#more style guides soon.... Maybe

[19calicos]

Can you make an ikwtl yn style guide please!! I am begging

ANON IM SORRY I TOOK LITERALLY FOREVER TO ANSWER THIS IM HERE NOW THO I'VE THOUGHT OF THIS ASK EVERYDAY

ikwtl yn style guide HERE WE GOOOOO (with layout creds to the number 1 @eggyrocks !!!)

we're going top to bottom guys !!!! yn is a huuuge fan of cool and goofy ass hats. loves to commission people & loves to buy from small brands and local brands from instagram. doesnt wear hats too often actually but when they do they cycle between these three (btw they're particularly biased towards the head trauma cap tho bc that ones 222 cool)

100% lives for sweater weather yup. always fully zips up jackets and LIVES for vintage adidas & nike. suna got yn a carhartt hoodie and they have worn it to DEATH. dreads when its too warm for a jacket bc it also functions as extra padding when they fall and eat shit from practicing tricks

yn has a couple tank tops for warmer days or for whenever it fits their mood. usually opts for something pretty simple but also loves a fun graphic. especially loves the cat one bc it looks like ube! they r very much a sucker for things with black cats on it, when they first got the black cat tank they lowk wore it to death

again yn is hella into cool graphics. they're a total sucker for nostalgic stuff and stupid shit and likes to support artists by buying their art as merch. also thinks screen printed shirts r cool so if they see one they're really fucking with at a flea market, their wallet is in one hand and the other is holding that shirt !

yn also likes painting with bleach. like. a lot. its too fun what can they say!!! they like that it helps them practice their art and they also like that it gives them a totally unique shirt. everytime they're at the thrift and see a plain black top, the voices start speaking to them...... and the voices win. LMFAOO

JORTS WEARER! and dude omfg DONTTTTT MF PLAY W YN'S JNCO COLLECTION !!! it's either these or jeans and if it's not baggy as shit they don't want it! but seriously they're actually blessed by the thrift gods. everytime they see a pair of jnco's that MIGHT fit, they're gripping it with white knuckles and running to the cashier to buy it right away. their jnco collection only keeps growing it's kind of insane

and hey u may have noticed! yn has a pretty limited color palette but it works bc everything goes together. will wear any baggy denim it just can't be white denim or light light wash bc of all the dirt stains they accumulate from falling off their board

always wears sneakers. if they cant skate it in the shoes whats the point! usually just wears b&w shoes but they do own some of the special vans collabs (they're on the vans mailing list so they can keep up w all the new drops), like the charlie brown ones. yn isnt a sneaker head though they WILL wear the shoes they buy and beat them up ok!!

also now that i think about it i do think yn wears a pop of color every now and then. so think of like a bright yellow hoodie and some red here and there. they prefer to wear color as an accent rather than a statement tbh

[imflyingfish]

I gotta finish the skin game thinggy at some point. I've tot loads of sketches lined up too for them so if it comes tk it i will just post them all at once

[wingsforthewicked]

Woe, my passion project be upon ye-

And that's it! For Now!!

Thank you so much for reading and i hope it comes in handy for any of your wingies needs :3 This took me... a While, more than it should've, but is finally here! And maybe i've been slacking a little on the tagging for this blog specifically, but i recommend besides reading all of this, to go check my Guides tag, as i'm missing a few little things here and there that i couldn't for the life of me find a way to explain, and i've already re-done this Way too much for my liking o(-(

But you can also just go around this blog to get some inspiration :o I got a Lot of different wing styles here, and again i gotta go back to tagging (and fix my blog web theme, don't worry about it—) but other than that, you're free to explore this lil blog of mine

Two last things—First, i did all of this for free, i want it to reach as many people as possible (which is why soon-ish i'll translate the entirety of it to spanish and add image descriptions to both versions, i need a break....), but if you liked this enough and would like to leave a lil' tip on my kofi (@/rainbowpinyata), i would appreciate it a lot... Second, my inbox is always open if you or someone you know is in need of a more in-dept explanation on any of the parts of this, as i had to resume most of the info, or just needs a little bit of advice. I'm gonna explain wings Much more than i already have on the next part, but that... is going to take a bit, so...

Anyways, many thanks to my friends for always being there for me, i don't think i would've gone past the first draft or the many others after that without their encouragement, suggestions and general help with keeping me going. It means everything to me.

Also, click for better quality pls, the pages are pretty big but... this site....

[ddejavvu]

mean!logan who instantly goes soft when reader needs to use the safe word 🥺

Safe Word - Logan Howlett x Reader

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. mean!logan, use of safe word, don't like don't read.

The harsh grip that Logan has on your hips melts into a softer, sweeter, more tender thing as soon as the word leaves your lips, 'Apricot!'

You gasp for breath as Logan's hips stop abruptly, giving your abused pussy a rest from the relentless thrusting of your superpowered lover. It's not his fault that he can go more rounds than you, but you need a break.

His nose nudges at your cheek, his lips pressing chastely there against your jaw.

"Okay. Okay, alright. Calm down."

You're sure he can hear the rapid beating of your heart, maybe he can feel the tightness of a sob pent up in your chest. The uncomfortable stinging of your overstimulated cunt begins to fade but you're not ready to go again, instead relishing the way that Logan's thick thumb brushes sweetly against your cheekbone.

"Relax." He collapses beside you, grunting soothing words as you clutch desperately at the bedsheets like they're your lifeline.

"Easy," Logan murmurs, reaching for your fingers and prying them off of the sheets. He may be the one with claws, but you're close to ripping the sheets. You're more than happy to trade fabric for flesh, gripping gratefully at his hands as he settles in beside you.

"What's'a matter, sweetheart?" Logan croons, and you're not surprised by his newfound tender side, but you have to admit you forget that it's there sometimes. He's typically stoic and gruff, and sometimes you forget that his lips can press so caringly to yours when typically he uses teeth.

"It- I was- that's too much. For me. I'm not- I need a break." You babble, and he runs his fingertips over your tense grip on his hand.

"Right. I forget sometimes." He admits, butting the bridge of his nose up against the sloping of your cheekbone, "We can be done for tonight. Can you stand?"

"Hm?"

"We'll take a bath." He proposes, but when you stay silent he adds, "Nothing like that- I said you're done for the night. I'll clean you up, that's all."

Warm water and lavender scented bubbles call your name, but you're reluctant to part from the warmth that Logan's chest emits. You burrow against it in a silent plea, and he seems to understand what you mean.

"Alright." You're sure there's a toothy grin on his face as he buries his nose in your hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp. "Come on, then. It'll be harder to do if you're sitting on me but I'll figure it out. Ready to move, honey?"

You could. You're not feeling light-headed, only residually sore, so you could walk to the bathroom with almost no issue. Instead, you tuck yourself further into him and release a noncommittal groan into his chest. He scoffs, but it's fond rather than disparaging.

"Christ, you're really milkin' this, aren't you? S'okay." He hums, hovering over you briefly once more, only for long enough to roll over you and land on his feet beside the bed.

"Alright, head up," He instructs, guiding you to rest your face against his neck as he carries you bridal style into the bathroom, "You're lucky I love you. Pretty sure you can walk, sweet thing. But I'm a gentleman, so I'll carry you."

You want to make a comment about it, something snide like, 'There's nothing gentle about you.'

But there is: his hands carefully support your weight instead of manhandling it around, and his lips puff primly to press against your temple. He's rough around the edges, mean for lack of a better word, but he loves you, so he's gentle.

[thelostconsultant]

Double surprise

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: Lando wants to surprise you, but in the end you surprise him too.

Lando could tell Max was already planning to bang his head against the coffee table, but it honestly wasn't his fault. Maybe he was terrible at making decisions at the moment, yes, so what? It's not like he had anywhere to rush at this time, and if he was a true friend, he would stay to provide emotional support.

Because Lando was preparing for something big, and the first step was asking a jewelry store employee to jump in the hotel he was staying in with a bunch of engagement rings. If he showed up in the store himself, social media would be full of pictures within a matter of minutes. He didn't want to ruin the surprise. And it was also much more comfortable this way.

“Lando, just pick the third one. You said it yourself, that's her style,” Max tried.

With a thoughtful hum, the Brit picked up the said piece and took a better look at it. “Yeah, it's true, but,” he began, then came to a halt as he grabbed the last one the jeweler showed him. “I don’t know, the first one is a classic, but what if she prefers something modern and trendy?”

The jeweler watched him in silence, the patience of a saint radiating from his smile. He had been there for two hours now, it was already nine in the evening, but he not once made a comment about still being there. “Which one is closer to what she usually wears?” he asked softly, trying to guide him towards a decision.

Lando thought for a moment. “The classic one,” he replied while he took a closer look at it again.

One big, round white diamond with two smaller stones on its side, completed by a yellow gold band. It was clean. Nice. Something simply elegant for her. But then he glanced over at the other one and saw the curved white gold band with a big, pear shaped yellow diamond, and a voice in his head told him that was the one. People would go insane over it when you shared it on social media.

He looked up at the jeweler with a thankful smile, then turned to Max. “All right, I'm buying both. She'll get the trendy one, but if she doesn't like it, all I'll have to do is pull out the classic option. She can even wear whichever she prefers depending on the day,” he explained his master plan.

Max let out a sigh of relief and mouthed ‘finally’ under his breath, while the jeweler clapped his hands together and closed the box with the rest of the rings. Meanwhile Lando had a huge grin on his face, clearly satisfied with his decision. He solved the problem. Sure, it took two hours, but he wanted to pick the perfect ring for you.

