#like i get it i like pretending to be stupid too

[lovelivision]

FLIRTY SKIRTY ♡

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: ꒰𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞꒱ fushiguro toji/reader, geto suguru/reader, gojo satoru/reader, kamo choso/reader

𝐖𝐂: 5.8k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: wearing a skirt around your boyfriend? you better be ready for some delicious consequences!!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, swearing, dirty talk, (slight) overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, p in v sex, cunnilingus, creampie, f!reader, no use of y/n, the typical depravity to be expected of me atp <3

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 ★

Wearing a skirt around Toji is like his kryptonite, you know it, and he knows you know too because every time he’s even a tiny bit annoyed by something you’ve said or done, there you are, suddenly wearing your favourite little skirt. Prancing around the apartment and practically rubbing it in his face how good you look as the material flutters with your every step.

Toji sits on the couch as you move from room to room tidying up, his leg bouncing as he pretends to not notice you. The argument was stupid, and you weren’t even completely in the wrong but here you are trying to tempt him into forgiving you even though he would’ve been over it by dinner.

It’s not like you particularly need or want his forgiveness right now though, you just know that the sex you have while he’s annoyed and unbelievably turned on is always the best sex you have. So, yeah, you both would’ve been fine and over the disagreement in a few hours but why waste the opportunity to turn your boyfriend on when it’s right in front of you?

He doesn’t last long which is entirely predictable of him, his hands reaching for you as you pass by, resolve quickly snapping. A slight gasp slips past your lips as he tugs you into his lap, landing on him with a huff, thighs straddling his.

His lips press against your skin hurriedly, teeth nipping at your neck lightly, leaving behind small marks. Hands large on your hips, grabbing and pulling at your flesh, creeping under the skirt you’ve been flaunting yourself in.

“Toji, slow down,” you laugh breathlessly at his impatience.

He grumbles against you, “Your fault, wearing that stupid skirt–”

“–You like this skirt,” you half-heartedly pout back.

“Mhm, like you better out of it,” he snarks back.

You smile knowingly at him, “I think we both know that’s not true.”

His tongue clicks at you, not able to deny something you both know to be obviously true, “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Does that mean you’re not angry anymore?” You caress his face, thumb tracing his lower lip lightly.

“You do look damn good in this skirt, doll.” His hand creeps up your inner thigh, under aforementioned skirt, “And as a bonus,” his smile grows, “Ease of access.”

His thumb presses against your covered cunt, rubbing right on top of your clit, “You’re such a – mmph – tease, Toji.”

He feigns innocence, “Me? I think we both know it’s you who is the real tease.”

“Do we?” You question his logic.

“Yeah,” he’s pulling your panties to the side as he answers, fingers slipping through your wet slit, “We do.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, becoming wobbly, “Proving – hah – yourself wrong right now.”

“You talk too much, doll,” he prods at your entrance, slowly slipping a single digit inside, “I’d really rather hear you moan instead.”

Your head tilts towards him, biting into the material of his shirt as he begins fucking his finger into you, thumb circling your clit so perfectly you could swear you’re seeing stars. A drawn-out moan stutters from your chest, whined and pathetic for how little he’s done. His chuckle is self-satisfied, clearly already getting exactly what he wanted.

“That’s it, just what I wanted to hear.”

One of your own hands slips to the front of his trousers, cupping his very prominent erection, a gruff moan stifled from him at your touch. “Toji, please–”

“Oh? You want my cock, doll?” Tone smug but clearly slowly losing his fucking mind at how your hand squeezes him, thumb teasing the tip of his dick, “You know you gotta ask for it.”

“Please – hah –”

A second finger is added to his first, stretching you wider, scissoring his digits before slipping deep. Rubbing deliciously against your walls, crooking towards him, your slick dripping down his fingers towards his wrist.

He hums at you, gaze focused on how his hand has disappeared under your skirt, “Hmm? I didn’t quite catch that?”

“Please fuck me,” words panted, struggling to get out a full sentence with the way he crooks his fingers just right every time you open your mouth.

He slips his digits from you, keeping your panties tugged to the side, “Anything for you,” he coos sweetly.

Taking initiative, you pull him from his pants, his cock flushed a pretty pink, tip leaky. He shudders a breath at your grip on him, thumb swiping teasingly over where he’s most sensitive. Shuffling in closer, you hover over his dick, taking your time to torment him like he did you.

“Come on, doll, taking your sweet time,” he groans at you.

“Oh? You want my pussy?” You mimic his words from earlier, “You gotta ask for it.”

He chuckles humourlessly at you, baring his teeth for a moment before asking begrudgingly, “Give me your sweet little pussy, doll.” He tacks on for good measure, “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby,” you repeat his sentiments again, tone light and singsong.

He grins at you, tight lipped, “I really do prefer it when you’re moaning–”

Words getting cut off as you sink down on him, cunt greedily taking his cock, “I feel the – mmph – same,” you smile back, mouth dropping open at how his hips thrust upwards.

His head rolls onto the back of the couch, eyes glazed as he looks down at where his dick is stuffing you full. View blocked by the cute skirt you’re sporting, the fact you’re taking him so perfectly and nobody would be able to tell from a first glance making him stupid. Dick twitching inside you as he works himself up at the thought of fucking you in a room while everyone else was none the wiser.

Not missing his gaze, you reach for the hem of your skirt, lifting it up to show him how you’re sitting on his cock. Cunt full and fucked open by him, a guttural groan comes from his chest, like he’s been gut punched. The way you’ve lifted your skirt to show off for him driving him wild, he’s shooting up quickly, arms wrapping around you and pulling your body close to his.

“Fucking hell, doll, you really are gonna kill me,” he whispers in your ear, breath hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Toji– ah!–”

Words cut off by how he starts fucking up into you relentlessly, lewd squelching noises of him ruining you filling the room. Pussy obscenely wet and taking him so well, your hips meeting his thrusts eagerly. His arms wrapped around you firmly, his hold on you being leveraged to use you to fuck himself. He’s taking control of your pace, making you keep up with him.

He’s in complete control, hips wild as he bucks up into you while also pulling you down into him. Your head tucks into him, fingers pulling at the material of his shirt. Gasps and moans pouring from you freely at how he hammers into you over and over. You’re not even sure you’re thinking let alone speaking, anything you might be saying completely unintelligible.

“Can’t even stay mad at you – hnn – not in this – hah – fffucking skirt,” his hands move to your ass, grabbing at your flesh, pulling you open as he keeps insistently fucking into your tight pussy.

His groans reverberate through his chest, you can feel it with how you’re pressed up to him, every sound he makes pricks at your skin. Turned on beyond belief as you let yourself get fucked blissfully, eyes rolling as you drool onto his stupidly tight t-shirt.

Getting exactly what you wanted from him, his unrestrained pace and desperate thrusts just what you needed. Cunt pulsing around him obscenely as your orgasm gets closer and closer, tasting it on the tip of your tongue.

“So close aren’t you?” he sounds completely fucked out, words almost slurring with how good it all feels, “Need it, doll – hah – wanna feel the way you fucking squeeze – mmph – me as you coat my dick.”

“Toji, feels so– oh! Feels so fucking good,” you cry out at him, eyes beginning to water.

He bites out at you, “I know it does– fuck– I know it does.”

“I– I’m gonna–”

He smiles bright against your skin, “That’s fucking it, let go for me.”

Your body nearly locks up at the force of which your orgasm washes over you, whines leaving you pitifully as your pussy spasms around him, tight as you cum all over his cock. Toji moans at how you grip him, his face turning to the side, teeth latching into the skin of your shoulder. Biting down and leaving behind a mark, his moans stifled into your skin. His own orgasm wracking over him, triggered by yours.

He's cumming so deep inside you, dick twitching as he lets himself fill you with his seed. Hips not stopping as he keeps fucking up into you, his cum leaking from you and down into his lap. Forcing the two of you into overstimulation but not stopping, not until you’re whimpering at him.

“Toji– too much,” you pant against his chest.

He pulls you back so he can look you in the eye, you can see when he notices how wrecked you are by the way his gaze lights up, proud of himself. Your cheeks tear stained and drool caught on the corner of your lip.

His hand is reaching up, thumb rubbing at the spit in the corner of your mouth, “You look really pretty right now, all fucked full, dumb look on your face while in that fucking skirt.”

You smile stupidly at him, “So you’re not angry anymore?”

“Be careful, doll, if this is how you apologise I might start pointless arguments with you more often.” He’s grinning at you like an idiot, like he might actually start a fight just to see you in this skirt again.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ★

The feeling of eyes on you has been prevalent all day, specifically, Geto’s eyes have been on you all day. Not able to make nearly any move without the feeling of him tracking you closely, you don’t even know what’s wrong with him or what you did. The only thing you do know is that your boyfriend has been watching you very intently today.

As you fold your laundry you can feel him following your movements, he’s watching you from the bed, observing how you carefully fold and put away your clothes. Normally it wouldn’t bother you but you’re beginning to feel a little unsettled by all his quiet staring.

Without sparing a glance, you continue what you’re doing, “Are you feeling okay today?”

“Hmm?” he hums at you distractedly before registering what you’ve said, “Yeah I’m fine, why?”

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” your brow raises at him.

He throws back at you, “I can’t gaze at my girlfriend?”

“Not when you’re starting to freak her out… no.”

You don’t notice him getting off the bed, his movements quiet, only realising when he’s suddenly behind you and his hands are dragging over your body. Groping you over your clothes, his lips leaving soft kisses against your neck.

Bending your head down, you give him more access, “Ahhh, I see what’s happened now.”

“And what’s that?” He sounds amused.

Spinning in his grip, you loop your arms around his neck, “You’re looking to get some, huh?”

Geto laughs at your words, a pretty sound that makes your heart flutter.

“Am I wrong?” You pout back at him.

“Nope, dead on.” He kisses your lips softly before picking you up and carrying you over to your bed.

You can’t help the giggles that slip as he carries you over to and drops you on top of your mattress, bouncing slightly with the force used. He’s undressing in front of you, and you follow his lead, pulling off your shirt before reaching for your skirt. Not getting far though because his hands are reaching out and stopping you.

“Keep the skirt on, pretty.”

His request flusters you but you nod at him, keeping it on like he asked. Your panties on the other hand are being tugged off by him in one swift motion. He’s moving so quickly, clearly impatient as he manoeuvrers you into the position he wants.

“Hands and knees, baby– tha’s it,” He’s quiet after that, apparently admiring the view.

“Sugu, what are you– ah!”

Just as you started asking him what he was doing, his fingers slip through your folds, spreading your slick all over your cunt. His fingers lingering at your slit, enjoying the way your knees buckle before pushing into your entrance. It’s hard to keep your noises contained, your arms struggling to keep yourself up at how he stuffs you with them.

Not lingering long before he’s pulling his digits from you, using your wetness to coat his cock. Soft wet clicking sounds coming from behind you at how he leisurely strokes himself.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” he notes crudely, a sick kind of joy in his tone, almost like he means it as a compliment.

You can’t even tell him to stop being a tease because he’s swiping his dick through your folds, probing at your hole, gliding to your clit and back again. Repeating his motions, only so he can make you twitch and have your breath catching in your throat. The small whimpers you let out his favourite song.

“You’re being – mmph – cruel,” Your voice is pathetic, and you can’t help it, he got you all worked up only to be mean.

He slaps his dick against your pussy a few times, “I’m sorry, baby, you want me to fuck you now?”

Such a condescending tone, if you weren’t already on all fours and needy you’d tell him to shove it, “Please.”

“Not very convincing…”

“Sugu–” you stop short, whine bubbling in your throat, “Please~”

“So cooperative,” he coos at you.

At your pitiful plead, he pushes into your tight cunt, stretching you open on his cock. You jolt forward at it, arms barely holding up, the stretch tingling up your spine. Moans tumble from your lips as he rocks into you, his dick sitting heavy inside you.

Geto’s cock jerks inside you, his head dizzy at how you feel wrapped around him. Pussy so snug it’s making his teeth clench, your skirt bunches around your waist. The sight of his dick shoved inside your hole while you’re wearing it making his heart pound, barely able to focus with the thumping in his ears.

He’s so still and it’s driving you wild, your walls pulsing around him, your hips wiggling back to hopefully get his attention. It works, he’s pulling back oh so slowly, letting you savour the hot drag of his cock as it leaves your needy cunt. Not so gentle on the way back in, hips thrusting forward harshly, the air knocking out of you as your arms finally give in.

Back arched meanly, your hands gripping the sheets. The new angle has your breathing speed up, suddenly so much needier. You spread your legs further apart and push back, your pussy desperate for more.

He laughs breathlessly at the sight, a single hand pressing into the arch in your back, “Someone’s – hah – eager.”

You grind back into him, “N–need it– hnn– Sugu!”

A shudder runs down his spine at the want in your tone, not expecting you to be so needy. Feeling benevolent and just as desperate as you, he starts a harsh pace. His cock drilling into your gushing hole, the sloppy sounds of him fucking into you the only thing heard aside from your shared moans.

You keep trying to fuck back onto him, his hand holding down harder as he hisses through his teeth, “J–just fuckin take what I give, greedy little thing.”

He’s pinned you so you can’t wiggle back onto him even if you want to, his pace feeling so much more brutal when you’re forced to just take it. Eyes rolling with how he manages to hit every spot inside you perfectly, fat cock reaching the right spots without even having to try. Drooling onto the bed sheets with the pleasure running down your spine.

Geto can’t take his eyes off how your ass jiggles every time he stuffs himself back into your pretty pussy, hypnotised by how your cunt bludges while taking him. Dick so unbelievably hard as your skirt ruffles around your waist, moving with each thrust back inside your tight heat.

You can’t think properly, brain too foggy to even verbalise your oncoming orgasm. Not that he needed a warning, fully aware of how close you are by how you shake and your walls grip him impossibly tight. His fingers reach around to thrum at your clit, making you finish suddenly. Somehow your back arching even deeper, your whines pitchy as you cry into the sheets.

The feel of your cunt convulsing around him triggering his own end, pulling out and stroking himself. Just so he can cum all over your ass and skirt, the material no doubt ruined by the sheer amount he’s managed to cum all over it. Twisted pleasure filling him at having coated that pretty little skirt in his cum, proof of how diabolically he fucked you in it.

