#might watch the penguin or something

[necrotic-nephilim]

WOAH Bruce not only feeding that assumption in steph but planting the seed of it by saying something about Jason while he’s behind her and they’re looking at the memorial case together. Like this being after a build up of like you said him being harsh with her training “you didn’t match those fingerprints fast enough they could’ve matched 50 in 40 seconds you took almost twice that” but being kind while he’s physically touching her. Bruce standing behind steph, not to the side but directly behind, with his hand on her shoulder and the hand drops down to squeeze her arms and steph looks down at it and turns around and kisses him. I think if steph sent a post coitus pic to Bruce he wouldn’t even get mad he’d just get horny thinking about them together. Thank you for the photo steph can I get one in your robin costumes next time

(based on this post and this post) oh my god. your vision anon. i was going to just build off of this with headcanons but the scene you described i cannot get out of my head so uh have a fic that's 6k and far longer than it should've been with vanilla sex that somehow is very dead dove anyway, also crossposted on ao3. ily i would guard you with my life- <3

When Stephanie thought about Bruce, she remembered skin that tasted like salt and brimstone. She remembered warm hands that held her more gently than she'd probably ever be held again. She remembered a cold voice that was more cruel to her than anyone had ever been.

Which, given who her father was, Stephanie personally found that to be a pretty fucking impressive feat.

She remembered a lot of things about Bruce. So many memories sat on her tongue and threatened to spill out whenever she opened her mouth.

Memories like Bruce's hand on her shoulder, giving her another lesson she never got to use before dying.

"You didn't match those fingerprints fast enough," Bruce said. He was unforgiving, and Stephanie didn't have to be looking at him to know his features were painted in disappointment. She scowled and focused harder on the slides in front of her, ignoring him. When she didn't answer, he twisted the knife deeper. "Tim could've matched almost fifty in forty seconds. You took twice that."

It was always Tim being dangled like a carrot in front of Stephanie's face. So many times had Stephanie wanted to twist around and snap at Bruce that he wasn't the only one who lost someone when Tim had to quit being Robin. Bruce wasn't the only one with a gaping hole in his chest that couldn't be filled.

At least Bruce had Stephanie trying to fill his loss. It wasn't like anyone had stepped up for her.

Stephanie's grip on a fingerprint slide tightened until she was sure the glass would crack. "Did Tim have you breathing down his neck the whole time, making unnecessary commentary?" Her snark could cost her this role she fought so hard for.

After hours of useless training that didn't even involve punching things, Stephanie wasn't sure if she cared about that.

It took a silent, brooding moment before Bruce answered. "In the field, you won't always be afforded an undisturbed working space. But you also can't tune out distractions that could cost your life."

If she could, Stephanie would punch Bruce. If she thought her fist had the slightest chance of actually connecting with his face before he dodged or deflected it, there would already be a satisfying crunch of bone against bone echoing through the cave. Just the mental image of it made Stephanie almost smile.

She took a slow breath.

"Point taken," Stephanie said carefully. She set the glass slide down, flexing her hand that still itched for violence. Another cruel comment was on her lips when Bruce's hand started massaging her shoulder. The touch was so gentle it forced tension out of her muscles, and Stephanie sighed. "Are we done?"

"No," Bruce was icy, lacking any emotion. "We need to go over your lackluster decoding skills again." His other hand came to rest on her other shoulder, massaging in tandem. It was an electric touch she wanted to lean into.

"For fuck's sake!" Stephanie threw her hands up, then dropped her head into them, rubbing her temples. "What has it been, four hours? We haven't even eaten."

The shadow Bruce cast over her just seemed to grow, engulfing every inch of Stephanie's existence. "This job isn't one that comes with luxuries. And it's a job you asked for," he reminded her. His thumbs were working into Stephanie's neck, perfectly pressing out a stiffness she'd been harboring for weeks. She couldn't stop herself from pressing into the touch. "If you lose even once... you lose things you can't afford to lose. Things I can't afford to lose."

Stephanie looked up from the desk. Her gaze snagged on the memorial case that loomed over her every time she walked into the case. The name that was carefully carved into the plate at the bottom of a boy she never even got to know.

Because he was what Bruce lost.

"You're not going to lose me." Stephanie turned her head to face Bruce, giving him a much kinder look than she'd been wearing just seconds ago. One of Bruce's hands drifted down to hold her bicep. "You know that, right? I know what you've already lost, but I can be better than that."

It was gently possessive. Like, at any moment, she could evaporate, and he would be alone again. For all his flaws, Bruce sure as hell knew how to tug on Stephanie's fragile heartstrings.

"You have no idea what I've lost." Bruce's voice actually broke, like he was a marble statue cracking, every grove held a story. Real emotion, real pain beyond her comprehension. That was a rare thing. Stephanie studied the way his face shifted. She tried to remember all the training he'd given her about noticing small changes and what they meant.

Sorrow and pain in his brow. Worry and tension in the thin pressed line of his mouth.

Love in his eyes. A familiar love Stephanie knew better than anyone.

But he wasn't looking at Stephanie. He was looking at the memorial case.

"Oh," Stephanie realized out loud, eyes going wide. "I didn't know- oh. I'm so sorry, Bruce."

Bruce's gaze snapped away from the case all too abruptly, as if he'd revealed far too much to Stephanie in a single instant. His eyes were guarded again, and he stared down at her with a tense expression, stroking her skin with his thumb.

It was stupid, that Stephanie had never considered this... thing with Bruce to be a unique thing. Maybe she liked the naivety of feeling special in how Bruce showed her attention. She was never going to be the only Robin, definitely never going to be the best Robin, but she had always assumed she was the only one Bruce loved, like that.

The lining of jealousy calling her bones was put out by sympathy for Bruce. The loss of Jason was worse, if that was how he and Bruce were. It was more than losing a sidekick.

It was losing a lover.

Was Tim the same? Probably. Undoubtedly, Stephanie decided. And Dick, the way Bruce talked about them. She'd always known Tim and Bruce were weirdly entangled in ways it wasn't her business to understand, but now, the pieces clicked further into place.

And in one way or another, Bruce had lost all of them.

Now here she was.

No wonder her training was thankless. She could die or leave him at any moment, in Bruce's eyes.

Stephanie properly turned around, spinning her chair. Facing him fully, none of Stephanie's concern was hidden from Bruce. He answered it with a frown, running his fingers through her hair and cupping her face. Stephanie looked at the hand as it lingered on her body. Like Bruce couldn't force himself to pull away. Like he knew he was being selfish, putting her in danger.

But Stephanie wasn't fragile. She had what other Robins didn't. Experience on the field, doing this on her own without Batman. Who knew how strong she could be under his touch, how she’d blossom.

Stephanie stood up and touched Bruce's face. She had to stand on her toes to do it, but she kissed him. Gave him the moment he always needed to go from stiff and overthinking to melting into Stephanie's touch. He kissed back and licked his tongue into her mouth, like she was a decadent food he was savoring.

How he always tasted the same, salty and earthy, Stephanie would never know. She'd add it to the tally of mysteries about Bruce Wayne.

Bruce's hand drifted down to Stephanie's waist. Then, like something out of a movie, He brushed aside all the fingerprint slides, letting some clatter to the floor so he could pick her up around her hips and set her on the table. She was raised up enough that she didn't have to strain to reach his mouth now, letting them deepen the kiss.

For a while, they stayed like that. Kissing and hands wandering. Stephanie slipped her hand under Bruce's cotton t-shirt, feeling against hard muscle and a bandage over a deep cut that had needed stitches only a few days ago. A part of Stephanie wanted to push her fingers under the medical tape, just so she could feel where the cut was. Press her fingers up against the painful wound, exploring where Bruce's flesh ripped open and paid the price for his sloppy actions, as he would put it.

But she didn't. Stephanie did her best to keep the more inhumane parts of herself out of reach from Bruce so he wouldn't scrutinize them and make her feel like more of a failure.

Bruce ran a hand up the inside of Stephanie's thigh until he found the zipper of her jeans and just rested his thumb there. His other hand was cupping one of her breasts in a hold that wasn't nearly tight enough for Stephanie's tastes. It was such a cruel thing, how he was rough and unforgiving with his words, but treated her like a doll about to break whenever he fucked her.

Just once, Stephanie would give anything to fuck the Batman and hear words from Bruce Wayne. Not the other way around.

If she told Bruce that, there was a non-zero chance he would throw her in Arkham for it. He'd told her at length how relationships with women like Catwoman failed because they wanted him to be gentle in places he couldn't be.

He found gentleness for Stephanie in those places, though.

Bruce trailed kisses down Stephanie's throat. She tilted her head back to give him better access for sucking colorful marks into her skin, making her shudder. Her body begged for more where her voice failed her.

"Are you hungry?" Bruce asked, his voice vibrating against her skin.

Stephanie's head was swimming. "What?"

She swore she felt him smile against her throat. "You pointed out we haven't eaten. Do you need dinner, Stephanie?"

"Oh, you bastard." Stephanie smacked his arm, and he let her. "Later. We can order Chinese or something after this."

"Good." Bruce's voice dropped a dangerous octave. He always found some covert way to ask for her consent without directly asking for it. Just another part of his mind games she would never understand.

His hands pushed under her shirt. He pulled away from the kiss long enough to pull it up over her head, exposing Stephanie's plain white bra. She fantasized about being the type of girl who wore fancy lingerie for an older man like Bruce, but that wasn't something for Stephanie's shallow pockets.

She knew she could ask Bruce. He'd probably fall over himself for the chance to buy her lingerie. He always said yes when it came to money things, and even offered her a debit card attached to one of his smaller accounts. Which, in Bruce's language, meant an account with only a couple million instead of hundreds of millions.

But Stephanie always said no. She needed some side of her life to keep to herself without Bruce influencing it.

She needed Bruce to know she could still hold herself above water without him.

Her fingers buried in his short hair, carding through the soft, dark strands that still had the scent of his sandalwood shampoo. If he grew his hair out, it would probably have a faint curl pattern, like the pictures Stephanie had seen of Martha Wayne, from back in the day. It was a shame he kept it so short.

"How are your ribs?" Bruce asked, his fingers brushing over the still purple bruise and making Stephanie wince.

"Fine," she insisted, wiping the pain off her face. She had been the one stupid enough to take a punch from a Riddler goon, of all people. She didn't need Bruce pointing out her failures now.

He didn't look like he believed her, but he didn't push it. Bruce just bent over to press soft kisses over the marks, like he thought his love could heal her. If it could, it would've by now. Just the thought made Stephanie shiver and relax more into his touch.

One of his hands snuck behind her to undo the clasp on her bra. Stephanie shifted her shoulders, and it fell to the ground.

Bruce latched his mouth around one of her nipples. Stephanie groaned and pulled his hair. He always let her be rough, if she needed it. Her nails left angry red marks down his back, and she held onto him so tightly there were bruises. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Stephanie was pretty sure Bruce liked the marks as much as she did, proof that she'd laid claim to him as much as he'd claimed her.

Their relationship was one of reciprocity if nothing else.

It was a maddening tease to have Bruce's mouth on her flesh. He kneaded her other breast with a strong hand that had crushed bones, brushing across her nipple until it was standing upright and there were goosebumps on her flesh. She wanted to stay like this forever, having the goddamn Batman worshipping her skin.

She needed more, though.

Stephanie unbuttoned her own jeans and shimmied them down. They were barely past her hips when Bruce grabbed her wrist.

"What have I told you about patience?" Despite everything, he used the same tone he would've if he was scolding her about rushing into a mission too quickly.

"You're a bastard," Stephanie was breathless just from the few touches he'd given her. Heat was pooling between her legs and she needed to alleviate the pressure somehow, like expressing an infected wound. Sometimes, Stephanie's cunt felt less like a sacred hole for pleasure and more like a bleeding gash that she needed Bruce to provide triage for. He fucked her with the same intimacy that he dressed her stab wounds, finding the gaping flesh and pressing into it until there was finally relief.

Bruce probably didn't see it that way. Stephanie didn't care.

He dared to laugh against her skin, deep and rough. "Relax. Trust your body. Trust me." His voice was so steady and firm, it was hard not to lean against.