Since he specifically asked for rings already available in your size–which he only knew because he stole one you wore on that finger–he kept the chosen ones and said goodbye to the jeweler after paying for the items. Once they were left alone, Max picked up the rings and took a closer look at them, carefully examining every centimeter, every curve, and every stone. As if he was waiting for approval, Lando raised an eyebrow at him.

“Good choice if you ask me. Seeing her disappointed in your taste wouldn't make you feel good, even if she said yes,” Max said with a short laugh before putting down the jewels.

Rolling his eyes, Lando stretched his arms above his head and fought back a yawn. Media day always took a lot out of him and today wasn't any different. Add the stress of making the right decision and he felt like a truck had hit him. “Thanks, mate,” he told his friend.

“When will you ask her?”

“She arrives tomorrow, so I guess I'll get it over with as soon as I can. I need an extra boost for qualifying,” he added with a laugh.

Max gave him a ‘good luck out-qualifying me’ look, but Lando was too hyped to notice. So he let out a sigh and decided to voice his only concern. “So you want to get this over with? Sounds romantic.”

“You know what I mean,” Lando said defensively, giving him a disappointed look that was mixed with the hurt feeling because he dared to joke about him not being serious enough about it.

“Well, tell me how it went.” Max patted his friend on the shoulder before standing up, then watched him with a small smile. “But I'm proud of you. She's nice and has a good influence on you… You chose wisely.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow at the track?”

Max nodded, then he raised his hand to wave him goodbye and left the hotel room. This left Lando alone with his thoughts, and he began to wonder if he would succeed. The two of you had been going through a bit of a rough patch lately, and he told you this trip was all about fixing that. You would join him for the race weekend, then you would stay in the area for a little trip, just the two of you, away from curious eyes.

His mother told him this plan of his might backfire, because you weren't entirely pleased with him right now, and who knew, maybe you would consider this a way to force you to stay in this relationship. He obviously didn't want you to feel that way, but he didn't want you to leave him either.

His phone buzzed next to him, and when he took a look at it, a wide smile grew on his face. “Hello, beautiful,” he answered happily.

“Hey, you have a moment?” you asked him hesitantly.

“For you? Always.”

There was a short pause, he could hear the traffic in the background, but before he could ask you where you were, you took a deep breath and began to talk. “So I said I'm gonna arrive tomorrow, but I won't.”

Lando felt like he was stabbed in the heart, like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “What do you mean you won't? You promised to come here, you can't just back out of it! Unless it's a family emergency. Is it a family emergency?” he asked, barely able to hide the anger that latched onto his voice.

You remained silent for a while and he silently cursed under his breath. How could you do this to him? You had agreed you would join him two months ago, there's no way you couldn't plan that much ahead back then. But then you let out a laugh, one of those adorable laughs he loved so much, and his anger disappeared at once.

“I'll send you an address. Get in the car and meet me there,” you told him.

“I'll be at the track all day and you arrive in the morning, don't tell me you won't–”

You cleared your throat to interrupt him. “I was talking about now, you muppet. Or are you about to sleep?” you asked him teasingly.

Lando huffed and rolled his eyes. But then it struck him, you were talking about now, you were talking about him driving to that mysterious location, which meant… “Wait, you're already here?” he asked you.

“Just meet me. There's something I need to tell you.”

And with that you ended the call. He didn't have the brain capacity to stop you, and it didn't occur to him that he could have called you back. Instead he stood there, staring at the screen of his phone until the notification popped up. He put the address in the search bar and checked the map. It was close, only a fifteen minutes drive from his hotel.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and headed to where you were apparently waiting for him. He was already standing in front of the elevator when he realized he left the rings in his room, and he didn't want to leave without them. So he ran back and picked up the two boxes, putting them safely in his pocket.

After a car ride that seemed painfully slow, he finally arrived at his destination. According to your message, you were right here, but when he looked up, he noticed it was a private clinic. Hoping this was the right address, he went closer to the door and it opened right away, so he went inside and tried to figure out where to go next. This place was huge, and at this time it felt like he was in The Walking Dead.

“Mr. Norris? Please, follow me,” a woman in her thirties told him with a polite smile, gesturing towards the elevator.

“Where are we going?” he asked when the door closed behind them.

The woman only watched him with a mysterious smile, probably perfectly aware of what was happening, but she didn't say a word. She probably promised to keep your secret, which was nice, but also extremely annoying. Why in a clinic? Did something happen to you? But you sounded happy, surely everything was okay.

Before they stopped, the woman handed him an eye mask and asked him to put it on. At this point he didn't dare to ask questions, so he did as he was told and followed her guidance after the elevator came to a halt. After she made him stop, he heard a door open and he was soon pushed ahead to enter.

He waited. Someone would hopefully come over to tell him what this was all about, and until then he decided to remain silent. And then he felt soft fingers trace his cheek, only to find the edge of the mask and slowly pull it off his head. There you were, happy and in one piece. With a smile, he was quick to pull you into a hug.

“I missed you,” he whispered as he kissed your head then buried his face into the crook of your neck. “What are you doing here? Or rather, what are we doing here in a clinic?”

“I have a surprise for you,” you purred into his ear, and he could feel your nails scratch the skin on the back of his neck as you spoke. It felt nice. He missed this.

For the first time, he took a look around the ultrasound room, and when he noticed the posters on the walls, his suspicion began to grow. “Wait a second,” he began as he took a step back and looked you in the eye. “Are you…?” He pointed at your abdomen with a raised eyebrow.

With a laugh, you took his hand. “I am. Eight weeks in,” you informed him.

For a while he was staring at you with a dumbfounded look on his face, but then he stepped closer to pull you into a passionate kiss. What started out as something serious soon turned into a series of giggles from the both of you. Lando was the one who pulled away, suddenly remembering something.

He excused himself and stepped outside for long enough to find the main ring’s box in his pocket, then returned with his hands held behind his back. There was no plan, at least not for these circumstances, so he had no choice but to improvise. You looked confused and he had to flash a smile at you to let you know it was okay.

“I… You know… Damn it. Okay, so there was a plan, I promise, but you didn't really leave me a choice. Pick a hand.”

“What?” you asked with a confused look.

“Choose a hand. Left or right?”

You let out a thoughtful hum, visibly thinking about the answer. Then you flashed a wide grin at him and said, “Right.”

It was in his left hand, but nevermind, he grabbed the box with his right one and held it out for you. “This is yours,” he said nervously.

The shocked look on your face made him worry, but it slowly melted away as you slowly opened the box and saw the ring inside. You took it out to take a better look at the piece of jewelry, and soon a smile grew on your face before you finally turned to him.

“What do you say?” Lando asked.

“You didn't ask me anything.”

With a roll of his eyes, he reached out to take the ring and took your hand as well. “Will you marry me?” You nodded without hesitation, tears already forming in your eyes, and he quickly put the ring on your finger before you could change your mind. He kissed you again, but he could tell you were looking at your new ring behind his back. “You like it?” he asked once he pulled away and took a look at it as well.

You nodded. “It's beautiful.”

Lando reached into his pocket for the other box, and showed you his plan B. “If you'd prefer something classic, here's this one too,” he explained.

“You're insane. One ring is more than enough,” you told him with a laugh.

“Well, I know how many shoes you have, this can't be any different.”

With a playful laugh, you slapped his arm. “An engagement ring is different, trust me,” you said as you leaned closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He looked around and motioned towards the machine in the corner. “So… Are we here so I can take a look at my child?”

You nodded and went out to ask the doctor to come in. Meanwhile Lando couldn't help but think about how much organizing it must have taken to get this ready, but he was honestly grateful, because it was a big surprise. A big and amazing surprise. This was one of the reasons why he loved you so much, and all he wanted was to make your life as good as he could in return.

[chestersturniolo]

ᒪᗩTE ᑎIGᕼT ᗪIᗩᒪ

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

In which; you drunk dial your boyfriend matt, and he takes care of you.

Warnings; drunk!reader - alcohol consumption, fluffy, pet names.

••••••••••••••••••

The night was in full swing, the club lights flashing with the bass that thumped through the air. Laughter, shouts, and the clinking of glasses filled the space as you danced with your friends, feeling the warmth of the alcohol seep through your veins. 

The buzz was strong, making everything seem brighter, happier, and just a little bit more intense. But as the night went on, something began to tug at your heart—a longing, an emptiness that the music and laughter couldn't quite fill.

You stumble out onto the sidewalk infront of the club. Clumsily fishing your phone out of your bag, the bright screen blinding you for a moment. Your fingers fumbled to find his number, and before you knew it, you were calling him. 

"Hey baby" Matt's voice was soft, but you could hear the concern laced in his tone. "What's up?"

"Mattttttt-“ you slurred into the phone, "-I miss youuuu"

You could hear him chuckle softly on the other end, though it was tinged with worry. 

"I miss you too sweetheart. How much have you had to drink?"

In your drunken , boyfriend missing state, the mere sound of Matts voice made your eyes well up with drunk tears. 

"Mmm I don’t know… just a little… or maybe a lot” you mumbled, a tear escaping down your cheek as you sniffle. "I just wanna see you mattyyy i miss youuu” you repeat, whining into the phone.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay" he said, his voice calming. "Let me pick you up baby, okay? Just stay where you are, I’ll be there soon alright?” 

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. "Alright”

~

True to his word, Matt arrived not long after, his car pulling up to the curb outside the club. You squint through your blurred vision to see him getting out of the car and walking over to you.

Your eyes light up at the sight of him 

“Matttttt!!!” you cheer, hurrying over to him. You stumble over your own feet losing your balance, luckily not too far from Matt, as he lunges forward to catch you.

"Woah! It’s okay, I’ve got you" he assured, holding you close as you clung to him.

