rock any hairstyle Sunny.”

“Awe, thanks my dear!” He chirps, making a heart with his hands.

“I look good too, right y/n?” Jake chimes in, he’s always wanting to be the center of attention.

“Don’t answer him.” Heeseung butts in the conversation, giving Jake the side eye.

“Oh but it’s okay for her to compliment Sunoo and not me?!” He raises an eyebrow of confusion.

Heeseung shrugs, “That’s because Sunoo is gay, he poses no threat to me.”

“Yeah but he does for me, do you see the way he looks at you sometimes?!” You jokingly reply.

“I’m not gonna steal your girl bro. Besides she’s literally conjoined to you by the hip, I wouldn’t be surprised if both your hearts beat in unison!” You couldn’t stop laughing at Jake’s comments, he could sound so bitter at times.

“They do. We’re the same person actually,” Heeseung leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek. “You’re my little twin, isn’t that right babe?”

“Only if I get to be the evil one!” You combat, giggling at him tickling your tummy.

“Deal.”

“Ugh, I hate ya’ll. Making me feel like a third wheel in my own damn house..” Jake expresses with disgust over the way you’re both all over each other.

“Then get your own fucking girlfriend and stop looking at mine,” Heeseung was now nibbling on your neck, holding you tightly in his embrace.

You were a giggly mess, you made you feel so high when you were with him.

“Or you can get your own room and go fuck there instead of making us suffer watching you both act like sluts!”

Heeseung pauses to think about it for a bit. “Huh, that actually doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea. C’mon babe, let’s go!” He lightly taps your thigh, signaling for you to get up.

“And the only slut in this house is your mom for not swallowing you,” Heeseung claps back one last time before you both dip.

Sunoo burst out laughing hearing that, almost snorting. Jake was pissed but Heeseung ran out the door before he could even get to him.

“You’re a dead man when I see you again!” Jake yells through the door.

“Yeah sure, you’ll forget in 2 seconds from all the weed frying your brain!”

Getting in the car now, he starts driving but you have no idea where he’s even going.

“I hope you were only joking with him because that was a bit much, don’t you think?” Asking him in a way that wouldn’t come off too blunt.

“Are you serious? I’ve known Jake forever, we just joke like that. Besides, he was taking it a bit too far when he was fishing for compliments from my girl.”

You chuckle, of course he would still be stuck on that. He was pretty possessive over you, he would only be okay with you talking that way with Sunoo but all his other friends were off limits. “Ooh, I think someone’s feeling a little jelly!” You tease, poking his face with your index finger.

“Yeah and so what if I am? You gonna sue me? Come and arrest me? Honestly speaking, you’d look really hot in a sexy cop outfit.” He gushes, sneaking glances over at you while driving.

“Is that some weird fantasy of yours? I come in your room one day and handcuff you to the bed?” You couldn’t even say that with a straight face.

“Now that you mention it, I might actually do.. Can we try that one day?”

“Sure, whatever your little heart desires.”

Heeseung parks into an empty lot and stops the car. You can see an old abandoned train station in front of you, the windows were shattered, graffiti plastered all over with overgrown moss on the exterior. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie which seemed to fit the theme of the night.

“How come I’ve never seen this place before?” You ask, stunned by it’s ominous beauty.

“I just discovered it recently while driving aimlessly around town, I figured out a way to get onto the roof, the view’s fucking insane!” He grabs your hand and leads the way inside.

Thankfully he had a flashlight on him so it was easier to navigate through the dark halls. The barren walls were covered in more graffiti, as was the ceiling which kind of freaked you out. There was a creepy porcelain doll sitting in the corner of one area, half of it’s face was broken which was giving you nightmare fuel. You tensely clung onto your boyfriend’s arm for support, closing your eyes so you don’t have to look at anymore creepy things in this place.

“Are we almost there Hee?” You whine, trying to gain your composure but you just want to get the hell out of here.

“Chillax babe, you’ll be fine. No one’s gonna get you, they’ll have to get through me first!” He reassures, squeezing your hand to comfort you.

Heeseung finds his way through the maze and you walk up a few flights of stairs to eventually reach the top of the roof.

“Mission complete!” Heeseung announces loudly, “you can open your eyes now love.”

Your eyes flutter open and adjust to what you’re seeing. You could see almost the entire city from the top, you didn’t realize how high up you were. Your fear of heights were now starting to kick in so you cling back onto his arm like a magnet. Heeseung starts walking towards a certain spot on the roof, “Come with me, I wanna show you something.”

You follow him while holding hands, he walks over to an area and points at one of the brick tiles. You end up spotting both you and Heeseung’s initials + forever carved into the brick with a heart around it, a Polaroid photo of you two kissing was also attached next to it. You couldn’t help but tear up at the sight, it was such a simple yet cute gesture.

“Soo, what do you think?” He was starting to get a bit nervous, hoping you’d appreciate it as much as he enjoyed doing it.

“I-I think it’s adorable. I love it so much, you’re the cutest ever!” You jump into his arms and he wraps you into a tight hug.

“I’m glad you like it. I thought it was kinda corny at first but when you think about it.. it’s only corny if you make it out it to be.”

You loved the thought he put into just about anything. It amazed you how you found such a great guy in your life, but having to sneak around and date him was the worst.

“I love you so much Hee.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” He pauses as if to stop himself but continues, “too bad your parents hated my guts before I could even get the chance to speak.”

“Fuck my parents, I don’t care about their opinions. The only one that matters is mine and yours.”

He shakes his head, “Actually no, don’t fuck your parents, fuck me instead!”

“Oh, eww you know what I meant!” You frown, playfully hitting his arm.

You look up to see a sky full of stars, the distant twinkling mesmerizing you from faraway.

“So, I got asked to perform at this festival coming up.” Heeseung protrudes your thoughts.

Your face lit up at that exciting news, “Oh really? That’s exciting, I’m so happy for you! Where is it?”

He goes quiet for a minute, “10 hours away from here and they want me to perform on both days…”

“I mean, I understand that you’ll be away from me but isn’t this your dream?” You want to be happy for him but deep down you’re feeling depressed.

“It is… but I don’t like not having you with me. It’s like my brain can’t function without you. I wish you could come along..”

“I know, I wish I could too but there’s no way in hell that’s possible.” Your head hung low as you expressed your apprehensions. You’d give anything to travel with your boyfriend to his shows, but you know your parents would never let that happen.

“Why not? I’m tired of doing this shit with you, we’re grown adults but I still have to go sneaking around just to see my damn girlfriend, do you know how exhausting that is? How much of a toll it’s been taking on me? I don’t wanna keep living like this anymore y/n.” Heeseung let’s it all out, this is what he’s been bottling up inside.

“Are you seriously trying to pit all the blame on me? You know I never wanted this to happen! I would give absolutely anything to make my parents like you, that’s just the way they are I can’t change it! I wish you’d stop guilt tripping me into thinking I’m always in the wrong!” You attempt to walk away from him but he pulls you in again. He saw you tearing up now, feeling responsible for his actions he wipes them away and does his best to undo the damage he’s already caused.

“No no, don’t cry please. Y/n stop crying, I didn’t mean to say it harshly like that. Please— I just don’t like seeing you like this.” His consoling words only do so much to mitigate the situation.

It wasn’t working enough for you, you continued sobbing loudly in his shoulder. He tried getting you to calm down but nothing was seeming to suffice. He couldn’t help but tear up too, he really felt like the world’s worst boyfriend right now. He keeps telling you he didn’t mean it and that he was sorry, apologizing over and over sounding like a broken record.

“All I want is to make you happy. Please, baby just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything! I’ll jump off this goddamn building if you told me, if that’s what I need to prove how much I love you, I’ll do it.”

He was dead serious when he meant that. He was so lovestruck by you that anything was reasonable in his eyes. As long as it meant that you were happy in the end he saw no wrong with the outcome.

“Don’t say things like that, I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me. I just wish you could see how difficult this situation is for me too.” You finally spoke.

“I know, I never doubted your struggles babe, I’m sorry if it seemed like I was dismissing them. I just really want you to do this one thing for me, I’m not asking much… please. I won’t take it if I can’t have my #1 fan there to cheer me on.”

You crack a tiny smile as you sniffle and wipe your tear stained face. He was always going to pick you first over anything, even his own career.

“You better be so fucking lucky my eyeliner is waterproof, you would’ve been dead meat if it got smudged!” You joke, letting him pull you back into his chest once again.

“It’s not like I’ve never made it smudge in other ways.” He replies, kissing the rest of your fallen tears away.

The mood shifts back to normal. He holds you close to him, hearing the rapid sounds of his heart pacing. It was soothing to you, giving you a sense of tranquility.

“The moon looks so beautiful today.” You quietly say, looking in awe while tracing the shapes of his tattoos on his arm.

“Yeah the moonlight looks nice, we should have sex under it.”

You spring your head up to face him with a questionable look, “Oh my god, you’re such a horndog. Only thinking with your dick!”

“When am I ever not horny?” He lightly chuckles, “but come on, let’s do it! I’m so boreddd.”

His attention span never lasted for too long, always needing to keep himself busy. Partially one of the reasons why you had sex a lot.

You gave in to his desires quickly, letting his hands explore your upper body. He slowly marks trails of kisses down your chin and neck, feeling his lip ring graze over the sensitive skin. His mouth parts open to reveal his flashy tongue piercing again, gliding it over you as you sharply inhale. The sensation was making your brain short-circuit, feeling a second pulse between your thighs.

“Mmh… feels so good Hee.” You whimper, shutting your eyes completely.

Those sneaky hands of his wander lower, coming in contact with your love handles to gently caress them. You gasp once you feel a light squeeze against your ass, grabbing as much as he can fit in his hands. It felt too ticklish when he slid his tongue up, making you squirm a bit. He works his way up to your chin again and plants a soft kiss to your lips. Standing on your tippy toes to slightly lean more into him, he latches onto you tighter.

Your foreheads were glued to each others but that still wasn’t enough, if you could get any closer you would. You had your arms locked around his neck, moving your lips with the motion of his. The kiss grew more desperate with time, playing with the metal bar once he slipped his tongue inside. You rake your hands through his fluffy hair, getting a handful of it, tugging it just slightly enough to solicit a moan from him. He goes bonkers whenever you pull his hair, it was a huge turn on for him.

“Do you want me to take the lead or you?” He asks politely, pulling away slowly before continuing any further.

You both liked to alternate between who’s in control during sex, it was fun having a boyfriend that didn’t mind being submissive at times.

“Why don’t we both take turns?” You reply, your eyes lustfully scanning him.

Something must’ve came over you because once he bit down on his lip you went feral, pushing him up against the door entrance and pinning his body with your weight. He swallows a massive lump in his throat, staring at you with the utmost adoration.

“So hot…” your boyfriend mumbles. Ready for whatever you had in store for him.