Stephanie huffed, but bit her tongue. "At least take your shirt off. Fair is fair."

A gruff hum came out of Bruce, but he complied, pulling away to shuck the garment and give Stephanie one of her favorite views. Like watching a sunset over the Gotham horizon, every time she saw Bruce's naked skin was just a little different. The same gorgeous sight, but if her eyes wandered she would find all the new little scars, the older scars that were fading more, the ever-shifting wall of muscle that didn't look one bit human.

Stephanie groped his chest, running her fingers over coarse hairs that Bruce sometimes shaved, and sometimes didn't. She preferred the natural look, the same way she preferred when he went a few days without shaving. It made him just a touch animalistic.

He went back to devouring her skin with his mouth and hands. Stephanie was at Bruce's mercy as he kissed, sucked, and licked his way across the dips and valleys of her body. He was reverently gentle over her scars with soft kisses. Then he sank his teeth into sensitive places Stephanie never knew she had. The skin under her breasts, the stretch marks over her hip dips that had never quite gone back to normal after she gave birth.

The world spun around them and somehow, Stephanie was the only thing that mattered to Bruce.

When Bruce seemed pleased with the soft marks he'd covered her in, his hands finally pushed Stephanie's pants down the rest of the way, and he helped her kick them off with her shoes.

Then, he got on his knees.

Stephanie's eyes were wide, and her face turned a soft shade of red that matched the hickeys on her chest. "I haven't waxed-"

Bruce arched an eyebrow at her and pushed her knees open. "I don't care."

She didn't know what it was about Bruce, but Stephanie was always too shy about her body around him, expecting him to scrutinize it for the same faults he found in the rest of her. The first time they kissed, she started waxing that same night, from her pubic mound to her asshole, just so she would be smooth for him. She shaved more often, bought a nicer perfume, and tried her hair in styles she never would've worn before. It made Stephanie feel childish, but she could never stop herself.

She needed to be good for him.

Proving the point in his words, Bruce started kissing Stephanie's thigh. He left marks there, too, working his way closer and closer to her cunt. Stephanie could feel her heart rate spiking as the cold air hit her vagina. She was digging her nails into his scalp, too deeply, she realized. But like always, Bruce didn't seem to mind.

Finally, he made his way to his destination.

Bruce's tongue was hotter than a brand over Stephanie's cunt. She gasped and jerked. Every time, it never failed to make her dizzy. It was a reminder how inexperienced Stephanie was at sex. She offered to give him head and without fail, Bruce always said no.

Yet, he did things with his mouth that Stephanie didn't know were fucking possible.

Bruce licked his way inside of Stephanie, pressing his tongue as deep as it would go and flicking upward. A groan ripped out of Stephanie, and she was practically grinding on Bruce's face for more.

He used his hands to pull her folds open for better access. If Stephanie tried closing her legs, Bruce just pushed them back open with his elbows. He forced her on display for him, whining and squirming for desperate pleasure from his mouth.

"Bruce," Stephanie moaned, eyes fluttering. It was a simple pleasure, but an overwhelming one, hard to even look at Bruce without losing herself to it. Every time Stephanie looked down, those piercing blue eyes were locked on her, drinking up her reactions.

It was fucking intimidating, was what it was.

He moved his mouth upward and Stephanie shattered. Chapped lips wrapped around her clit and sucked until Stephanie's eyes were rolling into the back of her head. He flicked and twisted his tongue in ways that shouldn't have been humanly possible to send sparks up her spine. It was like getting shocked over and over again.

His fingers pressed inside of her hole, arching up. It was nothing like being finger banged by a horny teenage boy behind the bleachers and all the other clumsy sexual interactions that crowded Stephanie's youth. This was a touch with experience, fingers curling inside of her with movements that went for precision instead of speed or force. Like Bruce knew he didn't have to rush Stephanie's pleasure, he just had to find the right spots to tug at until he unraveled her.

"Fuck, Bruce!" Stephanie grabbed onto the end of the table and thanked every god that she didn't have super strength, because if she did, the metal would've crumpled under the force she put behind her grip. "You... you're going to drive me fucking insane... Bruce-" She canted her hips up to chase more pleasure. Her body was greedy, making up for how shy her mind wanted her to be.

There was a gleam in his eyes when she managed to look down again. She could see how smug he was about knowing it was only his touch that could reduce her to this, naked with pleasure dripping out of her.

She was going to make a mess of the table. The last time she did that, Bruce gently guided her to her knees and pressed her face into the slick puddle until Stephanie got the message without a single spoken order. Licking up her own cum while Bruce had fucked her behind, a hand around her throat.

That memory was one she still jerked off to. It was too rare for Stephanie to get those wilder, kinkier inclinations out of Bruce, no matter how much she begged for his dirty fantasies she knew he was thinking about every time he looked at her.

One day she'd convince him to do whatever he was thinking about the time he stared at her a little too hard when she was trying to get out of those handcuffs.

The thought of that alone had Stephanie's pleasure rushing toward its crest, and her noises got higher and more desperate. Bruce couldn't say anything, with his mouth locked around her clit and still working it so well, but he stroked her thigh with his thumb as if he was encouraging her to let go.

It may as well have been an order.

And Stephanie obeyed.

She pulled hard on Bruce's hair and clamped her thighs tight around his skull, holding him there. Bruce didn't force them open this time, he just let her body take what it needed. Stephanie was almost positive a third finger pushed inside of her to join the first two filling her as she hit the peak of her orgasm.

A scream tore free from her lungs. She kicked uselessly, one foot accidentally hitting one of Bruce's shoulders. He was a concrete wall, though, not moving or even flinching from it. He just kept licking and sucking and looking through his dark curls to stare at her as she howled. Stephanie tried to say Bruce's name, she tried to tell him how good it felt, but all the words got lost in translation. All she could do was hold onto him and ride through every electric wave, hoping he understood.

Of course, he did. He always did.

Just as Stephanie reached the peak of pleasure and tipped into overstimulation, Bruce pulled off of her clit. He looked almost disappointed by it, staring briefly at her soaked, pink folds. Like he wanted to stay there and make her suffer and beg for reprieve.

If Stephanie had any sense to her, she would've pouted about him not doing just that.

At least his fingers stayed inside of her. They weren't moving anymore, but they were a warm pressure, keeping her full and satiated as her body went boneless. Bruce studied her and watched Stephanie hold herself up with her arm to keep from flopping onto the table and passing out right there.

"Fuck me," Stephanie said, already knowing that Bruce was debating it. Sometimes he fucked her after he ate her out, sometimes he didn't- no matter how she begged for it. Even when she could see the tent in his pants. The time she'd begged particularly hard, he laid her out on his bed and told her to stay still and just jerked off on her tits, as if to prove some kind of point she didn't understand.

She did understand, though, how fucking hot it had been to have his spent pleasure against her skin. Perverse and disgusting, but hot. She had scooped it up with her fingers and sucked them clean in front of him, the only time she ever got to taste his cum. It earned her a scowl as he carried her into the shower, practically dropping her into the tub.

Of course, she did manage to get Bruce to properly fuck her in the shower. So it was a happy memory, no matter how Bruce's disapproving stare the whole time tried to taint it.

A healthy collection of memories. And still, Stephanie's greedy hands wanted more. She wanted, craved more than just his fingers inside of her.

"Please," Stephanie added when Bruce was quiet for too long. She did her best to appear submissive and doe-eyed, looking at him through her lashes and spreading her legs. "I want you to feel good, too. Let me take care of you." When the soft, sultry tone she used didn't do anything to make him budge, Stephanie sighed and grabbed his wrist, pressing her thumb against the pulse point to feel his hammering heartbeat. "Take what you need, Bruce. I'm not going anywhere."

Bruce groaned and Stephanie felt it in her core.

He pushed himself to his feet, fingers still buried inside of her. When he grabbed for one of the drawers to a nearby desk, Stephanie practically preened, knowing she'd won.

"We don't need a condom," Stephanie said. She tried this argument every time. It never worked. She never stopped trying. "I have an IUD and we both get tested regularly-"

"It's not up for debate," Bruce nearly growled. He pulled a condom out and ripped the package out with his teeth. Stephanie squeaked at the sight.

"Let me put it on, at least?" Stephanie said, trying to get her voice out of the higher register he'd startled her into.

Bruce didn't put up a fight as Stephanie opened his jeans with her hands and pushed them down just enough to pull his cock free. He handed her the condom and watched with rapt attention as she stroked him a few times. It got no reaction from Bruce, and Stephanie didn't expect one. She just enjoyed the feeling of his stiff, hot flesh underneath her touch. All the little places only Stephanie got to touch and hold.

She worked him until his cock was twitching, and he grabbed her thigh again and squeezed with warning. Hypocritical bastard. He got all the time he wanted with her body, but she was always rushed when she got to touch him, sliding her hand over his cock and rubbing a thumb over the slick head.

The condom was rolled on as Stephanie imagined putting it on with her mouth. She'd practiced the skill on a dildo more than once in anticipation of the day she finally got to show it off to Bruce. She licked her lips at the thought.

"Good," Bruce grunted when the condom was snugly on his length. It was a coveted, rare praise that made Stephanie almost choke. And somehow, he said it like it was nothing. Like he didn't even mean to. Like he was unaware of how it made her react.

She liked to pretend it just slipped out because he was so caught up in her, but the realist in Stephanie knew that, like everything else about Bruce, it was calculated. Still, she took what she could get.

Bruce tugged Stephanie closer to the edge with his grip on her thigh. It was practically manhandling, and she couldn't stop the moan at the rough treatment that begged for more. Instead of giving her more, Bruce just gave her a sour look and pulled his fingers out of her cunt, and pushed them into her mouth to keep her quiet.

To make her taste the pleasure only he could bring her.

Stephanie mewled and sucked on Bruce's thick, calloused fingers as he lined himself up with a guiding hand. The push in was a blunt pressure, then a fullness that made Stephanie lean back until Bruce wrapped his arm around her shoulders to give her support.

Their bodies were flush together. He buried his face into her neck and breathed in her scent while she tasted his skin, savoring the flavor she only found on him.

Salt and brimstone.

Bruce fucked her at a controlled pace. He never let go to push her body to the limit the way she knew he could. But with how overwhelming it was to be fucked by him, maybe that was a thing. Bruce was thick and long, driving air out of Stephanie's lungs every time he drove in.

He pulled his fingers free from her mouth, and she mourned the loss with a soft noise. His hand trailed down to press against the bottom of her stomach. She didn't know where the hell Bruce learned the trick, but the slight pressure on the outside of her body somehow made the thrusts more intense and filling. It made sure his cock assaulted her g-spot with every stroke and her back arched.

"Bruce, Bruce," Stephanie chanted his name, clawing at his back, not caring that her nails were catching on sensitive scars. She felt like she couldn't think. She locked her legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer.

Her back arched until her head was practically hanging upside down, all while Bruce kept his face buried against her collarbone. So he couldn't see where her gaze fell and what made her stuttered noises get more guttural.

The memorial case danced in front of Stephanie's eyes, even from this upside-down shaky view, grounding her to the moment even as she was soaring through pleasure.

Stephanie didn't know much about Jason Todd. She didn't know his hobbies or his favorite books. She didn't know what jokes would make him smile and what worries clouded his head when he was trying to fall asleep.

But she knew they shared this. She knew, in this way, they were always going to be connected. Bruce had been buried deep in Jason the same way he was buried in Stephanie, chasing his pleasure. And just like Stephanie, Jason must've liked it.

How could he not, when being loved by Bruce was like being on a direct path of a meteorite? Fleeting, but brilliant in the chaos.

Stephanie tried to remember what Jason looked like, from the pictures. She tried to imagine how Bruce liked to fuck Jason and what Jason looked like under Bruce. How his dark hair got sweaty and his ocean-blue eyes squeezed shut. What type of noises he would make and what kinds of pleasure he liked.

Did Bruce suck him off? Eat his ass out like he ate Stephanie out?

Did Jason love the fall into absolution the same way Stephanie did?

All the mental images overwhelmed her as the Robin suit danced in front of her eyes, bright colors blurring together. The thought of Jason bent over the same table Stephanie was getting fucked on made her moan and her eyes squeezed shut.