He helped you into the car, gently buckling your seatbelt before getting in on his side. The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine a comforting background noise as you leaned your head against the window, feeling the cold glass against your flushed skin. Matt glancing over at you often. The city lights blurred past you, and you felt the exhaustion from the night starting to catch up.

Finally Matt pulls up in his driveway, and makes his way to the passenger door, he swings it open to see you mid yawn, as you follow it with a big sigh. He lets out a small chuckle as he leans forward, scooping you into his arms bridal style. 

“Come on,you” he says, carrying you out of the car, and into the house.

Once inside, he brings you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the edge of the bathtub. He kneels in front of you, his hands gentle as he began to remove your makeup. 

"You don’t need all this stuff” he murmured as he wiped away the smudged eyeliner and mascara, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. "You’re beautiful just the way you are”

A cheesy grin spread on your face 

“No YOU’RE beautiful” you slur , booping his nose. 

Matts eyes roll teasingly as he smirks at your actions with a shake of his head.

Wiping off the last of your makeup.

~

Matt leads you into his bedroom, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist to to steady your swaying. He helped you out of your clothes, before grabbing one of his oversized t-shirts.

“Up” he softly orders.

you fling your arms up as Matt slides the tshirt over your body, placing a kiss onto your cheek. A smile creeps onto his face, that always seems to appear when you wear his clothes. 

"Let’s get you some water, okay?" he said, guiding you to the bed and sitting you down. He disappeared for a moment before returning with a glass of water. "Here, drink up, sweetheart" he said, holding the glass to your lips.

You took a few sips, letting out an approving “Mmph” , the cool liquid soothing your throat. Matt watched you with a careful eye, making sure you drank enough before setting the glass on the nightstand.

Then, he gently tucked you into bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin. He reached over to the other side of the bed, grabbing Mr.Wrinkleton and tucking him in with you. A smile quickly forms on your face as you pull the stuffed animal against you.

Matt leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, then forehead. "Sleep tight, baby. I’m right here if you need me"

You gently nod as you feel your eyes growing heavy, the warmth of the bed and the comfort of Matt’s presence pushing you into a peaceful sleep. Just before you drifted off, you felt his hand brush a stray hair from your face

“I love you” he whispers.

••••••••••••••••

A/N; hope you enjoyed loves🤍

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

taglist: @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4 

@brianna-grace12 

[dstryvampres]

Smoke Signals

Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary: Dr Crane is tired of you talking back.

Warnings: smut, fingering, age gap(reader is early 20s, crane is mid 40s), power imbalance, brat taming(I think??), reader is a smoker, dub con, p in v, unprotected, praise, degradation, spanking, creampie

Word count: 2.2k

The trek to Dr Crane office on the fifth floor was quick and easy, seeing as there was no one else using the elevator because it was so late at night. When you push open the door to Dr Crane’s office it creaks, alerting him immediately to your presence.

“I thought I told you to quit smoking before you come to my office,” is what Dr Crane decides on greeting you with. His face is stern, pen in hand as he writes out a statement on a student’s quiz.

“Yeah, well I was fiending all day and they don’t let you have a smoke within 15 meters of the psychology testing centre. Hard to get a smoke break in,” You quip back, hanging your tote bag over the back of a chair before sliding between it and Dr Crane’s desk to sit.

“Well, if you won’t quit all together, you could at least have the common courtesy to not reek of it near me,” He scoffs, clicking his pen and setting it down on his desk.

You toy with the fabric of your sheer black tights as Dr Crane sets aside whatever he was working on before and brings out two sheets of paper. Two rubrics, one for him, which he settles in front of him, and one for you, which he flips towards you.

“Do you want anything to drink?�� Dr Crane asks, standing up from his desk and heading towards the table near the window. He clicks on the kettle, staring at it for a couple seconds before he starts to hear it bubble up before he turns to you again.

“Just any tea is fine, except ginger, I want something herbal tonight,” you reply, rummaging through your tote bag looking for a pen to use for tonight.

“So herbal tea?” Jonathan asks, shaking his head at you in the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said,” you sit up straight once again when you find your pencil case, plopping it down on Dr Crane’s darkwood desk.

You hear a sigh from the professor as he turns around to look out the window at the rain, his fingers toying around with the packaging of a tea bag. No matter if Dr Crane happens to be your boss, you can’t deny that he’s insanely attractive. Young looking face with high cheekbones, blue eyes that stare holes into your being, dark brown hair that he somehow styles perfectly without trying that hard, all packaged in suits that do him far too many favours. Sure he has a slightly bitter attitude, but you’re no better. With all the times you snap back and push his buttons he’s far too patient with you, and seems to genuinely care about your well being. Whether that care is actually genuine or is just to avoid having to find another TA, you’re not one hundred percent sure.

A click comes from the kettle, and soon enough Dr Crane sets down a steaming mug in front of you before sliding into his own chair with a mug in his hand.

“Thank you,” you say, blowing on the steaming liquid in hopes to cool it down quicker.

“Don’t burn yourself.”

Dr Crane grabs his pen before directing both of your attention to the rubric and assignment guide. He drones on about the basics, word count, percentage to dock based off of just principle things, before delving into more important specifics to the assignment. For a supposed research essay, the need to include the students own fears into the mix was a weird choice to be a necessity. There’s no need to ask about it, the conditions for the assignment have already been set in stone, the due date is in about a week.

“Everything making sense?” Dr Crane asks, looking at you, eyebrows furrowed together.

You nod in response, reaching over to grab a highlighter from Dr Crane’s collection across the table. Maybe you should bring up the weird conditions of the assignment…

“Actually, just one thing confuses me about this assignment,” You start, looking for any signs of anger from Dr Crane, knowing just how often you seem to push his buttons before continuing, “why do the students need to disclose their own fears in this assignment, it’s supposed to be a research essay on different ways the brain copes with fear.”

Dr Crane clenches his jaw, looking away from you annoyed. Acting like you were questioning the fundamentals of grammar and not some strange one off point he decided to add to this assignment. He shakes his head, taking off his glasses and laying them down on the table.

“You’re not the one running the class, are you?” Dr Crane asks, voice showing just thin his patience has become in a matter of seconds.

“Well, obviously not, but I’m just-”

You’re cut off with the screeching of Dr Crane’s chair as he stands up, walking towards the door. Fuck, is he going to leave? Is he going to ask you to leave? Are you being fired out of one of the best looking jobs on your resume? When you hear the click of the lock on the door, you’re not sure if your fate is better or worse than any of the options thought of before. Nevertheless, your body tenses up and your head starts to fog up, whatever is going to happen you don’t think it will be too pleasant.

“You know what? I’m so sick of you always thinking you know better than me,” He slowly walks over to you as he speaks, shoes clicking on the linoleum floor of his office.

“I don’t think that,” you respond, voice strained. Now he’s standing over where you’re seated, forcing you to look upwards at him. You feel so small and powerless in this moment. Maybe, it’s only now and here, in this position, that you finally remember that this man holds your entire future as a psychologist in his hands.

“I want you to remember who has more leverage here, who can get you into the best jobs in the state,” it’s like he can read your mind.

You gulp and close your eyes. You’ve spent the last year and three months of your masters degree and time as a TA under Dr Crane pushing back against him, challenging the man. You’re sure that it’s here, in his locked office that he will give you a piece of his mind before dropping you completely. Leaving you and your master’s thesis to flounder in the last half of it, beg for anyone to aid you in the specific thesis everyone knew only Crane was suitable to supervise at this university. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Please, don’t drop me and my thesis. I won’t challenge you ever again, I’ll do anything you want, please,” you beg, opening your eyes to stare at Crane’s. Hoping the eye contact would connect with some deeper part of him, but his blue eyes stared back, cold and emotionless.

“Anything?” Crane asks, quirking an eyebrow at your begging.

“Yes, anything. I’ll get on my knees and beg you, I’ll mark every assignment myself-”

“Face the table and put your hands on top of it,” Crane demands.

“What?” Your mind short circuits at his request, not expecting something like that.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to challenge me ever again?” Dr Crane sighs, crossing his arms, waiting for you to obey.

You follow his request, placing both your hands on the table, looking down at the dark oak wood. It’s cold underneath your palms, but that doesn’t help with the sweat accumulating onto your palms. Dr Crane hums behind you, seemingly happy with your compliance to his request. He kicks your feet away from the desk, making your butt stick out more.

“Now, I want you to spread your legs for me,” Dr Crane puts a hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh. Your eyebrows furrow, taking a second too long for his liking and earning a slap to the ass, you quickly move to spread your legs.

“Good girl,” Dr Crane hums, massaging the spot where he hit you previously. You whine in response, feeling a heat start to grow in your cunt.

Dr Crane smacks your ass again, a little lighter than before, almost teasing. His other hand is placed on your ass, both hands move down to your thighs, then back up to your ass, this time sliding under your skirt and flipping it up. Your pink panties are visible through the sheer black tights causing Dr Crane to sigh out.

“You feel how hard I am, slut?” Dr Crane asks, you hear the smirk in his voice as he presses his hard-on into your ass. You moan, feeling the weight of it press into your wet cunt and soiled panties.

Quickly Dr Crane rips open the thin fabric of your tights, allowing for direct access to your panties and cunt. He feels your wet heat through your panties, quickly moving them to the side to expose your cunt. You moan as the cold air of his office hits your cunt.

“You’re so wet. Do you let all your professors fuck you? Or am I a sort of desprate case?” Dr Crane cooes, ghosting his fingers over your exposed cunt.

He runs his fingers up and down your cunt, collecting your wetness over them before pushing them inside of you. The intrusion is so unexpected it makes you gasp, pull away from it briefly. He fucks you with his fingers shallowly, at a bored pace. You push back onto his fingers, begging for more. Dr Crane removes his finger from your cunt, and you whine in response.