Thank God it was the dead of night and no one was around to be seeing or hearing what was about to go down. You’ve fucked in some strange places before, the movie theater, playground, a cemetery, and now on a roof of an abandoned train station. They may not have been the most romantic places of choice but all of them held a sentimental memory in their own ways.

Your lips crash with his again, kissing roughly while running your fingers along the lines of his shoulders. He cups your face in his palms, deepening the kiss to embrace every part of you. You explored a little lower, finding yourself playing with the hem of his shirt, lightly tugging on it to signal him to take it off. He obeys your wordless command, pulling it up over his head and tossing it to the ground next to him. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times but you still never get used to how sexy he is. Trailing your fingers across his chest, tracing the contour of his toned abs and pecs. The more you touch him the wetter you got.

“Need you so bad baby…” He mutters under his breath, looking at you with glossy eyes.

“Don’t worry Hee, I’ll please you soon.”

You place small pecks to his chest, kissing each every spot. You go down a bit lower to his v-line, admiring how beautiful it is; placing another delicate kiss. You glide your tongue on his skin, tracing the deep lines as you go. Now coming face to face with his crotch, you undo the studded belt he was wearing. He quickly unzips his pants, not wanting to waste anymore time to reveal the massive boner he’s been hiding. His cock was ginormous, way above average. You were rightfully terrified of it at first but as you got more used to it you adjust to his size perfectly now after being together for so long.

Your lashes flutter as you drag your lips to his tip, giving a few kitten licks to start off. Heeseung feels his breath hitch as he creates a makeshift ponytail with your hair, making sure to get a clear view of your face. You form more saliva in your mouth and spit directly onto him, coating it with your hand.

“Mmm… love when you make it all messy for me.” He groans while licking his lips.

You smile softly as you look up at him, giving a few pumps to his cock before wrapping your mouth around him. You couldn’t fit most his length in your tiny mouth so you had to improvise. Taking half of him while your other hand strokes the rest. You slowly bob your head, rotating sideways while collecting more saliva to create an even bigger mess.

“C’monnn, you can fit more than that I’ve seen what you can do before babe.” He begs, grabbing onto your hair tighter.

You can’t stand when he bosses you around when you’re supposed to be the one in charge. You detach yourself from his cock and look up to see his whiny reaction.

“What the fuck baby, why’d you stop? Keep going… pleaseee.” He pleads, bucking his hips into the air.

“Not until you shut the fuck up and let me do what I wanna do!”

He gets his act together quickly and stops whining. “Okay.. I’ll be quiet from now on, promise.”

Going back to what you were previously doing, you bring his cock to your face once again. Pressing his tip against your bottom lip, you flick your wet tongue over the slit. Taking slow, deep breathes Heeseung swallows an inconvenient lump in his throat the more you prolong it. You know he wants you to just suck him off already but that’s not what you’re going to do just yet.

You wrap your hand around his shaft, giving it a couple light strokes. You feel his veiny cock pulsating and throbbing in your small hand, making it twitch with each tug you give. You accumulate more saliva from your mouth to spit on his cock some more, rubbing it in to make it wet as possible. It was so slippery your hands kept loosing it out of your grasp, you gripped onto it tighter and accidentally squeezed his shaft bit.

The action makes Heeseung jump up a little and he rocked his hips forward, you look up to gauge his reaction.

“Sorry about that.”

He looks at you with confusion. “What’re you being sorry for? That felt kinda nice actually…”

You were surprised to hear that but you decide to do it again since he seemed to enjoy it. He winces from the light pressure but it doesn’t bother him. Guess you just found out another weird sex kink he has. You continue stroking his cock and he pants heavily for you to do more but you just act like you can’t hear him. Instead you keep stroking him and play with his scrotum in your free hand. He mumbles some gibberish under his breath and you build a steady rhythm, making him whine for more.

“I-if you’re not going to— ahh!” Heeseung could barely get a word out from you making his cock overly sensitive. “If you aren’t gonna suck my cock then let me fuck you already.”

You look up to see a flustered Heeseung, he looked so cute you just wanted to eat him. You let his torture finally come to an end as you get up from being on the ground, coming face to face with your lover once again.

“Hi pretty girl.” He says, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Hey cutie pie.” You grin, meeting your lips with his again for a quick kiss.

“Take your pants off, pretty please!” Heeseung asks nicely while giving the most precious pout.

You can never say no to that face so you fumble with your ripped jeans to pull them off. He presses your back up against the door this time, having your legs wrapped around his waist for support.

“Gonna fuck you ‘til I have you screaming on this roof begging me not to stop.” He whispers against your ear. His dominance swings back into full force, making you want him even more.

He licks his lips at you, giving a sinful smile. His hands slide under your shirt to toy with your nipples. You let out a sigh as he rubs in gentle circles, hardening them within seconds. He pinches the sensitive bud to make you moan louder for him.

“Want you to make as much noise as you can, okay?” He asks.

Simply nodding your head, you swing your head to the side in pleasure.

He drags his finger along your inner thigh, playing with the fabric of your underwear. You relax into him, letting him take a peek inside to see feel how wet you are. You inhale carefully, watching down as you see him sink two of his digits into your aching core. Your muscles tense up and you feel eyes roll to the back of your head now. All that can be heard are faint slews of moans and the sounds of your wetness while he pumps into you. He kisses you again while pressing his fingers in your cunt faster, making you moan directly into his mouth.

He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs harsh circles, making your bud more puffy and swollen. You mess up his hair and grab onto him tighter. Once he pulls his fingers out, he brings them up to your lips making you suck the juices clean off. You look him in the eyes while doing it, sending a primal spirit within him.

“Can’t wait to fill up that pretty little cunt of yours.” He mutters against your neck, hands aligning with yours to bring you closer while he slides himself in between your sticky folds.

You cry out for him, wanting nothing more than to let him fill you up. You feel so empty as you clench around nothing, begging for him to fuck you already.

“Yes, please baby! Want you to fill me up, need your cock so bad please!” Whining to gain sympathy from him.

He’s not playing your little game though, not after how you tortured him earlier. “How bad you want it?” He groans, his cock still rubbing along your slit.

“So bad! I want you so bad please, I’ll do anything!”

“Anything you say?” He questions while raising his eyebrow.

You nod profusely, “Yes, anything I mean it!”

“Then promise you’ll stay with me forever. You can never break up with me, you’re stuck with me until we die, got it?”

“I promise I’ll never leave you Heeseung, I wouldn’t even dream of doing something like that.”

He smiles and kisses your cheek, “Good” was all he had to simply say.

Repositioning himself to enter you now, he wraps his hands firmly around your waist, sliding into you with ease. He stays with his cock inside you for a bit, relishing the feeling of you around him. Nothing but sweet ecstasy fills your senses when he thrusts into you, feeling so full all you can do is scream. The immense waves of pleasure emitting chills up your spine as he fucks senselessly into you.

“Fuck, you look so good beneath me.” He growls, digging his nails into the depths of your hips.

“Yes! Yes! Right there baby, just like that. Keep going..” You moan out, feeling close to your orgasm already the more he hits your erogenous spots.

His pierced tongue travels down your neck again, sucking and biting on the flesh harshly. You know those will definitely be leaving visible bruises once he’s done with you. You hold onto him tightly, crying out while drooling all over yourself as he quickens his pace.

“Need you to do as I say,” he pants against your neck, slamming his cock into your walls hungrily. “Want you to cum on my cock when I tell you to.”

It was impossible for you to even respond. Anything you said didn’t even sound remotely coherent. His mind was going blank too, the way your tight cunt won’t stop cinching around him was making it harder for him to move.

“Love how I can fuck this pussy as many times as I want and you’re still always so tight for me.” His cock was going into you mercilessly, fucking you so good you feel like you’re going to faint.

Your limbs grew weak and that deep pit in your stomach builds up, feeling your climax approaching by the minute.

“Fuck- fuck- fuck, please don’t stop!” You wail, begging for more as you let him do all work.

Your arousal was everywhere at this point, your shaky legs were dripping with your juices and the sounds of him pounding into you was harmonic to his ears. All Heeseung could focus on was making the both of you cum together. He loved it when you both came at the same time, it makes the moment more special to him.

“Cum with me baby, please.” He groans, sounding drunk off the way you feel, “just wanna fill this pussy up over and over…”

You brace yourself against him, “I’ll cum with you, promise. Just fill me up— need your cum so badly Hee, please!” You can’t stop whining, digging your nails into his back harshly.

The feeling was all so intense, seeing stars from being so cockstuffed. You didn’t even have a single moment to blink before your vision fades entirely to black. You let your orgasm erupt through you as you throw your head back. His thrusts become more erratic as he reaches his high, moaning out a bunch of curses along with your name.

“Y/n, please never leave me..” he says while in the middle of cumming inside you, “I love you so much, my angel forever.”

Even during something this intimate, he still never shies away from telling you how much you mean to him.

“I will never leave you, that’s a promise. I love you more.” Both your hands intertwine with one another, the love you have for each other is unbreakable.

You felt so warm inside, having Heeseung empty all his seed in you. Looking up at him to give him another passionate kiss before he pulls out.

You were struggling to put your clothes back on as you could barely stand up properly. Your wobbly legs would go into a different direction than you wanted. Heeseung helped stabilize you by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in a half hug.

“How ‘bout we finally get out of here?” He asks, reaching for the door handle to head back downstairs.

“I kind of forgot we were still here actually.”

“Yeah, me too. C’mon let’s hurry and get to the car, I still haven’t tried this tongue piercing on you yet!” Heeseung says excitedly.

Giggling at his enthusiasm you walk back with him into the train station. You wanted to check the time on your phone but of course it was dead. It was way past a decent time for you to try sneaking back in so you don’t even bother going back home that night. Instead, you opt to stay over at Heeseung’s place, not really caring if you’re parents will be pissed tomorrow. This is your life after all, why let others stop you from enjoying it to the fullest?

#enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #kpop smut #lee heesung x reader #enha imagines #enha smut #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x you #enhypen fanfic #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fanfic #enhypen scenarios #heeseung imagines #enhypen x you #heeseung x female reader

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littlestl4mb · 17 hours ago

Note

you should make a little blurb about jealous lu!