In another universe, maybe they got fucked by Bruce at the same time. Two Robins for the price of one to finally get Bruce to go over the edge and take what he wanted from both of them.

For now, though, Stephanie would have to do the work for both of them. For all the Robins and this torch she carried.

She clenched down around Bruce as best she could. Her second orgasm was already too close. Usually she needed Bruce to stroke her clit to work her to the edge, but now, lost in all her fantasies of a boy she never knew, Stephanie was lost to it. She started to shake.

"Close," Stephanie warned, even when she didn't need to. Her noises were hitched and broken, lost in every thrust.

Bruce didn't speed up, but he did fuck her harder, giving her just a fraction of more force from his strong hips. It pulled a scream out of her, and Stephanie shattered.

The pleasure took its hold on her. Toe-curling and mind-numbing and every other cliche Stephanie thought only happened in porn. She clamped down around Bruce, so tight she didn't know how he managed to keep fucking her.

"Stephanie," Bruce whispered, so softly she almost convinced herself she hallucinated it. It was the only sign she got that Bruce had come, burying himself to the hilt just as her orgasm came to an end. He shivered and exhaled, and nothing else. No loud noises, no sexy dirty talk.

Just unspoken simplicity. Stephanie could appreciate it for what it was.

She nuzzled into him, pressing her head against his and holding him tightly. It would've been a hug if he wasn't still buried inside of her. She even dared to stroke his hair, like a mother soothing a child after a nightmare.

After an orgasm was the rare time Bruce allowed Stephanie to take care of him in these little ways, and she never squandered the chance. She hummed softly, carding her fingers through his curls and rubbing his back.

It wasn't a long moment.

"Chinese?" Bruce asked, pulling away from Stephanie's skin.

Stephanie rummaged around inside her worn mind, trying to find her cockiness. "Worked up that much of an appetite?" She gave him a sharp smile.

"If you don't give me a straight answer, I'll order Pizza Hut," Bruce threatened.

"Oh, gross." Stephanie made a face, afterglow sufficiently killed. "They have the worst pizza, don't you dare."

Bruce gave her a rare smile. He leaned in and kissed her one last time before they had to separate and be real people again.

That was where the memory faded off, for Stephanie. It bled into all the other little almost-domestic moments she had with Bruce.

It was a memory that stuck out because it was the first real time Stephanie had ever thought about Jason. And now, it was a fitting one to mull over as she was curled up against Jason’s chest, enjoying an entirely different afterglow.

And a much more sore body.

Because Jason didn't hold back all the things they both wanted more than anything.

"Say cheese," Stephanie said, holding up her phone to take a selfie.

Jason, whose head was propped up by his arm, looking perfectly serene, cracked an eye open. "What are you doing?" He sounded suspicious, watching as Stephanie twisted and turned the phone, trying to find the perfect angle.

She needed to make sure both of their bare chests were in the picture, with all the bruises and marks covering them.

She needed to make sure there was no mistaking what the photo meant.

"I'm sending this to Bruce," Stephanie hummed. She didn't smile for the picture, but there was an unmistakable smugness in her eyes as she snapped a couple of pictures, giving her options to pick from before pulling the phone back to her face.

Jason snorted. His grip on her hip tightened. "Why?" He didn't protest the idea.

Stephanie just shrugged. "It'll piss him off."

"You like kicking hornets' nests that much?"

"You've got no room to talk. How many heads were in that duffel bag again?" Stephanie gave him a deadpan look before going back to her phone. She debated on a message to send with the selfie, before ultimately deciding on none.

After all, Bruce was a man of few words. Surely he would understand.

Jason made an annoyed noise but didn't argue. "Tell me what he says back," he said, closing his eyes again and adjusting to get more comfortable in bed. This was his base they had chosen to fuck in.

The first place they fucked on was a rooftop. But of course, the lighting there wasn't the best for a selfie, so Stephanie had to hold off on taunting Bruce.

Sleeping with Jason was a lot more dangerous than sleeping with Bruce had been. She heard all the warnings and stories about what he was capable of and how he wasn't the sweet boy he'd once been.

Maybe she liked the danger. Maybe she needed someone who would finally stop treating her like a doll.

And just maybe, she needed to gloat.

The message was marked as read nearly as soon as it was sent. The three little dots indicating Bruce was typing appeared and disappeared no less than a dozen times. It made her smile, imagining him sputtering and cycling through emotions as he tried to figure out a response.

Just as Stephanie was sure she wasn't going to get any response, a message appeared on her screen.

Thank you for the photo. If you plan to send more, I still have your Robin suit. You can wear it in the next one.

Stephanie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She elbowed Jason in the ribs and showed him the screen.

Jason grunted and looked down for a moment, silent. "I'd fuck you in your Robin suit," was the only input he offered.

"Only if you're wearing yours too," Stephanie rolled her eyes at how unhelpful he was.

Jason gave the thought a hum, considering. "Ask Bruce if he still has it, and I'll think about it."

She had no idea if he was serious or not. It was always hard to tell, with Jason. She had no idea if Bruce was serious either. Maybe he was playing some kind of cruel joke on her too, trying to outsmart her in some game of chess just because she'd dare to mock him with the picture.

At the very least, she could be pleased she got under his skin either way.

Stephanie smiled and typed out what Jason had said, hitting send.

She always did like calling people's bluff. Whatever the outcome was, one thing was sure.

The game was on. And Stephanie wasn't stopping until she got the last fiber of Bruce's control to snap. 

[todayisafridaynight]

OKAY YOU'RE INSANE (AFFECTIONATE) FOR BLASTING THROUGH MY RECS AT THIS RATE NGL but I'm DELIGHTED you've enjoyed them so much thus far! Maiko especially, I'm so glad it helped turn your mood around yesterday! Definitely... definitely a movie... and I should rewatch it, huh...

Oh you talking about Tsutsumi and Papakawa reminded me, I found this image again... obviously he's cut off, but it's Tsutsumi's screen debut, so he and Nakai really do go way back! This was 1985, so this is just about how Jo and Arakawa would've looked when they first met, too. Wish I had a clearer shot...

It shouldn't be underestimated just how bad my brain will mold over something once I find interest in it 😔 BUT AGAIN thank you for reccing the movies! They were absolute fun and definitely my kinda movies you were SO right about that :]

BUT OH THEY'RE SO YOUNG CSI-Enhance moment on Tsutsumi in the back but damn.. that's insane that they've been working together for near forty years at this point....

[fitzselfships]

Ptsd has been terrible today I just need my f/os to come over here and kiss me and hold me </3

[mischievousmoony]

hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[moolthecow]

i ain't gonna sugarcoat it.

[ohhiimweird]

Dating them, except they're a monkey

Characters: Sun Wukong, Macaque, MK (brooo where's the yellow text) Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Nothing, just fluff! ...

Sun Wukong

surprisingly he's a little awkward at the beginning of the relationship

i'm gonna assume you're the first mortal he's ever dated. so, he doesn't know what to do since you're much more vulnerable than he is

very cuddly, like suuuupper touch starved. he'll cling to you like you'd disappear if he lets go. it gets to the point where you start to smell like him

speaking of that, he is BEGGING you to wear his cape. if you've fallen asleep, guess what's going on you, the cape

later on into the relationship, he opens up more about the utter amount of guilt in him about literally everything he's done

if you give him enough encouragement, he might try to close the gap in his and macaque's relationship and maybe they'll be friends again. who knows?

wukong cherishes you more than anything in this entire world, and he's gonna make sure the world knows that (you're included in that)

he's also uber protective because you're a mortal and can die very easily. the only way to fix that is if he makes you immortal with one of those peaches

Macaque

this is a SLOW BURN, but worth is in the end

he'll have some big trouble trying to let you in near the beginning of the relationship. in a way he's still trying to fight his feelings for you, despite you accepting him for who he is

although he's trying to get better, his thoughts still tell him he's not worthy of someone like you, it's not an uncommon thought when the whole world has pushed you aside or used you

when he sees that you're not like the others (ha) he'll warm up to the idea of being loved and loving you

he's not as touchy-feely as wukong, but he'll rest his head in your lap while you scratch behind his ears

he'll quietly purr but if you bring it up, he won't admit it

if you can't sleep, he'll tell you a little story using his shadow lantern (it's about your relationship with the names changed lol)

in a way, he's even more protective than wukong since you're the one that lit up his world. no one is gonna take that away from him

MK

it's weird but he's the least awkward when getting into a relationship with you...actually it depends on when that happens

if we're talking about early in the show, then he's more nervous because wow he just pulled you and you're hot

it we're talking about post-trauma, then he's nervous because he's got the world on his shoulders and doesn't know how to let you in

You're also dealing with monkey boy shenanigans. bro is tripping into you constantly because of either walking with or without a tail

MK is also getting you little trinkets of your favorite things or a cool rock he found. he's like a cross between a penguin and a crow

if he has a rough day he'll just cling to you like velcro and let out this big content huff while you watch monkey cop or something

Pigsy loves you, Tang ADORES you. he is making wedding plans for y'all and you aren't even engaged yet

Whenever you come home, MK runs up to you like a dog and drowns you in hugs and kisses, even if you're holding groceries. you lost a lot of eggs because of that (rip soldier)

[finniestoncrane]

💗 with penguin? from the batman

Farrell!Penguin x Fem!Reader, word count: 750 mmmmmmm yes please anon!! this old romantic??? he'd be aching to tell his partner how he felt about them, but he's a shy boy at heart!! little bit of ozzie losing his calm exterior and accidentally spilling the beans about his devotion while he's balls deep in you coming right up!! 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: penetrative sex, sweetheart/baby used, daddy!kink, reader has vagina, confessions of love, eeny weeny bit of dirty talk

Any and all fears that you had about what you meant to Oswald seemed pointless in that moment. The worry that you meant nothing more to him than a good, easy fuck at the end of a long day quickly dissipated when his cock was buried inside of you, his large hands holding your body as he rutted into you. You could do a lot worse. And if that was all you were to him, then you were grateful for it.

Who would turn down such a lucrative opportunity? Spoiled when he could, or when you let him. Fucked with the kind of feral attitude you might only find in someone trying to prove something. Given an insight into what life was like for the true rulers in Gotham. Importantly, though, you were also offered respect and care. A little bit of affection when he let his facade drop. The gold glinting grin would slip just a moment every so often, and his eyes would soften as he watched you put your clothes back on, or when you left his office at the lounge.

Sometimes, you let yourself believe that there were words behind the warm smile he offered you. A deeper meaning. You weren't willing to push him though, so you kept your questions to yourself. It was easy enough to do when your lips only opened to take in his cock, his fingers, his tongue, or to let out moans of pleasure and groans of sweet, delicious pain.

Oswald did most of the talking between you both, socially and sexually. As he pummelled into your hips, you watched his lips form the lust-driven rambling from your position on top of his desk. His hands skimmed down your thighs, tracing over the sides of your torso as he spoke.

"Fuck baby, that's it, that's the stuff right there... Let daddy show you... You gonna take it good?... Yeah you know what to do... Cos you're a good girl... My good girl... You're amazing baby doll... God, I-... I uh..."

The sudden pause, the way he almost stuttered, wasn't something you'd seen in him before. He was unsure of himself, of his words, of his intentions. And Oswald was always prepared. Given that the pace had slowed, you caught your breath and used the brief moment of reprieve to check on him.

"Ozzie? You ok?"

"Nah, I'm fine baby, don't worry about it."

He could tell the mood had shifted though. You had a distinct look of concern in your eyes, and he realised that if he held back from you now that he might lose a little bit of trust from you.

The brief pause was over though, and he realised he'd missed the moment. It was too late to say it now, so he tried to bring his focus back to the present, how you felt against him, around him. Maybe now was the time. Maybe he could feel vulnerable, open, honest. Your eyes, staring up at him, concern, genuine feeling behind them, only confirmed to him that this was the right thing to do.

Oswald's finger and thumb gripped at either side of your chin, holding your head in his palm as he redirected your attention to him. It felt like an eternity, his eyes gazing into yours, focused and intense, his cock buried up to the hilt, throbbing against your clenching walls.