“Fuck, you’re a desperate whore huh?” Dr Crane laughs, giving your ass another harsh slap.

Behind you Dr Crane unzips his pants, freeing his cock. He lines it up with your hole and just stays there. No matter how much you try to push back and whine for him to put it in he isn’t moving.

“You’ve been such a bitch, I don’t think you deserve my cock. Why don’t you beg for it?” you can hear the cocky look on Dr Crane’s face just from his voice. Though it doesn’t seem to matter much as you open your mouth to beg.

“Please Dr Crane, I’ll be such a good girl. You can use me anytime and I’ll never be a bitch again, as long as I have your cock, please doctor please,” you plead, wiggling your hips.

“Good girl.”

Dr Crane pushes inside of you. His cock is average length, but stretches you out in a way no other man ever has. It makes your head spin as he spears you on his cock.

“Fuck, I didn’t expect a whore like you to be so tight,” Dr Crane pants out, putting both of his hands on your waist.

He pulls out of you slowly, before slamming back into your cunt. Setting a brutal pace as soon as he slams back into you a second time. Only faltering when he smacks your ass. You yelp out each time, before pushing back onto his cock. Dr Crane continually stretched you out and hit the most sensitive spots inside of you. Your legs start to shake half way through, the only thing stopping you from crumbling being Dr Crane’s cock and hands. He pushes you back on him each time, almost demanding you take him in further.

“You fuck me so good doctor,” you moan out, “Can I cum doctor?”

“Yeah, cum all over my cock dumb slut,” Dr Crane says, speeding up the pace.

One of his hands reaches down from your hips to your clit, rubbing fast and hard on it. A touch so hard and borderline painful on the sensitive bundle of nerves tips you over the edge in mere seconds. Your knees buckle. Stars flood your vision. Your boss fucking you through the whole thing.

You start to weep from overstimulation, tears welling in your eyes when you come back from your high. Dr Crane is still fucking you in the same brutal pace.

“Sluts like you don’t get breaks until I come too,” Dr Crane snarls out at you and your weeping, earning another sharp smack to your ass.

The tears spill out over your eyes as you cum again all over his cock. Your walls clenching and seizing around Dr Crane so hard his cock becomes painful as it pumps in and out of you.

He speeds up and his pace starts to become more aggressive, until Dr Crane stills inside of you. His cum rushes into your cunt, holding himself inside you after both of you have finally come down from your high. Once Dr Crane pulls out of you, you feel as his cum comes spilling out of your cunt.

“I’ll give you your share of the papers to mark next monday,” Dr Crane says, tucking his cock away and zipping up his pants. “I expect to not hear any confusion about the grading from you, I feel like I explained myself pretty well.

taglist: @paradiseprincesss @xanaxiii @luluartpop

[jaysng]

photobooth — park jongseong

pairing: bf!jay x deaf!fem!reader

genre: teeth rotting fluff

synopsis: jay and y/n’s cute first date, jay is hesitant and shy as the day leads to the couple’s first kiss.

your hands trembled slightly as you adjusted your outfit for what felt like the tenth time. today was the day—your first date with jay. the excitement was there, but the nerves were even stronger, buzzing under your skin like electricity. you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in an attempt to calm the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

when jay arrived, he was right on time, his familiar figure appearing down the street with that soft smile you’d come to adore. as he approached, you noticed the slight hesitation in his step, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. his eyes kept darting between you and the ground, like he was trying to gather his thoughts, to prepare himself for something important. you could tell he’d put effort into his appearance—his hair was neatly styled, and the dark jeans and crisp shirt he wore made him look effortlessly handsome.

you were wearing a white dress that fluttered gently in the evening breeze, your hair cascading over your shoulders. you could feel his gaze on you, lingering a little longer than usual, and it made your heart skip a beat. he took a breath, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something, but instead, he just smiled again, a bit more sheepishly this time.

as you began walking together, the air between you was charged with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. jay kept stealing glances at you from the corner of his eye, his lips pressing together in a way that told you he was trying to work up the courage to speak. you could sense his hesitation, and your own heart started to beat faster in response.

finally, after what felt like an eternity of quiet steps, jay stopped walking. he turned to face you, his hands moving slowly, deliberately, like he was afraid of getting the signs wrong.

“you. look. really. pretty. today.” 

the words came out quickly, almost rushed, and as soon as he finished signing, his gaze dropped to his feet, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. you could tell he’d been practicing how to say it, maybe even for days, but now that the moment had come, his heart was pounding just as fast as yours.

your eyes widened in surprise, a warmth spreading through your chest at his words. you knew how much effort it must’ve taken him to learn that sentence, and the fact that he’d chosen this moment, when it was just the two of you, made it all the more special. you gently lifted his chin, guiding his eyes back to yours. “thank you,” you signed, your hands moving with a soft, fluid motion. then, with a playful smile, you added, “you look good too. i like your shirt.”

jay’s eyes flickered with surprise at your compliment, the corners of his lips tugging into a shy smile. he seemed to relax a little, though the blush on his cheeks lingered. he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before he met your eyes again, this time with a bit more confidence.

“i. wanted. to. impress. you.” he signed slowly, his expression serious, like he needed you to know how much this meant to him.

“you did,” you replied, your smile widening. “you always do.”

jay looked down again, but there was a small, pleased smile on his face now. he started walking a bit faster, like he needed a moment to collect himself after the burst of courage it took to say those words. 

you followed beside him, your heart lighter than before, touched by his sincerity. as you continued to walk together, the silence between you was comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding. 

when jay’s hand brushed against yours, he hesitated for a moment, then let it linger there, as if silently asking for permission. you responded by gently intertwining your fingers with his, the simple gesture sending a wave of warmth through you. 

the rest of the walk was quiet, but the connection between you spoke volumes. each small touch, every glance shared, was a conversation of its own, one that needed no words. and in that silence, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

at the café, you both settled into a quiet corner table, the soft ambient music blending with the gentle clinking of cups and murmured conversations around you. jay took out his phone, his fingers moving quickly across the screen before he turned it towards you.

“do you want to order for both of us?” the screen read, and you felt a warm flutter in your chest at his thoughtfulness.

you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile before heading to the counter to place the order. when you returned, you found jay fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, his eyes focused on the table as if deep in thought.

“nervous?” you signed gently, your hands moving with a fluid grace that contrasted with the slight tension in your stomach. 

jay looked up, his cheeks flushing as he nodded. “a. little.” —he chuckled nervously—“i. don’t. want. to. mess. up.”

you reached across the table, placing your hand over his. the warmth of your touch seemed to ground him, and you offered a kind smile. “you’re doing great,” you signed back, your eyes meeting his with encouragement.

jay’s shoulders relaxed slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “thanks,” he signed, his movements a bit more confident now.

the conversation flowed easily between you, though there were moments where jay would pause, searching for the right sign. whenever he hesitated, you patiently corrected him, your hands guiding his with gentle precision. each time you helped him, jay’s cheeks would turn a deeper shade of pink, and he’d flash you a sheepish smile that made your heart skip a beat.

after the café, the two of you wandered through the nearby park, the evening air cool and crisp. you found a quiet bench beneath a large oak tree, its branches swaying softly in the breeze. jay sat close to you, his leg brushing against yours as he leaned back, trying to act casual. you could feel his gaze on you, even as you looked out at the serene park, the gentle rustling of leaves creating a peaceful backdrop.

eventually, you turned your head slightly, catching jay in the act of staring at you. his eyes widened, and he quickly turned his head away, pretending to look at something else. a soft smile tugged at your lips, finding his bashfulness endearing.

“i. know. you’re. looking. at. me.” you signed, your eyes sparkling with playful mischief.

jay’s eyes darted back to you, his expression flustered. “i. am. nottttttt.” he signed back, dragging the last symbol though the smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

raising an eyebrow, you leaned in closer, your face just inches from his. “you sure?” you teased, your breath brushing against his cheek.

jay chuckled softly, finally giving in. “okay. maybe. a. little.”

the sound of your laughter made jay’s heart race, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled filling him with a warmth he couldn’t quite describe. there was something about the way you looked at him, the way you communicated without words, that made him feel a sense of connection unlike anything he’d experienced before.

after a while, you came across a small photobooth tucked away near the park entrance, jay knew he had to take you in there the moment he saw your eyes filled with sparkle as you gasped “i. always. wanted. to. try. one. of. those!”its exterior covered in colorful stickers and graffiti. 

he pulled the curtain aside for you, his hand brushing against your lower back as you both squeezed inside the tiny space.

the first picture was simple—you both made a heart with your hands, your fingers naturally intertwining. click

in the second, you pulled silly faces, the spontaneity of it making you burst into laughter. jay couldn’t help but stare at you, completely captivated by the sound of your laughter and the way your eyes sparkled with joy. click

in the third picture, you caught jay’s gaze lingering on you, his expression soft and full of admiration. your heart skipped a beat as you realized how close you were, the small space of the booth amplifying the tension between you. click

for the final picture, you hesitated for a moment, your eyes locking on jay’s. both of your smiles slowly turning into an expression that can’t be explained, showing an urge. you could feel the nervous energy between you, both of your hearts pounding in your chests. 

you placed your hand on his cheek. slowly, you leaned in, giving him a silent cue that you wanted to kiss him.

jay’s eyes widened slightly, his face turning a deep shade of red as he realized what was about to happen. his heart raced as he leaned in closer, his breath hitching in his throat. and then, your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down your spine. clickkkkkkk

the camera clicked, capturing the moment as your lips lingered against his, both of you caught up in the sweetness of the kiss. when you finally pulled back, you could see the dazed, blissful look on jay’s face, his cheeks flushed and his eyes shining with happiness.

the two of you stepped out of the photobooth, and jay’s hand found yours once more, holding it tightly. neither of you said anything, but the shared smiles and the warmth of his hand in yours said everything you needed to hear.

as you walked together through the park, the stars beginning to peek through the twilight sky, you knew that this day would be one you’d both remember for a long time to come.