PS: I love your work you are so cutesie

thank you dear anon!!!! i will put this under the cut because i kinda wrote more than i meant to lol oops

okay so i was thinking about this heavily. at first i thought hmmm luigi doesn’t strike me as the jealous type idk… he’s so intelligent and he’s an engineer so like… you know that mf is as logical and solution-oriented as they come. for better or worse. but then... i thought about it again and i went no YEAH lu definitely gets jealous... i think college lu FOR SURE would. and it drives him mad bc he knows his jealousy is stupid. it’s a foolish feeling, he probably thinks. yet one he can’t shake himself free from. especially when you’re first seeing each other but it’s not completely exclusive yet. when things between you are casual because you’re just getting to know each other?? yeahhhh his brain is going wild 24/7. he can’t stop thinking about you. he can’t stomach the idea of you spending your time with another person that isn’t him. he hates it too because he just knows he’s being too obsessive, that he’s being way too much. he has a lot of self awareness— he knows how to rationalize his heart with his head. but… he can’t stop the compulsive bitterness he feels towards anyone that shows you any sign of affection!!! the hormones just go crazy in that man’s head. he tries to keep a cap on most of his feelings, but when it comes to you it’s nearly impossible. and it only drives him more mad because he’s soooo aware of his jealousy and how futile such a feeling is, but he literally cannot save himself from it.

he sees you walking down the sidewalk with some guy, and he hates the way his stomach drops. he acknowledges the fact that he has no autonomy over who you see or hang out with, and still he can’t stand it. loathes it. feels so powerless to an emotion that is eating him alive inside and out. the worst part is he kind of knows the guy you’re walking with too. not very well but enough. the kid isn’t even that bad— has exchanged some kind words with luigi before in passing. but all it takes is for the guy to be in the place that luigi has self righteously already claimed as his in his head, and now luigi fucking detests the guy.

he rants about it to his friends the moment he sees them, “i just don’t fucking get it. the guy has no hobbies. he can’t write. have you seen the books he chooses to read around campus? horrible taste. i don’t see what she sees in him.” — and all his friends are telling him he needs to cool it because it’s out of his control.

don’t worry though, luigi does not believe in cooling it. in fact, he calls you up on the phone and leaves you a 3 minute long voicemail. he’s not afraid to say how he feels so he lets it all out. he’s telling you how “you’re wasting your time with whatever-his-name-is.” says something like, “does he even do anything? i mean it. does he? at least i started the video game development club.”

luigi is going OFF in his little voicemail. you listen to the full thing when you’re out of class, generally surprised by how out of the blue it is. the thing is, you didn’t even see luigi earlier when he evidently saw you. he must’ve spotted you and then slipped out of sight immediately.

you have another class to attend to, and not enough time to deal with whatever melt down the man is having. so all you can text him is ‘luigi, he was walking out of class with me and we were talking because we just got put together for a group project.’ it’s the truth too, there wasn’t anything nefarious going on between you two.

of course, luigi calls you right away. you can’t pick up, but that doesn’t stop him from calling about 5 more times. when he finally sees you later, he probably stands by his word. he’s got too much pride to admit his wrong doing. or the fact that he jumped to conclusions so fast.

…and then i think once you’re in a proper relationship, the way in which luigi gets jealous shifts. it’s not so much over the simple and stupid stuff. not the silly little things that you get jealous of when you’re young and think you’re the center of the world. when you’re finally exclusive with each other, he has no insecurities that you’re all about him. but … he is a taurus man and every taurus man i’ve ever known is jealous in the most covert way. and in my experience it’s in a very specific way too?? which i would call the “i have to know i’m important in your life” kind of way.

it’s not so much about being jealous of you hanging out with others. no, in fact he likes that you have your own ways about you and you’re independent. but there’s still a part of him that needs the reassurance that he’s very much important to you. i hope this is making sense. like, he wants to know when you think of him, and he wants you to admit when you’ve missed him. he’d straight up tell you this too. “can you just admit when you think of me? i can’t just know it. i have to hear it in person from you.”

also, i think he’d have this strange kind of possessive jealousy, where he has to know you through and THROUGH. he has a need to know you as much as humanly possible. he needs to be closer to you than anyone else. he gets jealous and bitter at the thought of others knowing you better than he does.

he’s observant, yes, and knows you that way. but he likes hearing you talk about everything and anything too, so that he can understand you more than anyone else ever has. he needs to know the memory you have of being a little girl and walking down the street, and how the people and buildings were just so tall. something so mundane that you never bothered telling anyone else, he has to have that knowledge like it's a drink of water when he's been walking through the desert for months. and i’m telling you right now— that man wants to know the block you grew up on. he wants to go there by himself and walk down it. he tries to see what you saw as a little girl, wants to see things how you saw them when you were young. thinks that if he does that, he can fathom your thoughts a little better. maybe be able to think your own thoughts himself— that he might know you so well that he becomes a part of you.

#blurb #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione thoughts

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gamergirlwrites · 1 day ago

Text

Title: Expecting

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Female!Reader

Synopsis: You invite Leon over to tell him some news.

CW: mention of pregnancy

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you waited for Leon. He was on his way to you, possibly panicked in the same way you were. He didn't know yet, but you'd have to tell him. Leon had been gone for long enough that you were pretty sure that he could take one look at you and figure out what this was all about. He had left you months ago without much word, but the fetus growing inside of you was definitely his. You hadn't slept with anybody else, not when you were still holding out for a change of heart.

"(Y/n), open up. It's Leon!" He called out over a couple of quick knocks. You took a deep breath to steady your heart, but it wasn't much use. You were still absolutely freaking out when you opened the door to see him.

Leon looked good. He had never showed up to your door looking bad, but this was a nice change from the usual suit you saw him in. The leather jacket reminded you of the guys you had always been too scared to date in college. His chest was practically straining against his shirt, as were the muscle in his legs with his jeans. You were sure that a big part of his affect on you was hormonal, but all you wanted to do was climb him like a tree.

"Come in, and you'll probably want to sit down for this," you warned. Leon seemed skeptical, but still did as you said. "Okay, so, um, I'm pregnant."

"I've been gone for a long time," Leon said. He didn't seem upset, which was a good thing. However, you noticed that he didn't exactly seem happy either.

"There hasn't been anybody else in almost a year, so I think it's safe to assume that you're the father," you told him. You didn't mean to sound so short with him, but you couldn't help it. "I know that you're not the relationship type, so I don't expect anything special. I just wanted to let you know, give you that option."

"I won't just leave you to raise our baby by yourself. I've been staying in Colorado, but it's definitely time that I come back to DC again. There will always be secrets, but if you give me a chance I won't throw it away," Leon promised you.

"Alright, I like the sound of you being around more. And Colorado, seriously? Not even a phone call." You shoved his shoulder back, and Leon just flopped back against your couch. You turned away to hide the evidence of your amusement. Everything considered, Leon always knew how to make you laugh.

"Do you know the sex yet? If you'd let me, I would love to help with the name and some other stuff. I can put the nursery together here, I'm pretty capable with my hands." You paused for a moment as you listened to Leon. He was offering himself up, that much was obvious. The man who had run at the first sight of feelings before was openly asking for involvement.

"A girl, and some help with the name would be great. I've been driving myself crazy trying to come up with one. I know it's short notice, but I've got a doctor's appointment tomorrow if you wanted to join me?" You tried not to sound too hopeful, but Leon didn't hide his excitement at your invitation at all.

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #female reader #resident evil imagine #resident evil x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x fem reader

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bisexualbrainrots · 2 days ago

Text

I'm loving the responses to this fic, so here's another snippet, we're getting steamier everyone! hope you guys are enjoying the process.

if you want to read: part 1, part 2, wip part 3.

Buck shakes when one of Tommy's fingers hooks on the towel, gripping but not making an effort to pull it off yet.

He takes that as a sign and raises his hands through Tommy's arms until they find each other on the back of his neck, fingers interlocking. Buck closes a little more of the gap as he nudges his nose with his boyfriend's, greeting in the form of a soft ‘hi’ that's reciprocated immediately.

“Were you okay back there?”

Buck nods “It wasn't so bad, you know. I got to think a lot,” he smiles, his gaze descends to Tommy's lips and a sense of hunger creeps up in him.

Tommy notices and smirks “And what were all these things you thought of?” his free hand moves up to Buck's waist, holding onto it tight.

It's this little sense of possessiveness that drives Buck crazy. What Tommy doesn’t say with his words, he shows it with his touch, and when it comes to his possessive side he’s more… physical about it. He’d put his hand on the small of Buck’s back as they walk down the street, he’d hook his fingers to the belt loops and pull Buck closer, he’d hold and squeeze the back of Buck’s neck when they’re at a get-together, and he’d leave as many marks as he could everywhere on Buck’s body.

He still has that one bite mark on his hip.

Buck nips at Tommy's top lip “You, your mouth, your neck, your fingers,” his lips graze Tommy's as he speaks but he doesn't go beyond that, letting the desire linger in the air, “I thought of those fingers inside of me, opening me up until my legs are shaking.”

Before he can say anything else, Tommy's lips are crashing onto his, giving him a bruising kiss that Buck happily reciprocates as his hands shift to hold his boyfriend's face.

As the kiss deepens they move around the room, until Buck feels his calves hit the end of the bed and he's stopped, whining a little as Tommy's tongue plays with his.

“Fuck… fuck,” Tommy's wicked gaze is all over Buck, examining every fraction of his features and licking his lips as he stays on Buck's eyes, and his voice drops an octave as he whispers “What am I gonna do with you?”

God, he loves it when Tommy gets like this. Even though it hasn't been that long since they started doing it, Buck has become obsessed with the way Tommy’s eyes and demeanor can change when he's aroused. It's almost like lust sets in and spreads around, all the way from the depths of his veins to the surface of his pores. Sometimes he remains calm and collected, even when he’s driving Buck to the edge of madness; other times he becomes a beast, wrapped in this frenzy that has him making noises that could make Buck come untouched.

Even though he knows Tommy will be careful with him, Buck can’t help but wish for him to ruin him.

“Fuck me,” Buck takes a deep breath when Tommy chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh flowing through his body and settling deep in his bones.

The hand on his waist shifts to his cheek, cupping his face with a tenderness only Tommy can give in a moment like this “Be patient, Evan. We don’t have to rush and I… I really want to take my time with you.”

Buck’s knees almost falter when Tommy gets the towel off his hips, and he has very little time to think about the fact that he’s completely naked because Tommy pushes him onto the bed, covering his body as he joins their lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

taglist! (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @likeapaperplane @fenrirscarsback @sad-girl-hours23 @station18908 @all-the-feelss @rubydaiquiri @superlock-in-the-tardis

#bucktommy #tevan #bucktommy fic #911 fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 abc #my fic #first-timer fic

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artstennisracket · 3 days ago

Note

I was listening to "Be Mean" by DNCE and it immediately made me think of Art being submissive and needy having a degradation kink.

Please write Artrick Stanford Era where Patrick comes to visit Art from tour! Patrick is relentlessly teasing Art and it's driving Art crazy but Art is so pathetic and turned on by it that he begs Patrick to be mean to him and fuck his brains out.

this song is actually so good thank you for introducing it to my lifeeeeee. i took a few liberties but I hope you love it anon :)

bonus points if you saw my aave post and can figure out where I wanted to write Art be fucking

cw: nsfw(18+), dom/sub, bdsm overtones, spitting, slapping, all the things

Patrick had visited Art a handful of times during his time at Stanford. Not as much as Art would have liked (considering Patrick split his time between Art and Tashi every visit). The last time Patrick visited he was telling Art his latest sexescapde with Tashi.