Knees giving out, you flop onto the bed, head spinning in your come down. Everything feels fuzzy, a lovely kind of fuzzy. “You’re putting away the rest of the laundry for ruining my skirt.”

Geto leans down, front to your back, pressing kisses to your shoulders, “Worth it.”

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ★

Today had been a nice day out with Gojo, visiting your favourite café and going shopping afterwards. The weather was perfect, and you’d found some really cute goodies while out. The only thing of special note aside from Gojo’s insistent compliments on how good you looked was his otherwise uncharacteristic quiet.

Normally so ready to tease and talk about absolutely nothing replaced with a quiet and soft blush. Daydreaming while you ate, off in the clouds as you walked ahead of him on the streets, he seemed to be overall a little spacey today. It’s endearing albeit concerning, something clearly taking up all his thoughts.

Even in the elevator up to his apartment floor he’s not quite all there, though a little more fidgety, something you read as being keen to get home. You feel a little guilty for having such a nice time if he’s been waiting to get home the whole day, a fact that’s almost cemented when at the door he sighs frustratedly as he struggles to find the right key.

Cautiously, you take them from him and easily navigate to the right key, unlocking and opening the door. The apartment warm and empty as you step through the threshold. Once you’re through the door, Gojo is hastily shucking off his shoes and dropping all your bags. Impatiently waiting for you to take off your shoes.

As soon as they’re off and you’re bending back up straight, he’s on you. Lips hot against your skin, messy in how he kisses your mouth. Tongue so quick to push in and brush up against yours, suddenly so dizzy at the speed of which he’s moved. Your hands brace on his broad shoulders, shocked by his need, taking you off guard completely.

Pulling back, he speaks between kisses on your neck, “You looked so fucking pretty today, so pretty, beautiful!”

“W–what’s gotten into you?”

“You.” He huffs against you, “You got into me.” His hand trails up your leg and under your skirt, “You and this damn skirt.”

He’s so flustered, a pretty shade of pink dancing along his cheeks, hungry look in his gaze. Suddenly all his daydreaming and lingering behind makes a whole lot more sense. He walks you backwards until you hit the wall, resting against it. Hand dancing along the waistband of your panties under your skirt.

“Gojo–”

“–So mean…” he pouts.

“Satoru…” A force of habit to use his last name, still not quite used to the switch, “…Did you at least have a nice time out?” Still feeling a little worried he didn’t.

“I had a fantastic time,” he smiles, “Loved thinking about fucking you in this skirt the whole day…” His fingers slip into your panties, “…And now I’m going to have a fantastic time making that reality.”

Quick to circle around your clit maddeningly, your head knocking back against the wall with the stimulation. Soft and pleased hum coming from him at your reaction, always so happy at how sensitive you are, it makes it easier for him to drive you insane.

“You are so cute,” he compliments again, “Are you gonna let me fuck you here in the entry way?”

As much as you try for them not to, your words still come out a little wobbly, “I– hnn– whatever y–you want~”

“So good to me,” he sounds proud, of you or himself you can’t tell.

He rewards you by dipping his fingers down to your hole, almost pushing inside. You wiggle your hips down into his hand, desperate to be filled, his teasing beginning to be too much. All worked up and ready to be fucked but he has different plans.

“Want you to cum first,” he tuts, “Want it extra messy when I fuck you.”

After this long, you’d think he wouldn’t fluster you so much, but his words have you bristling, face burning at his comment. His fingers draw back to your clit and repeat his earlier motions, though he gives you more pressure this time, building you up so carefully, as if  brick by brick.

Your legs shake under you, starting to struggle to hold yourself firmly with how good it feels. So quick to get you close, it’s almost embarrassing how easy it is for him to make you cum. Chest stuttering as you struggle to draw in a steady breath, soft moans interrupting the motion.

“G– Satoru, I’m so close,” Your lower lip shakes with your words.

His eyes glint, excitement in his expression, “Good. Cum.”

Your insides pull tight, stomach doing flips as he insistently rubs over your clit, not changing a single thing about how he’s touching you. Head lolling on your shoulders as your fingers dig into his shoulders, legs shaking so much more as you struggle to keep hold of him. Mostly being supported now by his free hand on your hip. Orgasm washing over you, eyes unseeing for a moment as your hearing goes dull.

Cunt contracting around nothing, pitiful whines falling from you at the disappointment, always feeling so much better to cum around him. He doesn’t grace you with much of a come down, ripping your panties off before tugging down his pants just enough to pull his cock out of them. He’s so hurried, you’re surprised he was so patient when he’d been daydreaming about fucking you the whole day. Your skirt is bunched around your waist as he lifts you up, guiding you to lock your legs behind him.

He sounds so ruined already, “I don’t think I can be patient, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

One of your hands leaves his shoulder and slips into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, “Tha’s okay.”

“I’m in love with you,” he moans, his tip dragging through your folds.

Your cum leaving you so slick, dripping down your thighs and onto his dick as he runs it between your pussy lips. He doesn’t think he can physically handle anymore teasing, choosing instead to angle himself at your entrance. Giving you one final glance to make sure you’re okay before stretching you open, his cock splitting you damn near in half as he spears you with it.

Gojo almost folds into you at the initial feel of your snug cunt sucking him in, guttural groan leaving him. He’s trying so hard to go slow, to not give you too much at once but it’s really hard when you have such a greedy pussy. His dick twitches pathetically inside you, so sensitive from how hard and desperate he’s been.

With borderline hearts in his eyes, he huffs, “Think I– fuck– I’m in love with your cunt, sweetie.”

You bite your lip as you lock down, watching the way he’s sliding into you, pussy budging around his big cock.

“I– hah– love you, too, ‘Toru.” It’s meant to be facetious, but it loses it’s meaning when you’re moaning so pitifully for him.

The nickname you use has him stuffing you to the brim all at once, his dick sitting deep inside you. He almost purrs with how snugly you squeeze him, all wet and tight and so so perfect. If he had even a little bit less self-control he’d have cum in you just from being balls deep. Feeling so sensitive to every reaction he pulls from you, abs pulling at how you flutter around him, the cause of it being you looking down at how deep he’s in you.

Just to tease you, he pulls out so slowly, both of you watching how shiny his cock is. Coated in your previous orgasm, he shudders at it, jerking as he pulls out.

“Now the fun part,” he winks at you before shoving himself back in quickly, the force of it nearly knocking the breath from you.

Grateful for his hands on your thighs because you don’t have faith in your ability to cling to him. His pace is relentless, desperation that reflects his patient waiting for this moment. Fucking you so perfectly, to the point you can’t speak. Only thing leaving you are moans and his name, all slurred and barely comprehensible.

It’s obscenely messy how he fucks into you, your thighs wet, his dick slick, exactly how he wanted it. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your sweet little pussy making his brain buzz, high coming on so quick that he can’t help but feel a little disappointed, wanting to stuff you full forever. Not ready to part from you.

His thumb reaches for your sensitive clit, your body flinching at it, too much too soon but he needs you to cum again, he needs to feel it around him this time. Easily pulling a second orgasm from you like this, your whole body trembling in his arms, eyes rolling as you coat his dick with your cum.

Big dopey smile on his face as you finish around him, continuing to play with your clit just to watch you jolt in his hold, finding it adorable. Eventually pulling back when you pout at him, all dazed and bordering on overstimulation.

“Sorry, sweetie,” his head falls back for a moment, almost whining, “Y–you just look so– hah– fuck– cute shaking while I fuck you.”

“Cum please,” you murmur, voice weak, “’Toru, I wan’ it.”

“Ohh you’ll get it– hnn–” His voice cutting off with his orgasm.

Stuffing himself inside you, hot and deep as he pumps you full of his cum, hips grinding into yours to ride out his pleasure. Cumming so much that he’s leaking from your hole, down his cock and onto his pants and then the floor. He’s made a proper mess, just like he wanted.

Fucked out, he grins at you, “Round two in the bedroom?”

He’s insatiable…

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 ★

Cooking with Choso is a pleasant evening activity, prepping dinner together as you chat about your days. Something you’re happily doing, recounting your activities today and paying no mind to your boyfriends distracted chopping. Not noticing how he’s checking you out in your new skirt, one you hadn’t yet worn around him, he knows because if you had he’d have gone fucking wild ages ago.

“New skirt?” He cuts you off.

“Hmm?” You’re confused for a moment, “Oh, yeah, I got it the other day. Do you like it?” You step away from the bench and spin for him, showing it off.

A light blush dusts his cheeks at how you show it off for him, “Yeah… you look really pretty.”

It’s your turn to feel flustered at his compliment, going back to what you were doing before you spun for him.

A little after you’ve prepped everything, he’s hanging off you, leaving kisses to your neck. His breath against your skin sending a shudder down your spine. Turning to face him, you indulge in making out with him, his tongue licking into your mouth, humming as he does. His hands wander slightly, growing provocative in how he’s touching you. Small moan pulling from you at how he’s groping at you, at how insistently he’s kissing you.

Suddenly he’s dropping to his knees, his eyes glassy as he begs, “Lemme put my mouth on you, please.” Hands already pushing your skirt up, face pressing between your legs.

“I– okay, Cho, take what you need,” You offer in a comforting voice, not expecting his need.

Nose to your panties, he inhales your scent, purring with it. Pleased with how wet for him you already are, pressing his tongue to your cunt through your panties. The material soaking with his saliva and moulding to your pussy lips, his tongue beginning to lick at you. Spreading your folds with it, your pleasure muted as he lightly licks over your clit.

The dull pleasure making you feel insane, wanting so badly for him to remove your underwear, wanting his hot tongue against your sensitive skin. Something he seems unwilling to give you yet, you’re not sure if he’s teasing himself or you more by doing this. Your hands brace against the bench top behind you, needing stability, already knowing he’s going to have you a mess in a few moments.

Your panties are coated, wet and sticking to your cunt with his drool and your slick. Face hot as you watch him suck at the material of them, his eyes already so dazed and unfocused, drunk on your pussy and he’s not even had the chance to put his mouth directly on it. When you put this skirt on today you had no idea you would be torturing your poor boyfriend with it, never having seen him this depraved and horny.

Dark spot seeping into his pants where his tip rests, so turned on he’s leaking into them, precum coating his clothes in a desperate display. Heart leaping in your chest at the realisation that you’ve done this to him.

“So beautiful, always so beautiful, so cute in your skirt…” His praises are murmured and slurred as he continues to lap at your cunt through your panties.

“Cho~” you whine at him, “Please take them off.”

He barely even pulls his mouth from you, just enough to rip the soaked article from your person before his tongue is lapping at your slit directly. Loud and obscene whine leaving him, pitchy moan leaving you too. The feeling of having his tongue on your skin dizzying after he’d played with you for so long. Almost intense how he eats at you, legs trembling as your arms fight to keep you up.

Soft growls tumble from his lips as he continuously laps at your sloppy cunt, shoving his face deeper between your legs, tongue pushing into your hole. Stretching around the muscle, walls fluttering snugly around him, his head buzzing with the feeling. His nose knocking into your clit as he vigorously makes out with your pussy.

Not able to help himself, he rubs over his pants, hand giving him minimal relief. Watching him rut into his hand as he drinks down your slick has a feral need clawing at your insides, wanting so badly to sit on him.

“I– I wanna ride– ohh fuck!–”

He shakes his head no at you, not willing to part from you yet, the action making you cry out. Tummy flipping at the pleasure he just gave you from it, fingers gripping the counter so hard it almost hurts. What does you in though, is Choso pulling his dick from his pants, needing the relief of being released from its confines.

Tip so pink and weeping precum, so hard it looks painful. You could help if he’d let you but with how one hand has you pinned to the counter and how his mouth is happily slurping you down you don’t think he’s going to stop now. His free hand grabs his cock, it twitches pitifully, so worked up. He barely focuses on stroking himself, mostly squeezing to offer some kind of pleasure.

The whole thing is overwhelming, your orgasm rocking through you suddenly and unexpectedly. You nearly fold with it, fighting to keep yourself upright. Mind so hazy as you cum into his mouth, vaguely registering his whimpers as he revels in your orgasm coating his tongue. He continues to lick you into overstimulation, body jerking as he doesn’t stop. Not stopping until your hand tugs at his hair and pulls him away.

He’s such a mess, lips and chin covered in your cum and slick, his eyes beyond pussy drunk. His dick absurdly hard and leaking obscenely. Getting to your knees you push him back onto the floor and straddle his lap, hovering right over his dick. Taking a few breaths before lowering yourself to sink down on him. His hands grip at your hips, almost shaking with his need.

The stretch is a lot, his cock fucking you open lewdly, if you weren’t one orgasm deep and so unbelievably turned on you doubt you’d be able to pull this off. When you take him to the hilt, Choso makes a sound like he’s been gut punched, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“So perfect, feel so perfect, taste so perfect…” again mumbling nonsensical praise to you, his words blending together at the feel of your snug cunt so hot around him.

You return his praise, knowing he wants to hear it, “Did s–so good– hah–, Cho, m– make me feel so good.”

He asks, “Yeah?”

You nod back at him, “Yeah.”

After a moment of adjusting to him, you begin bouncing on his dick. Ending each bounce with a grind into his pelvis, the movements have butterflies in your tummy, the stimulation against your clit making your head ring. Below you, Choso looks drunk, eyes lost as he gazes at you, to your cunt swallowing down his whole cock and back to you, not quite able to make up his mind on what he wants to watch most.

When your pace starts faltering, he’s gripping you tight and planting his feet on the ground. His harsh and fast thrusts up into you have you falling forward into him, taking the proximity as chance to kiss him deeply. Your tongue in his mouth licking up against his, swallowing down his moans and whines. One particularly harsh thrust has you parting from him with a shocked moan, instead tucking your head into his shoulder to whine and drool onto him. Brain going stupid as he fucks you so well.

Again, you’re cumming so suddenly, three perfect thrusts and his tip hitting so deep inside you and you’re finishing on him. Cunt convulsing around him as you coat his dick this time, the squelching sound of him fucking you through it almost embarrassing. He’s cumming at the same time as you, seed spilled deep inside you only to be pulled out with how furiously he fucks you both through it.