"God... I love you, sweetheart."

He couldn't keep it too sweet though. You'd find out how soft he was soon enough, for now, he could be honest, but he felt like he had to remain sexy and confident. So he kept going, hoping that you wouldn't linger too long on his sentiments, trying to lull you back into dazed arousal before you criticised him for his confession.

"I love your skin. I love your mouth."

His pace picked back up, and you could only moan in response to each declaration of affection.

"I love your hands, your body."

You could feel your body tensing, giving way to the control of your orgasm as he continued.

"I love that warm, wet cunt of yours too. Love the way it makes me feel."

Oswald groaned as he let the last world trail out, his fingers digging into your skin where he held you, pulling you down onto his cock. His length pushed into you, bottoming out, up to the hilt, each thrust pressing against your limit as he emphasised each word with the branding of your walls with his cock.

"I. Love. You."

[hritika13-tamboli]

Jeon Jungkook Fic Recs List 1...

°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°

Series :

Lone blue egg || Penguin Hybrid Jungkook x Bird Female OC | Hybrid au || @foxymoxynoona

Summary : Jungkook is a simple man. He goes to work, he hangs out with friends, he worries about finding a mate to take home for his hometown breeding season. Maybe he spends a little more money on cam girls than is fiscally responsible but he has niche tastes. Maybe he feels a bit adrift, but he's a young penguin hybrid, supposedly in his prime, far from his crèche. At least he's good at one thing: taking care of his precious egg. A comfort egg, not a real egg, he's not a real penguin, just a man with penguin DNA and behavioral tendencies. Just like Yoongi isn't actually an owl, even if he does stay up all night and sometimes hoot to fuck with their roommates. But this is a real love story, even if a slightly odd one.

Summer Nights || Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N | Hybrid au || @marginalmadness

Summary : A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

Evocation || Dragon!Jungkook x human?Reader | Hybrid au || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : Every year, he joins the old tradition of traveling, where his ancestors have once ruled the skies. Every year, he meets familiar faces and new ones he's never seen before. Every year, he watches how his brothers find their mates, build their families, and introduce new generations to stories as old as time. But this year, something might be different. This year, there's you - a treasure worth more than he could ever offer.

4-7-8 || Jungkook x reader | marriage au || @jiminrings

Summary : you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you. alternatively, jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

Love sewn || Jungkook x reader | boy next door au || @jvnghxope

Summary : You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

Sweet tooth || Rottweiler hybrid!Jungkook x Cat hybrid!Reader | Hybridau || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : Yoongi and Jimin are each proud owners of hybrids, and these days, slowly falling in love with one another. And everything could be so perfect- if it wasn't for you absolutely resenting Jungkook- for no reason?

Alpha jeon || Jungkook x reader | werewolf au || @pbandjk

Summary: You’ve been raised to be a Luna since you were born. You’ve always had an idea of how your future would be, there was little room to imagine anything different. You’d meet your mate and fall madly in love, and the two of you would take over for your parents once they got older. But what happens when a certain wolf comes in and throws all of your plans on their head?

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane || Jungkook x reader | college au || @taexual

 Summary : jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

Please love me || Jungkook x reader | childhood friends au | arrange marriage au || @ahundredtimesover

Summary : As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

Rattled || Jungkook x reader | guy next door au | single dad au || @gukslut

Summary : "Jeongguk?" His chin quivers and he bites at his bottom lip, clenching his jaw as his eyes flood with tears, meeting Jin's questioning gaze as he collapses against Jin's broad shoulder, sobbing. Jeongguk struggles to make words come out of his mouth.Jin holds him tightly, not speaking, just waiting, trying to put the mess of puzzle pieces together in a way that might make sense. Finally, Jeongguk sucks in a heaving breath."I had a baby," he sputters out. "That's my baby.""I didn't know this baby existed eight hours ago," he chokes out, sniffling.

Lacrymaria olor || Alien!King!Jungkook x Human!Reader | alien au || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : In which you've survived on this foreign planet for more than two years until you're caught and brought to the King, who will decide your fate.

Bitchin || fratboy!jungkook x reader | 1980s au || @kinktae

Summary : The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

Under your skin || tattoist!jk x fem!reader | tattoo au || @armpirate

Summary : You were awful on anything related to flirting, guys and sex. He was the perfect ladies man. You wanted to get rid of your virginity. And he was there to help you with everything you needed. You didn't have the best start, but that didn't mean you wouldn't have the best of the endings.

Unstable || Alien!Jungkook x Human!Reader | dystopian AU || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : Wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything. And yet, maybe it's not as bad as you thought.

☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆

One-shot :

Idealizations concerning real life relations || jungkook x reader | fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc | fwb au || @venusiangguk

Summary : jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

Night After Night || Fuckboy bf! Jungkook x Reader | Established relationship au || @brown-bi-beautiful

Summary : "Show you what devotion is, deeper than the ocean is".... You broke up with your boyfriend because he couldn't let go of his fuckboy antiques now he's gonna win you back whatever it takes.

If i told you || two-shots | Jungkook x reader | friends to lovers!au | college!au || @gukyi

Summary : in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

Scattered stars || two-shots | Jungkook x reader soulmate!au | fantasy!au || @taegularities

Summary : “And with that, a picture of Jungkook flashed into your mind, his fingertips caressing your cheek and his gentle and affectionate smile sending shivers down your spine as you admitted to yourself that yes - you wanted him.“

Welcome to the heartbreak show || kind-of-tsundere!jungkook x female!reader | college au || @numinousher

Summary : you’re in love with your partner in class that everyone fears (and loves) due to his stoic facial expression and the way he rejects girls rather harshly. as you get to know him, will he be able to handle your heart that you so willingly gave him to care for or, will he break it due to his hatred for people who are in love with him?

In which she's done with him || Jerk jungkook x reader | unrequited love || @minstrivia

Summary : Jungkook angst/fluff where he always pushes oc away (who confesses her feelings but was cruelly rejected) and insults her but she always comes back to take care of him when he’s drunk or picks him up from his one night stands and she finally decides to leave him alone !! happy ending!

Angel in the marble || michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader | high renaissance au || @venusjeon

Summary : after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

i can't wait to tell you, "i told ya'." || Single dad Jungkook x reader | Best friend au || @serendipitous-seven

Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a successful realtor with a big house, a nice car, colorful dating life, and a spunky 7-year-old daughter to boot…he’s also your best friend who you used to be in love with. Of course, he was never made aware because you swear it’s all in the past…until it isn’t. But going on a cruise with Jungkook and his daughter whom you adore should be harmless. Absolutely nothing can go wrong…Right?

Los Angeles Laker || nba player jungkook x reader | nba au || @xpeachesncream

Summery : being one of the most popular players in the nba, jungkook takes absolutely no shit from anybody. he could give a fuck about the press, what people think about him, serious relationships. it’s a personal hell getting wrapped up with jeon jungkook— and you can’t help but fall into the same trap as every other woman who crosses paths with him. the more you fall, the more you realize that you will never be able to change a man who doesn’t want to change his ways.

[eyeless-cunt]

KINKTOBER DAY 1

PROMPT: Anonymous Sex

CREEP: HOODIE

Word Count: 3.2k

CW: 18+, Alcohol use, Sex with a Stranger, Implied Stalking, Smoking/Nicotine use, Intoxicated Sex, Biting, Blood Consumption, Outdoors Sex, Raw Sex, Creampie (they're good for the environment, leave me alone)

KINKTOBER '24 MASTERLIST

I knew pretty well that I'd gotten myself into a situation that maybe I wasn't mentally equipped to handle. The feel of his hands holding my hips steady as I stumbled with the full-bodied grace of a penguin seemed to shock some of my brain into working at a bare minimum level. I was quickly realizing the reality of my situation–that was me being about five minutes away from having sex with a random man–while being minimally wasted. A masked, hooded man that had said maybe a handful of words to me that so far all seemed somewhere between barely amused and slightly bored.

I'd seen him after I left the bar out a back door, avoiding any employee personnel that might tell me it wasn't the right exit. The chill in the air hit me like a train, the regret of being dressed for a night out making me frown. A quick glance around my new surroundings is what had me take note of him. He stood a few feet away, leaning on the corner of a brick building across from me, mask pulled up to the bridge of his nose as he smoked. The orange light above his head had his tan hoodie looking a strange yellow color, the smoke from his cigarette slowly rising to the top of the alleyway.

I wasn't sure what the fabric pulled over his face could even be called besides some makeshift mask, not that I could see much of it anyways in this lighting and with most of it hidden under his hood. That and my blurred vision stacked on top of the way my skin buzzed as his head turned my way. Was he looking at me? Probably, but I couldn't tell for sure, his eyes were completely hidden under what looked to be bleached fabric. I was definitely looking at him. He was tall, and by the way his head tilted as he turned my way, probably watching me watch him.

Maybe some part of me subconsciously knew I was about to step into the deep end–a sudden rush of adrenaline pumping through my body as I felt my feet start moving closer to the hooded man. I watched the corner of his mouth quirk upwards as I approached, my semi-drunk confidence fueling actions I’d never take sober.

“Is that a cosplay?” I regretted the words as soon as they were out, obviously it wasn't. Probably. He didn't seem to have any reaction, until he inhaled his cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke directly at my face. It smelled good coming out of his mouth. That thought had my eyes visibly widening, I couldn't believe I enjoyed what would normally be something I'd consider viciously rude. And yet I still found myself taking a deep breath, only able to laugh a little at the action.

“No then? Sorry.” He hummed, pulling an obviously stepped on pack out of his pocket, motioning it to me. That was surprisingly nice of him, considering his previous action.

“Ah, no, sorry I don't smoke at all. Thank you though,” I rushed the words out despite really wanting to take one from his hand. I wasn't entirely sure what it was about this man that made me want to pick up the habit just so I could stand out here with him longer.

“You sure?” His voice came out rough, deep with a broken edge that told me he hadn't spoken in probably hours. Looking at him, though I figured it could be much longer. That thought had me obnoxiously pleased with myself, simply for the fact that I had him speaking to me.

“Probably, I don't know. I think my lungs would probably get hacked out of me if I tried and someone would probbbbablyyy have to call, like, an ambulance…or something. I dunno.” He did a sort of huff/laugh that came entirely from his nose and I took it as a win.

A drop from above landed on my shoulder, prompting me to look upwards. There wasn't much I could tell from the sky this late at night, everything was pretty much the same shade of dark. “Is it raining…?” I trailed off, holding a hand out to feel the beginning stages of the downpour.

“It's sprinkling. Are you gonna go inside?” I asked the question without expecting much of an answer.

“No. Are you?” His question seemed expectant, in what way I was unsure. His smoke drifted my way with the wind from the new change in weather, but neither of us bothered to move.

“Mmmmm…no, rain is fine.” I looked at him, extremely curious to find out what was under that mask. The only thing I could see was a cigarette between lips I’d like to be between and some facial hair. From what I could tell he seemed a bit scruffy.

I had to tear my eyes away from his mouth, realizing that he could probably see how drunk I was. Was this a case of playing along with a drunk person? I'd done it many times, letting a drunkard on the corner talk my ear off as I walked past as a nicety. Well…whatever. I had him here and I may never see him again, so I figured why not talk his ear off and maybe he'll politely find a way to excuse himself when he's had enough of me. Although he didn't seem the type to let me off politely it was the best case scenario in my mind.

“What're you doing here?” I was hoping for an answer and not a, ‘none of your business,’ kind of response. Maybe I became too hopeful when I drank.

“Watching.” I pursed my lips, eyes squinting and trying to make sense of whatever that meant.

“Uh huh. Right.” I looked around the alley we were in, completely devoid of people, life, soul, or anything that could possibly be watched. “So you're watching…,” I trailed off, stuck. “You're watching the…sky.” A quick glance upwards would tell you that it definitely wasn't that. Light pollution had the stars millions of miles away where they should be, and any detail of anything was completely submerged in the inky blackness of the atmosphere.

“You're right.” He nodded in a way that seemed mocking to my alcohol soaked brain.

“Seriously?” My eyes narrowed, almost completely sure I was being made fun of.