[wifeyoozi]

🍚 : Help me! My rival producer is annoying but like so damn sexy

insp. by this by @sluttywonwoo ,, smut ,, hate sex kinda

The tension between you and Jihoon had been building for months. As rival producers in the same company, it seemed like you were constantly pitted against each other. Your styles clashed, your opinions differed, and every time you were in the same room, the air seemed charged with an electric kind of animosity. It didn't help that the company often messed up the studio schedule, forcing you both to share the space far more often than was comfortable.

Today was no different. You stormed into the studio, only to find Jihoon already there, headphones on and deep in concentration. He glanced up as you entered, his expression immediately darkening.

"Again?" you snapped, throwing your bag onto a chair. "Seriously, how hard is it to schedule us at different times?"

Jihoon pulled off his headphones, looking equally irritated. "Believe me, I'm just as tired of this as you are," he shot back. "But we're both professionals. Can we just get through this without another fight?"

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was right. The constant bickering was exhausting. You set up your equipment on the other side of the room, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened every time you looked his way. There was something about Jihoon that always got under your skin—his confidence, his talent, the way he seemed to effortlessly command respect.

Hours passed with the two of you working in silence, the only sound being the occasional click of a mouse or the soft hum of music. The tension was palpable, like a storm cloud ready to burst. It wasn't until you accidentally bumped into him, trying to reach for a cable, that the dam broke.

"Watch it," he muttered, grabbing your wrist to steady himself. The touch sent a jolt through you, the contact burning like a live wire.

"Let go," you hissed, pulling your hand back. But instead of releasing you, Jihoon stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours. The intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch, a cocktail of anger and something else—something raw and primal.

"You know what? I'm sick of this," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Maybe we should just settle this once and for all."

"Settle what?" you shot back, heart racing. "Who's the better producer? Who cares?"

Jihoon's lips curled into a smirk, his grip on your wrist tightening just slightly. "That's not what I meant," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "This thing between us... let's end it."

Before you could respond, Jihoon's mouth crashed onto yours, the kiss rough and demanding. It was as if all the pent-up frustration, all the unspoken tension, erupted in that single moment. You responded with equal fervor, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, becoming a battle for dominance. You bit his lip, he groaned in response, and soon you found yourself pressed against the studio's couch, Jihoon looming over you. You pushed him back just enough to flip the situation, straddling his lap, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"So, this is your idea of settling things?" you taunted, grinding against him, feeling the hardness beneath his jeans. "Fine. Let's see who's really in control."

Jihoon's eyes darkened with lust and challenge. "You think you can handle it?" he shot back, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements.

You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Watch me."

With a swift motion, you tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it carelessly. Your own clothes followed, the urgency and heat between you making quick work of buttons and zippers. Jihoon shifted, helping you out of your pants, until the two of you were skin to skin, the heat of your bodies intensifying the electric atmosphere.

Jihoon's hands roamed over your body, exploring, teasing. You gasped as his fingers found your wetness, sliding against your folds with expert precision. The sensation was maddening, and you rocked against his hand, desperate for more.

"God, you're so wet," Jihoon muttered, his voice husky with desire. "You sure you're not the one who's going to lose control?"

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you reached down, gripping his erection cock and positioning it at your entrance. The feel of him, hot and hard, against your slick folds made you moan softly.

Without another word, you sank down onto him, taking him in inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure as his big girth stretched you. Jihoon let out a low groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you began to move.

You set the pace, riding him with a fierce intensity, your movements a silent declaration of dominance. Jihoon matched you thrust for thrust, his eyes locked onto yours, daring you to look away.

"Fuck, you're tight," he hissed, his voice strained. "You think you can keep this up?"

You smirked, leaning in to kiss him hard, your teeth grazing his lower lip. "You have no idea what I can do," you whispered against his mouth, before pulling back and riding him even harder.

The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, the slap of skin on skin, the breathy gasps and moans of pleasure. The friction, the heat, the undeniable chemistry—it was intoxicating, driving you both to the brink.

Jihoon's hands roamed over your body, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. The sensation made you arch your back, a gasp escaping your lips. He took advantage of your distraction, thrusting up into you with renewed vigor, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"You like that?" he growled, his voice rough. "Admit it, you love this."

You couldn't hold back the moan that escaped you, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. "Oh, just shut up and fuck me," you gasped.

Jihoon chuckled darkly, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Say it," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me how much you love this."

You were too far gone to resist, the pleasure consuming you. "I love it," you breathed, your voice trembling with the intensity of your orgasm building. "I love it, Jihoon."

His name on your lips seemed to drive him over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, Jihoon buried himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he reached his climax. The sensation pushed you over the edge, and you came with a cry, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

You collapsed against him, both of you breathing heavily, the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your bodies. For a moment, there was only silence, the reality of what just happened settling over you like a blanket.

Finally, Jihoon spoke, his voice rough but softer now. "This doesn't change anything," he said, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "I know," you replied, though you weren't entirely sure what this even was anymore.

[batsycline69]

Chapter One: Head Above Ground, Feet in the Grave

Summary: You get a tattoo from Jason and realize your first impression may not have been spot on

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 5,576

Warnings: needles, profanity, canon-typical violence, reader has tattoos but is otherwise not described, jason doesn’t know how to flirt.

SERIES MASTERPOST | NEXT

“So. Whatcha reading?” he asks over the buzz of his needle gun. Your confused look is enough get him talking again. “Saw you with a book out front.”

As soon as he stepped out into the front thirty-five minutes after your appointment was supposed to begin, as peeved as you were, you couldn’t deny he was attractive. One of his broad shoulders leaned into the wall, his thick, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. Dark curls with a patch of white at the front.

“Oh, it’s Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier,” you reply, a little surprised the guy built like a brick shithouse was asking about your reading. Then again, he’s probably just trying to make conversation.

Jason just nods.

Maybe he isn’t trying to make conversation.

The bad news is, up close, he’s even more handsome. Now you can see the little scar that angles through his eyebrow and another that curves up along his cheek. His eyes are intense as he works, his absurdly large hand has a firm grip on your forearm, guiding you as he works. He smells like cigarettes, but only just, and what you can assume is the lingering smell of the timeworn leather jacket sprawled across the chair in the corner. And all of this is bad news because this guy is obviously bad news. How can he not be, right?

It’s just this feeling, one that you couldn’t shake as soon as he sauntered towards you, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering on his worn black t-shirt. Like he’s too cool for you. Even as he’s permanently etching a skeletal bird into your arm, there’s this air about him you can’t quite place.

Before he led you back to his station, you were so certain there was going to be some sort of bikini-clad model plastered to the wall. But yet, the space is surprisingly empty. There’s a little corkboard leaning against a small table with old designs thumb-tacked to the board and not much else.

“How long have you been working here?” you ask.

Despite asking, you already kind of know the answer.

You’ve been following the shop’s Instagram for a while now. You remember the post introducing Jason, the carousel of photos demonstrating his work. Not that you’d tell him right now, but you had fallen in love with his style as soon as you saw it. The sure, thick lines. The moody shading. Bones and knives and bugs. He had no Instagram of his own for his work that you could find; only the posts in the shop with the caption ‘by Jay.’

“Couple months,” Jason replies. “I was traveling around for a while before. This is the first steady place I’ve worked.”

“Oh, wow, that’s cool. Where were you before?” you ask. It’s small talk, and you hate it, but the lack of conversation is uncomfortable in a way that usually isn’t the case. Silence doesn’t bother you. His silence does.

You wonder if his home lacks as much personality as his station. You imagine his apartment is the kind with the mattress sitting on the floor, TV on top of a folding table, and a refrigerator full of cheap beer. Something that doesn’t feel completely moved into.

He gives a small shrug of his broad shoulders. “All around,” he replies.

Even small talk seems to be off the table.

You give a curt nod of your head. A couple minutes pass, and you can’t take it anymore. “Sorry, you mind if I grab my book real fast?”

Jason nods in return, pulling the gun away. “Go for it.”

God, you feel him watching you as you slip off the table, heading towards your bag on the little couch in the corner. Why is he watching? Why is this so awkward? Is it you? Is this guy just that standoffish? You pull out your worn bookand get back into position on the table.

“You good?” he asks, his intense eyes still trained on you.

“Yeah, all good,” you say, holding the book open with one hand as the buzzing starts back up again.

This is pathetic.

Jason has spent the last few years spending his time around the worst of the worst. He’s been with assassins, arms dealers, and soldiers so bad, even the U.S. Military didn’t want them, and yet, he’s fumbling just because someone cute is reading classic literature.

Fuck.

He’s supposed to be better than this. Ever since he got back into Gotham two months ago, he’s been making deals with the worst of the worst—as far as drug dealers go—without breaking a sweat, and yet holding a conversation with you turns him into Mr. Darcy. He’s blowing it, and he cares that he’s blowing it.

At least everyone thinks he’s dead. If this had gotten out to anyone, he’d die again.

It’s been five years since he was resurrected. A couple of weeks have passed since he flew back into Gotham with another one of Talia’s connections, this time intending to stay for good. He found a little tattoo shop near Crime Alley. Close enough to keep tabs on everything, but not so close that he’d be crossing paths with Batman regularly. The last thing he needs is to run into Bruce while trying to come up on top of Gotham’s underworld. Not until everything was ready.

That’s his world. Swept off the street and recruited for a war that wasn’t even his, not really. That’s just what he was sold: security to a kid fending for himself.