“yeah man she wanted me to tie her up and everything. so fucking hot, didn’t know she’d be into bdsm,” Patrick grins, the memory replaying in his head.

Art is always flustered when Patrick talks about sex. Not because Art is a virgin or anything, quite the opposite actually. Maybe it’s because he’s imagining Tashi and Patrick doing those things in his head.

The thought of Patrick tying Tashi up and doing whatever he wanted to her? More realistically, whatever she instructed he could do to her? That was really fucking hot, Art could feel his lower region peak interest. He started thinking about if Patrick could tie him up and actually do whatever he wanted to Art…

Art clears his throat coming back to reality. Patrick is staring at him amused, like he can read Art’s thoughts. “wait what’s bdsm?” Art asks.

“it’s like— you know the rihanna song? S&M? ‘chains and whips excite me’?”

Art nods, he’d heard that song the radio a few times and may have downloaded it on his mp3 player. “yeah i’ve heard it before, so what’s the bd part then?”

“that part means bondage and dominance? bondage and discipline? im not a 100% sure. you seem very curious maybe you should look into it,” Patrick smirks.

Art’s cheeks are red and he opens his mouth to say something but decides not to. Patrick leans in closer so he can whisper in Art’s ear, “I dunno you seem pretty easy to dominate, maybe you’d be into it.”

So Art had been thinking about it ever since. He did look into it and there are parts he’d think he’d be into. Being dominated wasn’t something he got to experience often with girls and Patrick was the only guy he’s ever slept with.

Being tied up to be used at someone’s else’s disposal? Yeah that made his cock very hard. But he’s only slept with Patrick once and they never talked about it again, he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up when Patrick comes to visit him again today.

Later that day once Patrick arrives, they headed to the dining hall to grab some food. They sit at the bar type area with high top chairs. Patrick pulls Art’s chair closer to his right before Art sits down.

“so are you gonna tell me what’s up or are you gonna keep looking at me like that?” Patrick asks turning his head to the side to look directly at Art.

Art furrows his eye brows looking up from his plate of food, “what are you talking about?”

“since I got here you’ve been like on edge, what’s up?” Patrick crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Art rolls his eyes trying his best to not think about Patrick dominating him in the bedroom because it’s all he’s been thinking about all day. But Patrick has always been able to read him, so he has to put on his best acting performance.

He scoffs, “nothing is wrong man, I’m just happy you’re here that’s all.” Art is searching Patrick’s face to see if he believes him.

Patrick studies Art face for a second, his eyes scan across the blond’s face. He notices the super faint pink tint on Art’s cheeks and the way Art is avoiding making eye contact. He also notices the few blond curls poking out of his snapback, which Patrick didn’t realize this before but Art in a snapback is definitely doing it for him.

Suddenly he throws one arm around Art’s neck pulling him to be face to face with Patrick, “you fucking slut, honestly im proud of you. you should be opening up your horizons your in college, id be doing the same thing if I was you.”

Art is so confused right now, mainly by how his cock stirred when Patrick called him a slut. “im not doing anything, what’re you talking about?”

“you slept with someone right? did all your bdsm fantasies? that’s great why didn’t you tell me?” Patrick smiles.

Art is about to deny it but he knows that if he does Patrick might figure out what he’s actually thinking. He nods, “no yeah you’re right. I was nervous to tell you about it.”

Patrick blinks for a second. He realizes that he got it wrong, Art is lying. He’s not sure why though but he’s going to play along until he finds out. He retracts his arm and sits back down in his stool fully. “so what’d you guys do then?”

Fuck Art should’ve been coming up with a story in his head as soon as he said it, now Patrick is going to ask questions he doesn’t know the answer to because they never happened.

“um y-yeah she just like tied me up and—“

Art gets cut off by Patrick saying, “i knew you’d be the one getting tied up, you’re just so submissive man.”

Art scoffs, “okay well why are we even talking about this here in public let’s just go back to my room and watch a movie or something.”

Patrick continues asking question when they get back to Art’s room. “what was her name?” “what did she look like?” “more tits or more ass?” “how’d you meet her?” Art couldn’t fucking keep up, he couldn’t keep his story straight and that when Patrick knew he got him.

“you fucking liar.” Patrick says backing Art against a wall.

“what? im not lying about anything. she was real and she was here and—“

Art is cut off by Patrick again, “bullshit you know what I think?” He asks standing very close to Art their noses almost touching.

“i’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Art says trying to keep his breathing and his cock under control. He’s not doing a great job at either.

Patrick smirks leaning in to whisper right by Art’s ear, “i think you want me to fuck you…again.” He moves his hand down to groping Art’s erection. His grasp is firm when he says, “and i think this time you don’t want me to hold back.”

Art’s eyes slipped closed and he bit his lip trying to stifle the moan on the top of his tongue. He doesn’t do a good job at that either.

“is that what you want?” Patrick asks as he slips his hand inside Art’s shorts and boxers. He cups Art’s tip where all the pre-cum had built up, using it to make his hand glide easily up and down Art’s shaft. “fuck, you’re so wet for me already. but I wanna hear you say it. is that what you want?”

Art nods, “ah fuck,” but the pleasure of Patrick stroking him is on the forefront of his mind. He lets his forehead rest on Patrick’s shoulder.

“can you use your words for me baby? wanna hear you say it. tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Art’s eyes are rolling is the back of head as he whines against Patrick’s shoulder. He has a feeling that not answering the question may result in consequences or even worse, Patrick might stop touching him. He nods before opening his mouth to say, “i— i want you to fuck me, don’t want you hold back, want you to be mean to me.”

Patrick smirks stilling his movements, “guess you’re not as dumb of a slut as I thought. didn’t think you were gonna answer me. and I don’t think you’re gonna need it but we should have a safe word anyway just in case.”

Art had read about this when he was doing his bdsm research, “um I think, maybe pineapple?”

Patrick lets out a laugh, “okay,” he takes his hand out of Art’s shorts before going to his bag. He had packed a few things he wanted to try with Tashi but he’s never been one to waste an opportunity. “I want you to take off all your clothes, lie down on your bed, and I’m gonna use these,” he pulls out two pairs of black fuzzy handcuffs.

Art strips so fast he might’ve gotten whiplash. It was crazy that his dreams were coming true. He’s wanted this for some time now and he was itching with anticipation.

Art lays down on his bed. He’s laying on some pillows so his back is slightly elevated. He’s so hard all he wants to do is touch himself—

“no touching,” Patrick tsks washing over to the bed. He takes each of Art’s wrists, handcuffing one to each side of the headboard.

Art was a vision. He was already so hard, his tip was leaking precum against his tummy. His face was flushed and his eyes were a little glossed over, “wow you look, really fucking pretty like this. all laid out for me. desperate, just waiting for me to use you however I please.” Patrick said as he traced slowly down Art’s torso with his finger.

He moved his gaze back up to Art’s nipples. He pinched one and took the other into his mouth.

“ah—“ Art gasps. No one’s ever touched him there, he didn’t think it’d feel that good.

Patrick does a small little lick to each nipple before kissing his way down Art’s torso. He purposefully skips over Art’s cock.

Patrick takes a step back to pull his shirt and his jeans off, “hm should I suck you off baby?” He questions as he steps out of his boxers and stroked himself a few times.

Art nods. Patrick tsks as he pinches Art’s nipple, “what did I say about using your words?”

“oh fuck oh fuck okay okay i- i- want you to suck me off, please please” Art whines, his body keening towards where Patrick is pinching him.

Patrick lets go, satisfied with Art’s answer, “good boy, but if you don’t answer me when I speak to you again, i won’t be so nice.”

He lays down on his stomach in between Art’s legs. He acts as if he’s going to lick up the side of Art’s shaft but inside bring his tongue to lick a fat stripe up Art’s tightness.

This takes Art by surprise and he moans out, “jesus fuck, Patrick.”

He teases the outside with his tongue before pushing inside. Art is taken aback by how good it feel, attempting to fuck himself back against Patrick’s tongue.

Patrick allows it. He needs Art to loosen up a bit before he can add any fingers. Patrick sits up holding two fingers in front of Art’s mouth, “suck, and this is all the lube you’re getting so make it good.”

Art opens his mouth sucking on Patrick’s fingers like there’s no tomorrow. Licking and sucking, sucking and licking, until he feels like he’s covered Patrick’s fingers in a good amount of spit.

Patrick pulls his fingers out and presses one finger inside Art’s hole. He grabs Art’s curls to pull him in for a kiss, it’s a mess of teeth and tongue. Patrick has now worked Art up to three fingers before he pulls his fingers out.

He wipes his hand on the bed, “now I’m gonna fuck your mouth for a little bit okay? remember there’s no lube so you better make my cock nice and wet so i can fuck you properly okay?”

Art nods biting his lip. He’s never had his mouth fucked, sure he’s sucked Patrick’s dick before but this would be different. He just doesn’t want to die of suffocation, Patrick’s dick is pretty big.

But he nods nonetheless, “oh— okay yeah i will, make it wet.”

“and hey you can just pinch me if you need me to stop at anytime.”

Art nods.

Patrick stands on the bed, Art’s chest is between his legs. He kneels down, moving one leg to be next to Art’s head. He grabs Art’s hair once again as he starts feeding his dick inside Art’s mouth slowly. Inch by inch. Once he hits the back of Art’s throat he lets out a low groan, “fuck baby, you were made to take my cock fuck.

He steadied himself before he starts fucking into Art’s throat, “taking me so fucking well, you’d let me use any of your holes to get off huh? fucking cockslut.”

The gurgling and choking sounds coming from Art are really turning Patrick on. He can hear all the spit building up in Art’s mouth so he pulls out. His dick is nice and wet, “did such a good job baby,” Patrick smiles, “now I can fuck you nice and good.”

Patrick stands up on the bed to move back to his original spot between Art’s legs. This time he lines himself up with Art’s hole before he pushes in.

Now it’s Art’s turn to let out a low groan as Patrick bottoms out, “ah oh fuck—“

“you are so fucking tight jesus, gripping the fuck out of my cock,” Patrick grunts as he grabs Art’s hips and starts picking up the pace.

“this is what you wanted right baby? wanted me to fuck you? and what else?”

Art whines, “yes Patrick fuck, wanted you to fuck me.”

Patrick grabs Art’s face forcing them to make eye contact, “and what the fuck else did you ask me to do you huh? or are you just such a dumb fucking cockslut you can’t remember. as soon as you get some dick in you you can’t think straight anymore?”

Art is so fucking hard, he wants to cum so fucking bad. And Patrick is saying all the right things it’s hard to focus. Fuck. What did he say? Why can’t he remember? Oh. He remembers, “be mean to me,” he chokes out between Patrick’s bruising thrusts.