“A star in the sky. That's what I'm watching.” He pointed his cigarette upwards, stray ash falling and disintegrating in a fresh and slowly growing puddle below our feet. I looked up only to find absolutely nothing still.

“I don't see it though? Can you even see through that thing?”

“Perfectly.” I felt tension materialize in the air with that one word. Although maybe it had been here the entire time and I was too dense to realize. For whatever reason it felt like every hair on my body raised, as if I was feeling the full weight of his gaze on me. Did his words have a double meaning? I recognized that there was a lot more happening here that I'd never be able to grasp in my current state.

“Maybe I should smoke…,” the words drew out slowly but I wasn't sure if I was joking or if I meant it. My feet started to feel sore in my heels, and I tried to shift my weight only for my heel to get caught in a pothole, causing my ankle to give out.

That was how I ended up with his hands on my hips and his cigarette discarded into a fresh puddle. I heard the rain start to come down heavier as I let him lift me into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist like it was a natural reflex. He didn't say a word while my eyes were plastered to his mouth, the unexpected fullness of his lips seemingly beckoning me closer. I pressed my mouth against his, wondering if maybe he'd drop me into a pothole because of it. Unexpectedly he only encouraged it, his tongue slipping just past my teeth, mouth slotted against mine with a much fiercer hunger than I thought him capable of.

He slid a hand under my ass for support, his other remaining on my hip and holding me against him with an almost crushing force. I didn't mind at all, it gave me the once in a lifetime opportunity to feel his build under all these baggy clothes, a thing I'd been contemplating to myself just five minutes ago.

He pushed my back up against the wall, freeing a hand and threading it through my hair, holding my mouth against his. I felt my hips start grinding into him. I pulled away, a small sober part of me remembering what sense and shame was as I basically gulped air into my lungs. His lips looked practically bruised, his teeth red. Red?

“I think you're bleeding,” I said, still breathing heavily. He shook his head, a smirk that could win magazine awards lighting up what I could see of his face. It had me fervently wishing I could see his eyes. He swiped his thumb over my lips, bringing it back to show me the bright red. The rain had it sliding down from his thumb, running down his arm and onto the wet asphalt.

“Your blood, angel.” The pet name had me swooning. He slipped his thumb in his mouth, and I watched transfixed as he sucked the blood off. He kissed me again, the taste of copper filling my mouth as I felt his tongue again, teeth just as hungry as before. I wasn't sure how good of an idea this was, grinding against a stranger behind a bar where an employee could walk out at any time–but he felt deliciously good against me, for whatever that's worth.

His hand slipped under my dress squeezing my ass as he rocked his hips against me, causing me to whine out between his teeth, my tongue still colliding with anything it could reach. He let out a low hum in response, slowly slipping my dress up my body. The feeling of the now rain soaked fabric sliding against my skin had me sobering up a bit, if only for a few moments.

“Wha-,” I struggled to push the words out, catching my breath, a seemingly harder than life task as I felt his hard-on push against me through his jeans. “Out here? Someone’ll see.” I huffed, eyes trained on where his eyes should be. I really wanted to slip my fingers under that fabric.

He pulled me up, readjusting me against him and pulling my mouth back down to meet his. He started walking just like that, causing me to almost jump out of his arms, scared of being dropped and hitting the cold wet ground. He held me tighter, not stopping despite my obvious fear. I gripped his shoulders like a lifeline, my legs wrapped around him as tight as possible. My dress being up around my hips and the feeling of him bumping and rubbing against my clit as he walked had me almost completely forgetting my fear, mewls I would normally consider pathetic leaving my mouth. I didn't even think about where he was taking me, my focus entirely on his neck. It was bare, his ‘mask’ still pulled up over and sat on the bridge of his nose. I latched onto the spot right beside his shoulder, sucking and biting like he was mine to claim. Maybe I wanted him to be.

I heard him hiss as I sucked, his steps faltering for barely a second before he pulled himself back together. I continued my assault in various places, leaving behind dark crimson stained bites. He grunted, finally pressing me against a new wall, still outside but somewhat shielded from the rain.

I looked to see that we were nestled between two brick buildings, one being the bar. He'd brought us to the side, banking on the loud music and long alleyways being enough cover. Even if it wasn't I felt myself trusting his judgement despite the risks. Whether that be because of whatever strange pull I seemed to have towards him or my questionable sobriety didn't mean much. All that mattered was getting his mouth back on mine and hopefully that mask off of his face.

“Good enough, angel?” I only managed to mummer a simple ‘mhm,’ against his lips as I pulled him back to his rightful place against me. I heard the pull of his zipper, feeling the back of his hand brushing against me had me whimpering in his mouth, his knuckles rubbing against my clit, most likely that was his purpose. I reached between us to pull him out of his jeans, my hand awkwardly getting caught but managing anyway.

“You're eager,” he practically has to spit the words out, my grip on his hood keeping him snug against me. I feel his smile against my lips, his joy plainly apparent. “Mhmmm, and you're talkative.” I feel him slip my underwear to the side, fingers tracing their way through my folds. “While you're feeling social–what’s your name?” It almost feels silly to ask, his fingers now spreading me open with the confidence and familiarity of a man that should know me much more than he actually does.

“Hoodie,” he manages to grunt the words out, my hand reaching down between us to grab at him. He hisses as I lick my hand, rubbing my wet palm over his head slowly. “That's not a name.” I feel almost offended that he'd lie to me or give me a pseudonym. I find myself pumping him with a bitter roughness, more annoyed than I should be at the fact that this faceless man has the gall to lie to me while his fingers are teasing my entrance. He doesn't seem to mind the rough friction, his assault on my body steady.

“It's my name.” I'm considering the truth of his words when he pushes a finger inside of me, the feeling of him pumping while his thumb rubs at me making me almost lightheaded with pleasure. I can't even push out the words to form a ‘is that German,’ joke about his name.

He pulls his fingers out quickly, taking a moment to readjust me. My surprise at the fact that he's still holding me is outshined by the pleasure that he's obviously strong enough to do so. He lines himself up with me, pressing his tip at my entrance, almost teasingly. I roll my hips, feeling him against me in a way that has me ready to push him inside myself. He pulls me in against his lips by my neck, teeth nipping at my lips in a way that feels hungry. I feel him push inside me, the burn causing me to squeeze my legs that are wrapped about him, my fingers digging into his back and gripping his hood in a death grip.

I let out a heavy breath as he finally bottoms out, the fullness causing me to gasp against his mouth. I'm expecting a more severe roughness to follow–the same ravenous hunger he's shown me so far. Not the way his hand almost gently cups the back of my head, his lips pressing to mine much slower than what he'd made me become used to. I find myself matching his slow pace, sucking at his bottom lip as he begins evenly thrusting into me, a heavy hand gripping my ass and keeping me pressed against him despite the movement. It was like he calmed down as soon as he finally took me.

In my haze I realize how softly he's kissing me–how lovingly–he holds me. How gently he held me the entire time without me realizing until now. The way he fucks into me doesn't feel like the random hook-up it is, the raunchy drunk sex it should be. Despite his rough tongue and mannerisms he's touching me like a beloved lover. His lips move like he treasures me, an unseen promise held in the way his tongue slips around mine. I can't find any rhyme or reason to the treatment, but I find that I love it all the same. The way he encourages me slowly, words low and even as he tells me how good I'm doing. I feel myself fluttering around him as he keeps talking, the most words I've heard come out of his mouth settle in my chest.

I slip a hand up the back of his mask, fingers threading into his hair and gently tugging, loving the way his hair feels in my hand. He grunts at the feeling, slowly picking up the pace as I try to move my hips in an attempt to sink him deeper, the position not allowing much wiggle room for me to adjust. I feel myself building closer to an orgasm, the way he sounds driving me closer and closer. He's fucking into me while buried in my neck, his mouth now latched under my ear. I can feel him marking me in various places, my eyes fluttering with the combination of his mouth on me and him moving inside of me. My hand reaches to slip up the front of his mask but he stops me, caging my wrist away. I feel upset, wondering why he's decided I'm still not allowed to know him.

“Not yet,” he practically has to grit out, the words sounding like a promise. Whether they are or not doesn't matter, my core seizing as he drives me over the edge, a gentle wave pushing me through the orgasm. I'm a sputtering and whining mess, writhing as he fucks me through it. His pace slows and I practically deflate in his arms, my legs gone limp as he wraps his arms around me and sets me down gently to help me readjust my clothing. The chill in the air has me shivering, the loss of warmth he provided me apparent. I wasn't sure when the rain stopped, but I had forgotten about it entirely. It had gotten only colder, and I felt myself laying against his chest, uncaring about the implications that were laid out in the action.

His fingers found my hair, stroking the back of my head and twirling the damp strands. I couldn't help but nuzzle my head against his chest, the soft warmth of his hoodie beckoning me closer as I felt a slight soreness begin between my legs. I felt his arms wrap around me and pull me up into a princess carry, the unexpected loss of stability making my head swirl. I began to protest but he paid me no mind.

The sway and pace of his walking had my eyes lulling closed, the fight to stay awake disintegrating into nothing as I listened to his words, barely able to make sense of them. “Sleep, I'll take you home.” Before I could even begin questioning how he knew where I lived I was slipping away, breathing softly in his arms as the light went out.

[grandline-fics]

Dream A Little Dream

DESCRIPTION: They hear you say their name in your sleep

WARNINGS: just fluff

CHARACTERS: Law, Sabo | Killer, Smoker

WORDS: 1,295

A/N: After the wedding nightmare request I thought I'd do something quick and fluffy. Might do this one again with other characters. Hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

LAW

Law knows it’s wrong to have feelings like these. He knows he shouldn’t let himself fall deeper and deeper in his attraction and yearning to be with you. For now he’s managed to restrain himself from confessing or making any sort of move with you. You’re a member of his crew, someone he depends on completely and he’s your Captain. Of course you would look at him the way you do, you’re looking to him as the commander of the ship and your unwavering trust in him is because of his title and talk so easily with him because of a solid foundation of friendship. Nothing more. He can’t allow himself to hope there’s more to it. It can only ever be Captain and subordinate.

Still though when he’s finished his work for the day and does his routine survey of the Polar Tang, ensuring all crew tasks are completed, that everything is maintained and the ship is running smoothly he can’t help but leave your station to last. Just to allow himself an extra moment of time with you, to talk as you both relax from your duties is something he can’t give up. This is fine though, he tells himself, it’s a tiny indulgence that won’t go any further. He finds you as you’re leaving the engine room, having finished extensive maintenance checks and calibrations. You both talk as you walk towards the communal area, Law can’t help but notice your movements and responses are a little slower than usual.

Before he can ask if you’re okay, Penguin’s voice calls for him from the control room. With a small smile you lightly nudge him in the direction of your friend’s voice. “Duty calls, Captain.” You tell him while forcing yourself to hold back the yawn rising in your chest. As much as you’d love to keep talking with him, you know you can’t command all of his attention. “I’ll be in here when you’re done.” Law can only nod once and watch you walk into the communal room while he has to see to Penguin’s problem. 

By the time he’s finished and returns to the room he finds you curled up on one of the sofa, arm tucked under your head and sleeping deeply. Now that he has the time, he can see how exhausted you look. Your body needs the rest and as much as he’d like to just let you sleep, he can’t in good conscience let you continue to sleep in the position you’ve found yourself in. You’ll wake stiff and sore and feeling no benefit to the sleep you’re body eagerly sought. His fingers flex and he’s about to conjure a Room to transport you to your bed when he stops. 

Taking a breath, Law leans down and easily gathers your sleeping body into his arms. He stills when you shift and he fears for a moment that you’ve woken but instead you seem to nestle into the warmth of his arms and chest, unconsciously your hand curls around his shirt. Law allows himself a small smile and walks carefully to your sleeping quarters. 

He lays you gently on your bed and pulls the covers over you as you relax against the mattress and incoherently mumble. Law shakes his head with a small huff of amusement, for a moment he doesn’t believe anything of what you’re saying is an actual language, just noises. That is until he’s almost at the door and you speak again and this time there’s no denying what you say while unconscious. “You’re the best, Law…so happy…with you…”

Law freezes and whips his head around to observe you, watching for any sign that you’re messing with him or pretending to be asleep but no, you’re fast asleep and dreaming about him. As he quickly recovers from his shock and wipes the momentary lovesick expression off of his face Law leaves to let you rest and finally allows himself the time to consider that maybe he should hope there’s more to your relationship with him. 