A mix of your shared mess coating the other, the display depraved and lewd and no doubt a bitch to clean up but so worth it for how fucking good you feel right now. Spine tingling and head fuzzy as you press soft kisses into his neck. His breathing heavy from under you, matching your own. His hands move from your hips to your back, running up and down in a comforting manner.

“So…” You begin, “I’m gonna make a note to wear this skirt more often.”

He smiles but his dick jumps inside you, “Please.”

𝐀/𝐍: i hope you guys enjoyyyeddd !! have beautiful days/nights <33

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[incorrectbatfam]

Yoooo Gooners play videogames with batfam?

Can we get more of that?

[online Poker]

Bruce: I fold. Again.

Kate: Great, so we're both down. Guess it's just up to you, Selina.

Selina, taking a deep breath: Alright, we have two thousand dollars on the line. Be quiet so I can focus. I think I have a pretty good hand.

~ meanwhile ~

Rob: So Poker is just professional lying?

Gene: There is a certain bluffing element to it, yes. But it's more than—

Rob: I'm going all in. Take that, @kittycentral, whoever the hell you are.

———————

[livestreaming]

Dick: Welcome to our first citywide Mario Kart tournament. In just a little bit, we're gonna tweet a code for you all to join online.

Jason: I swear, if we get Rainbow Road—

Dick: Well now you've jinxed it.

~ meanwhile ~

Blaise, stoned out of his mind: Yooo that dude looks like Nightwing.

———————

[battle royale]

Cass: Stashed weapons. Need shelter.

Cass: *finds an empty shelter*

Cass: Mine now.

~ meanwhile ~

Kellin: Now that I've built a shelter, I need to arm myself.

Kellin: *finds a weapons stash*

Kellin: That works.

———————

[online trivia]

Host: Question ten: Where was salmon sushi invented?

Steph, typing: Japan.

Steph: This is too easy.

~ meanwhile ~

Molly: Seems like a trick question.

Molly, typing: USA.

Host: Incorrect! The correct answer is: Norway.

———————

[online chess]

Alfred: My opponent has left his queen wide open. Rookie mistake? Maybe. Or, perhaps, he is two steps ahead of me.

~ meanwhile ~

Otto: I'm naming these horses Bread and Bagel.

———————

[Minecraft]

Tim: Where'd these tracks come from?

Bruce, gently knocking: Son, it's getting late. You should head to bed.

Tim: Five more minutes, I promise.

~ meanwhile ~

Milo: *building tracks*

Rob, barging in: Alright, pipsqueak. Lights out.

Milo: The fuck are you, my dad? Loser.

———————

Barbara: Finally, my inventory expansion mod is complete. Figures I have to do the developer's job.

~ meanwhile ~

Mac: Guess who made a cheat code to steal from other people's inventory? It's the alpha version, but it should work well enough. It's not like I'm playing against Oracle or anything.

———————

[Discord voice call]

Duke: It's our turn to write the next campaign.

Booker: Seems like a problem for tomorrow.

Duke: Yeah. So anyway, what's your day job?

Booker: I go to Gotham U and I'm in a criminal internship program.

Duke: I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that.

———————

[Animal Crossing]

Damian: Who just called my island stupid? When I find the middle-aged, basement-dwelling, mouth-breathing, Reddit-moderating—

~ meanwhile ~

Jackie: Gunner, did you call my Animal Crossing friend stupid?

Gunner: Who cares? Dad says it's probably an old man still living with his mommy.

[doctorho]

dripping velvet, purring dark

Academy era Viktor x fem! curvy reader, 4.5k, no warnings only love in this house (ok there is a conversation about some people being idiots which can be interpreted as the reader getting unwanted attention at a party but it's nothing graphic or anything i promise and no-one is mean to her) also i made viktor horny and slightly subby because that's what the gremlins in my brain wanted. you're welcome. yeah! hi! not sure what this is, but here you go. the reader is described as she/her here (and curvy, and soft, and she is wearing an evening gown, because i wanted to think about pretty dresses). idk. have a thing. happy friday.

Viktor likes to think of himself as a person who's usually capable of focusing on things pretty well. On the task at hand. Give him a faulty circuit and he'll poke at it long enough to find the broken component, no problem. An error in the calculations? He'll find that missing minus sign or forgotten exponent, easy. He'll strip a wire in his sleep.

The task at hand now, though? The problem?

He had to sit through a whole evening of presentations at the academy end-of-year party, put on a polite face for the investors, and pretend not to care that one idiot after another was lining up to flirt with you while he was watching from the sidelines. You were wearing a dress that felt sinful to look at, and there was something primitive gnawing at the inside of his chest begging to be let out, and he had to just stand there and nod through the conversations, pretend he wasn't slowly boiling from the inside out.

And he was failing miserably. 

He’d known he was in trouble from the moment he saw you that night – all expensive fabric covering smooth curves and soft-looking skin, sparkling eyes and easy smiles, and he’d been done for. Before this, it’d been much easier to compartmentalize his feelings; before this, it'd been easier to ignore them. 

Before he’d kept his distance, emotionally and physically speaking, because, well, it’d been easier. He'd seen you around the Academy, all bubbling laughs and raw-honest radiant smiles and confident solutions, and he'd known that you looked…appealing, but he wasn't in the habit of holding up any illusions about what you might think of him in return. His place was in the dark dusty corner of the lab, turning over the ever-ticking problems, while you were out there shining like the sun. And sometimes you came by the lab, with new ideas or suggestions or just to borrow some equipment or ask about a shipment, and he had resigned to his role of staying at his desk pretending he wasn't burning to be closer to your orbit. 

But when he sees you in the low lighting of the party, leaning to the bar and laughing, something just breaks in him. And then he can’t pretend to ignore it any longer. And sure, maybe he’s a little bit drunk, it was easier to stand these events that way, but it still feels like a solid-honest truth in his bones that he wanted to get closer to you, and suddenly he couldn’t stand the conversation he was in the middle of. Because one of them – the sour idiots he’d catalogued in his head for the whole night, the stupid people trying to impress you with their embellished stories and inherited wealth who weren’t worth your time – one of them was circling you like a hyena again, smiling.

You were wearing a dark, floor-length gown that wasn’t, on a purely technical level, much different from what about 50% of the other guests were wearing. However, it seemed to create a significant caveat that even though there wasn’t anything indecent in the dress itself, seeing it on you made him feel like maybe he shouldn’t look at you for too long or he might spontaneously combust. There was a slit on the side that revealed a more than generous amount of leg when you walked, and his focus kept wandering from that to your silhouette, the soft curve of your hips, your chest, your face – no, that’s worse, don’t stare, she'll notice – and truly, he had to force himself to keep his eyes at least vaguely on the vicinity of the person who was currently talking to him. Something about statistics and return investment. Yes. 

He nods, pretending to look interested.

The dress drapes over your hips in soft little cascades, the fabric shimmering lightly as you moved, and something in his brain was itching, begging to run his fingers over it, to know what it feels like, to know what you feel like under it, all soft and warm and pliable under his fingers, and preferably sighing something into the crook of his neck, and–

“We'd like to get our investment back within a year,” the guy that's talking to him says – Viktor can't even remember his name, and he doesn’t really even care – and he just shifts his eyes back to the guy slowly. 

“A year?” he repeats, with the barest amount of feigned interest, and the guy goes off in a whole new tangent. Viktor shifts his posture, and lets his eyes glide over to where you were again. 

One of those idiots, one he thankfully doesn’t have the displeasure of knowing personally but who must be the son of some crooked diplomat, says something to you and you scoff through a smile, roll your eyes, and lean further into the counter at the bar. Viktor has to pretend to be present for his own conversation – yes, the new coating material for the wires was more heat-resistant, no, there was still the issue of mechanical stress, they were working on it – and you say something in answer to the current idiot (third of the night, he’d counted), and it is killing him that he doesn’t know what it is. 

You’d turned down the first two, from what he could tell. But this latest idiot was still talking to you, like he was in any way entitled to your company. And it's making something inside Viktor raise its hackles, and he doesn’t especially like feeling like that, because he couldn't justify feeling like that to himself in any tangible way, and then it all just boiled down to a resigned even if she deserves better than that i have no business dictating that for her. 

He's just about to focus on the conversation he was supposedly participating in again when something happens. He can't make out the details, but imbecile number three seems to lean way too close to you, says something, and smiles in a way that makes something cold creep down the back of Viktor's neck. And your expression coldens, too, and you say something to him, and turn away, more rigid than you'd been the whole evening. 

“Excuse me,” Viktor is saying to the Investment Guy before he can fully think it through, his own voice feeling distant in his ears, and then he's walking to the bar. 

You're alone – the idiot had had the sense to leave you alone quickly, at least. That's good. Viktor isn't sure what he's doing, but then he's leaning to the bar next to you and ordering another drink and trying to look like he isn't thinking too hard about what to do next. 

“Whatever he just proposed to you,” Viktor says slowly, looking over the bar instead of directly at you, “I assure you you can do better.”

He can hear you take a deep breath, shift a little, and sigh it out with what sounded like almost a laugh. 

“Yeah,” you agree, “I don't know what it is about people like that that makes them think they can just…” You sigh again, and make a hand gesture towards the room. ”You know.”

“Unfortunately,” he answers, resigned, “yes. I do.” 

He gets his drink and thanks the bartender, and then leans to the counter too, mimicking your posture, holding the drink and letting it swirl around in his glass. “Have you talked with anyone actually worth your time tonight?” 

You hmm. Then, “there was a little girl earlier that told me some fascinating things about insect metamorphosis.” You say casually. 

And Viktor laughs. Without meaning to, he laughs, and you smile in response, visibly relaxing a little.

“I don't think she was on the guest list though.” You continue. 

He hums in response, and rearranges his grip on the handle of his cane. “Sounds much more interesting than the conversations I've been in tonight.”

“I know,” you answer, and he can hear the smile in your voice, “you think we could swap out one of the main speakers with her?” 

He hmms again, looking over the stage thoughtfully. “I think it would count as a public service,” he nods a little, considering the list of speakers yet to come, “what do you think, who'd be a good target?”

You shift in your place, looking over the same list of speakers, plastered over the walls on both sides of the stage. “The financial talk,” you answer, “Mr. Ross. I'd much rather listen to insect facts than another boring talk about investing.”

Viktor nods. “You distract him, I'll whack him unconscious?” he offers, and you laugh. You laugh, and it warms something in him. 

“And then what?” you continue, still smiling, and he has to look away to keep his composure. 

He shrugs. “Eh,” he answers, “we drag him to a bathtub somewhere and act like he just passed out there?" He shrugs, "I happen to know three ways to get out of this room that I'm pretty sure we could use unnoticed.”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, “and then we just find the girl and ask her if she wants to talk about bugs for half an hour. Easy.”

“Exactly,” he agrees, “and then we congratulate ourselves for making the evening better for everybody.”

"Except maybe Mr. Ross."

"No," he counters, looking over the crowd, "I think he would prefer a nice little nap. Surely not even he wants to hear himself talk all the time." He takes a sip of his drink, "and I think waking up in a bathtub would be a nice change of pace to the rumors of other places he seems to have a habit of waking up in after events such as these."

“Good point,” you shift in your place, settling to lean to the counter a bit closer to him. “Perfect plan. But why'd you get to whack him unconscious and not me?”

Viktor blinks. Lifts one eyebrow. “Because you are by far more distracting than I am,” he answers, “and I thought the plan could use the distraction.”

“I don't think that's true,” you answer, “I think you're plenty distracting on your own.”

Now, he lets himself look at you. Really, properly look at you, and not even half-trying to hide it. You're smiling now, shoulders relaxed, holding your drink with fingers wrapped loosely around it, and in the warm lights of the bar there's a golden glow on your skin, and something breathless at the bottom of his stomach is aching to get closer to you, to touch you, to see if his hand would fit on your waist as well as he thinks it would, to see how you would react to that, if he could make you smile in a different way, what sounds he could get you to make for him–

“Agree to disagree,” he says, averts his eyes, and takes a sip of his drink. 

Tries to tell that wild-hungry purring thing in him to behave. 

Someone reasonable comes to talk to you – and it's about work, which is…something, probably, he has to stop himself from thinking it's better than those earlier idiots, because who's he to decide that for you? He gives you a casual wave and a nod as you depart with a smile and get swept up in the conversation about new ideas and solutions and this-new-thing you've been looking at. And he watches as you start talking excitedly, all golden and glittering, easy conversation and confident smiles, and quietly (not-so quietly) he concludes that maybe you hadn't had many worthwhile conversations with any of the guests that night because you were the most worthwhile person in there to talk to. 

He stays there sipping his drink and wondering what would be the closest appropriate time to slip out. He'd made an appearance, and technically nothing could be expected from him beyond that point. Sure, Jayce might tell him he could've stayed a bit longer, he could use the support, but nothing dramatic would happen. 

The party drones on, and he makes no effort to move – and really, he tries not to think about it too much, but that was at least in part because he wanted to keep looking at you. He promptly ignores this, even when you're laughing at something someone else said and that heavy-dark-purring something at the bottom of his stomach doesn't like it very much. 

Someone comes to ask for his opinion on something, and with a tiny sigh, he lets them pull him into the loop of conversations again. Yes, we are trying to simplify the design, no we can't cut back from the materials, they are what they are for a reason. 

Somewhere around his third ‘Why would you think that?’ of that particular conversation, he's had enough. People were stupid, and he's had enough. He's just trying to come up with ways to get out of the conversation preferably without starting a scandal of some sort, when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turns around to look at who it belongs to, and then everything in his head is quiet for a moment. 

“Hey,” you say, smiling, “sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you away for a moment?” you ask, slipping your hand feather-light down his arm, and he has to suppress a shiver. 

Viktor furrows his brows and opens his mouth, and then, like an idiot, says nothing. But he turns to leave, thankful for the window of opportunity.  

“You remember that thing we talked about before?” you continue as you steer him away from the earlier group smoothly, “I found someone who's interested in those three escape routes you had up your sleeve.” 