“there you go, maybe not a dumb slut, but you’re definitely still a slut for my cock,” He smirks, “open your fucking mouth.” Art opens his mouth with no questions asked and Patrick spits in it.

Now alot of people would find that disgusting and Patrick was going out on a limb he had no idea if Art would like it. But judging by Art reacted, Patrick thinks his guess was right.

Art feels very disrespected and degraded and he’s never been more turned on his life. Maybe that’s why the next words that come out of his mouth are, “hit me, fuck, slap me, need it.”

Patrick slows down his thrusts for a second, unsure if he should, but he doesn’t want to ask and ruin what they have going on right now so he does it.

It’s light and short and not hard enough. “harder Patrick please,” Art begs, tears threatening to escape from his eyes.

Patrick didn’t have to be told twice, so he slaps Art again. Keeping his hand firm and following through on his swing. Fuck. Art’s going to cum. He hasn’t even touched himself but between Patrick fucking him, slapping him, and overall degrading him he can’t help it.

“‘m gonna cum, Patrick please, gonna cum, can I cum please?” He finishes all over his tummy.

Patrick already knew Art was close so he wasn’t holding back anymore and he let go, “yes fuck baby, you can cum. gonna cum inside you fuck, gonna fill you up.”

Patrick cleans them both up and uncuffs both of Art’s wrists.

“how do your wrists feel? or better yet how does your face feel?,” Patrick smirks and he’s pretty proud of himself. Making someone cum untouched was always on his bucket list.

Art is half asleep on his bed when he mumbles out, “‘m good, feel good.”

Patrick smiles before he takes Art’s blanket and uses it to tuck Art in. He feels pretty proud of himself for putting Art to sleep as well. He gets dressed to head out and get them some food. He already knows Art will be hungry when he wakes up.

#anon ask #challengers #patrick zweig #art donaldson #artrick #art donaldson x patrick zweig #challengers 2024 #artrick smut

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touchoffleece · 1 day ago

Note

The people fighting tooth and nail to justify the extra hate LIS:DE got in the comments because they felt exploring Max's trauma by solely focusing on Max by exploring a path without Chloe there in the narrative (while leaving things open ended to bring Chloe back, mind you) to distract from Max being the sole Main Character is sending me as it really does highlight and prove some fans who ship pricefield only care about or strongly favor Chloe. LIS1 Pricefield was amazing, but one of the major points in the storylines was the abuse of young women, and due to how the game ended we didn't really get to see Max properly deal with her abuse and trauma. Not even in the spin offs because it focused a lot on Chloe and Rachel. So here's LiS:DE letting Max get the storyline that does explore that unfinished plot point of the Main Character's trauma and most ship fans are kicking up dirt because to explore that story the Devs chose to remove Chloe (and it was an open ended removal too.). The crazy thing is that I have seen this happen in another wlw ship and it drives me crazy because here we have a enthralling sapphic ship that in part is so captivating because the characters can stan by themselves removed from the ship (Seen in the Chapters in LiS where Chloe and Max were separated), but people just want to reduce these bad ass complex characters into a couple. And I feel like part of that is because people don't realize they start ignoring the character of one of the characters making up the ship for the sake of making it more possible to self insert or focus more on the other character that makes the ship at the cost of ignoring said character (in this case Max getting ignored to favor Chloe).

I feel sorry that you got jumped just because you agreed with the obvious fact that Max gets overshadowed in her own game and reduced to just a part of a ship.

If people like Max and care about her as a complex character like they argue, there would've been so much more deep discussions about her arc in DE rather than the majority dismissing the whole game because a certain character isn't in it.

I didn't see fans review bombing Before the Storm in masses because Max is barely in the game and "Life is Strange is about pricefield" that's all I'm going to say.

its okay anon the amount of times ive been jumped for having an opinion thats a bit unpopular plenty of times 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔

and you are so right people never have shit to say about bts which solely focuses on chloe/chloe and rachel's fast developing relationship, which reenforces my belief that i donf think pricefield fans care about the both of them, they just care about chloe. when max is shown to have a personality that isnt revolving chloe like in de people apparently cannot take that (which is embarrassing)

another take i fully believe is bullshit is that lis is about pricefield which.. no. their relationship is definitely important especially back when it was first released in 2015 but to say that the ENTIRE game is about them is insanity to me. i don't feel like i should have to say this but the game is about violence against women. jefferson is committing violent acts against young women. i dont see how people play the entire game and run with the idea that pricefield is what the game is about.

#life is strange #life is strange double exposure #max caulfield #chloe price #pricefield

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 10 hours ago

Text

A Curse [Chapter 6: Tarzana]

A/N: Where has the time gone??? We are officially halfway done with this series! Thank you so much for reading, besties. It has been an honor to curse you all 🥰🪄

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap situationship, T.J. Maxx, Chinese food, a phone call from Minnesota, illness, entertainment industry misogyny, Jace is clueless, Becca bakes bread.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

“What happened to your foot?” Baela asks from the kitchen. She’s doing yoga poses in the middle of the floor. Jace is noisily pawing around in the refrigerator. His iPhone is on the counter, and from it emits a horrible throbbing Charli XCX song that sounds like something they would use to torture prisoners at Guantanamo Bay.

“Yeah, I wanna dance to me, me, me, me, me,

When I go to the club, club, club, club, club…”

You are lying across the orange couch with your left ankle elevated on a stack of pillows and covered with an ice pack. You flip a page in one of those heavy coffee table books with lots of pictures from Barnes & Noble; Baela’s parents bought it when they were furnishing the apartment, and again you are reminded—the weight in your hands like solid gold—of how much they believe in her. The book is about the history of Los Angeles. “Becca pushed me.”

Jace gasps and looks up from the refrigerator. “Why would Baela do that?!”

“No, Jace, Becca,” you say. “My agent’s fiancée Becca. That’s who pushed me.”

“Oh,” he says, and resumes rummaging around in the refrigerator until he finds a cannister of Pillsbury biscuits. He cracks it open and begins plopping pucks of dough on a baking sheet.

“Did Becca find out?” Baela asks you as she does the Reverse Warrior pose. “About the…you know…”

You shrug, guilty, defeated. Your swollen ankle pulsates hotly. You are bone-tired and wholly uninspired, a foreign feeling that makes you wonder if the part of you you’ve always assumed was eternal could die after all. “I guess. I kind of tried to confess but she seemed to already have it figured out.”

Baela snaps upright and gawks at you. “Why would you confess?!”

“I thought you said what I did was wrong.”

“Well yeah, it was, but that doesn’t mean you tell his fiancée! You don’t know her! What if she’s crazy? What if she’s like that astronaut lady who put on a diaper so she could drive nine hundred miles to pepper spray her ex’s new girlfriend?!”

You frown morosely down at the book. “You’re right. It was stupid. I just felt bad.”

Jace slides his baking sheet of Pillsbury biscuits into the oven. On the kitchen counter, your sunflowers are beginning to wilt and shrivel in their vase. You have fed them and meticulously trimmed their stems at an angle as Google recommended, but still, they cannot last forever. Perhaps you’ll dry them and they will endure perpetually in some other form, trapped in a pressed flower frame, arranged into a wreath.

Now Baela is sympathetic. “Are you in a lot of pain? Your foot’s not broken or anything, right?”

“It’s my ankle. And according to Google, it’s probably just sprained.”

“Do you want me to take you to an urgent care place for an x-ray? Or get you a brace from the Rite Aid down the street?”

“I really don’t think I need an x-ray…and if my parents see the health insurance got billed, they’re going to freak out and call me asking why I’m burning through even more of their money. But a brace sounds awesome!”

“Okay,” Baela says, and gives you an encouraging smile. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. You’re going to slay the Marvel audition on Friday.”

“How’d you know about that?”

She points to the calendar. “You wrote it on there.” And sure enough, you did: red ink in a small black box labeled Friday, July 11th. That’s two days from now. Baela says to Jace: “Come on, we’re going to Rite Aid.”

He is distraught. “But I have to watch my biscuits!”

She groans. “How long do they need to bake?”

“Fifteen more minutes.”

“We’ll walk fast,” Baela says, and drags him out the door. Blessedly, Jace takes his iPhone and its disturbing Charli XCX music with him, now playing a song that sounds like television static.

As you lounge dispiritedly on the velvet orange couch, you return your attention to the book about the history of Los Angeles. A hundred years ago, Elysian Park was an oil field, lattice-like wooden rigs peppering the hills that now host Dodger Stadium, narrow sloping streets of working-class homes, Aegon’s unpretentious half-duplex, and you wish you weren’t thinking about him but regrettably you usually are these days.

You grab your phone and open Instagram. You are startled to see Becca’s profile picture in the row of stories at the top of the screen. She must have accepted the follow request you sent her weeks ago.

Why the hell would she do that now?

Surely, there are no benign reasons. After a moment’s hesitation you can no longer resist and click on Becca’s story to view it. It’s a photo of her giving Aegon a kiss on the cheek; they’re both laughing, his nose is scrunched up, it’s honestly pretty adorable. You tap the X in the corner of the screen to escape the image as quickly as possible, and yet it remains: red neon glowing on the backs of your eyelids, flames of arson in your throat.

You go to Becca’s profile. A quick browse of her stories and posts reveals homemade baked goods, scenic outings in nature, faux-candid selfies, and lots of home decorating. She has a blog that is linked in her bio—rebeccawilsonwrites.wordpress.com—like she’s freaking Gwyneth Paltrow recommending jade yoni eggs on Goop. She also has three Pekingese dogs, woefully inbred wobbling wheezing creatures, and you are reminded of your mother’s colony of Akitas.

Becca’s most recent culinary masterpiece is apple cinnamon bread. The loaves look flawless, golden brown and scrupulously sliced. Her caption reads: Made with delicious Honeycrisp apples, picked fresh at a local orchard! @superstargaryen loved them! Then there is a series of emojis: apples, hearts, bread, more hearts.

You return to your main feed and scroll manically through the photos and video clips there, desperate for a distraction. You see a post featuring a quote from Robin Williams—I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy—and a foggy memory is evoked like the rippling distortion of heat refraction rising up off a freeway.

You think: Didn’t Robin Williams die by suicide because he had a terrible disease?

You go to Google, conduct some basic research, and confirm the details. Then you search: Viserys Targaryen Lewy body dementia. But you find no relevant results.

You open your email, and at last you have your distraction: a reply to a message you sent yesterday night, an invitation for an interview.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her office is on the third floor. Early afternoon daylight floods in through the glass walls; there is a large tropical orange flower in one corner of the room, a specimen that could never survive here in the arid Southwest without shade from the sun and religious misting. Marion May Davis, Mari for short, is in her mid-fifties and has lines in her face and natural grey hair cut into a tidy Anna Wintour bob. She looks her age, and she looks real, two things you liked about her when you found her online. Mari is an agent. Maybe she’ll even be your agent soon.

“Oh, I love Maroon 5,” she sighs romantically as she scrutinizes your resume.