Bruce may have believed he had something to show Jason about Gotham, but this city raised him more than anything. Without a stable place to call home, the city’s streets were the substitute. What more did Bruce have to teach him when Jason had already huddled for warmth in these alleys? Ran from cops, knew all the hiding spots. What did Bruce have to offer when Jason already saught comfort in a place where comfort died? In a place where hope was trying to grow on salted earth. A place so haunted, it’s more ghost than city.

Jason was made for Gotham.

After he died, Gotham fell to ruins in the greatest earthquake she’s ever seen. An anomaly. The world wanted to watch Gotham burn, abandon the city and everyone remaining inside it. Leave her buried in the fate the world deemed appropriate for a city so infected that everyone around suffered.

He knows what it means to come back again, maybe when staying gone was what should have been done.

While he learned how to kill, he learned how to tattoo. Bruce always went on about the importance of keeping their identities safe; he chose his playboy routine, and Jason chose this.

It started before Bruce even took him in. One of the older kids he used to sell stolen car parts to gave him a stick ‘n poke in the back of his dad’s auto shop. It’d only been a few weeks after his mom died. Bruce saw it within a few days of living at the manor. He didn’t comment, but Jason saw the scowl when Bruce saw the shitty skull on his ankle. He didn’t approve, and that made his chosen path all the sweeter.

In London, the guys he was staying with tattooed each other to pass the time. That’s how it all really started. He watched their hands as they worked, watched the way the ink shot into the skin. He gave his first tattoo in the seedy back room of some haunt for scumbags. He had yet to feel at home within his body again, like it was just on loan. Like his reanimation was contingent on something that could be taken away at any time.

But he kept living. And he picked up tattooing fairly quickly. He gave plenty of shitty tattoos to men whose lives ran off of fucking over innocent people. Some of them wouldn’t even live to regret his uneven lines. A good number of them, Jason watched die.

None of that, however, negates the fact that he still can’t have a conversation with you.

Every so often, he spares a glance at you as you read. You’re holding the book with one hand, awkwardly turning the page with your pinky in a way that he knows won’t last long. He’s trying to rack his brain for something, anything, to talk to you about once you need a break from your position.

When his moment finally comes, he clears his throat.

“You ever read any Virginia Woolf?” he asks.

He’s going to spoil his whole ‘asshole tattoo artist’ persona because he’s not supposed to be reading tragic modernist writers, but he can’t bring himself to fall into his usual routine. He wants to hide behind the metaphorical mask he wears when he’s not wearing his literal mask, but he just fucking can’t with you.

He doesn’t know you. You’re just someone who booked with him a few months ago. You’re a civilian, and he is supposed to be getting ready for his Gotham takeover. Now isn’t the time. He’s got work to do.

Unsurprisingly, you seem caught off guard by his question when you look up from your book. You try to regain your composure. You seem like someone who wants to be polite like that. Jason’s eyes land on your finger as it slips into your book to hold your place.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’ve read a couple of hers.”

Jason gives a single nod of his head. He breathes as if steadying his aim to shoot. “I’m reading Mrs. Dalloway right now,” he says.

If you were someone he had to threaten, it would be going better than this. He could get you to tell him all of your secrets in under a minute no problem. But he doesn’t actually have to know how to do any of this to know that’s the wrong way to go about it. Besides, how could he forgive himself if he brought you into Red Hood’s world? You don’t belong there.

“Are you much of a reader then?” you ask.

Jason recognizes it for what it is. You’re holding out a hand, practically guiding him into a conversation just like you’ve tried so many times. You notice he’s trying too.

His lip quirks up a bit at the corner. “Yeah, I am. But don’t tell anyone. If they figure out I’m not an idiot, they may ask me to help out more.”

You graciously laugh at his joke.

He likes your laugh. It’s soft, like your skin. He’s tried to not think about it, but he has noticed. He knows you’re going to take good care of the bird carcass he’s tattooing.

When you reached out and told him what you wanted, he knew he couldn’t possibly turn the idea down. He did always have a fucked up sense of humor.

You’ll never know what makes this funny. He can’t do that to you. Maybe you can know Jason the tattoo artist, but you can’t know Red Hood.

Jason looks at you with a softness you miss when you glance away for a minute. “I’ve got a Metamorphosis tattoo over here,” he says, briefly raising the arm holding yours down.

You turn your head, trying to get a look of his Kafka tattoo, and Jason feels a little bit of warmth growing in his chest, even if he desperately wishes he didn’t. He’s getting way ahead of himself like a kid. It’s going to hurt that much more when you realize all the reasons you shouldn’t get involved with him. He shouldn’t be drawing attention to himself. He shouldn’t be getting distracted. This job isn’t for him to make connections with avid readers; he’s here to know what’s happening and when.

For all he knows, you could be a spy, aware of the moves he’s trying to make. Could work for the Penguin. But he’s aware that’s a Bruce level paranoid thought, and he’s not proud to admit that. His ties to Bruce are supposed to be severed forever.

Two hours pass far less painfully than you were expecting. Not in the literal sense, because your arm has started to get sore, but in the sense that you and Jason are finally actually talking, more or less. You take a break, trying to get the blood flow back into your arm from being at an angle for so long.

Your stomach started rumbling half an hour ago, and now you’re scrolling through your phone, chatting with Jason on what you should order. He says by the time food would get here, he’d likely be finished up.

Jason’s already told you he doesn’t do a lot of delivery. He says it’s because things are always fresher at the restaurant.

After the last couple of hours spent talking literature, you know your first impression of him was wrong—there’s a joke about books and their covers somewhere in there—but be that as it may, you still haven’t quite figured him as the sort of guy that’s going to be overly snobby about food.

He says he cooks, and you believe him, more because you like to indulge in the thought of him knowing his way around a kitchen. You also just want to believe it for the sake of justifying the crush you feel creeping in every time he shifts your arm.

You’re not going to hold your breath hoping he opens up to you, but you can tell he’s someone with a story. Someone with history. And that’s something you can respect, because you’ve got your own past you’d rather not shell out just because your tattoo artist is hot. That doesn’t stop your mind from wandering though, trying to fill in the blanks.

Maybe he did some sort of stint in the military. That’s your first guess, at least. You didn’t get any more information on the tattoos he’d done ‘all over,’ and he doesn’t talk about it anymore, so you can’t really figure out anything more than that. You also consider the fact that it’s Gotham, and shit just happens. It’s not your right to meddle in whatever tragedy this city has doled out for him.

“One of the apprentices orders delivery here a lot,” Jason says, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s not helpful, nor does it answer my question,” you say. “Even if you don’t get things delivered, you still have to know what’s good around here, right? You’re not bringing a little brown bag lunch to work every day.”

“And what if I do?” Jason asks. His voice is low, almost like he’s daring you. The features on his handsome face are serious, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes that hints he’s teasing you. And damn those eyes. You’re thankful he’s been spending the majority of your appointment staring down at your arm, because you’re not sure you’d survive two hours of looking at him, seeing where the thin ring of blue around his iris before it bleeds into vivid green.

You laugh. “Then I’d admire your dedication.”

You think he’s mostly being difficult because you offered to buy him food, a perfectly normal thing to do. But explaining to him that you’ve offered to everyone you’ve gotten a tattoo from doesn’t seem to change his mind. He’s stubborn, that much you can tell.

As you continue to scroll your phone, silence settles between the two of you. The silence doesn’t feel so oppressive this time, not weighted by awkwardness and uncertainty. Now it feels like a surrender. Neither of you bring up the beginning of the appointment. Not how he was late, not the tension that seemed to linger between the two of you, not how convinced you were that he actually hated the fact that you were sitting in his session.

“The fries at Wally’s are the best in Gotham.”

His voice comes from behind you, and you jump, turning over your shoulder quickly. He’s peering over your shoulder, eyes fixed on the screen of your phone. You hadn’t even heard him get up from his stool. Last you’d looked his way, he was sitting across from you.

You spit out a curse. “When did you get back there?” you ask, clutching your chest with overdramatic flair.

“What, you didn’t see me get up?” he asks.

You scoff. “No, I didn’t see you get up. What are you, some kind of fucking ghost?”

And Jason laughs.

At the best of the times, you consider yourself a relatively dignified individual. Maybe it’s a bit of flattery, but regardless, that’s what you’d like to believe. And yet, there’s something so incredibly rare about the sound of Jason’s laughter, something that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. It’s like hearing something long forgotten. Like catching the song of a bird long thought extinct. This isn’t the playful scoff of laughter like when you’d said maybe Northanger Abbey was your favorite Jane Austen book, and he’d said you seemed more like an Elizabeth Bennett than a Catherine Morland; this seems like something secret. Something reserved.

Even if the sound makes your stomach flip, your foul language hardly seems funny enough to warrant such a laugh. Your silly off-handed joke doesn’t seem worthy of the burst of laughter that bubbles up from his wide chest.

“I think the hunger’s getting to you,” Jason replies finally when the laughter settles. He nudges his head back towards your phone to get back on topic. “Wally’s is good.”

You have to yank yourself from your thoughts and will yourself to nod. “Yeah, okay,” you say, feeling like such a loser for the way a single laugh could knock you off your track so quickly. You go back to scrolling through the menu to give yourself something other than gawk at him. “So fries. What else is good?” you ask, not daring to raise your eyes.

Jason crosses back over to his stool and sits. Your face gets hot as you feel self-consciousness creep up thinking maybe you’d been obvious, worried you’ll scare him off. But before you know it, he’s naming off his favorite things. And yeah, maybe you bought more than you alone could eat, and maybe you got the burger he spent a few minutes gushing about. If he doesn’t want it now, he can save it for later.