“Who?” he asks, because that's the only thing he can think of. You've linked your arm with his, and you're leaning on him, and you're soft and warm and you smell good, and he doesn’t trust his ability to form a full sentence. 

“Me,” you answer, “and judging by how you just looked out there,” you continue, “you.”

Viktor swallows, and something in his brain purrs at the idea. 

“This way,” he says, nodding towards an old stage exit, and honestly, he doesn’t even care why you want to leave, he's just grateful for the distraction and the company and drinking in every warm square inch of skin contact that you're willing to give him, even if it is just walking with your shoulder pressed against his. 

If it turned out to be a plot where you actually wanted to whack someone unconscious, he'd worry about that later. For now he was just happy to leave, and happier that you were leaving with him. 

It's easy to slip away from the crowd, and into the space between the stage curtain and the wall, if you know where you're going. You effortlessly fall a bit further from his side but keep his hand on yours, letting him pull you along, and quietly he wonders how and why and holy shit. He decides not to question it though, and keeps walking through the dim space between the cold old wall and the cascades of warm heavy velvet curtains. 

“Do you want to leave the party,” he asks, voice quiet now that the background buzz of people was muffled by the curtain, “or just get away from it?” 

You hmm behind him, clearly through a smile, and he makes the mistake of looking back at you. Surrounded by the dark red velvet curtains and only slivers of light from each side, his head – and the rest of his body – get entirely the wrong idea of what you're doing in there, because you look like a goddess in the small dim space, and he might crumble into ashes if he keeps looking at you, or he might do something stupid like pull you closer and press you into the wall, to see if your eyes would widen, if you'd gasp from the cold wall, if he could find other ways to make you gasp–

so he turns his eyes away and keeps talking. 

He quickly finds he has to clear his throat before he can do that. “There is a staff entrance that goes past the kitchen a little ways further,” he says, and motions forwards, “or there is a disused indoor balcony surrounding the stage. You would be able to see the party, but it'd feel…removed.”

You lean closer, close enough that when your voice is muffled by the surrounding velvet, it feels like you're speaking right in his ear, and he has to swallow and remind himself that that's just situational coincidence, nothing more. 

“Why do you know so many ways to get out of here?” you ask, “You sneak out a lot?” 

“I am a fan of interesting architecture,” he answers, “and not as much a fan of pretentious social gatherings.” 

“Fair,” you answer, then lean your chin on his shoulder, and he feels like his spine might spontaneously melt. “In your expertise, what would you recommend?”

“Well,” he says, trying to make it sound casual and like he wasn't breathless at all, “I think the balcony has some fairly interesting architecture.” And the lights of the party would look pretty from there. And you'd both get a breather away from the crowd. And he'd get to keep talking to you a little bit longer. And, as selfish as the thought felt, he couldn't deny it; he'd get to keep having you to himself for a little bit longer. 

“Show me the balcony,” you smile, and he obliges. Happily, he obliges. So he pulls you into a narrow staircase, and then, up. 

At the end of it there is a room that could, only by technical definition alone, be called a balcony – it was more like a hole carved into the wall, having at some point been used for seating or equipment space at events and concerts, and now just served as half-forgotten extra storage. It had, he supposed, once upon a time looked like the banquet hall did, all smooth surfaces and warm lights and thematically switched-out decorations, but now it was mostly the standard red velvet and dark wood and light marble, forgotten by the party and some of the golden light from the hall spilling into it by pure coincidence. There were velvet curtains on each side of the room, and you drop his hand to go look over the railing, and down at the party. 

His hand instantly feels cold without yours in it, but he tries his best to ignore this, and follows you to look down at the party, too. 

It looks much smaller from up there. Less chaotic. 

“I didn't know there was a space like this here.” You say quietly, “can they see us?” 

“Part of the design,” he answers, “you're not supposed to notice these spaces unless people want you to. Good place to hide extra orchestra pieces and make it feel like the sound is coming from nowhere. And–” he looks over at the people, colorful and mingling, “no, they can't. Not unless you want them to.” Then, he smiles, just a little. “But they'll be able to hear us, if we direct our voices upwards and wait for things to quiet down there first.”

You turn to look at him. 

“Sloped ceilings,” he explains with a shrug, “again, good for a hidden orchestra accompaniment.” 

“But they can't hear us talking?*

“Not over themselves,” he answers, “ironic, I know.”

You hum thoughtfully and turn around, with your back to the railing, and then you look at him and he needs to kick his brain back in line. You were gorgeous in the dim lighting, all relaxed and smiling, and–

He grips the handle of his cane a little tighter. 

“Good,” you say, and the way you say it – all quiet and warm and liquid – makes something in him purr again, entirely against his better judgement. 

“Why is it good?” he asks, because he has to hold on to some semblance of logic here, because otherwise he might just vaporize out into the atmosphere. 

“Why do you think?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, and oh that just isn't fair. You're just there, just a warm breath of space away, all soft and pretty and languid–

He doesn’t know what to say, so he goes with what feels like the safest course of action. 

“In case we want to plot any more ways to violently derail the evening's program?”

You exhale a small laugh and lean back. 

And then you lift a hand on his chest, and he's pretty sure his heart might be overheating soon. 

“Sure,” you answer, “that.” You inch closer, and Viktor is having a hard time remembering how to breathe. “Or anything else we might not want them overhearing.”

“Like?” He exhales, careful not to break the moment, and then you smile, warm and private and for him, and his insides liquify into warm, honey-thick goo, and oh, he’s not going to recover from this. 

“Like,” you repeat slowly, and then you push yourself away from the balcony railing, just slightly, into the side of the wall covered by the velvet curtain, and he lets you pull him with you, he's not stupid. His brain – along with the rest of his body – might be in the process of actively melting, but he's not stupid. If you wanted to pull him into a shadowed, velvet-covered corner, he would follow no questions asked, especially on a night like this when his insides were buzzing and you looked like that. When you looked at him like that. You smile again, and stop moving when your back hits a wall, and then you pull him just close enough to whisper into his ear. “...Anything else we might not want them overhearing.” you repeat, and, yeah, Viktor is close to becoming the best documented case of human combustion in recorded history. 

In the dim lighting, he searches your eyes into his, and you watch him, waiting, radiating heat between him and the velvet-covered wall. He's not sure why you were acting like this, but all signs were pointing towards you wanting the same thing he did, and he's not sure what he did to get this lucky, but with his every cell buzzing and vibrating and keening over to get closer, he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass. 

He wants to ask ‘why me’ or ‘are you sure’ but what comes out is a broken, desperate whisper of a “can I touch you?”, and you answer with a grin and with your fingers tangled to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Yes,” you breathe, “please.”

And really, he wouldn't have thought it would be so simple, but it's the please that does him in – just one whispered word and his brain short-circuits in an overflowing flash of white-hot need. Need to trigger that again, need to please, and need to finally give in to the pleasure waiting to boil. And then it all comes rushing out; the hunger. 

His hands are on your waist in an instant, and his cane clatters to the ground as he leans his weight on you and the wall and for a moment, he has the sense to hope the curtains don't come tumbling down, and they don't, which is good enough for him, because then he can let go of that particular worry and focus solely on finding your lips to his and making the most of every second of this that you're willing to give him. 

The sensations hit his brain like flashes of bright light; how soft you are under his fingers, like he'd hoped, the fabric smooth and silky, giving away easily under his touch. How warm you are, warm and breathing in a fluttered little gasp, the dusty old velvet mixing in with your sweet scent, and then when he gets his lips on you–

After that it's just golden-dark-velvet-honey-thick bliss. You breathe out a small sound that drips down his spinal cord and goes straight to the purring pit at the bottom of his stomach, and he swallows it with a hungry, greedy, desperate groan that comes from somewhere deep inside his chest, and his head is swimming with warm and real and soft and for me–

He is happily overloading his brain with this, and he doesn’t even care. He presses closer to you and you exhale another sweet little sound that makes him bare his teeth, and then his lips are on your neck and he doesn’t know anything except that he wants you to keep making those sounds and he likes the way your hands tangle in his hair and tug. 

“Tell me what you want,” he mutters to the skin of your neck, pulling you closer by the waist, and absolutely relishing in the way your chest rises and falls with short little pants he can hear you take in and out. In and out, and as he tugs at your waist again, just a bit closer, and drags his teeth against your pulse lightly, one of those exhales turns into a sweet little whine. 

He grins against your skin. 

He doesn’t waste the time or energy pretending he isn't an absolute mess over you, right now – his own breathing ragged and fast and his heart hammering in his ears, his whole body buzzing with want – but that didn't mean seeing you react that way didn't make him want to purr. 

Didn't make his insides heat up with I did that. I got her like this. She made that sound for me. For me. It's mine. 

You take a breath, slow and rugged, and then you tug him towards one of the velvet-covered seats. And he moves like he's floating, letting you guide him, because what else is he going to do? You tug him into the seat and he sits on it, gladly, and stays there looking up at you with his eyes wide and only half-lidded and his heart hammering, waiting for more. 

You give him another one of those small, private, knowing smiles, your eyes hazy, and then you step to stand right in front of him. 

And then you hover over him, just waiting for him to pull you into his lap. He does, because he is selfish and greedy and burning, and he's pretty sure he's going to implode if he doesn’t get that delicious pressure on him soon, and his hand fits your waist perfectly, and then when when you do straddle him, your hips pressing down on his, he whines. He lets out a breathless little whine, he can feel it in the base of his spine, and it makes that hunger in him want more. 

“Only the voices directed upwards travel down there, right?” you ask, voice quiet and dripping right into his ear and pooling at the bottom of his stomach. 

He swallows. “Yes.” 

You hum thoughtfully, and press your body closer to his, all soft and warm and perfect, sinking your lips down to his neck and he shivers, instinctually tilting back his head with a sigh, exposing more of his neck to you. 

“Better keep quiet, then.” 

[whoops-all-jennas]

We'll Meet Again - w.a.

Wednesday Addams x witch!reader

Summary: While exploring what remains of the meeting house, Wednesday discovers that you and her were destined to meet.

a/n: I'm mostly writing this to see how I feel about an idea for a longer fic, so I guess see this as a potential preview :)

Warnings: Violence, Death, Small mentions of blood

The sound of Wednesday's and your footsteps echo among the trees of the forest, the leaves having beautiful shades of yellow, red, and orange.

You both are following the instructions Tyler gave you to find the old meeting house. Well, more like you're following Wednesday, but that's what's expected.

You always followed Wednesday around like a lost puppy, but you weren't ashamed about it and Wednesday didn't seem to mind too much either.

When you both approach the building it's pretty much nothing but ruins of what it use to be, like Tyler said.

You hated him ever since what he did to Xavier, but now there's a new feeling. You can't exactly place it, but it's the strongest whenever he looks at Wednesday with that stupid look on his face.

Like she is the night sky and he is a kid fascinated by space.

You wonder if you look at Wednesday the same way, but you get brought out of your thoughts when you hear a voice.

"I expected more too." Wednesday says looking down at Thing.

"What are you doing here little girl?" A man with a scruffy white beard and layers of rough clothes appears from one of the corners.

"Use the words 'little' and 'girl' to address me again and I can't guarantee your safety."

"This is my place, get out!" The man shouts towards you both.

"Y/n a hand here." Wednesday looks at you with an expecting look on her face before you pull out your wand and point it towards his pants near his feet.

"Ignis Illusio." The pants near his shoes catch on fire, startling the man.

He jumps trying to the pat the fire out, making noises of panic while running out of the building. Ignis Illusio, or fire illusion, is a harmless charm that merely creates the illusion of a fire.

Wednesday immediately starts looking around again. "There's nothing here."

"What if you just started touching stuff? see if you can activate a vision or something?" You suggest looking around not really expecting to find much.

"My visions happen spontaneously, I don't believe that would work." You're admiring the sound of her voice before you see Thing tapping on the ground.

"I would rather dye my hair pink than ask my mother for advice." You try to hold back your smile at the idea of Wednesday with pink hair.

Thing gestures back to your idea of touching stuff in hopes of triggering a vision.

"You want me to prove it to you?"

Wednesday places her hand on a wooden beam.

"No."

She continues and places her hands on the mantle of a fireplace.

"Nothing."

She starts to approach an empty Taco Bell bag.

"Wends, I think we get it." You say as she grabs the bag, giving you a look for referring to her with a nickname.

"I bet this one will give us some insight." She holds the bag in front of her and throws her head back, pretending to have a vision, before dropping the bag to the ground. She walks past you and, like usual, you start following her again.

"My visions are as predictable as shark attacks" You hear her mutter to herself before grabbing the handle to the entrance and proceeding to throw her head back, actually entering a vision this time.

"Wednesday!" You shout before you go to catch her.

-

Wednesday's surroundings suddenly change as she stumbles to the ground. She hears people chanting phrases like "Burn her!" and "Devil spawn!"

She looks to the side and sees a crowd of people holding torches, pushing a girl around the center of said crowd.

Wednesday goes behind a barrel to watch from the shadows.

A pilgrim with a staff walks through the crowd. "Goody Addams!" He shouts, bringing everyone's attention to him, the crowd becoming quiet.

"You have been judged before God and found guilty." Wednesday looks on in curiosity, trying to remember every detail.

"You are a witch, a sorceress, Lucifer's mistress herself. For your sins, you will burn this night, and suffer the flames of eternal hellfire."

"I am innocent." Goody looks up towards Joseph as she is on the ground. "It is you, Joseph Crackstone, that should be tried."

Wednesday looks at Joseph Crackstone, now having an actual face to name.

"We were here before you, living in harmony with nature and the native folk. But you have stolen the land, slaughtered the innocent! you have robbed us of our peaceful spirit!"

Goody, hiding a blade, quietly draws it to her side where no one can see it. "You are the true monster, all of you!"

Goody quickly stands, slashing the knife to Joseph's face, blood trickling down his face. The crowd grabs Goody by her arms in shock.

"The Devil ne'er sent such a demon." Joseph exclaims, slapping Goody with the back of his hand, the crowd cheering.

"And I will send you back!" The crowd starts pushing Goody towards the meeting house, Goody struggles to escape their grasp

"No!" Goody exclaims before she is thrown into the meeting house.