“Me too!” you lie, smiling so forcefully your cheeks are beginning to ache. You don’t want to leave Aegon, but you have to. He’s torturing you, he’s killing you. The Marvel audition is tomorrow, and you cannot bring yourself to care about it. There is a pink neon sign on Mari’s office wall that reads in whimsical cursive: good vibes only. Not terribly original, but you appreciate the sentiment.

You tap your black ballet flats anxiously against the bamboo floor as you watch Mari contemplate your resume. You have hidden your ankle brace in your purse. You are wearing a simple sleeveless grey sheath dress that Baela saw at a Brooks Brothers and bought for you—It’s so classic! she had said—and matching cool-toned eyeshadow: sparkly lilac Betrayal by Urban Decay, silver Iced Out by Huda Beauty.

Mari asks: “Did you have any trouble finding the office?”

“No, not at all! But I did have to park super far away because I am awful at parallel parking, and somehow it feels even hotter than usual here.”

“Well, we’re so far inland.”

You are in Tarzana, and it is Thursday July 10th, and you have the sense that time is rapidly ticking down, not just to the end of the year when your parents will summon you back to Minnesota but to September when Aegon is getting married on Turks and Caicos. From outside you can hear cars and pedestrians on Ventura Boulevard, an east-west asphalt artery of shops, hotels, and offices in northwest Los Angeles, the site of a former ranch established in 1919 by Tarzan author Edgar Rice Burroughs.

Mari puts your resume down on her transparent glass desk, naked except for a MacBook Pro. Frigid air pumps out through the vents on the ceiling. “Okay, I’ll take you.”

“Really?!” you squeal; and yet you cannot ignore that this feels bittersweet. Aegon’s really getting married? I’m really leaving him? “Yay!”

“Yeah, I like your energy. And your outfit is great, very European, very chic. The makeup, well…” Mari chuckles. “They’ll do that for you at shoots. But tone it down a bit more for auditions. They want to see you as a blank slate they can scribble all over.”

“Sure,” you agree instantly. “I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your best client ever!” I won’t even hook up with you and thereby enrage your significant other!

Mari is typing on her MacBook Pro. “Give me a few days to send your stuff out and see what I can find for you. I love that picture of you with the sunflower…where was it taken?”

“The Flower District,” you say, thinking of the day you went there with Aegon and got ice cream afterwards, and he had remembered that you like vanilla.

“Delightful.” Mari is still typing. “I’m also going to email you the contact info for a friend of mine. He’s a plastic surgeon, he’s fantastic, I recommend him to all my clients. I’d like you to do a consult with him.”

You are ripped out of your not-so-distant memories, your effortful enthusiasm, and you have to be intentional to not seem offended. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate that, but I’m not interested in breast augmentation.”

“Oh no, I was thinking of your face.”

You stare at her. Reflexively, you touch your fingertips to your cheek. “My face? You want me to change…my face…?”

“Not change, dear!” Mari says. “Just enhance. Just make little tweaks here and there. I think you could really benefit from a rhinoplasty, and maybe something around the brows too…a lift? John will know when he examines you. He’s a magician! Have you seen the before and after pictures of Blake Lively? Or Mindy Kaling, or Taylor Swift? You’ll still look like you. You’ll just be an even better version of you!”

Outside, some tiny dog is yapping from a stroller or a purse. In this office, icy air blows down from the ceiling vent. You study Mari: undyed hair, no face or neck lift, probably not even Botox or Juvederm. “But you…you haven’t had any procedures done, have you?”

Mari smiles patiently, like she’s trying to explain a hard truth to a child, the fact that parents don’t always stay together or that pets inevitably die. “I work behind the camera, dear. Not in front of it.” Then she resumes typing on her MacBook Pro.

You watch her for a few seconds, listening to cars whooshing by on Ventura Boulevard. Then you grab your black Michael Kors purse—borrowed from Baela’s closet, at her suggestion—and stand up. Your wounded left ankle gives a shriek of protest. “Thank you for your time, but I don’t think this is a good fit. Have a great weekend!”

“What?” Mari says, peering up incredulously at you from behind her laptop, like she’s not used to being the one who gets dumped. You are already at the doorway.

“Bye!” you call with a wave, and sprint to the elevator at the end of the hall. You hammer the circular button and run inside when the doors open. Once you are alone and descending, listening to an instrumental version of Despacito, you take your ankle brace out of Baela’s Michael Kors purse and put it on. Then the elevator doors open again, and you are in another cold sterile hallway, and you hurry through a glass revolving door and escape out onto Ventura Boulevard.

The sun is blinding, the heat like an oven, your heart pounding heavily in your ribcage; your ankle throbs through the dose of Advil you took this morning. You stand on the sidewalk, jostled by women carrying shopping bags and men striding importantly by as they talk on their phones, and you try to remember which direction you came from.

I don’t want another agent, you think dizzyingly, nauseatingly. I want Aegon. But he’s driving me insane, and he’s hurting me, and soon he’ll be gone.

You get your bearings and walk east. It must be a hundred degrees. The palm trees are sparse and very tall and cast almost no shade; sweat drips down your face, your underarms, the ridge of your spine. You can’t tell if you’re panting because of the heat or because you’re freaking out or both. It’s probably both.

Your phone is ringing. You yank it out of the Michael Kors purse and answer in a breathless huff. “Hello?”

“Hi, honey!” Mom chimes. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” you say, although you’re certainly not. The sun is beating down like you’re a lizard under a heat lamp. “I just had an interview with—”

“Listen, we have to get you home for bridesmaid dress shopping,” Mom continues briskly. Ambiently, you can hear Clara chatting away about different fabrics, chiffon and tulle and satin and lace. “I’m looking at flights right now. How’s the first week in August?”

“Well, Mom, I’m really not sure because my schedule is changing all the time and I never know when I’m going to have an appointment or an audition and my manager Josh yells at me when I don’t put in enough hours at Cold Stone and—”

“This is important,” Mom snaps. There is the click click click of her manicured fingernails against her laptop keyboard. “Your sister only gets married once.”

“I know it’s important.” But what I’m trying to do out here is important too. “And I’m really happy for her and I’m thrilled about the wedding. I love weddings.”

“Then act like it.”

“I just honestly don’t have a regular schedule right now and missing a week can make a big difference. Do I have to be there in person for the dress thing? Can I just send you my measurements? You and Clara have a vision for this, so just pick whatever you want me to wear.”

Mom sighs impatiently. “No, we can’t do that! Honey, you know you have difficult proportions. We need to see the dress in person and order any alterations.”

“Okay,” you concede, feeling woozy and leaning against a streetlight that burns your arm. “Fine. Yeah. The first week in August is great.”

“And it’s especially vital that you look your best because you’re going to be the maid of honor. Yay! Isn’t that exciting?!”

You touch your furrowed forehead; it’s slick with sweat. Your period started this morning, and that can’t be helping the situation. “Does Clara want me to be her maid of honor?”

Faintly, you can hear Clara saying something about her best friend Kinsley, and your mother shushes her. “It should be her only sister,” Mom tells you.

“…Is that a no? Because Kinsley can do it, I really don’t mind. If I land a role I’m not necessarily going to be able to fly back for planning and parties and stuff—”

“You will be the maid of honor,” Mom insists. “Your father and I are paying for the wedding. We want you to be the maid of honor. Friends come and go, but family is forever. That’s the end of it.”

“Okay,” you say, and it comes out like a whimper; the heat is overwhelming. “Mom, I have to go, I have to try to find my car. I forget where I parked.”

“I’ll email you the tickets once I buy them.”

“Thanks!” you manage weakly, then hang up and wobble on your sprained ankle in the direction of your Honda, eastward, away from the ocean, back towards the Midwest from which you once made your botched exodus.

Suddenly you feel violently ill, and your vision begins to go dark, and you know you need to sit down before you pass out on the sidewalk and roast to death. You dart into the nearest building, a T.J. Maxx, and flee through throngs of shoppers to the furniture section. You collapse into a leopard-print armchair and sit there slumped and gasping, glistening with sweat, the room spinning around you. There is a fawn-colored shag rug on the floor that reminds you of one of Becca’s Pekingese dogs. You lean over and vomit the contents of your stomach onto it: a piece of toast with a teaspoon of peanut butter, a banana, some red grapes, a lot of Diet Coke.

Oh God. Oh no.

You look around to see if anyone has noticed yet; it doesn’t seem like it. Then you quickly roll up the shag rug and shove it under a dresser. You return to your leopard-print armchair and cover your flushed face with your trembling hands, your blood like boiling water beneath your skin.

Do I have to change my face to be an actress?

You shake your head, trying to expel this thought like seagulls from a picnic, sharp bold beaks pecking mercilessly for crumbs.

I have to get out of here. I have to get back to my car.

Your 2003 Honda Accord is parked no less than a ten-minute walk away. You wait a little while to give yourself time to cool down—a T.J. Maxx employee asks if you need assistance and you politely decline, then he frowns down at the floor as if he’s thinking: Isn’t there supposed to be a rug here?—and then you venture back out into the heat. Immediately upon leaving the shade and air conditioning of the T.J. Maxx, your nausea returns with a vengeance and you stumble as the sidewalk sways beneath your black ballet flats. People laugh at you like you’re drunk or high. You retreat back into the T.J. Maxx and seek refuge in the leopard-print armchair.

What am I going to do?

You fumble your phone out of the Michael Kors purse and go to call Baela…then you remember she’s currently on a transcontinental flight to Paris to film Yorgos Lanthimos’s new movie. You call Jace three times, but he doesn’t pick up. Maybe he’s in class. Maybe he’s asleep.

Aegon?

“No,” you mutter to yourself. “No way.” Out of ideas, and not able to think all that well anyway under the present circumstances, you call Mason. He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey!” he says excitedly. “You back in Minnesota?”

“No, sorry, I’m in L.A.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “How’s that going?”

“Actually, not that great at the moment.”

“Yeah, you sound weird.”

“I’m really sick. I think it’s the heat. I’m trapped in a T.J. Maxx and I can’t get to my car, and even if I could I’m worried I’d crash while driving home.”

“Damn, that sucks,” Mason says distractedly, and you can hear that he’s typing two thousand miles away in his Minneapolis office.

“What should I do?”

“Call an Uber?”

This is sensible, and yet you moan helplessly in your armchair. A T.J. Maxx employee is sniffing around the dresser where you’ve stowed the soiled shag carpet, grimacing. “A ride all the way down to Harbor Gateway is going to cost over a hundred dollars. And my parents will see the charge on my card. And what if I pass out and the Uber guy robs me?”

“Call your agent?” Mason suggests. “He probably won’t rob you.”

“I can’t call him.”

“Why not? Isn’t that his job, to take care of you?”

You blink dazedly at a rack of baby clothes, sailboats and elephants and ladybugs. “It’s complicated.”