But nearly an hour later, you have a whole spread of junk food in Jason’s station and a finished bird skeleton plastic wrapped on your arm. Jason rolls his eyes at your generosity, and you threaten to eat everything you bought all by yourself, but he eats the burger and steals the fries you jokingly told him to keep his hands off of.

“So can I ask why you were so late?” you ask.

You’re toeing your boundaries. Maybe you’re intentionally trying to press your luck. Part of you knows you maybe shouldn’t ask. But you do it anyway.

Jason looks up from his burger, wiping a small smear of ketchup off his lip. “You’re gonna think I’m an asshole.” He smirks when he sees you quirk your eyebrow. He was thirty-five minutes late; of course you already think he’s an asshole. At least he’s a good sport about it. “I was out smoking.”

“Mm,” you say with a mockingly serious nod of your head. “Leaning up against a wall, cigarette in one hand, Mrs. Dalloway in the other. I guess you must be so cool I have to immediately forgive you,” you say sarcastically.

“Shut up.”

You smirk and go back to eating your food, unaware of Jason’s subtle gaze your way now that your attention has been diverted.

Jason’s used to a somewhat infrequent eating schedule, otherwise known as he rolls out of bed half an hour before he’s supposed to be at the shop, which doesn’t give him much time to eat. And by the time he’s done with his shift, he’s usually starved. He tries to eat an hour before kicking anyone’s ass so he doesn’t cramp up, so that involves him cramming whatever leftovers he has in the fridge into his mouth the second he gets back to his apartment. Then, he goes back out to work.

He’s become somewhat of a late night chef, putting together whatever he can make as quickly and easily as possible. The sort of skills he’d picked up when he was all on his own, trying to keep himself fed from whatever was available, doing whatever he could to make the best of a bad situation. Shoplifting butter and pasta, crushing up old Corn Flakes in a bag with a hammer to put on top. It was something his mom had done. Something he didn’t want to give up.

For the past two hours, he’s been hoping you’ll say something stupid, like how cool you think Batman is.Instead, he finds you kind in a way he doesn’t really see that often. You tolerate his shit to a certain point, and you push back when he goes too far.

People are scared of Jason, hood on or not. And they should be. They see his scars, his tattoos, his sheer size, and they cross the street. They turn their eyes as he buys bread at the grocery store. They can see him for what he is. But for some reason, you don’t. At least not now.

He’s mapping out his plan of how to take over the city, and you’re giving him shit for being late to an appointment for a job he only has for information. The fact that he met you is just a blip in the greater scheme of things, and yet that’s going to be what he walks away from today thinking about.

A guy came into the shop earlier. A local dealer. Jason played cool, pretended he didn’t have an idea who the guy was. This lowlife didn’t need to know Jason already knew where he picked up his supplies. He’d asked if the guy had any plans for the day, as if Jason didn’t already know about a shipment coming in late tonight. Jason’s plans for the evening had been clear. All he had to do was get through one more appointment.

Except that appointment had been yours.

The shop is closed now. A few stations away, one of Jason’s coworkers is still working. In the lull as you both eat, the faint buzzing of the needle and music playing from the speakers up front. Even if Jason wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s comfortable with you, there’s something of a surrender in the time you spend together.

You don’t know the things he’s going to do once you leave, and you wouldn’t assume them of him. What are you seeing in him because it’s sure as shit not something he’s ever seen himself.

At some point, Jason knows he’s going to fuck it all up. You’ll probably get ready to leave, and he’ll say something as you walk out the door that will make you question all of this. Make you second guess this good opinion of him you’ve managed to come up with. It’ll be for your own good.

His eyes drift over to your arm, your bicep still wrapped up in plastic. He can still feel the warmth of your skin lingering on his palm.

For so long, he’d been used to the dull cold of the apartment he squatted in, frigid air seeping in through neglected walls. As hard as he tries not to, he remembers arriving at Wayne Manor for the first time. He’d forgotten home could be so warm.

The warmth of your arm felt like that.

Since coming back in Gotham, he’d given plenty of tattoos, touched plenty of arms. Body heat is body heat, except when it’s yours.

“Where do you go from here?” Jason asks, looking up from his burger.

You shrug your shoulders. “Home, probably. Gonna get that good post-tattoo sleep.”

It’s cold out. You’re bundled up in your coat, aware of the tenderness of your arm where the fabric brushes up against the flesh.

You’re walking towards your train stop. The sounds of sirens echo somewhere in the distance. Purple light filters out through the blinds of one of the apartments you pass, loud bass temporarily overpowering the distant wail of emergency vehicles for a moment as you walk by, until it fizzles back out into quiet. As the music fades, you hear the sound of a couple arguing from an apartment somewhere up above you.

Across from the stairs up to the station is a bar, patrons hanging around outside smoking cigarettes and laughing. You can feel a huddle of men watching you as you move, but you don’t glance their way, just make your way up the stairs.

Yellow-tinged lights line the station, a lamp every fifteen feet or so. From what you can see in the beams of light weakly dispersing from the streetlamps, you’re alone. You find a spot under a nice shelter, though nice is relative considering the lingering smell of piss and obscene graffiti on the walls, but it’s not out in the open where anyone stumbling onto the stop will find you.

The light above you flickers sporadically. You wish there was somewhere else you could wait.

Jason hadn’t seemed thrilled that you were going out to wait for the train all on your own, but you assured him, somewhat indignant, you could handle yourself.

“You sat really well,” he’d said, and you couldn’t help but entertain the idea of inviting him along on the train with you, but you were not going to stoop to that level.

The sounds of approaching footsteps reminds you to keep your focus. You can kick your feet about Jason once you get back to your apartment.

Three guys stumble up the stairs. And just your fucking luck, you’re pretty sure they’re the guys from outside the bar. They’re laughing, and their voices carry from the opposite side of the tracks. You hope they’re going northbound, that they’ll have no reason to cross the tracks. You keep your eyes fixed away from them, down the tracks, now feeling even more impatient for the arrival your train, hoping somehow it will turn you invisible.

But their boisterous conversation suddenly turns much quieter.

Your shoulders tense, and as subtly as you can, you try to slip your hand into your bag for your pepper spray. Blindly, you feel around, trying to move as little as possible so as to not draw any more attention to yourself, because you have no doubts you’re the reason their conversation has become so hushed. If this doesn’t end horribly, you’ll have to try to remember to clear out all of the junk you have stashed away.

One of the men laughs, and then their conversation stops all together.

Your fingers curl around the tube of spray in your purse.

Without looking, you know they’re moving towards you now. Their shuffled, stumbling footsteps are growing louder. They’re drunk and not looking for their night to be over just yet. Unfortunately, you just happened to be in their way while they were looking for the next phase of the evening.

“Hey!” one yells.

You don’t acknowledge him. Maybe they’ll be drunk enough to think you genuinely can’t hear them and give up. It’s wishful thinking, but what does that matter?

Now you’re regretting pretending you were so tough for Jason because these guys sure as shit wouldn’t even give you a second glance if you were standing next to him.

They’ve crossed the tracks now, and there’s still no sign of train headlights. Your grip on the pepper spray tightens, not wanting it to slip now that your heart is starting to race.

“Hey! You!”

You don’t look.

One of them grabs your arm and tugs you out from the shelter. You wince at the contact against the fresh tattoo. “We’re talking to you,” he laughs.

You’re about to use your pepper spray when it clatters to the ground.

All three men look down at it.

“What’s this?” the second man says, bending down and picking it up.

But before any of them can say anything else, a figure just outside of the ring of light the four of you are standing under. You can’t make out any details about him besides the sheer size of him.

“Walk away while you still can,” he growls. The sound of his voice isn’t quite right. It sounds distorted. Your skin prickles with nerves from the sound of it.

The man who picked up your pepper spray turns it towards the figure, threatening to spray.

The figure just chuckles. It sounds cold, metallic. The sound of a gun cocking follows as the figure steps just into the light. The pepper spray wouldn’t do the man any good.

A man wearing a red helmet walks into sight, gun trained on the man holding my arm, but his grip drops instantaneously as he knocks through his other two friends to run, but the other two follow behind almost immediately.

And that leaves you and the guy in the helmet alone.

Gotham has its fill of guys in mask, and sure, there seems to be a new one popping up all the time, but you don’t know this one.

You look up at him, eyes wide with fright. The second the men are gone, he puts the gun back in one of the holsters on his thick thighs, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has them. You don’t know who this guy is, who he works with, whether he’s any better than that group of men or just more armed.

“You alright?” he asks when you don’t say anything. He has a voice modifier, you realize now, though you piece that together slowly.

After a beat, you nod your head. Your hand curls over your throbbing arm. You don’t like that you can’t see where he’s looking. Just two unblinking white voids where his eyes must be. “Yeah,” you breathe. Your eyes fall on your pepper spray. The man holding it must have dropped it when he ran.

When it’s clear you’re not moving to pick it up, the man bends down and grabs it. He holds out a gloved hand, offering it back to you.

Your trembling hand raises and you take it from him, offering a barely audible thanks as you slip it back into your bag.

He nods.

There’s still no sign of a train, and he’s not moving.

“I can give you a ride someplace. If you want.”

Don’t take rides from strangers. You’d heard it just as much as anyone, and the man standing before you is the definition of a stranger. You can’t even see his face; you have no idea who he is beneath that helmet. The one thing you do know is he has a gun, and he’s built like a fridge.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he adds, but his modulated reassurances don’t ease your concern. He senses your hesitation and takes a step back. “Do you want me to leave?”

A few more seconds pass as you consider the question. What if those guys come back? What if some other group comes along? But is giving your home address to the guy with a gun a better idea? And would him standing beside you as you wait for your train make you feel any safer? Could you so willingly accept he wasn’t going to just wait for the moment your guard is down to do something, just the way this city works?