Wednesday manages to sneak in before the doors are locked shut.

"Elsie!" Goody calls out while running towards a girl that looks exactly like you, rattling the chains that bind you to floor desperately.

"Goody please, listen. This is my time, but it doesn't have to be our last time seeing one and other." Elsie says desperately to Goody, grabbing her attention.

"I need a string, any string please!" Goody, without hesitation, rips at a heam in her clothes and rips it into a long string.

"Take my hand, wrap the string around our hands." Goody looks Elsie in the eyes with fear as they're interrupted.

"Set it ablaze!" is heard from outside as the sound of fire is heard and the sight on the walls. Goody looking towards where the words were coming from before being brought back by Elsie

"Hurry please! I can't imagine another life without you!" Elsie cries with desperation. Goody, without hesitation, interlocks her open hand around Elsie's, wrapping the black string around the two.

Elsie closes her eyes and is silent for a moment to focus while Goody looks at her face, not knowing what's happening.

"Haec chorda semper nos alliget." Elsie starts chanting the incantations with fear in her voice, the string is starting to illuminate a red light, brighter and brighter.

"Quantumvis implicitum vel edoctum, rursus se invicem inveniemus." Elsie finishes the incantation with a smile and tears falling down her face.

The string is the brightest it's been before it embeds itself into their skin, soon disappearing. "We will meet again I promise Goody." Elsie says with a painful, yet hopeful smile.

"It may be in a different form, or a different time, but we will meet again."

"I mustn't leave you here still" Goody desperately pulls on the chains on Elsie's wrist, she can't imagine life without her either.

"You must, avenge us Goody. You're the only one!" Elsie cries. "Go!" Goody grabs her face and their lips touch for their final kiss, tears streaming down their faces.

"I love you." Goody says with glossy eyes, pain lacing her voice, before going to the fireplace to hide under a trapdoor.

"I love you too." Elsie says to herself her final words, with the same hopeful smile, waiting for the day they'll again meet.

Wednesday feels like she's moving backwards while staying in place until everything goes black.

-

Wednesday abruptly sits up, waking up to the sound of rain.

She quickly acknowledges you over her with your wand out, casting a barrier above her acting as an umbrella.

"Y/n, I saw her! The girl from my visions." Wednesday says while looking into your eyes.

There's something new in Wednesday's eyes that weren't there before, some sort of softness.

"Her name is Goody Addams, and I believe she's my ancestor from 400 years ago." You look at her with the same softness.

"Was there anything else in the vision?" You ask before you're interrupted by a sound from outside the ruins of the meeting house.

Wednesday stands up, approaching the wall, with you behind her still providing safety from the rain.

"Must've been the man from earlier."

The eye of the monster peers through the hole. Pupil unnaturally dilated and filled with bloodlust.

You grab Wednesday by the arm, pulling her back as the monster runs away. "Come on Wednesday we have to go!" You say while grabbing her bag after Thing enters it, handing Wednesday her bag with your trembling hand.

You're both running in the rain, mud splashing with every step, covering each other's clothes. Wednesday slows down after seeing unnatural foot prints.

You follow her as she follows the prints as they turn into human ones.

"The monster's human."

Wednesday says before turning around to you as you go to grab your phone to take pictures as evidence, accidentally dropping it on the ground causing the lens to be covered in mud.

"Shit." You exclaim to yourself, trying to clean it as fast as you can. You both hear footsteps approaching.

"What the hell are you doing?" The voice of Xavier cuts through the air.

You and Xavier are friends, but things have been different since Wednesday transferred.

He looks at her the same way Tyler does and you don't like that. "I was following the monster."

"You saw it? Xavier says with a hint of fear in his voice. "Its here? Do you have a death wish or something?"

You find your way into the conversation. "And what exactly are you doing here?"

You hate accusing your friend of being a bloodthirsty monster, but him being here is just too suspicious.

"I overheard you say you're going to the old meeting house, I guess its lucky I showed up when I did."

"I did learn one thing, the monster is human. We saw the monster footprints turn into human ones." Wednesday says after you finish getting the mud off the lens of your phone as you go to take a picture of the footprints.

"Shit." You say interrupting their conversation and they both look towards you, holding your phone sideways. "The footprints are gone."

Xavier scoffs before Wednesday looks back at him. "I know what I saw." Wednesday looks disapprovingly at Xavier, realizing she doesn't need to prove him anything, so she turns around and keeps walking.

You follow her as you both leave Xavier where he is as he stands there awkwardly.

"Did you learn anything else from the vision?" You ask again, after you were interrupted last time.

Wednesday glances at you for a second, analyzing your face. "I learned Joseph Crackstone put all of the outcasts into the meeting house and burned them alive."

You look at her with slight shock, but also expected a crazy answer like that. "I can't believe this town is putting up a statue of him knowing his history." You say trying to continue the conversation, Wednesday doesn't respond.

"Was there anything else Wends?" You ask, expecting a negative reaction to referring to her with a nickname, surprised when you don't receive a disapprovingly look.

Wednesday is silent for a few seconds before glancing at you again. "No, that's all." Wednesday starts to walk a little faster.

You haven't known Wednesday long, but you are starting to learn her tells and you can tell she's lying.

You don't pry because another thing you know about her is she's stubborn, and if she doesn't want you knowing something she won't tell you.

The rain starts to slow down as you both continue walking towards Jericho, your clothes muddy and dirty from the rain.

The ceremony for Crackstone's Statue is soon, which you are not excited about after hearing his true history.

You take a look at Wednesday's face and it has a devious smile, the kind she has when she has a plan that's about to go into motion. Her walking speeds up yet again as you struggle to keep up.

a/n: hii I hope you guys enjoyed this potential preview. I'm not really at a point to say if this will get a story or not I don't know if I have the determination to write a longer fic. if I do make it, it's going to cover the entirety of s1 of Wednesday. but I guess we'll find out soonish when I finally make a decision :p

[bloomzone]

2025: #5 CONFIDENCE ISN'T GIVEN

You’re not born confident. Confidence is forged. It’s earned when you decide—and I mean decide—to stop caring about what people think. You want to know why you don’t feel confident? It’s because you’ve spent your whole life chasing validation. You want people to like you. You want people to approve of you. You’re scared someone might have something bad to say about you. But FOR REAL nobody cares as much as you think they do. They’re too busy worrying about their own STOP GIVING SHIT

..✒️So why are you holding yourself back? Why are you giving other people the power to control how you see yourself? Let me tell you something—if you keep waiting for someone to tell you you’re good enough, you’ll be waiting forever. Confidence starts the moment you stop asking for permission to be yourself. You’ve got to walk into every room like you own it, even if you feel like a fraud. You think everyone who looks confident actually is? Hell no. They’re just better at pretending. And guess what? The more you pretend, the more real it becomes.

HOW TO BUILD CONFIDENCE

Own Your Flaws Let’s get this straight—confidence isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being real. Stop trying to hide the parts of yourself you don’t like. Everyone has insecurities. Everyone has doubts. But the difference between confident people and insecure people? Confident people say, “Yeah, I’ve got flaws. So what?” They own it. They wear their imperfections like armor.You’ve got to stop being afraid of judgment. You think your flaws are holding you back, but the truth is, it’s your fear of them that’s holding you back. Confidence isn’t about eliminating insecurities cuz we allllll have ones it’s about walking into a room and saying, “Here I am, take it or leave it.”

Get Uncomfortable You know what kills confidence? Comfort zones. You’ve built this little bubble around yourself, and you’re too scared to step out of it. You avoid challenges. You avoid risks. And then you wonder why you don’t feel confident. Confidence grows when you do hard things. When you push yourself. When you fail and get back up. You’ve got to start chasing discomfort like your life depends on it—because it does.Start small if you have to, but start. Speak up in a meeting. Wear the outfit you’re scared people will judge. Say no when you mean no. Every time you push through fear, you prove to yourself that you’re stronger than you think. And that’s where confidence comes from—action, not thinking about it, not talking about it.

Stop Comparing Comparison is the thief of confidence. You’re scrolling through social media, looking at people who seem like they have it all together, and you’re sitting there feeling like trash. Let me tell you something—nobody’s posting their failures. Nobody’s showing you their breakdowns. Stop comparing your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s highlight reel.You don’t need to be like them. You don’t need to have what they have. What you need is to look in the mirror and realize you’re the damn prize. You’ve got your own path, your own strengths, your own story. Own it. Stop trying to fit into someone else’s mold.

Take Care of Yourself and Let’s be real .. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re sending a message to the world—and to yourself—that you don’t value you. You want to feel confident? Start showing up for yourself. Eat like you care about your body. Move like you want to be strong. Dress like you give a damn. When you look good, you feel good. And when you feel good, you carry yourself differently. That’s not shallow—it’s self-respect.

Talk to Yourself Like You Matter You’re your own worst critic. You say things to yourself you’d never say to someone else. “I’m not good enough.” “I’m so stupid.” “I’ll never be as good as them.” Stop. Stop talking to yourself like you’re worthless. Start hyping yourself up like you’re your own biggest fan. Look in the mirror and say, “I’ve got this. I’m unstoppable. I’m the one they need to watch out for.” It feels weird at first, but fake it until it’s real.

CONFIDENCE IS A MINDSET

Confidence isn’t about never doubting yourself LET ME EXPLAIN .. It’s about showing up in spite of the doubt. It’s about walking into every situation and saying, “I might not have all the answers, but I belong here.”

Stop overthinking. Stop waiting for permission. Stop letting fear dictate your life. People will always have something to say—'That hairstyle doesn’t suit you,' 'Why are you wearing that?' Who cares? Their opinions don’t define you. You like it? That’s all that matters. Stop living for their approval and start living for yourself.You’ve got everything you need to be confident—you just have to decide to use it. So, stop sitting on the sidelines of your own life. Get up. Take action. Be bold. Be loud. Be unapologetically you.

the world doesn’t need another copy. It needs you. And if you’re too scared to show up as yourself, you’re robbing the world of something incredible. Confidence isn’t given—it’s taken. So, take it. !

@bloomzone 📇

[lost-in-fandoms]

Winter warmers day 9: Work holiday party. Maxiel. About 740 words. (yes, 9...don't look at me.)

Max hadn't been planning on going to the work party.

He had been working for the company just for two weeks, barely knows the people in his department, is comfortable having a conversation not about work only with Pierre and Lando, his desk neighbors. He didn't want to have to spend an evening milling around a too fancy banquet hall, making small talk with people he had seen maybe once, and who probably thought he was too young to even be there.

And yet, here he is, a gin tonic in his hand, leaning against the bar and pretending he's really into the conversation Christian, his direct supervisor, had dragged him into. It's something about cricket, maybe. Or golf? Some boring sport, that's for sure.

He looks around the room, fruitlessly trying to find Lando who had disappeared half an hour ago, leaving him stranded, but all he finds is Pierre, an arm thrown around Charles' shoulders, giggling together over some fruity cocktail.

He sighs a little, trying to focus back on whatever Christian is saying, only to immediately get distracted again, supremely bored.

He really should have stayed home.

He waits for a lull in the conversation to excuse himself, taking his now empty glass to the other side of the bar to get a refill.

He's not planning on getting drunk, doesn't want to imagine what he might say to these old boring people if he loses his grip on his self control for even just a little bit, but a second glass won't hurt.

"Not one for golf, then?"

Max only manages not to startle thanks to years and years of training himself not to show emotions people could gain an advantage from, but he still frowns as he turns around.

"Excuse me?" he asks, trying to put as much annoyance in his voice without sounding too rude.

In front of him there is a man with curly hair and lovely brown eyes, in a very nice suit, a glass of something amber and probably disgustingly expensive in his hand. Max has no idea who this person is, but he has learned a long time ago how to recognise people who look important enough to know he can't piss them off, and this guy is for sure one of them. And he's worked way too hard to get this job to lose it because he was rude to some higher up at a stupid Christmas party.

"I saw you run away from Christian and Toto's corner, so I assumed they were having their annual dick measuring contest."

It startles a laugh out of Max, the way he says it so straightforwardly, dick measuring contest, forcing a too posh British accent, even as his other words curl around an Australian accent.

"Dick measuring contest?" he says, still laughing, watching the way the stranger's mouth is ticking up, amusement etched into the wrinkles by his eyes.

"They have a golf competition each year," the man explains, stepping closer to Max to set his glass on the bar counter, close enough for Max to smell his cologne, something unobtrusive and elegant, just slightly musky. It makes his mouth water a little, before he remembers where he is.

"They bet on it," the man says, stepping back, "and every year they argue about cheating."

It makes Max laugh again, half of it just to see satisfaction seep into the stranger's expression, sharpening his smile a little.

"You're new, right? I don't remember seeing you around."

It's an innocent question, Max knows this, but something about the way the man is looking at him makes it sound like he's flirting. Or maybe Max is just projecting, because there is no reason why this gorgeous man would be flirting with him at a work party.

"Yes, I just started," he answers, maybe a beat too late, offering his hand. "Max Verstappen."

The stranger's hand is warm and a bit rough, callouses on his palm that make Max wonder what he does in his free time, how he got them. How they would feel against his skin.

"Daniel Ricciardo," the other says, smiling his most blinding smile yet. "Enchanté."

Then he bends slightly to kiss Max's hand, lips lingering on his skin, beard rough against his knuckles, and Max wonders if this job really is that important to him, or if he'd be willing to risk it for a blow job in the hotel's nearest bathroom.

[quadrantadvisor]

DP x DC, revenant!Jason Todd

Shortly after meeting, Danny and Jason have a late night conversation about what it means to come back. 1281 words

On AO3

-

Danny woke groggily, in a dark place that he didn't recognize, and took a moment to get his bearings.

He felt the warning ache in his neck that came from being propped up against an arm rest. There were two sources of dim light in the room—the glow of city street lights, muffled behind a curtain, and the green eyes of the man whose lap Danny's feet were propped on.

Right. Danny hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the revenant’s—on Jason’s—couch, but they’d been talking for so long, he must’ve dozed off.

Jason had had so many questions, about ectoplasm, about the zone, about Danny’s own experiences. Danny had done his best to clear up everything he could. A revenant may not be quite the same as he was, but still, it made Danny happy to be able to pass on his hard won knowledge and maybe save someone else a bit of the hurt and confusion that he’d gone through. It was what he’d always wished someone would do for him.