SABO

“Dragon’s just going to tell you to go to your quarters and sleep.” Sabo teased as you staggered mid-step towards the meeting room. You righted yourself and threw your colleague a withering look. While he looked rested and practically glowing with his usual bright smile, you looked awful. You’d both been out on individual missions and Sabo was lucky to get back earlier and got a good night’s sleep whereas you’d completed your mission and the journey back had been a rough one, leaving you no chance to get any sleep. Now you had to attend a full Revolutionary meeting. You told yourself you could sleep after you’d reported to your commander. 

“Seriously, you look like you’re about to fall over any second.” Sabo continued, while he was concerned he knew it was pointless to order you to put yourself first. You would just get more stubborn and force yourself to stay away the rest of the day just to prove a point. “If you do fall asleep in the meeting, please don’t do it in Dragon’s lap.” You managed a tired laugh only to stop and let out a long yawn to the point your eyes watered and body swayed slightly. You hadn’t even realised Sabo’s hands were on your shoulders to steady you until after you blinked. “Yeah you’re definitely going straight to bed.”

With your mind and body so exhausted, you didn’t have the normal capabilities and reflexes to react, in a blink Sabo had you effortless thrown over his shoulder and he was already striding down the corridor by the time you caught up with what was happening. “Sabo put me down!”

“This just proves my point you need rest.” Sabo laughed as you feebly hit his back. “Look you’re only letting your reputation suffer. Just sleep and then you can properly kick my ass okay?” You glared tiredly at the ground, ignoring all of the stares you were getting from the other Revolutionaries that were walking to the meeting you were also meant to be attending. Out of pure pettiness you managed to reach up and smack the top hat off of Sabo’s head. However with his own sharp reflexes he caught it with ease.

By the time Sabo reached your quarters he realised you’d stopped trying to break out of his hold and when he adjusted you into his arms to lay you down in your bed he saw that you were fast asleep. He smiled to see you already looked more like yourself now that you’d allowed your body to sleep after having stayed awake this long. “Sleep well, beautiful.” 

“Sabo…” your voice broke from your lips in a hazy murmur and Sabo tilted his head at you. He hadn’t expected you so innocently saying his name in your sleep would make his heart skip a beat but it did. His lips quirked into a smile only for it to drop slightly when your face scrunched into one of annoyance. “Sabo’s prettier…” 

Sabo blinked and relaxed, for a moment you had him worried that you didn’t feel the same as him. He left you to sleep and grinned happily as he made his way to the meeting he was definitely late for, the sound of your sleepy voice echoing in his head. You did catch him off guard by your silly misconception that he was in any way better looking than you but that was you all over. Of course even in your sleep you would manage to be stubborn and disagree with anything he said. Still now he had a new topic to debate with you over, but that could wait until you were awake and more alert. 

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

grapefruit and tacos | s.r. x pregnant!fem reader

“oh look my grapefruit, daddies home! and very early i might add.” waddling as you rubbed soothing circles over your growing belly. spencer met you halfway in the living room, not even bothering to straighten out his shoes and hang his satchel.

“how are my favorite people?” spencer’s big palms cupped around your chubby cheeks. pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose then up to your forehead and finally down to your awaiting lips. you sighed from ease, not realizing how much you were missing him today.

spencer pulled away first before giving one more brief peck. “missing you,” answering his earlier question. his hands traveled down to your stomach which has grown in the past two months. “hi bub, are you treating mommy nice?” his warm thumbs rubbed at the skin beside your bellybutton, your baby will kick sporadically, a lot of times when spencer’s voice is within distance.

“they’ve been good. been craving a lot of strawberries lately, but i’m not complaining.” lifting your left hand to drag on the side of his head, tucking his growing hair behind his ear. “why home earlier? not complaining, but i haven’t done much housekeeping. mostly sleeping.”

spencer turned to kiss your wrist, “finished my paperwork and hotch said i could leave earlier. he understands the struggles of a new pregnancy.” he kneeled to the grow and pressed three kisses onto you stretched skin, three i love yous.

“now why don’t you sit down and i’ll order us takeout. what are you in the mood for?” spencer’s hands holding your shoulders and steering you in the direction of the suede brown couch. you were waddling like a penguin, “uh maybe some tacos. what do you say my grapefruit? tacos?” trying to see if they kick for an answer. you felt a same thump at the tip of your thumb, you looked over your shoulder at spencer while smiling, “tacos please.”

“tacos for my loves. i’ll get some chips and guacamole as well.” making sure you were comfortable before looking for his stack of takeout menus hidden in a kitchen drawer. your eyes just watched his every move, how his lips moved as he recalled the last time he used them. he used the landline, yes spencer still had a landline in his home, and called your usual taco spot just a block away.

within thirty minutes the two of were side by side on the couch with reruns of old doctor who, the wibbly wobbly sound affects a comforting white noise. you closed your eyes and hummed while chewing your food, even swaying your body and head. opening your eyes as you took a drink, you looked to your left to see spencer smiling at you, his food barely touched.

“what?” taking another bite as you waited for spencer to say something. you bet you were the picture of a squirrel or chipmunk, cheeks puffed and mouth pouted.

“i love you and i like seeing you this happy.” sweet and syrupy. you felt your eyes start to water as you took a swallow and set your food down. “oh don’t say that,” you whined, “you know my hormones are at eleven.” wiping away a few stragglers from your warm face.

spencer couldn’t help but to chuckle as he took over the job of tear wiper. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry. just- just can’t believe this is my life.” voice getting a bit distant, “i have an amazing girlfriend and a baby on the way… still can’t believe you choose me over millions of other guys.”

the waterworks started again, “i’d choose you time and time again. there’s no one in the world like you and i’m glad i snatched the rare gem.” taking spencer’s sculpted face into your hands and starting an assault of messy kisses causing him to squirm and laugh.

“our baby is gonna be so loved.”

[untolduttering]

Trust Me

Summary: Reader is terrified of medical needles and avoids Law when they get a deep enough cut to require stitches. They're caught, of course, and Law tries to help and calm a panicked reader.

Tags: hurt/comfort, blood, cutting, knives, medical needles, stitches, mutual pining

Word count: 2.3k

It happened so suddenly that for a moment, you could have imagined that it hadn’t happened at all. You were set to cutting some sailcloth after a run in with the navy left the sails with holes, and if not for the change in how the knife sliced through the fabric, you wouldn’t have noticed at all. The knife was sharp enough that there was barely any resistance as it gouged your arm. There wasn’t any initial pain either. You only grasped that there was indeed an injury once you stared at the wound, feeling the burn as it built and watching the blood flow to the surface, maintaining its surface tension before breaking and spilling over. You had already written off the flashes of white meat that gave away just how deep it was, telling yourself it only needed to be cleaned and wrapped. You snatched a spare piece of sail and pressed it to the wound, then took another to wrap around.

There wasn’t any need to worry, really. Small accidents like this happened all the time on the Polar Tang. Shachi scraping his palms on the rough surface of the deck as he fell, Penguin giggling behind him. Ikkaku dropping something heavy on someone’s foot, grimacing and apologizing profusely. If they didn’t, then Law would probably fall out of practice and lose his title.

That image of white meat flashed through your head again, and it coupled with the burning that only seemed to keep growing, never reaching its crescendo that promised eventual relief, made you think of the stitches that Law could possibly say it required. But it wasn’t bad enough for that, and Law deserved a break from time to time. So, you decided, this was something that you could handle by yourself. Even if Law always demanded that he was seen first in any case of injury, no matter how small, because he was the qualified one that could deem what required real attention, and he didn’t need anyone ruining the precise organization of his supplies. You could be careful, though. You knew what went where, and you only needed a few things. 

Steps slowing as you made it closer to the infirmary, you listened for any sign that Law may be nearby. The Polar Tang surfaced not too long ago, and so Law was most likely up on deck still assessing the damage. You pressed an ear to the closed door, though, waiting for any movement. At the lack of any sound, you entered, and shut the door behind you. It wasn’t avoidance, it was simply a need to not be bothersome over something so unimportant.

None of the cabinets and drawers themselves were labeled, as no one but Law rifled through them, so there was no need when he had it memorized. But it meant that you had to take the time to search through each one. You had to not only keep quiet, but try and keep any blood from getting onto his things.

A scurrying of footsteps rushed past the door, causing you to hold your breath and freeze. No one came in nor knocked, but if the crew members that had been on deck were moving around, it meant that Law might be below deck now too. You picked up pace, grimacing at every rattle and creak. Finally, you found the small butterfly bandages that would hold the wound close, and the wrapping as well. Your eyes skated over the suture kit as you grabbed what you needed and shut the drawer.

“Y/n-ya.”

You felt your stomach drop to the floor. Shit. You turned, keeping your right side facing him. Using your body to block your injured left arm from view, you let it rest on top of the counter, like it had been lifted as it was to lean against casually, and not because it was hurt and dripping. You looked him in the face because guilty people always avoided eye contact. It was set in a scowl as he waited for you to explain yourself. There was no need to chide someone that already knew they were in the wrong.

“I just needed a bandage. Small cut, I didn’t want to bother you about it,” you said. You kept your tone light, nonchalant, and tried at a self-deprecating, ‘I’m just so silly’ smile. And it might just have worked, except since all your attention was on your face and voice, you weren’t in control of your body. Law, a man keenly familiar with violence, could see the tension and threat your body held. Your pupils were dilated too, blown out to a concerning proportion. It was a look that promised that if he got any closer, you might just sink your teeth in.

“Mind if I take a look?” he asked.

Continuing to refuse would be suspicious. If it really had been a measly little cut, you would have readily shown it to him just to poke fun at his worry and overbearance. You would have gone to him in the first place for a simple bandage, too. He knew this was all odd. But what else was there?

“There’s really no need,” you huffed out. “I don’t need stitches or anything.”

His eyes flitted from your face to your body. Tiny smears of blood on the fabric of your coveralls that went unnoticed at first caught his eye. He stepped forward with an extended hand. “Y/n-ya, I’d like to see it.”

Unconsciously, you flinched back. Harder, with a panicked edge you didn’t mean to let slip, you said again, “I don’t need stitches.”

“I didn’t say anything about that yet.” His voice was low, almost like he was trying to soften it.

Yet. He probably hadn’t thought of stitches, but when you said it yourself, he knew that it was worse than he had initially thought.

Law took two steps closer, causing you to turn fully forward, hands lifted. “Stop, stop it. Please.” Your throat felt like it was tightening and it made you sound close to tears.

Law was staring at your arm, now fully revealed in its red glory. So, so much red. The sailcloth was fully soaked now. His jaw tightened and nostrils flared with a heavy exhale at the sight. He lifted both hands in the air, an image of surrender. “You need to let me help you.”

You flinched again, harder this time, fully aware of those hands, that he could easily force you to do whatever. He could shambles you where he wanted, pin you down, and jam that needle in and out of your arm. You shook your head, back and forth, back and forth. You started stepping to the side, pressing against the counter, trying to get farther away, but stopped when you realized all you were moving towards was the corner. The only exit was behind Law.

Deciding to stick with a firm approach, as you had to take orders from your captain, Law said, more stern, “Let me help you.” He took one more step forward.

Your panic tripled, thrilling all throughout your body. You were a cornered animal, coiled tight from the lack of options. “I don’t need your fucking help,” you snapped.

Law felt a flicker of irritation. If you wanted to bleed out, or worse, get an infection, then that was fine. He could leave you to it if you wanted to be that way. But he smothered that feeling quickly. Yes, he could force this. He could strap you down and have it all done in minutes. That wasn’t what a good captain, a good doctor, did though. He’d win, but you wouldn’t go anywhere near him for months, not without thinking of how he handled this. You were a part of his crew. You were someone who’s pain and tears actually made his heart squeeze. This was about trust. The idea of losing yours made his own panic flutter in a way he wasn’t familiar with.