“Well I can’t drive to L.A. to pick you up, so you gotta figure something else out.”

“Okay,” you surrender. “Thanks anyway. Bye.”

“Bye. Let me know next time you’re home for a visit!”

“Totally.” But you have no interest whatsoever; you can’t even envision kissing him. You are, to your misfortune, very much so a one-dude type of girl, as Aegon put it.

You stall for a moment, opening random apps on your phone, scrolling blindly through Instagram. Now you feel less sick and more exhausted, like you could fall asleep and never wake up, although you’re developing a powerful hammer-like thudding just above your left eye. Another T.J. Maxx employee asks if you need help finding something, and you pretend to be considering buying the leopard-print armchair. A manager is using her radio to ask if anybody knows where the shag rug went. Out of alternatives, you call Aegon.

“Hello?” he says when he picks up, like he’s surprised to see your name on his screen.

“Hi,” you reply miserably. “I’m dying.”

He snorts a laugh. “You’re not dying. Where are you?”

“I’m stranded at a T.J. Maxx in Tarzana. I think I have heat sickness or something. Every time I try to walk to my car I almost pass out.”

“Yeah, you’re not used to temps like this, are you?” Aegon sounds kind, gentle, wise, and you hate how much you want to like him again, to be friends, to be more than that. “Well, you’re in luck, because I’m just finishing up a shoot in Studio City and I can probably be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Cool!” you cheer feebly.

“A T.J. Maxx, right?”

“Yup. On Ventura Boulevard.”

“Okay. See you soon, I’ll let you know when I’m close.”

“Thanks,” you murmur drowsily.

“No problem,” Aegon says, and hangs up.

You drag yourself to the bathroom, splash cold water on your face, gulp some down to clean your mouth out and immediately throw it up into the sink. You hide in a stall and rest your head in your hands for a while—ankle throbbing, skull aching, cramps in your lower belly—and only leave when Aegon texts you that he’s two minutes away. As you stumble past the leopard-print armchair now damp with your sweat, you see an employee discovering the shag rug under the dresser and unrolling it. He recoils and shouts: “What the fuck is that?!”

Just outside the T.J. Maxx, Aegon is double-parked and receiving jeers and honks from his fellow motorists. He ignores them. Aegon has closed the top of his Chrysler Sebring convertible and inside the air conditioning is on full blast, an Arctic tundra, the ice cream freezer at Cold Stone Creamery. You throw yourself limply into the passenger’s seat and pull the door shut, which feels like it takes immense effort. Then Aegon surges into traffic and barrels down Ventura Boulevard. You rest your head against the car window and close your eyes.

Aegon prods you with a large chilled bottle of blue Powerade he must have grabbed from a 7-Eleven or something.

“I can’t drink that,” you say dimly.

“Yes you can.”

“Do you have, like, a sugar-free version or—?”

“Shut up. Drink the Powerade.”

You take the bottle, twist off the top—again, this seems to take far more strength than it should—and swallow several gulps, hoping they’ll stay down. Almost immediately, the hammer strikes just above your orbital socket begin to dissolve away, and you feel a little more alert, and your nausea does not make another appearance.

“Better, right?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” you admit, touching your skull in dull amazement.

“It’s the magnesium. It’s good for headaches. And the salt helps you rehydrate. What the hell are you doing all the way up here in Tarzana, anyway?”

You sip your Powerade as you stare out the window, watching buildings and palm trees soar anonymously by. Aegon gets on the 101 heading east towards Elysian Park. You know that’s where he’s taking you without needing to ask. “Do you think there’s something wrong with my face?”

“What?”

“My face. Like my nose and my eyebrows. Do I have weird eyebrows? Is that why no one thinks I can be an actress?”

“Your eyebrows are fine,” Aegon says, glancing over at you, confused. He’s wearing the black suit that he dons for film sets, a skinny tie, a half-untucked white shirt. He notices the brace on your left ankle. “Damn, Sunshine, you’re a mess today. What happened there?”

You drink your Powerade as you debate whether to tell him about Becca. You decide against it. “I tripped and fell because I’m an idiot.”

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“So my new agent will take me seriously.”

Aegon must be startled—he turns to look at you, then back to the rushing five eastbound lanes of the freeway—but he stays calm, dispassionate, like he’s trying not to scare you away. “Is that who told you to cut up your face?”

“Turns out I don’t like her, so. Never mind.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” Aegon says, sounding a bit relieved.

“I am.” And maybe you’re relived too. “For now.”

“You down to get lunch?”

“I don’t want to vomit in front of you.”

He smiles. “I’ve seen worse things, I guarantee it.”

“What about my car?”

“Where exactly did you leave it?”

You have to think for a while, finishing the Powerade and letting your mind become useful again, and then you recall that you parked on a side street by a dog daycare, Dog-E-Dayz or Dog-E-Den or something like that.

Aegon picks up his phone and calls his receptionist Brandon. “Hey, Brando! Listen, your favorite client left her car in Tarzana. Yeah, I know. Way out there. So it’s parked near a dog daycare about a half-mile from the T.J. Maxx. Can you look up the address and get a tow guy to pick it up and take it down to the garage at her apartment building? Great. You have the model and plate number and everything? You’re a genius. And I’ll pay you extra for the inconvenience. No, no, I insist. Talk to you later. Bye.”

Then Aegon plugs his phone into the aux, and for some reason he puts on an Eminem playlist, and you doze against the cool clear window until you get to Chinatown.

The waitress Lanying asks Aegon about his siblings—“How is Aemond? What about Helaena? Okay, and what about Daeron?”—and Aegon smiles and nods and patiently reiterates that they’re all fine. You are led to the usual spot by the fish tank, massive black-and-orange oscars floating behind the glass and glowering at you, their bulging eyes reddish and hostile. Soon the table is cluttered with a tea kettle and two cups, wonton soups, your moo goo gai pan, Aegon’s boneless spare ribs. You eat cautiously, each bite slow and groggy. A family seated nearby has a baby girl, and she giggles and smacks the table with her tiny chubby hands each time you wave at her. Aegon watches this, oddly wistful for someone who admittedly has never wanted children.

“Here,” Aegon says, offering you a forkful of his boneless spare ribs. “Eat.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You look droopy. You need fat and sugar and deliciousness.”

You acquiesce and let him feed you the morsel of pork, sweet and fatty and rich and sublime. You chew very slowly, and still it’s gone too soon.

“You have to eat more,” Aegon says. “I think that was part of the problem today.”

“Thank you for rescuing me. I’m pretty sure it was just the heat. And I was kind of upset about the appointment with the agent lady, and my mom called and stressed me out about Clara’s wedding. And oh, by the way, I got my period so no need to worry about that. Whoo hoo.”

Aegon doesn’t seem to appreciate the joke. He gazes at you thoughtfully, then uses his fork to point at the baby girl at the next table. “Do you want kids?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. I love kids. But I have like fifteen more years to reproduce, and if I want to be an actress I kind of have to do that first.”

“I figured. You worked at summer camps in Watts, right?”

“After-school programs. All the other employees hated me, I never wanted to yell at the kids or tell them what to do, I’d just get down on the ground and play with them. I’m so great at Uno.”

Aegon smiles. “Yeah?”

“And Sushi Go, and Scrabble, and Apples to Apples.”

“Apple girl from Appletown,” Aegon says, skimming the zodiac calendar written in red ink, twelve animals and their descriptions, attributes, shortfalls, perfect mates. Then he taps it. “Which one are you?”

You flinch, cave in, feel tremendously low. He really doesn’t remember. It didn’t matter to him, I didn’t matter to him. You stab at your moo goo gai pan with your fork, looking down so he won’t see how upset you are. “You are so fucking mean.”

But Aegon is bewildered, like he’s not sure what he’s done wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, July 14th, and you are ringing up a Gotta Have It-sized Cookie Doughn’t You Want Some for a Los Angeles Southwest College student when Aegon walks into Cold Stone Creamery, the string of metal bells jangling against the glass door. You go to meet him by the ice cream freezer, where Aegon scans the menu of Signature Creations. He is carrying a manila folder and wearing a yellow t-shirt with a tan jacket thrown over it, dark jeans, and white-and-gold Nike Killshots. He seems confused.

“You don’t want an Our Strawberry Blonde like last time?” you say. You haven’t seen or heard from him since your Marvel audition, which was pretty dismal. Aegon stood in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest, and even though he put on his black sunglasses and grinned at you when it was over, you could tell he didn’t mean it.

“Oh yeah,” Aegon says. “Yeah, I do, thanks. That’d be perfect.”

You make his ice cream, Aegon pays in cash, and then you ask Josh if you can take your fifteen-minute break now. Aegon evidently wants to talk to you; he sits at the table by the window and watches you expectantly. Josh reluctantly agrees and you take a seat across from Aegon. He holds out his spoon and won’t speak to you until you take a bite. Eventually, you do: chunks of fresh strawberries, sticky caramel, rich fluffy whipped topping, jarringly sweet and cold and perfect, even if it’s not what you’d usually order.

“Well, you didn’t get the Marvel job,” Aegon says.

“I’m not shocked. They barely looked at me.”

“But I might have found you something else.”

“A dog food commercial? A brief and soulless flashback of somebody’s dead wife?”

“A feature film,” Aegon says, and you stare numbly at him.

“What?”

“Indie, Sundance. Starring role. First billing. I got you an audition.”

You snatch the balloon down just as it begins to float away. You’re trying to prepare yourself for disappointment. “They’re not going to like me.”

“They might,” Aegon says. He lays the manila folder on the table and slides it over to you. “I’m not supposed to let this out of my office, so don’t lose it.”

“It’s the script for the audition?”

“It sure is.”

This can’t be happening. “How did you get them to agree to put me on the list?”

Aegon shrugs. “I didn’t do anything. They reached out to me.”

You place your palm on the folder to make sure it’s real. “What’s the movie about?”

He smiles as he licks strawberry ice cream from his spoon. “Vampires.”

“It’s horror?”

“Kind of horror. Kind of romance. I think it’s just right for you.”

“When’s the audition?”

“This Saturday.”

“Okay,” you say, savoring it, this liminal hope you can’t stop yourself from feeling. You’ve always been an optimist. Perhaps no number of curses can change that. “Okay. I’ll be ready, I promise.”

“Don’t forget about the charity gala,” Aegon reminds you. “It’s Saturday night, the same day. But there are like ten hours in between so it shouldn’t be a problem, even if the audition runs late.”

You peer through the window at pedestrians walking by outside. It’s twilight, and streetlights are turning on, and neon tubes glow with cold chemical fire. “I don’t think I want to go to that.”

“You have to. It’s work. I can introduce you to industry people.”

“Is Becca going to be there?”

“Of course. But she won’t bother you.”

Why does he cheat? you think forlornly, and then you remember something Aegon said the day you first met: Life is short. I try to keep it delicious. “I’ll go,” you agree under duress.