Jason was slumped into the couch, but he didn’t look relaxed. Danny examined his still profile, cast in strange shadows by its own green glow, and wondered how long it had been since he’d moved.

Danny shifted slightly, purposefully producing the fabric sounds of a body against upholstery, to make sure Jason knew he was awake. No reaction. Danny gave him one more moment, then asked, “You okay?”

Jason didn’t look at him when he answered, “You told me I’m basically possessing my own corpse, and I’m supposed to not be upset about that?”

Really, Danny should’ve predicted something like that. How long had he spent, trying to pretend that death hadn’t really touched him? It wasn’t an easy thing to accept.

“What’s the difference between a body and a corpse?” Danny asked.

Jason’s eyes snapped to Danny, their glow intensifying. “I am not dealing with riddle bullshit right now, I swear to-”

“No, I’m being serious,” Danny interrupted, pulling his feet from Jason’s lap and sitting himself up. “There’s one difference between a corpse and a living body, and that’s that someone is living in it. Jason—” he reached out, gripping one of Jason’s hands in his “—you’re alive. That’s what matters. The rest is details.”

Jason’s shoulders bent inwards, his other hand raising to rub at his chest. “You don’t get it,” he said, quiet. “People don’t just come back from what they did to me. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“However you died, it’s not-”

Jason huffed an ugly sound, a short and bitter laugh that Danny hurt to hear. “Is it crazy that that isn’t even what I was talking about? I meant after.” The motion on his chest was repetitive, like he was tracing something underneath his shirt, and Danny got the sinking feeling that he knew just what sort of scar it might be. “I was gone, okay? I was gone, and this body was still here. And they took it, and they cut it open and rummaged around inside to figure out what happened. Which is—” he cut off, sniffed, and Danny gripped his hand tighter “—which is stupid, right? It’s not like it wasn’t obvious.” His fingers twitched, and he continued, haltingly, “I mean, I’ve read the report. Pulled it off his stupid files. The smoke inhalation did me in. After everything that happened, it was the smoke.”

Jasons’ hand pulled out of Danny’s, and they both rose to cover his face, cutting off the glow while he curled in on himself even tighter. His voice was slightly muffled when he said, “And then they had to ship me home, right? So they bled me dry and pumped me full of formaldehyde, and they prettied me up so they could pretend I wasn’t just some empty thing, and Bruce held the tiniest most depressing little funeral known to man and put my ass in the ground, and I had to wake up down there.” His words and his breaths were coming too quick, and Danny didn’t know how to help. He didn’t want Jason to stop, not when it seemed like he needed to say all of this, but he could see just how badly the revenant was hurting.

“But you did wake up,” he whispered.

“Woke up in my own mutilated corpse!” Jason snarled. “Everything I’ve forgotten, and that memory is still crystal fucking clear! It stank in there, like death and vinegar and mud, and it was so small, and I couldn’t even try to scream for help because they sewed my fucking mouth shut—!” He broke off into a sob, and Danny couldn’t stand it anymore, had to lean into Jason’s side and wrap an arm around him as he shook with all the emotion he couldn’t reign in.

“Okay,” Danny said. Not you’re okay, just okay. “Okay, so that’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard, and I regularly hang out with a guy who wants to skin me.”

Jason sniffed. “What?”

“Nevermind. It’s just-”

“No, I think we should go back to the skinning thing-”

“I just don’t want you to let it define you,” Danny interrupted. “I did that. I got into my head about it, the whole ‘being dead’ thing, feeling like I was…” Danny gave himself a second, swallowed, “like some sort of freak. A thing that didn’t belong anywhere. But I’m still alive, and you’re alive, and even if we weren’t, it wouldn’t matter, because we’re still here, and as long as you’re here you can find something that’s worth staying for.” Danny rubbed what he hoped was a soothing pattern into Jason’s admittedly impressive bicep.

Jason let out a sigh. “I must really be pathetic if you’ve gotta pep talk me like that, huh?” he said, and Danny pretended not to see him wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he added, “about all this. I’ve got some shit I haven’t dealt with, and this ‘revenant’ stuff brought it up pretty bad.”

“I get it,” Danny said, and hoped Jason could tell how much he meant it.

Jason sighed again, heavy, like he was trying to release something else with his breath, and said, “It still doesn’t make any sense. Logically, I can’t be alive. Where did my blood come from?”

Danny shrugged. “Do you have blood?”

“I definitely have blood. I’ve seen a lot of it.”

That gave Danny pause. “Just like, around?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jason said, deadpan. “I’ve got a surplus, so I like to leave some here and there, make sure everyone gets a chance to appreciate it.”

“I have no idea how much you’re joking and it frightens me,” Danny told him.

“Weak,” Jason replied.

“Anyways, you gotta not think about it too much. The interdimensional goop is already logic-defying, and you’re mixing magic with it with your special soul willpower or something. Your brain will explode if you try to make it make sense.”

Jason huffed a little laugh, bouncing Danny on his shoulder, and this time it made him feel lighter. “Can I just say that I hate that I’m full of interdimensional goop?”

“Valid,” Danny said.

Even without looking at Jason, Danny could tell that he just rolled his eyes by the way the soft green light moved.

Danny had his ear pressed to Jason’s shoulder, feeling his warmth, and if he focused, he could just make out the revenant’s pulse. Personally, Danny thought it was pretty cool to be full of magic and goop and blood. Much cooler than Danny, who was way more science goop than magic goop. They’d have to compare notes on that sometime.

Maybe Jason would come around to it.

[mattsobvimyfav]

roommates (matthew sturniolo)

pt 17 -

I woke up to a splitting headache and the faint light of the morning streaming through the curtains. My mouth was dry, my head pounding, and my stomach churned slightly from last night’s drinks. Groaning, I reached out to my bedside table and grabbed my phone, squinting at the screen.

The first thing I noticed was the barrage of notifications from Chris.

Chris: Whate the fuck y/n?

Chris: What you already find someone new.

Chris: Let me guess. Matt?

Chris: Your such a bitch.

Chris: When you wake up, come to my room.

I cringed, my thumb hovering over our conversation. I didn’t even remember what I’d sent him. My anxiety spiked as I scrolled up, of course my dumb drunk self texted him.

“Jesus,” I whispered to myself, dropping the phone onto my chest.

As I shifted in bed, my gaze flickered across the room to Matt. He was sprawled out on his bed, the blanket half hanging off his body, his chest rising and falling peacefully. For someone who was such a fucking dick, he looked completely unbothered.

I rolled my eyes, the memory of him in that stupid ghost face costume resurfacing. My head hurt too much to even unpack my feelings about that yet.

I turned back to my phone, rereading Chris’s last message: When you wake up, come to my room.

Sliding out of bed as quietly as I could, I grabbed some clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom. The last thing I wanted was to deal with Matt right now. After throwing on a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie, I ran a brush through my hair and tied it back into a messy bun.

My reflection in the mirror screamed hungover mess, but I didn’t have the energy to do much about it. Satisfied enough, I slipped out of the dorm room, leaving Matt to his peaceful sleep.

My heart was racing as I made my way to Chris’s room. What did he want to talk about? What could he possibly say? And more importantly, why had I texted him?

Chris opened the door, his expression tense but composed. He stepped aside silently, letting me in without a word. I hesitated before walking into his dorm room, unsure how this conversation was going to go.

The door clicked shut behind me, and I turned to face him. He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, watching me carefully.

“You wanted to talk,” I said, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “We need to clear the air, Y/N.”

I nodded and sat on the edge of his bed, my hands fidgeting in my lap. “Okay. So talk.”

Chris let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “What’s going on with you and Matt?” he asked, his tone firm.

My stomach sank at the question. I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “Chris, I…I don’t know, Nothing has happened between me and Matt since we started whatever we had” I admitted, 

Chris tilted his head, his jaw tightening. “You don’t know,” he repeated, the words heavy with frustration and hurt.

I looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “No, I don’t,” I said quietly. “I liked you. I really did. But then I found out about you and that volleyball girl, and it just…killed whatever feelings I had.”

Chris took a step closer, his hands dropping to his sides. “I’m sorry for what I did,” he said, his voice softer now. “I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have been with her while I was with you. But, Y/N, let’s not pretend this was something it wasn’t.”

I frowned, finally looking up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I knew I was just a placeholder,” Chris said bluntly, though his voice wasn’t unkind. “I knew you had something for Matt, even if you didn't know it ,and I knew I was just…the guy you picked to distract yourself. And I let it happen because I liked you enough to take what I could get.”

“That’s not fair,” I said defensively, 

“It’s the truth,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “I wanted you to pick me, Y/N. I wanted you to choose me. But you never did. You were never all in.”

I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “Neither were you Chris,” I whispered.

“I know,” Chris said, his voice soft but firm. 

The room fell silent, his words hanging heavy in the air. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, the weight of his honesty pressing down on me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking.

“I know,” Chris replied. “But this isn’t about me forgiving you. It’s about you figuring out what you want.”

I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I don’t know what I want,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Then figure it out,” Chris said gently but firmly. “For your sake, not mine or his.”

I stood up, wiping my tears away. “Thank you,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure what I was thanking him for.

Chris gave me a small, sad smile. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. Just…be honest with yourself.”

I nodded and walked to the door, before I could leave he pulled me back into a tight hug and just like times before I melted into his touch. I let go first and he did after, I turned towards the door walking out. As I stepped into the hallway, I realized I wasn’t just confused about my feelings. I was confused about everything.

When I got back to my dorm room, the door creaked as I pushed it open. Matt was awake, sitting up in bed with his phone in hand. His head turned toward me immediately, his brows furrowing as he noticed my puffy eyes and tear-streaked face.

“You’ve been crying,” he said bluntly, his voice softer than usual.

I hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the concern in his tone. “It’s nothing,” I said quickly, setting my bag down by the door. “I’m fine.”

Matt tilted his head, clearly not believing me, but he didn’t push. Instead, he shifted the conversation entirely. “Hey, I, uh…need help with statistics again,” he said, his voice casual but deliberate. “The last quiz was brutal, and I’m not trying to bomb this next one.”

I blinked at him, surprised by the sudden change in topic. For a moment, I thought about brushing him off, but something about his effort to distract me felt comforting.

“Sure,” I said after a beat, slipping my shoes off. “Let me grab my laptop.”

I sat on the couch while he grabbed his stuff sitting with me, his notebook and textbook already open. The tension in the room began to ease as we dove into the material, going over formulas and sample problems.

“Wait, wait,” Matt interrupted after I walked him through a particularly tricky problem. “How the fuck did you get that answer?”

I laughed lightly, “You didn’t follow what I just said?”

“Not even a little,” he admitted with a smirk, running a hand through his hair.

I shook my head, leaning over his notebook to point out the steps again. “Okay, look. You have to do this part first, or you’re going to mess up the whole equation.”

He watched me closely, nodding as I broke it down for him again. “You make this look so easy,” he muttered, scribbling notes in the margins.

“Maybe because it is easy,” I teased, my lips curving into a faint smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes but smiling back. “You’re a genius, and I’m just a dumbass. Got it.”

We worked through a few more problems, the atmosphere between us becoming lighter with each passing minute. 

“Thanks for helping me,” Matt said after we finished the last problem. 

“Anytime,” I replied, meeting his eyes briefly.

After finishing up the statistics work, Matt closed his notebook and leaned back on the couch,

“So, our YouTube channel is doing really well,” he said, almost casually.

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“We just hit 50,000 subscribers,” he said, so casually.

“Fifty thousand?” I repeated, impressed. “Why didn’t you tell me you guys were that big?”

Matt shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “I don’t know, it never came up.”

“That’s cool,” I said, genuinely intrigued. “What kind of videos do you guys make?”

“Mostly random stuff. challenges, Q&As, vlogs. Just us being us,” he explained.

“I want to see,” I said, leaning forward with excitement.

Matt grabbed his laptop from the coffee table and opened it up. After a few clicks, he pulled up their channel, which proudly displayed a banner with their name: Sturniolo Triplets. The thumbnails were vibrant and fun, featuring the three of them pulling goofy faces or posing mid-chaos.

“Here,” Matt said, clicking on a video titled ‘Matt bakes blindfolded!!’

As the video started, I couldn’t help but laugh. The energy between the three of them was infectious.

“You guys are hilarious,” I said, laughing.

“Thanks,” Matt said, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “It’s a lot of fun, honestly. We just mess around and somehow people like it.”

We watched a few more videos, each one funnier than the last. There was one where they attempted to chug challenge, which ended in chaos, and another where they tried not to laugh at each other’s ridiculous jokes.

By the time we finished, I was grinning ear to ear. “You guys are naturals,” I said. “I get why people love you. This is awesome, Matt.”

His face lit up at my reaction. “I’m glad you think so. Maybe one day we’ll hit a million subscribers, and we’ll all quit school to be full-time YouTubers.”

I laughed. “Well, when that happens, don’t forget about me.”

“I could never,” Matt said, his eyes meeting mine.

I stood up from the couch, stretching a little. “I’m starving,” I said, 

He glanced up from his laptop, shrugging. “Wanna go get something?”

I blinked at him, slightly taken aback. “What’s going on with you?”

Matt leaned back, crossing his arms, his expression shifting in an instant. “What the fuck are you talking about”

“I mean,” I said carefully, “you’re not being a total asshole for once. Did I miss something?”

He scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t know why I even bothered trying to act normal with you.”

“Matt—”

“No, seriously,” he snapped, standing up abruptly. “Just…fuck off, alright? Go get food by yourself.”

I stared at him, my stomach twisting in frustration and confusion. “Wow. And here I thought maybe we were making fucking progress. Guess I was wrong.”

“Yeah, you were,” he muttered, sitting back down and turning his attention to his laptop like I wasn’t even there.

After storming out of the dorm, I sent a quick text to Charlie. 

“You hungry? Let’s get out of here.” 

She responded almost immediately. “Starving. Pick you up in ten?”

By the time she pulled up, I was already waiting outside. I hopped into the passenger seat, letting out a heavy sigh. “Denny’s?” she suggested.