He lowered his hands slowly and let them hang by his sides. He took a few steps back as well. Gentleness was not something he was adept at, but he could try.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, truly soft this time. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. I need you to trust me.”

The sudden change in his demeanor disarms you. You’d never heard him speak so softly, so earnestly, before. Your irrationality and the ridiculousness of your actions hit you, and suddenly your body drains, leaving you exhausted and sore. The wound on your arm is pulsating with ache. You do trust your captain. But your heart is still pounding. “I’m afraid.”

“I know.” Law's chest tightens at how meek those two words sounded. He moves now, albeit slowly, to you. He pauses right before his hands touch you, waiting for permission. You take a slight step forward, and he guides you toward the bed. He walks back to the counter to wash his hands and prep his tools.

“First I need to clean out the wound and make sure there isn’t anything left in there that can cause an infection. Then I’ll numb the area. Once fully numbed, I’ll do an interrupted stitch. That alright?”

Like you could really say no. It had to be done. But you knew he was doing it to give you a sense of control, and you gripped onto the kindness tightly. You nodded your assent.

After a thorough cleaning that has you hissing and huffing through your teeth, it's time for the first needle. Sitting again after going to the sink, you wait. Law lifts it from its place on the counter and brings it to your arm. You snap your head away, staring hard at the wall.

“Deep breaths,” he said. As soon as you inhaled, he stuck the needle in and pushed the plunger down. The cold burn of the liquid entering your arm made your breath hitch and your teeth to grind together. It was less from pain and more from the intrusion of something entering your body unnaturally. Law pulled the needle out and immediately rubbed soothing circles into the injection sight, gently as he was wary to add anymore hurt. You felt a keen disappointment when he stopped.

He placed the empty needle back onto the counter and pulled up the one chair in the room, deciding to sit while waiting for the numbing agent to kick in. He was close enough that your knees were nearly brushing. You fought back the urge to press them together.

“How’d it happen?” Law asked. He leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest.

“I was cutting sailcloth,” you said, jutting your chin toward the door, the vague gesture implying ‘out there’. “The knife slipped, I suppose. It happened so quickly.”

He hummed. “You should pay better attention. I’ll give you tasks without knives from now on.”

You pressed your lips together in a hard, thin line. As if you’d done it on purpose. “I was paying plenty of attention.” 

The corner of Law’s mouth twitched upward, like something about irking you brought him joy. Instead of annoyance, something about it warmed your chest. You glared at him without any heat behind it.

He nodded to your arm. “How’s it feel?”

You poked at the edge of your wound. You felt the vertigo that came from knowing there was something touching you but being unable to feel it. “All numbed up.” Taking a deep breath, you turned your head away again and lifted your arm towards him, letting Law know he could start.

He changed gloves before beginning. He started without warning, knowing well enough that a countdown meant nothing. Nothing would change the how and why of the needle going in and out. There wasn’t any pain and you didn’t necessarily feel it, but you could sense the needle breaking through your skin, dragging through the meat, and pulling back out. You felt the same of the thread. It made your stomach churn and your head spin. You dug your fingers into your thigh, needing the pressure to focus on.

Law took advantage of your inability to look at what he was doing to do some staring of his own. Knowing that you knew nothing of sutures, he knew he could stop and take you in without you asking why he’d stopped. Your eyebrows were drawn so tight together that it caused your nose to wrinkle a little. You bit down into your bottom lip as well, the queasiness you felt obvious on your face. The sight filled him with an unexpected tenderness each time he looked, and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to cup your face and smooth out your features. He wanted nothing more than to soothe you. But it was not something he could bring himself to do. The kindest thing he could do at this moment was finish the sutures.

The worst part was that he liked having you under his fingers like this. If it wasn’t so unsanitary, he’d have done this with his bare hands just so he could feel your skin. He’d let your blood settle under his nails so he could steal that small part of you for himself.

“Finished,” Law tells you.

“Thank you, Captain.”

 He puts the suture kit away and wraps your arm in gauze and bandage. “You’ll need to have me redo the bandaging every so often over the next few days. I’ll tell you when.” He could easily tell you how to do it yourself, give you all the supplies and when to do it and what to look for. But a selfish part of him needed to be the one doing it, so you’d have to keep coming back to him, so he could hear you thank him again and again.

And surprisingly,  you were content to let him do so. Such ministrations made you uncomfortable, or you straight out rejected it, because you knew that to lose that attention in the future would be painful. But you felt unbearably needy when it came to him, and would greedily take whatever he gave you, no matter how little it could be.

You left, unaware of Law’s hungry gaze as you went.

[intheupside]

from facebook (sid is headed back to pittsburgh soon according to the post)

Tonight my heart is full and happy!! My quest is complete!!!

I don’t post on here like I used to, but this one is worthy and those of you who have followed this quest with us (from last year) will enjoy this story!! I’ll try and keep it short! (Oh well)

Last October, I decided to treat my boys to a trip to Pittsburgh to watch the Penguins and Avalanche play hockey! The ultimate goal was to meet Sidney Crosby!! Although many great things happened on that trip, including special treatment by the Penguins organization, ice level view from the penalty box for the pre game skate, a puck, a visit to Sidney’s personal skybox, and a couple bags full of Penguins swag…but we fell short of meeting Sid! I vowed I would do all I could to fullfill my boys dream! When we returned home, a family member reached out to me and said “I might be able to hook you up with a meeting” we stayed in touch over the last 10 months, up until today, we just could not get things lined up for the meet and greet. We were running out of time, after tomorrow, Sidney returns to Pittsburgh. I got the call on when he might be available, so I scooped up Kacey and said let’s go, we might be making your dream come true! We were told where he might be, and what time. We waited for 2 hours, we decided he wasn’t going to show, we went to thank my family member for her efforts, after a short conversation and catching up, I turned and said Kacey, let’s go. She said “WAIT!!! He just pulled up”… my heart started to race, Kacey started to literally shake, we sat down, as my family member met Sidney at the door, I could hear her asking him if he would get a picture with Kacey, he smiled, and waves us to come outside…we shook hands, he shook Kaceys hand, commented on his shirt and asked where he got it, Kacey said “in Pittsburgh”. Sidney replied “That’s really cool” A short conversation, a photo and a signed shirt, and a dream was fulfilled!! It’s amazing how much impact someone like Crosby has, especially on kids! When we got home tonight, Kacey literally had me keeled over laughing with his final line… he said “ Dad, I left home a kid, and I returned a man” !!! 🤣🤣. Thank you Sidney for making my boys dream come true!! Forever Crosby Fans!

BTW, from this day forward, we will celebrate August 29th (the 8th day of the week — Sid-day) by doing something special! 🏒 🥅

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 7

Part seven of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: anxiety, hinting at self-harm, mostly just fluffy

You woke up in your own bed, dressed in your pajamas with the smell of bacon and coffee filtering through your apartment. You lived alone. Scrambling out of bed, you rushed into the living space, sliding on your socks, only to find Simon and Kyle making breakfast while Johnny and John were cleaning up the blankets and pillows they’d found in your hall closet.  

“You’re still here?” you asked, stare darting between the men in the kitchen and the men in the living room. “Well, of course, doll. Didn’t want to leave your door unlocked. Wouldn’t be very safe,” John stated, folding over the last of the quilts. Johnny took the stack of blankets and smiled warmly at you, whispering a good morning before slipping around you to put the blankets back in the closet. 

“But I’m…changed,” you whispered, looking down at the baggy tee and pajama pants with cute little penguins all over. John stepped over to you and took your hands, smiling softly. “That was me, doll. I only changed your pants and top and then put you to bed.” Your eyes bugged as you pulled out the neckline of your shirt and looked down. Yup, still wearing your bra from the day before. Quickly dropping the shirt, you hooked a finger in the bottoms and checked your panties. Yup, same as the day before. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you replied meekly, suddenly very aware that while this man hadn’t seen you naked, he’d seen enough. Saw the stretch marks and the dimples in your flesh. Saw the scars that littered the tops of your thighs, silvery white in their age. Saw everything you tried to hide from the world and he could tell you weren’t keen on it.  “Of course, little one. Anything for you.” 

John nodded and walked away, disappearing into the kitchen for a mug of coffee. You watched him go before Kyle was presenting you with your favorite mug filled with coffee. “Wasn’t sure how you take it, but I saw the mug on the drying rack,” Kyle explained, giving you a soft smile. “Oh, this is fine. Thank you,” you stammered out, looking down at the bitter, brown liquid. 

Lifting the cup to your lips, you sipped and made a face, scrunching up your nose and shaking your head. “Alright, not the black coffee type,” Kyle chuckled, taking your mug and disappearing back into the kitchen. You followed him this time, telling him exactly what you’d like in your coffee while sitting down at your dinner table, a table that until this morning was covered in paperwork from your job. Now it was all neatly stacked and set on the sideboard, out of the way so all five of you could sit around the table. 

By the time you’d sipped your way through half your mug, the table was laden down with all kinds of breakfast foods and a pot of coffee. John sat at the head of the table with Simon on his and Kyle on his left. Johnny sat next to Simon while you found yourself on the other side of Kyle. It was strange to you that your table was being used for something other than work and was now surrounded by you and four men who had apparently adopted you or decided you needed their protection, you weren’t sure yet. 

Everyone ate in silence, the only sound being the cutlery scraping across plates. The silence was comfortable, not the kind where you feel anxious to say something to break it up or being the good host. But where silence was, there was thinking and that always led to you opening your mouth. 

“Wh-Why are you all here?” you asked, looking down at the half eaten plate of food before you. If you’d thought it was quiet before, that had nothing on the silence that now rang through the room as each man stopped eating and paused to look at you. “We like ya, pet. Thought that went without saying?” Kyle answered for them all, watching you curiously. 

“Y-you like me? All of you?”

Probably going to keep this story more fluffy than anything else. Might end it soon, but I'm not really sure where I'm going with it.

<- Part 6 Part 8 ->

[heian-era-housewife]

The Pebble

Synopsis | The pebble-picking courtship rituals of penguins may just be the key to winning your heart and saving Sukuna's sore tushy.

Content | fem!reader x Sukuna, fluff, sweetness, smol angst, penguins!

"Nothing!" You say, completely unprompted, voice cracking slightly as you shove a suspicious something-or-other into your pocket. You turn to face Sukuna as he closes the distance down the sidewalk where you'd ran ahead.

"Again?" He he deadpans, voice flat and thick with judgement. "Like you need any more."

"This one was kind of pink...like your hair," you pout with childlike innocence, scuffing your foot.

"Where are you even keeping all of these rocks?" He asks, knowing fully they've been dotting odd corners of your home as of late. He's found them popping up on windowsills, countertops, even clunking around in the laundry on the not-so-infrequent occasion you forget to take them out of your pocket.

You offer a shrug and non-commital murmur, still sulking.

"Fine," He yields, annoyed yet secretly enamored with your odd fixation. "Let me see it."

Smiling brightly, you plunk the little pink stone into the palm of his large hand, bobbing slightly on your toes, awaiting his appraisal.

"Hmm. It is kind of pink." He concedes, squinting down his nose at it with the air of a much older man.

****

Returning home later that week, seeking the comfort of his favorite chair, he sinks tired and battle-worn into its plush cushion only to be met with a sharp jab to the rump. Jolting up from his seat, he swipes away a jagged stone from its cushion, cursing as he plops himself down once more, scorning your infernal hobby.

=JAB=

Jumping up a second time, he flings away the cushion revealing another lumpy pinkish rock that slipped its way beneath the plush seat making a mockery of his sore and sullied behind.

"Woman..." he growls.

****

Another night, over dinner, you wave your chopsticks fervently, demonstrating as much as telling a zoned-out and seemingly uninterested Sukuna all about a program you saw earlier that day.

"-and the male penguin searches the whole beach for the perfect pebble, right?"

"Mhm," he chews absently.

"He'll walk all over looking for the best one. It can take days sometimes!"

"Mm..."

"They usually look for the shiniest ones and then when they find it they- Ryo?"

"Hm?" He grunts without looking up.

"Are you listening...?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I, uh. Then they-" you fade out watching as his eyes glaze over. "Nevermind..."