“You sure will,” Aegon says, and scrapes the last of the ice cream from his bowl and gives it to you, his plastic spoon heavy with melting pink magic.

When you return to your apartment well after 11 p.m., Jace is sprawled across the orange couch in his pajamas and watching Blade. He is noisily slurping Pad Thai from a takeout container. You kick off your work Sketchers and remove your ankle brace. It still twinges, but you’re healing.

Abruptly, you recall Aegon’s paranoia concerning Jace’s presence at your 4th of July festivities. “Hey, Jace?” you say, getting an idea.

He glances lazily over at you. His dark hair falls in chaotic curls around his face. “Yeah?”

“I have to go to a charity gala on the 19th. That’s this Saturday. It’s very fancy and very formal, and I don’t really want to go alone and have no one to talk to. Do you want to go with me?”

You had imagined this might take some convincing, and yet Jace is immediately amenable and has only one question. “Will there be free food?”

“Yeah, I assume so. Probably an open bar too.”

“I’m in.” Then he winks and makes a joke. “It’s a date.”

#aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x y/n #aegon x you #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #hotd fic #hotd fanfic

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momo-minomo · 2 days ago

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Fic Fairy Friday: Tim and Jason Brotherhood

I love Jason and Tim, they're hands down the most chaotic and petty people in their entire family. I wish they'd be teamed up more often in the comics because every time they do the snark and sass is everywhere!

Unfortunately the Batfam fandom has developed a lot of misconceptions about their past and relationship. The main misconceptions are thinking Jason hates Tim and what happened during their fight in Titan's Tower. Fandom thinks Jason came there to murder his replacement and Tim was ruthlessly beaten down and begged for his hero to stop. In reality, Jason had grown to hate the very idea of Robin (a child soldier fighting and dying for Batman's neverending war) and came to Titan's Tower to convince Tim to quit as well as to prove to himself that Tim wasn't better than him and that Bruce didn't just trade up for a better Robin when Jason died. When talking didn't work he decided that to save this kid's life (and prove to himself that he wasn't just an inferior failure) he was going to MAKE him quit.

But if Batman, Alfred, and Lady Shiva can't control Tim Drake Jason didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell so Tim put up a hell of a fight and even when he was bleeding on the floor, barely conscious but always happy to be petty and go for the low blow, he went out hitting Jason where it hurt by defiantly stating that even beaten and bloody he is STILL better than Jason. They've long since patched things up between them, tho, and more than once in the comics Jason has made it clear that Tim is his most trusted brother. There was even that period just before Tim became RR where Jason was trying to recruit Tim to be HIS Robin so Jason could be gun!Batman and Tim was so annoyed and done with him lol. I do still enjoy the accidental brother or woobie Tim fics and will probably link a few exceptional ones here and there but I'd love to see more fics with the two being equals that trust and rely on each other, too.

This Dark Ceiling Without a Star by Miss_Lazy_Tuesday

Summary:

“For fuck’s sake, your chatter is going to drive me crazy faster than this stupid spell.” “Then you talk!” “There’s no point!” Jason snaps. “I can feel it, okay. It’s—there’s no emotion behind it, it’s not using my thoughts. It’s just a bunch of weird Greek echoing in my brain and a compulsion to act. And it’s getting stronger. Talking isn’t going to slow it down.” “Then what will slow it down?” After five long seconds of silence, Tim gives into the urge and viciously jabs his fist into Jason’s leg for the second time. “Goddammit, why?” Jason snaps, green briefly sparking in his eyes before disappearing just as quickly. “You are not seriously going to just sit there and wait to die.” “The hell do you care anyway?” “Because I don’t want you to die! Obviously!” “You fucking should.”

Momo's Notes: These boys need SO MUCH THERAPY! Tim and Jason are trapped underneath a collapsed building, Tim is slowly bleeding out, and Jason has been cursed to sacrifice himself to help power up a spell. So of course being robins they're going to remain calm, work together, and not spend their precious little oxygen arguing, right? Right? Oh goddammit boys!

Life in the Fast Lane by TheResurrectionist

Summary:

“So, let me get this straight,” Dick said, frowning, “You stole a car, kidnapped Tim, got in a high-speed chase, stole another car, fought a bunch of cartel members, and blew up a chop shop...all to get a minivan back?” “First of all, Timothy was a willing participant,” Jason said, crossing his arms, “And when you put it like that, it sounds bad.” “Jason, it sounds bad no matter how I put it!”

Momo's Notes: It's both refreshing and incredibly funny to see Tim and Jason just being normal brothers that annoy the shit out of each other while they're stealing cars and trying to take down asshole gangs out of costume. This entire fic is just chaotic shenanigans and It's so fun.

Good Fellows by thatcuriouscat

Summary:

After rescuing Bruce from floating around the past, Tim is Not Okay. What comes next after losing everything that really matters? Tim’s got some thoughts. So do the rest of the family. And Ra’s al Ghul. …And the Joker. Jason looks murderous. “God DAMN it, Tim, this was not the situation I had in mind when I generously taught you how to be a younger brother out of the kindness of my heart!” Even more shocked by this, Dick asks incredulously, “You, Jason Todd-Wayne, tried to give younger brother lessons? Where did you even get the audacity?” Jason rounds on him hotly. “Bitch, you wish you knew how to be a younger brother!” “FOCUS,” Tim demands. “We’ve got like, an hour to pull this off.”

Momo's Notes: I know I recommended this one for the Dick and Tim brotherhood recs but this story revolves around the three oldest batbrothers and has equally good characterization and interactions for Jason as it did with Dick. Jason's pov pages are some of the most witty and fun in the whole story and the brotherhood that forms between Tim and Jason over the course of this fic is unique.

The Right Substitution is Key by AddictedApple

Summary:

“The Red Hood has been good for Gotham,” Robin continued. “Crime in Park Row decreased by sixty one percent almost as soon as you showed up, and that’s even taking into account all the crime you commit. Drug overdoses have decreased by twenty two percent in adults and seventy nine percent in minors. Homeless minors are ninety two percent less likely to—” “Kid,” Jason interrupted. “Enough statistics. What the hell is this about?” Robin slowly lowered the tablet with his powerpoint presentation and looked up at Red Hood. “You care about Gotham,” Robin summarized. “Gotham needs Batman. Batman is missing and so is Nightwing. We need you to fill in for Batman.” “You want me to cover Batman’s patrols?” Jason clarified. “No,” Robin said. “I want you to be Batman.” Jason bluescreened. (Or: Batman and Nightwing mysteriously disappear before Red Hood has even started antagonizing them, Robin is desperate, Gotham needs Batman, and Red Hood is Batman-Shaped.)

Momo's Notes: An AU where Jason calmed the hell down before returning to Gotham, both Batman and Nightwing go missing, and Tim doesn't know who this new Red Hood guy is but statistics don't lie, he's making a positive difference in Gotham. That makes him the PERFECT candidate to take over as Batman until they can find him. Jason can't believe ANY of these idiots survived while he was "gone"

a kidnapping a day (keeps the board of directors away) by doingthewritethings

Summary:

And, well. He gets impatient when he’s already in pain. He’s still got fifteen minutes until the meeting is set to begin, and the chances of him slapping Mr. Smith-Harguson so hard that the man’s toupee flies off are rising exponentially by the second. Yeah, that settles it. He needs an excuse to get out of here, and he needs it fast. - for the prompt 'jason todd, lover of fake kidnappings, meets tim drake, lover of chaos', but it... got out of hand. happy pride

Momo's Notes: There are no words for how much I love Batfamily shenanigans and Tim and Jason are always the perfect combo for said chaotic shenanigans! Basically Tim and Jason's version of brotherly bonding is to stage fake kidnappings to get Tim out of whatever soul-sucking responsibility he desperately wants to escape from today starting with a board meeting on a day the chronic pain is especially horrific. This fic also has queer and trans batfam which makes it just chef's kiss

Little Red and the Big Bad Hood by CrzyFun

Summary:

Olivia Draper had been a good idea at first. She could pass for older than Tim could pull off while masculine and women really could get into places easier if they had a pretty face. With makeup and some stylish-yet-inexpensive clothes, Olivia could pull off most undercover ops. She was Tim’s Matches Malone. Then Hood had shown up on the scene. When Jason met Olivia, he hadn't intended to pull a Bruce and take the scrappy teen informant under his wing. She just kept showing up where he was doing business. He had no other choice than to keep an eye on her. And kit her out with armor so she wouldn't accidentally get shot. And make sure she was being treated fairly by her mysterious boss. And, okay, maybe become her big brother.

Momo's Notes: I love a good fic with a genderfluid Tim Drake! This is an au where Tim decided his main alternate ID to gather info would be Olivia Draper rather than Alvin. Cue Red Hood getting very annoyed at the obviously underaged girl sneaking into clubs full of dangerous gangsters. This one is a fun accidental enemy to caretaker with a chaotic and sassy Tim that knows he can get on Hood's every nerve with zero consequences with bonus outraged and annoyed Stephanie!

Last Laugh, First Steps by CloakedSparrow

Summary:

Running a large portion of the Gotham underground as a benevolent crime lord was harder than Jason thought it would be, but still well within the range of what he could handle. All in all, it wasn’t that different from being the type of vigilante Bruce had trained him to be become. He was feeling like he was doing a decent job as part of the Bat Family these days. The Wayne family, he wasn't so sure about. Until he receives an unexpected call from Dick while on patrol one night and the words he hears next change everything. Tim's hurt...the Joker's involved. B and Little D are out of town. Cass is here with me and it’ll take us too long t- “Where?” His death. His anger. His father. His role as a brother, as a son, as a grandson. Jason decides its time to take it all on. If he's going to help his little brother recover, then he's going to have to heal himself as well.

Momo's Notes: This is technically part 42 of a series kind of generically called "Collected Bat-Family Stories" that are actually all set in the same AU. Last Laugh is an amazing entry in the series that can be read as a stand alone fic but I'd honestly recommend going into the series page and starting from the beginning. There are fics in there that aren't Tim or Jason-centric but it's all part of one narrative and Tim and Jason are really the main characters of the whole series and it's so fun to watch their brotherhood grow and deepen. If you're a fan of Wayne Family Adventures I think you'll love this one since the characterizations are very similar imho (aside from Damian but he's slowly growing as a person over the story and will eventually get there).

middle children must unionize by Poteto

Summary: Jason realizes no one is taking care of Tim - not even Tim himself. He decides to do something about it.

Momo's Notes: Jason doesn't like how things went down between Tim and Dick when their big brother gave Robin to Damian and decides if no one else is gonna take care of the 16 year old like the kid he is and not the adult they expect him to be then he'll just have to step up and do it himself.

Playlists:

#Fic Fairy Friday #tim drake #jason todd #red hood #red robin dc #batfamily #robin dc #batfam #batbros #batsiblings #fic recs #Spotify

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