“Breakfast for dinner? Absolutely,” I agreed.

At the diner, we ordered a ridiculous spread: pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, while Charlie went all out with a breakfast sampler. Between bites, she gave me her usual no-nonsense advice.

“You’re letting Matt take up too much space in your head,” she said, pointing her fork at me.

I rolled my eyes. “He’s impossible to figure out. One second he’s nice, the next he’s—”

“An asshole. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

We laughed, By the time we left Denny’s, It was time to get ready for the last night of halloweekend.

Back at Charlie’s dorm, we dove into Halloween prep. I pulled out my Raven costume: a deep purple cloak, a black body suit that stopped showing off my hipbones, and thigh-high boots. I added the signature red gems around my waist and painted my top lop black. Charlie, on the other hand, transformed into Belle, her golden dress flowing and stopping right at the bottom of her butt perfectly as she spun around dramatically.

“Okay, but why do you look hot as Belle?” I teased, adjusting the clasp of my waist.

“Because I am hot, thank you very much,” she retorted with a wink. 

I laughed, but inside I was thrilled with how the costume turned out.

We grabbed our phones and started our trek to the hockey house, Red and orange lights bathed the room, casting eerie shadows that matched the Halloween theme. Charlie and I grabbed drinks and made our way through the crowd, going to sit on the couch I am all too familiar with.

Charlie nudged me. “We look fucking amazing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Fuck yeah we do.”

I was sitting with Charlie, both of us taking in the scene, when the door swung open, and in walked Matt and Chris.

Matt was dressed as Batman, complete with the black paint smeared around his eyes. His costume was spot-on, Chris followed closely behind, grinning in his Joker costume, his hair slicked back with green dye. They moved together, like they always did, a duo that didn’t need anyone else. They made their way straight to the kitchen, ignoring the crowd around them.

I didn’t want to be watching them. I didn’t want to care, but I couldn’t help it. Charlie noticed where my gaze was fixed and nudged me. “Don’t get worked up,” she warned quietly.

I ignored her and kept my eyes on them as they mingled for a while, talking and laughing. Then, to my dismay, they made their way back into the living room, a girl on each of their laps. I recognized the girl on Chris’ lap almost instantly—Katie. The same Katie he’d been fucking behind my back. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

I could feel the blood rush to my face, my hands clenched into fists by my sides. Charlie must’ve seen the change in my demeanor because she grabbed my wrist. “Y/N, don’t—”

But it was too late. My mouth was already moving before I could stop it. “So this is the whore you were sleeping with?” I scoffed loudly, the words leaving my lips before I could even think. “Not impressive.”

Charlie’s eyes went wide, and she quickly stepped in front of me, trying to calm me down. “Y/N, don’t,” she warned again, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

Chris and Matt both glanced up, their expressions surprised, but Katie’s face was full of anger as she glared at me. The tension in the room was palpable.

Matt’s expression hardened, and he turned to look at me. “What are you doing?” he snapped, his voice low.

Katie, still perched on Chris’ lap, shot me a smug look. “Maybe you should mind your business, bitch,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

The anger inside me was boiling over, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My heart was pounding in my chest, my hands shaking with rage as I stood there, glaring at both of them.

“Mind my business?!” I spat, taking a step toward the couch where Matt and Chris sat, their smug expressions only making my blood pressure rise. “You’re the slut who was fucking my guy. Whats even worst is its not like we were a secret. You were perfectly fine being a side piece” I snapped, my voice rising. I turned to Chris “You knew exactly what you were doing, sneaking around with her behind my back. And you,” I turned to Matt, pointing at him, “you knew what was going on between us! Don’t act like you’re some innocent bystander in this whole mess. You sat behind the scene letting me get played”

The music almost drowned out by the tension. I could feel everyone watching, but I didn’t care anymore. I had to say what was on my mind.

Katie laughed condescendingly, clearly enjoying watching the drama unfold. “Oh, you’re so funny. It’s really fucking pathetic how bitter you are over this,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I snapped. My whole body was tense with fury as I turned to face her. “Pathetic?” I seethed, stepping closer to her. “You’re the one who’s pathetic. You’re just a placeholder for what he really wanted.” I looked back to Chris “Isn't that right?”

“You know what? I’m done with both of you,” I added, looking directly at Chris and Matt. 

I spun on my heel, about to march out the door, but before I could make it, Katie stepped in front of me, smirking like she’d won some kind of battle. “Oh, look at you, acting big,” she sneered. “You’re just mad because Chris dumped you for someone who actually knows how to keep him entertained.” She looked me up and down

The words stung, but it was her tone that pushed me over the edge. I shoved her back with all my strength, but she came right back at me, shoving me hard.

Before I knew what was happening, my fist flew, and I connected with her mouth. She stumbled back, her hands flying to her lips in shock. The room was suddenly filled with chaos. People shouted in surprise, and Katie’s face twisted in fury as she lunged at me.

Charlie screamed, “Matt! Get her!” But it was too late—Katie and I were locked in a fight, tearing at each other, scratching, pulling at hair, and landing punches. The adrenaline coursed through me as my heart raced.

I could hear Charlie shouting, but nothing mattered. Not anymore.

Then, suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind, lifting me off the floor with ease. I kicked and struggled, but it was no use. I looked up to see Matt’s furious face, his arms strong as he threw me over his shoulder like a ragdoll.

“Matt, let me go!” I yelled, hitting his back with my fists, but he ignored me. He was livid.

“Stop it, Y/N,” he growled, his voice dark. He walked us out of the party and all the way back to our dorm, I tried arguing the entire time but it was no use. 

Once we were inside Matt threw me off his shoulder onto the couch. “You think you can just do whatever you want, huh? Go back and forth between me and Chris like it’s all some game? You have no right to act like this.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to act,” I shot back, my voice full of defiance. “I don’t owe either of you anything. You’ve both fucked up!”

Matt paced in front of me, fuming. “You seriously think you can just walk in and out of my life whenever you want? You have no idea what it’s like, Y/N. You treat me like shit, then come back like nothing happened, and then act surprised when I get pissed. You’ve been a mess the whole time. Don’t act like you have some high ground here.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I was too stubborn to back down. “You were a mess too,” I hissed, my voice trembling with frustration. “You don’t get to play the victim here. You’ve made things so much worse between us.”

Matt’s anger flared up again, and he leaned in closer. “You can’t just do what you want and expect me to keep waiting for you. It doesn’t work like that.” He was standing over me now, his voice dropping low. “I’m done with the back and forth. If you want this with me, then fine. But if you’re not gonna take me seriously, then stay the hell away from me.”

My lip quivered, but I forced the words out. “You told me I was the mistake Matt, Im so fucking confused on what you want from me-”

He threw his head back putting his hands on his face “I wanted you this entire time, You immediately got with Chris. I get it I said you were a mistake. I didn't want to fix feelings with this but clearly there's not much I can do. So make a choice now. What do you want?” He stopped staring at me. 

tag-

@ch0llies @namelesssav @christmastreecake

@chrisstopherfilmed @mattsturnii @sturnrc @larnieboox88

@tbfaptbfae @2muchofaslvt @sturnioloshottiekay

@rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @realuvrrr

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for sashene behind the cut; “the puzzle trap sex-room”. tw: discussion of past dubcon/underage sex, past grooming, unhealthy coping mechanisms. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I said I’m leaving, dammit!” he snarls, and then he lifts off and takes off, and he doesn’t fucking care about the stupid fucking Batcave’s walls but he doesn’t wanna deal with Superman saying something disapproving about it later so he just bolts towards the tangled-up cave system. 

It’s just one more stupid puzzle to solve tonight. 

He doesn’t actually make it out of the cave, though, because Superman catches him by the arm and yanks him back, his grip harder than steel and completely inescapable. Superboy almost punches him for it. Almost. 

He really should. 

He doesn’t even know why Superman stopped him. Superman never stops him when he leaves, no matter what kind of mood he’s in. Superman’s usually the one to leave first anyway, so it’s only fair if Superboy gets to do it sometimes too. 

He can never stop him from leaving, so why wouldn’t Superman just pretend to return the stupid favor? 

“Let me go!” he yells at him, and Superman tightens his grip on his arm and looks–weird. Weird and unsettled and weird, and Superboy–Superboy just–

Tana didn’t do anything to him. Nothing he wasn’t up for, anyway. Knockout either. 

Even Robin didn’t, even with the stupid hair-yanking and lying about not having a condom and–and calling him–calling him a–

That’s what he is. He’s all the things Robin called him and a lot more besides. 

He didn’t have to lie about the stupid condoms, though. 

Superboy really, really hates that Robin lied about the condoms, and he doesn’t even know why. He just–Robin didn’t have to do that. He was doing what the guy wanted anyway. He didn’t have to fucking lie about anything. He could’ve just, like–said he didn’t wanna use ‘em, or–or something. He could’ve just . . . 

“Wait,” Superman says, and Superboy really does almost punch him. “Just–wait. Please. Just . . .” 

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Superboy says tightly, gritting his teeth. “I solved the Riddler’s stupid puzzle and I kept Robin from getting blown up and I didn’t even break anything this time, so–so fuck off, I don’t wanna hear a lecture, and I definitely don’t wanna hear anything you think about Tana.” 

Tana’s nice to him. 

People aren’t, mostly. But Tana–she’s nice to him. She spends time with him and she talks to him about stuff besides just work or his image or Superman and she makes sure he has a good time even when it’s something that feels a little weird or he gets freaked out for no reason, and like, yeah, she dumped him again, but she’ll change her mind again soon anyway like always, and then he’ll just have to try a little harder or whatever, and just–just be a little more of what she wants, until he finally is what she wants. Like–they’re getting there. He just has to “mature” a little more or whatever, and sleep around a little less, and just–just be– 

He just has to be a little more of what she wants. He can do that, for her.

[cre8inghavoc]

Can't help it...

Part 9

inumaki x f!reader

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

summary: Transferring to a new school is tough, but having your three best friends there makes it easier. Things get even more interesting when you start falling for the mysterious boy who rides his motorcycle to school every day. What will happen next?

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

Inumaki's POV:

I’ve been staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours now, and I don’t understand why I can’t sleep. I mean, I’ve always had issues with sleeping—insomnia’s been my constant companion for as long as I can remember—but I thought it was getting better. This past week, for the first time in years, I actually slept well. It was odd, sure, but I wasn’t complaining.

But tonight? Tonight, it’s back to the old ways.

Back to no sleep.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I glanced over at the clock.

4 a.m.

Great.

Should I even bother going to school later? Maybe I should just skip. But then… I wouldn’t see y/n.

Fuck.

The thought of not seeing her tomorrow... or today, technically... made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to think too much about. I let out another frustrated sigh and turned my head to look at my phone on the nightstand. For a moment, I just stared at it, my mind running through all the reasons why texting her at this hour would be a terrible idea.

She’s probably asleep. You’ll wake her up. She’ll think you’re being annoying. Just leave her alone.

But then again… what if she’s awake too? What if she’s thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her right now?

Before I could overthink it anymore, I grabbed my phone, my thumb hesitating over the keyboard. I typed out a message and stared at it for a second, debating whether or not to hit send.

This is stupid. She’s not awake. You’ll look like an idiot.

But my thumb pressed send before I could talk myself out of it.

Hey… you up?

I tossed my phone on the bed beside me and ran a hand over my face, already regretting it. But now all I could do was wait.

Honestly, I was kind of hoping she would respond. It’s not like I can sleep, so maybe talking to her would help. But at the same time… I kind of hope she doesn’t even see my message. Because… what if I’m being too much?

What if she sees it, rolls her eyes, and thinks I’m just some guy who can’t get a grip? Someone who’s bothering her at 4 a.m. for no reason?

I sighed, staring at the faint glow of my phone screen as it sat on the bed next to me. What was I expecting? That she’d magically be awake, texting back right away? And if she did… what would I even say?

Hey, I can’t stop thinking about you?

Yeah, right. That would go over well.

I shook my head, feeling the frustration bubble up in my chest. Why was she in my head so much? Why couldn’t I just… let it go? Ignore it? Pretend I wasn’t thinking about the way she looked at me earlier, or the way her voice shook just a little when she was mad?

I groaned softly, rolling over onto my side and staring at the phone again. One minute passed. Then another. The screen stayed dark, and the silence stretched on. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe it was better if she didn’t answer.

Because if she did… I wasn’t sure what I’d say next. Or worse, what I’d admit.

But then, to my surprise, my phone buzzed.

I blinked, staring at it for a moment as if I’d imagined the notification. The screen lit up, her name glowing back at me. My heart skipped a beat, and I hesitated before picking it up, as if seeing her response would somehow make this real.

WARNING: SMUT (18+ ONLY) & HEAVY FLIRTING/TEASING

A/N

things are getting veryyy spicy now 👀

hope you enjoyed this little tease

im so sorry this took so look... it was very unexpected ive just been extremely busy and honestly haven't had the energy to write much

yes this is very short butttt i kinda just want some of yalls opinion on this... like would you actually wanna read the smut (next part)

ik its late ASF BUT ENJOY IT PLEASE OR ELSE ILL CRY FR

TAG LIST <3

@madaqueue @mikko-mikko @arabella0001 @swarachxle @s3ns4ti0n4l @jdgfsgdgdvf @tomikixd @arabella0001 @emotionalasf @unofficialsapphire @miowxh @hansl0ver @miowxh

[bisexualbrainrots]

a while ago I had an idea for a one-shot, sort of inspired by @ohithankyou's posts about lexie grey's confession to mark, and I just got to start writing it. it's 3rd person, tommy's pov (for the most of it)

so, here's a snippet, it's still in the works.

and yeah, tommy is NOT doing okay, he's a very unreliable narrator here.

It should be awkward, shouldn't it?

Tommy's standing outside on the porch, trying to convince himself to just knock, but it's getting harder. It's especially hard since he can hear the music and loud conversations taking place inside, and he fears he will ruin the atmosphere.

He squeezes the bag, This is stupid he thinks, they don't want me here.

He wants them to not want him here.