He looks up just in time to catch your polite yet sad smile as you return to eating your dinner in quiet.

*****

He's not sure what started it, or even why you're upset. All he knows is a fight has broken out between you. Nothing too serious, but enough that you've taken a drive to clear your head, something you've rarely done before over an argument. It worries him.

Sukuna is used to fighting. He does it all the time. You could argue it's his favorite passtime. But not with you. Not here. His home is his sanctuary and you are his refuge. An unfamiliar feeling of guilt and unease settles in his stomach making him shudder. Absently turning on the TV and moving to his chair, he decides to sit, remembering to check for stray rocks this time. Staring blankly into space, wondering what he's done to set you off and how he might fix it, a feeling of déjà vu reaches his mind from the distant voice on the television.

"-he's spent days searching for the perfect stone. Now, as he makes his way back toward his chosen mate, the male penguin is hopeful she'll accept his courtship offering."

His eyes flick to the screen with rapt curiosity as the penguin offers the beach's shiniest pebble to the waiting female.

"Placing the pebble carefully within the center of her nest, she displays the male's offering as a sign of their successful pairing. Now the two will continue to hunt for rocks with which to complete their nest together."

Sukuna bites back the ridiculous urge to pump his fist in triumph for the hopeful male. Springing to his feet, he knows exactly what he must do.

*****

Later that evening you return, the bitter sting of your earlier argument now a soft ache in your chest. You decided to run some errands while you were out, huffing through the door with the entirety of your grocery run split between your two straining arms.

"Woman!" Sukuna's voice cuts through the quiet, its usual edge replaced by doting concern. "Let me help you!"

"It's fine, Ryo, I-" you stop dead in your tracks, eyes landing on a fixture you've never seen before. A bag slides from your slackened grip, punctuating the silence. "Ryo? What is that?"

"Do you like it?" He asks, eyes cast timidly to the side, one sheepish hand stroking the back of his neck.

"You...you built a shelf for all my s-stupid rocks while I was...gone?" Your words catching in disbelief.

"I can take it down if you don-"

=FWUMP=

All the bags hit the floor simultaneously as your arms wrap tightly around his middle, face buried against his chest. Salty tears stain his robes as you babble incoherently against his heart's steady beating. After a moment, he taps your shoulder.

"There's a new one, too," he hums in a low voice. Pointing toward the shelf's center a glittering pebble the same shade as your eyes catches the evening's fading light. "I didn't spend hours searching an entire beach for it..." he jokes softly, "...but I hope you'll still..."

Reaching up, you pull him in for a salt-stained kiss- the first of many more that evening. The fear that you bore him, the occassional worry that he doesn't care to listen to the ramblings of a half-mad woman in love, swept away by the lessons of a penguin and one perfect, shining pebble.

[brayneworms]

and teary faces know the craft | lyney

kinktober day one: lingerie

word count. 1.8k

content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, lingerie, making out, both lyney + reader getting blueballed, allusions to jealousy + insecurity, somewhat established relationship, lyney is a bratttt, gender neutral reader

♪ death kink - fontaines d.c.

notes. call that lyngerie

kinktober 2024 m.list | regular m.list

He's a tease. 

You should more than likely stop being surprised by it; like the owl is wise and the bake-danuki is curious, it's simply in his nature. The coy flutter of a lash, the point of a toned leg, the briefest catching of his amethyst eyes on yours at something that could be construed as innuendo. A flash like the white spark of a kamera bulb, and then gone again, retreating into shadow like it was never there in the first place. 

Backstage smells like pine wood and wax. The stage squeaks with each turn of Lyney's boot upon the shining floor. In around an hour, the Opera Epiclese will be seething with audience members, packed in and huddled tight for the show. For now, it is only a palimpsest; the only people in the seats for now are you and Freminet, who maintains a shy distance a couple rows in front of you, fiddling with his little robotic penguin. You think he's started to grow used to your presence—and he's pretty sharp beneath the sandy bangs, his eyes snagging on little things others might gloss right over.

You suppose Lyney and Lynette are similar, though; beneath different veneers, all of Arlecchino's children are remiss to let any small detail slip by them. 

You suppose it's a mark of the Hearth, that inclination towards neuroticism. 

"And voila!" The twins' routine finishes with a swish of Lynette's skirt and Lyney's arms raised towards the domed ceiling. "What did you think?"

Freminet raises his head. "It was great," he mutters. "As always. The bit with the water tank is new, right?"

"It's merely a spruce-up of our old bit with the box," Lyney smiles. "But yes, essentially, it's new."

Freminet hums. "Well... be careful, is all. I liked it though."

Lyney beams. It's an inevitability that his gaze turns to you then, hunched a little further back. "And you, our dear guest? Do you concur?"

You raise your chin. "I think... it's your best work yet." 

The smile Lyney offers is beatific—and genuine, you know, only because your own praise is such. As someone who lives a life half behind a mask, Lyney has become well-tuned to the frequency of other people's lies; it's why, you often think, he's so enamoured with you. Because you don't lie to him. 

"Does that mean we can take a small break?" Lynette asks, fiddling with a glove. "I'd like a chance to refresh before the real show."

"Of course, of course. I would say we've more than earned it." As Lynette makes her way offstage, probably on the hunt for a teahouse, Freminet trails after her and Lyney catches your eye. You approach up the centre aisle that runs through the middle like a parting through a scalp, up to the edge of the stage. It’s so tall that it comes up to your chin, and Lyney extends a hand down to help you haul yourself up. It smells like rosewood and wax up here, settling pleasantly in your nose. Lyney watches you, eyes wide, earnest. He has such a sweet face, if you can learn to ignore the gleam in his eye. 

“Want to help me get ready?” he asks casually. You bite back the urge to raise a brow; he looks stage-perfect already, down to the outfit. He doesn’t need help with a damn thing.

All you say is, “Sure,” and he leads you happily through the maze of corridors backstage to his dressing room. He and Lynette have separate ones here, which is nice; neither of them particularly like sharing space. Lynette keeps her things organised, and Lyney… decidedly doesn’t. He’s not a messy person by metric, but he does tend to charge forward toward the goal without realising the trail he was leaving in his wake. 

The dressing room is modestly sized, draped in swaths of red and gold cloth that make it feel heady and hot and close. A sparkling mirror edged in something that glows lurid and blue-white, throwing your features into sharp relief; and a complimentary basket of local Fontainian specialities which you pick through with interest, coming up with foreign titian fruits and crystal bottles of fizzy alcohol.

“So…” Lyney hovers at your shoulder, watching you pick through the cellophane-wrapped morsels. “You really liked the show?”

“I did.” You put back some fancy chocolate thing and turn to face him; he doesn’t back off, watching with his hands twisting like snakes before him. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous. “You’re really getting into it. Lynette’s working very hard.”

It’s a prod, a careful poke—and as you guessed, Lyney pouts. If he had ears like his sister, they’d probably be pinned back against his head right now. “Only Lynette?” 

 A slow grin spreads over your face like molasses. “Oh, I see. You’re fishing for something.”

“Ahaha… I don’t fish.” He crosses his arms over his chest, chin jutting petulantly. “But when you go out of your way not to compliment me, you can’t blame me for thinking the worst. Perhaps my loveliest guest of all is losing interest?”

“Perhaps,” you say mildly, then backtrack as soon as his expression falters. “Oh, come on. You know what I think of you. Must I say it every time.”

“You could stand to say it more.”

“I bought you that lovely gift only a few days ago.”

Lyney’s eyes flash; that gleam, like the side of a cut amethyst. “Oh, I remember,” he says coyly. “I’ve grown quite familiar with it, in fact.”

The notion makes heat flare in your gut. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He pauses, smiles—catlike, just a hint of sharp teeth between the plush peach of his lip. “You might say I’m familiar with it right this second, actually.”

You blink. Your mouth is as dry as the Great Red Sand. “Are you trying to tell me—”

Tease. It’s in the way Lyney’s face slips into an innocent little smile as he hooks a finger over the cuffed edge of his shorts and yanks it up enough to expose a glimpse of rouge lace. Unable to stop yourself, your hand flies out, keeping it there. You stare from it to him. 

“Are you serious?” you whisper. 

Lyney giggles. “I take this to mean you’re not losing interest, then?”

“I’ll kill you.” You sound too hoarse. “Show me.”

Lyney casts a slow, obvious look at the ornate clock hung open the wall. “Y’know, I’m just not entirely sure we have time right now, dearest.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you mutter, fingers hooking onto his stupid bodysuit and fumbling at the buttons. You can feel his stomach flex with silent laughter at your obvious eagerness; usually you’d be trying to reign it in—the last thing a tease like him needs is more fire to stoke the fuel of his ego—but sue you. He knows what buttons to press. He has way too much power in his sleek gloved hand. 

You get a handle on the suit and yank it down with difficulty to his knees. What you’d seen a glimpse of were two thin silky garters, encircling the plush of his pale thighs, just about hidden by the hem of his shorts. One wrong move and they’d slip out from under the black leather, glaringly visible to everyone. The idea makes you feverish with anger and also so turned on you can barely see straight. 

The garters clip onto dusky pink underwear, arching gracefully over his pubic bone to encircle the triangle of his waist. When you lift a trembling hand to lift his shirt, you see a matching bralette, satiny cups tight against the soft swells of his pectorals. You can see straight through the gauzy fabric, coffee-coloured nipples pebbled under your attention. 

“I hate you,” is the first thing that come out of your mouth. The sight of him in this sparkling pink-red set makes you want to do unspeakable things. You want to ruin that fabric forever and buy him a new one. A dozen new ones in hundreds of different shades, ruin them systematically, rinse, repeat. 

He laughs again, but even his facade has its limits; he sounds slightly breathless, and you can see the faint pink blush on his cheeks starting to crawl down his chest. His collarbones gleam like cut diamonds, archons you wish you could bite them. “I take it you approve?”

Your answer is as animalistic as you feel, the rough crush of your lips over his. You’re rewarded with a muffled mmphf?! as your weight pushes the both of you back against the table, sending the cute basket of edible arrangements sprawling in a mosaic upon the floor. You muscle your way between Lyney’s legs, the press of his stiffening cock so close through only the wisp of organza, hot and insistent as a brand mark. Your hand tangles in his hair, dragging him impossibly closer as your lips duck to press against his butter-soft skin, his jaw, his neck—

“N-no marks!” he gasps, even as he presses his hips against yours with a moan. “Dearest, lovely, mon chérie, please—”

“You’re so pathetic,” you whisper into his neck, feel the buzz of your words sink into the soft skin of his throat. Lyney shudders and whines his protest. “No time, remember? Whose fault is that?”

“I just wanted—you to look at me,” he grits out, legs locked around your waist. It occurs to you that his fears of you losing interest are likely to be grounded in reality, dressed up with a lilting voice and wave of a hand. Your heart twitches. 

“I’m always looking at you, stupid.” 

Lyney’s cheeks darken, brows coming together as a sort of glaze slides over his eyes. This look you’re familiar with; it makes your breath hitch. He leans forwards, lips parted—

Three sharp knocks at the door. “We’re on in fifteen minutes, brother.”

Lyney’s whole body scrunches up, a cold disappointment stealing over his face. He looks to you desperately, but you can only shrug. “Answer your sister.”

He droops like a wilting flower. “I… I’ll be right out, Lynette.”

There’s a pause, a deeply disappointed sigh, and you hear her heels clicking neatly back down the corridor. Lyney scrubs a hand down his face and awkwardly gets down from the desk, fumbling to right his clothes. His whole body shivers as he does his bodysuit back up, having to readjust it several times in wake of his hardness. He looks down unhappily at the result.

As he goes to leave, he pauses, hand on the doorknob. “You’ll stay for the show?”

You see the question for what it is, and smile. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll wait for you after, too.”

Lyney tucks his head away, but you fancy you can see his giddy smile anyways. “I’ll try not to make you wait too long,” he murmurs; one hand reaches down, adjusts the cuff of his shorts just so you get the briefest flash of red-pink. And then he’s gone, out the door and down the corridor to the stage.

You lean against the table, heave a sigh. Start picking up the spilled complimentaries from the basket. You have a feeling, later tonight, that you’re both going to need the sustenance.