It would be much easier that way, if the resentment was still fresh in their brains and they could just shut him out, but it's been over 5 months and resentment is probably a thing from the past, at least for most of them. Resentment would be much easier than what Tommy has in mind: indifference, like he stopped existing entirely to them and there's no reason to remember him even. Yeah, that hurts more.

But I deserve it.

After what was probably 5 minutes but felt like 5 hours, he finally rang the doorbell, taking a few steps behind to make his presence less threatening.

A warm smile received him, the kind eyes of Sergeant Grant looking straight at him.

“Tommy! You made it” he wanted to believe this was all an act, that her warm arms pulling him into a hug were just a way to pretend, for her to be civil about this, and yet, he missed them.

Missed this.

Missed the way in which her arm, like right now, would drive him inside the new place the couple built for themselves, missed the little comments about what they were having to eat and drink, and missed the way in which Bobby would appear, a beer bottle in hand ready for him to drink accompanied by a big smile.

“I’m glad you could make it Tommy, I didn't know if you'd feel up to it”

The coldness of the bottle helped him to ground himself, to remind himself this was just a cordial invitation: he wasn't a priority.

“For you and Athena? Believe me I'd even fly into a hurricane again” a small smile appeared on his lips when the couple laughed, both holding onto each other with a love he always dreamed of.

A love he let himself lose.

He looked down at the big bag, suddenly nervous about what he had gotten them “I-I got you two this, as a housewarming gift” Bobby's fingers brushing against his as he took the bag felt like fire, like he was being burned and was being warned and reminded not to get too close again “You don't have to hang it anywhere it's just— you can even put it in the garage if you want”

Athena's eyebrow arched and looked at Bobby, a question in both of their minds as they took the Kraft paper covered rectangle out of the bag. Their reaction when the paper was ripped would've made a good video, the kind that spread throughout social media and even reached the news.

Their eyes were glued to the painting, sparkling as they took in the details: a faceless couple dancing around what looked like dusts of wind, with leafs and flowers around them. The piece had a warm palette, except for the couple: a combination of pink and purple. “A hurricane of love” read the post-it note attached to the corner, which made the couple gasp when Bobby took it out, revealing the signature.

“You made this?” Bobby's voice hitched, and Tommy hoped it was a good thing that the man's eyes were glistening.

He nodded, his cheeks feeling strangely warm, and fidgeted with his fingers “I took on painting after—” he stopped himself from talking, a lump in his throat that suddenly made it harder for him to keep going.

After I broke my own heart.

[nosyp]

Twst First Years reacting to someone slapping their butt n running away

Second years | Third years

Note = this was requested but idk if it's someone slapping the twst char's butt or the reader's butt so i js took the first one, PLS TELL ME IF I'M WRONG!! I also assumed it's js SOMEONE not the reader soooo...

Ace Trappola

Spins around with a loud gasp, pretending to be scandalized.

"Wow, couldn’t even resist me, huh? But if you’re gonna slap, at least commit!" he yells at the offender.

He’d laugh it off but later mutters, “What kind of weirdo even does that?” while still being low-key smug about it. "Like is my butt really that good?"

Deuce Spade

Goes rigid, blinking in shock before shouting, "HEY! COME BACK HERE!"

He’s chasing them full speed, fists clenched, yelling, “YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT!” He gets way too worked up about it and probably trips halfway through the chase.

Then he gets back up and goes back to chasing the offender.

Jack Howl

Flinches, his ears flicking in irritation. He turns to look over his shoulder, eyes narrowing.

"What the heck was that supposed to mean?"

He doesn’t chase them but spends the next ten minutes muttering about how weird people can be. He’s definitely embarrassed but hides it well behind his usual stoic demeanor.

"Whywouldanyonejustdothatlikeit'ssupperrudelikewhywouldyoudothat,"

Epel Felmier

Yelps and spins around, face red with a mix of shock and fury.

"What the—? YOU WANNA TRY THAT AGAIN?!"

He’s bolting after the offender, yelling about disrespect and “stupid jerks who don’t know boundaries.” If he doesn’t catch them, he grumbles about it for days and he'll never forgive himself for not catching him.

Sebek Zigvolt

Gasps, horrified.

"HOW DARE YOU LAY A HAND ON ME?!"

He’s chasing them like his life depends on it, yelling the whole time about “this unseemly behavior” and how he’ll report them to the staff.

He’s actually so loud that everyone in the vicinity knows what just happened... it's kinda embarrassing (not like sebek knows what that is tho)

A/N = I'm not sure if it's supposed to be x reader.... but i js assumed it was reactions. tell me if im wrong i'll literally redo it.

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 19th of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: Can you hear it? Are your ears filled to the brim with the Christmas music playing in stores? And you are still ready to open another door? Thank you very much, lovelies! I hope you enjoy!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sebastian (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 498 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

Sebastian might be our local emo boy and you would rarely ever get it out of him, but he does enjoy winter and the Winterstar season – he just hates the commitments around it, especially on the day of.

That wouldn’t mean he would rain on your parade, though. No, he would help you decorating your house, would carry your bags when you went gift shopping (with one earbud in ear because the people around you are just so loud), helping you bake cookies, you name it. He would be there.

But, if we are being honest, Seb probably wouldn’t be a holly jolly little elf, too much things on his mind, too many people pretending, too much annoying etiquette. Why the hell would he pretend he liked Clint just because someone put a star on a tree? And why the hell would he say something nice to Demetrius just because some random singer in the background preached about the importance of family with these annoying ass jingles?

He was nice to the people he cared about, wasn’t that enough? For example he would only cock his brow whenever he entered Sam’s room that resembled a Winterstar wonderland and never say anything. See? That was nice!

Still, you would notice Sebastian’s mood shift the closer the Feast of the Winterstar came. You knew he would probably lighten up again the day of (he would say he is just acting for the family, but he had seemed to mellow out ever since you had joined the family table), and since you were a good spouse, you decided to spice things up a little.

Sebastian’s eyes would light up when you dangled the opportunity of a spicy gift exchange between the two of you in front of him.

Of course he would agree immediately – what was he? Stupid? Hell no. He would grin up at you with a mischievous glint in his pretty eyes before telling you to bring it on.

His slender fingers were wrapped around the box in his hand with utmost care, holding onto it oh so gently. He had spent hours looking for the perfect gift for your very own spicy exchange, and he had to admit, he was kind of proud of it. The little vibrator would be perfect for your nights out at the saloon or for when he decided to be a total asshole and overstimulate you to the point of tears. Maybe for when you cockwarmed him because you just couldn’t wait for him to finish his project, too. “Seb?” A soft voice asked, making him look up from the box in his hand, jaw falling open when he saw you. You were completely bare, aside from thigh-highs and a black collar with the matching leash in your hand. You gave him a shy, almost bashful smile, but there was no time for any explanation with how quick you were pinned to the couch, long fingers wrapping around the leather of the leash.

[celestialhole]

Daisuke headcanons(?)

Sfw romantic I know a fucker with abandonment issues when I see one. If you just happen to be roommates he's waiting at the door for you to come back while tip-tapping on his phone or Nintendo switch(he has one, he told me himself). Messages you while your both in a meeting and looks over at you to see your reactions to his stupid memes, feeling giddy inside when you crack a smile at one of them and makes sure to send more in the future Curly catches you both. I know this man has a stash of weed hidden somewhere, I can smell it on him. Speaking of weed he's either so lovesick when he's high, or balling his eyes out to you. Likes to journal in private about you or anything new he learned, but mostly about you and a bit of Swansea <3. Absolutely horrified when Swansea finds it. Some nights he's a terrible sleeper; scratches himself, tossing and turning, and sleeping in the dumbest positions that he complains about his back when he wakes up. Other nights you're using yourself as a straightjacket on him so he isn't fucking bruising himself in his sleep. Listens to music with you by sharing his earbuds with you. Has the cutest and stupidest sleeping masks. Will make you have a spa day with him and then proceed to have pretend gossip with you. Later in your relationship he gets better sleep with you because he's attached to you like a koala. You want your nails painted? He's got you, in fact, can you choose a color for him too? They're a little messy but it gives them more personality. You laugh at his jokes and he kissing all over your face and doing that tom and jerry thing where he kisses on your arm and goofily praising you. Gives the most random loud, wet kisses on your cheek when he passes by you in the hallway and if he's feeling stupid he'll just lick your face and run off giggling as you wipe the saliva he left behind. Cannot call you by your name, it's too straightforward and serious for him. He's called you by a nickname since the day he's met you and has it as his contact name for you with ten heart emojis. Early in your relationship he starts sneaking in your bottom bunk to sleep with you. What's that? He has a bunk bed of his own? Yeah well yours is more comfortable so shhhh.... Poor boy has terrible back posture for so many reasons, so if you give him a back massage you're getting the nastiest head.

[mwahbabe]

drop more loser!Chloe content and my life is urs

loser!chloe headcanons

tags: fluff, gf!chloe, switch!chloe, nsfw, cunnilingus(r! recieving) (c!recieving) strap on sex, (r!recieving) (c! recieving) perv!chloe.

a/n: you got it baybee!! omg i need her so bad it’s not a joke nomo😩

✦ loser! chloe who was so scared to hold your hand when you first started dating, doing that pinky thing, inching it closer to yours while you were sitting together or would brush her hand against yours while you’re walking together.

✦ then hesitantly takes your hand and acts nonchalant until seeing your sweet smile and she gives you a goofy grin.

✦ when you started getting closer and more comfortable around each other she just spoils you.

✦ is such a sweet girl.

✦ we’ve seen how she is with those she cares about and trusts

✦ acts like the badass tough punk lesbian but when seeing a hot chic can’t even form a sentence.

✦ once before she met you ofc when a tatted up girl at a concert wearing little to nothing came to ask her where the bathroom was she was standing there with this dumb look on her face before pointing in the direction of it and then proceeded to walk into someone when she turned back around😭😭

✦ still has her “gee wizz that’s my girlfriend? awesome!” moments when she sees you. especially when you’re undressing or getting ready.

✦ sends you stupid memes while you’re in class/at work

✦ like the ones that are so random and unfunny to the point they are funny😭 and the “feeling sad rn send boob pics” ones.

✦ and she sends you stuff that she thinks you will find funny.

✦ was a weird kid in middle school.

✦ argues with little kids on minecraft servers.

✦ golden retriever gf. she will do anything for you and whenever. oh your dvd players broken? all of a sudden she’s a handywoman. you need a specific snack at 3am when it’s raining? she’s getting in the car.

✦ soooo puppy coded. just- look at her. puppy eyed masc.

✦ the type to burn a cd for you with songs that remind her of you.

✦ has tried to pierce herself but couldn’t handle the pain.

✦ 100% tried to act tough during her tattoo but whimpered the whole time.

✦ definitely watched those creepypasta internet videos when she was 13-14 and max got scared while she pretended they didn’t scare her but couldn’t sleep for weeks.

✦ was secretly a fan of monster high even if she had barbie dolls growing up. thought they were all hot. and def had a crush on clawdeen. cuz she’s a lesbian in love with her bsf? lol get it?

✦ her instagram is probably so empty except for a profile picture of a dumb shark meme she just hasn’t bothered changing. and maybe posts once a month and somehow has lots of followers.

✦ definately loves sharks because they’re “badass and eat people”

✦ but it’s so fitting because they’re actually so misunderstood and seen as mean and aggressive but are mostly just sea puppies

nsfw

✦ loser!chloe who absolutely begs to eat you out. she loves it. will have her face buried between your thighs for hours.

“please babe… c’mon just one more? please?”

✦ gets so carried away she forgets you’re overstimulated, she just enjoys eating your pussy so much.

✦ even came in her pants from your sounds and the taste of you alone.

✦ loves when you ride her face. she doesn’t care if she can’t breathe. just sit on it. breathing is overrated anyway.

✦ loser!chloe who cums too fast during tribbing and has to pull away and eat your pussy a little before putting your leg back over her shoulder so she won’t cum before you.

✦ such a loser she steals stuff of yours, like bracelets, lipgloss, hair ties, …your panties from the laundry hamper.

✦ sniffs them while her fingers are pumping in and out of her cunt that’s embarrassingly soaked. her eyes rolling back as her cunt clamps down on her fingers smelling the fabric before putting it back acting like nothing happened.

✦ SERVICE TOP!!!

✦ loves making you feel good. it’s her purpose. her job. and she’s damn good at it. round after round of turning you into a mess gives her a sense of pride and like she’s doing right and making the love of her life feel good and satisfied.

✦ gets off on you getting off.

✦ if you’re a pillow princess she love love loves you.

✦ lay there and look pretty with your legs spread or over her shoulders orr on your stomach face down ass up while her strap is buried in you? absofuckinglutely.

✦ this girl is a whimperer. idc. she has pretty moans and gets embarrassed by it especially how she moans like she’s the one being pleasured when fucking you.

✦ loserrrr chloe who has wet dreams about you while you’re sleeping next to her and has to rub one out and muffle her moans and whimpers to not wake you.

✦ if you’re more of a dominant person she also loves you.

✦ sub chloe is so needy and such a brat<3

✦ when you eat her out she’s a mess. trying to conceal her moans letting out grunts and covering her mouth until she gets close and these pretty whines and groans come from her as she cums all over your face.

✦ when you first use the strap on her, she gets so flustered at how slutty she sounds as the toy slides in and out of her and the angle you’re fucking her in making her lose her mind.

✦ then will deny anything she said or how she sounded if you bring it up.

“shut up! you’re such an ass.”

✦ yea her loser ass loves you<33

[rintoki]

Hi I'm sorry I don't mean to be rude but could you consider tagging your posts more thoroughly? For context your posts showed up on my feed, 'based on your likes' despite having a lot of x reader tags filtered. And respectfully I am going to block you because it's really not my kind of content (though I'm not judging you for it or anything). I just feel that more thorough tagging would both help you with engagement and also help other people to not see content they don't want to. I know I'm not entitled to you doing anything with your own blog and I know how to curate my experience here already, but just a suggestion? Well, I won't see your blog again personally regardless, so I wish you well I suppose ._.'

guys !!!! my first negative (?) ask after running this blog for 1 and a half years ‼️‼️ i’m so sad it’s not even about my writing i’m not problematic enough :(