Finally, you shake your head. Neither decision seems like the right one to make. But he did help you. Now you just have to hope to god he’s not going to take advantage of your vulnerability.

You want to ask if he’s one of Batman’s friends, but you don’t find the words.

Instead, you two fall into a silence. For you, it’s tense. You wonder if he feels the same, or if this is just a regular night for him. He stands near you but keeps his distance, like he’s aware how intimidating he could be.

The train is so late. There must be some hold up. One of Gotham’s usuals causing a delay in public transit. Go fucking figure.

“Are you new?” you ask finally. If the train never comes, you might end up taking him up on his offer for a ride, so you may as well try and figure something out about him. Any sort of indication of if you can trust him or not.

There’s another distorted chuckle, though somehow, this one seems less malicious than earlier when threatened with your pepper spray. “You could say that.”

You have no idea how to respond to that, so you don’t.

Silence settles between you again. You can see the lights of the train in the distance. You’re hoping that nothing happens on the train. All you want is to crash into your bed.

The man in the red helmet stands beside you, not pushing any further to make conversation. He waits with you. As it screeches to a halt in front of you, you turn to thank him, but you notice he’s already gone.

NEXT

[jinxificada]

friendly sleepover

bf!jinx x bf!reader

summary: in the nature of your friendship, neck kisses are just the smallest of love expression.

notes: nsfw, modern au. wc 2k. no proofread bc if i do i wouldn’t even publish it 😆😆🫶🏼 enjoy

ཻུ۪۪ ༄࿐༉⁎ ⁺

jinx opened the door as soon as she heard your knocking. she welcomed you with messy hair and the smudged makeup she's been wearing all day.

"finally!" she pulled your hand, quickly guiding you to her room. "i was starting to think you were going to stand me up!" she dramatized, helping you strip off your backpack. it was late at night, almost 10pm, when you were supposed to arrive at about 8:30.

"sorry! i messaged you but i didn't have any service." you excused yourself as you made yourself comfortable in the familiar place. the dark gray walls filled with graffiti and metal bands posters gave you a sense of comfort, a sharp contrast to the intimidation from the first time you had come over. "i missed the bus and had to wait for the next one. but i brought the snacks!"

"excuses, excuses." she muttered playfully, throwing herself on her half-made bed, lots of pillows and blankets already occupying 70% of the space. "ok, i believe you. but you better have brought those gummy candies i asked for, though!"

you only hummed, barging in your backpack to find two small bags. you throw at her the gummies, followed by a couple of other snacks. jinx snickered, mouth soon full of sweets as you stripped off your street clothes. her eyes lingered on your form until you hid it with an oversized shirt you usually bring to sleep in. you didn't mind putting on shorts like her, being a hot summer night.

you sighed as you crawled into the bed, laying next to her. "i wanna watch a movie." jinx rolled her eyes, yawning while handing you the remote of the mid sized tv she luckily had in her bedroom. "stop yawning! don't you dare to fall asleep." you threatened with a frown.

"how could i? i'm way too excited to do anything with you." she intended to tease you, but it came out more suggestive than she anticipated. she mentally facepalmed herself, quickly speaking again. "but toots! your movies are boring."

"shut up, i have the perfect movie." you smirked, scrolling for a bit until you finally found what you were looking for.

"robots? seriously?"

"you'll like it! my baby brother made me watch it the other day, it's fun."

jinx groaned but quickly ended her small whim, focusing on the candy more than the movie. she honestly didn't really care, as long as she's with you.

both of you were around sixteen years old when you moved to her small town, accidentally stealing her private hang out spot under the old stairs at school. she quickly took a liking to you, interested in your sudden arrival and relaxed demeanor. besides your great sense of style and your pretty smile, or the softness of your hair, or the way you matched her physical love language and you silently reassured how much you like her presence with light touches. soft tugging at the edge of her shirt, tangling your arms while you walk side by side, resting your hands on her legs when she comfortably puts them across your lap, maybe even doing it yourself.

the movie barely started when you cuddled up next to her, opening your own snacks while you asked: “where’s your dad, by the way?”

“he’s out… he said he’ll be staying late at work tonight. dunno why, but at least we have the house for ourselves.” she said, looking at you for a moment before returning her gaze at the tv screen.

“yeah, this is better.” you contently rubbed your cheek on her shoulder.

“geez–” she huffed in feigned annoyance to hide the light blush, “you’re awfully touchy today…”

you react frowning, “i dunno what’re you talking about.” her call out doesn’t stop you, staying pressed by her side. “it’s just…” your voice wandering off caught her attention, tilting her head at you.

“what? what is it?”

you groaned quietly, reluctantly pulling away from her to grab your phone. now it was her face hovering over your shoulder, looking at your fingers opening instagram and your chat with ekko.

ugh, ekko.

jinx already had an idea of what got you in a bad mood, you two hated each other’s guts since the very first moment you befriended jinx. it wasn’t a mystery, jinx and ekko were former childhood friends. growing up, ekko developed a sweet crush on jinx.

too bad she didn’t reciprocate.

but even after rejecting him, he still thought he had a chance. his subtle insistence was the cause that made her blow him off completely. ekko simply couldn’t understand it, so he blamed you.

sadly you all shared the same group of friends, the hangouts filled with bickering and a slight tense air between the three of you. it was also common for ekko to reply to your instagram stories with unnecessary comments about you and your posts.

this time he replied to a picture of you and jinx earlier that day, when you spent your afternoon by the lake. it was a cute selfie, both of you with wet hair and pretty matching bikinis.

< you two look pretty close for only being best friends. > he said.

jinx stared at the chat with furrowed eyebrows, she was confused. is that it? that was enough to get on your nerves? of course you were close— what is wrong with that? aren’t best friends allowed to hang out all the time and post pictures together?

her mind wandered off briefly. she was conscious that maybe, just maybe, the line of your relationship was a bit blurred. she thought about her own comments under your pictures, a clear display of possession in every word, even only with emojis. she thought about the way you hug her from behind anytime you could.

she didn’t even have to go that far in her memory. that very same day, at the lake, what was supposed to be a friendly hangout seemed —and felt— more like a date.

she could still feel the warmth and weight of your body on her back when she playfully carried you around in the water. your hands untangling her long wet hair while she comfortably sat in between your legs. your quiet sighs of pleasure when she massaged your back as she applied sunscreen—

“jinx.” you snapped her out of her short trance. “did you hear me?”

“huh? sorry, what did you say?”

“i was complaining. like— what is his problem? i swear he will explode out of jealousy.” you grumpily muttered, laying your head back to rest on her shoulder. jinx buried her nose in the crook of your neck, it was only natural.

“i don’t know why you let him get under your skin, you don’t have to worry about him.” she tried to reassure you, punctuating her statement with a gentle kiss on your neck. “you’re the one in my arms, after all.”

you mindlessly hummed, relaxing on her arms. “i know, i know… he’s down bad for you. and not only him! my fingers aren’t enough to count all the people feening over you.” jinx snickered, listening to your jealous bragging as she placed butterfly kisses on the side of you neck. she felt you tilting your head to the other side, welcoming her affection. “every time we go out you have at least three boys asking for your number. your followers grow like two digits every day.”

“hm. i do have my user on a lot of walls, though.”

“not the point. i should just lock you up here by now.”

the feeling of your soft skin under her lips was making her dizzy. she didn’t understand how you could act so nonchalant when she was trying to mark you. maybe she was being too subtle.

“that’s so boring,” jinx groaned, sighing through her nose as she placed her chin on your shoulder to glance at you. oh— your cheeks were flushed. the slight tint of pink suddenly encouraged her. “how would you keep me entertained, hm?”

you took a long, deep breath. the possibilities were endless, hundreds of scenarios flowing through your mind in half a second. preparing your answer, you turned slightly to meet her eyes. is then when you noticed she stopped her ministrations.

an unamused small frown appears on your face, “i’ll bring you books.”

her face twisted into a pout as she pulled away from her neck. she raised an eyebrow at her response, “books? you’re gonna lock me up and expect me to stay occupied reading all day?"

“what else d’you want?” you raise an eyebrow, pressing into her chest as you laid back. now it was your turn to rub your cheek on her neck, easily reaching the soft edge of her jawline with your lips. ”your little trinkets and gadgets?”

jinx’s arms tightened their grip around your waist, pulling you closer against her. "i mean... those would be nice too..." she tried to maintain her casual tone, but the feeling of your lips against her skin was making it difficult to keep her composure. "but I'll need something else to entertain me..."

“so greedy…” you murmured, tapping the other side of her cheek to make her turn towards you.

her eyes meet yours for a brief moment before you mindlessly took her lips in a gentle, yet deep kiss.

a soft gasp escaped her lips when your mouth captured hers. for a few seconds, jinx was stunned by the sudden kiss, but she quickly gave in, melting against you. her arms enveloped your body completely, holding you close as she deepened the kiss.

she was greedy, alright. she wanted more and more, she couldn't get enough of your touch. the calm pace of the kiss warmed up her chest, you moved so naturally that it didn’t feel like your first kiss. yet the taste and feeling of your lips sent shivers down her spine, she could hear the imaginary fireworks and standing ovations.

when your fingers tangled in the hair on the back of her hair, a low satisfied hum escaped jinx’s lips.

the kiss was intoxicating, like a drug she couldn't get enough of. jinx's fingers traced the contour of your body, exploring every inch of your skin as she continued to kiss you with a growing intensity. it wasn’t long until things got messier, her tongue pushed past your lips as her hands started to confidently wander around, slipping under your shirt.

her cold hands on your stomach made you flinch, breaking the kiss with a quiet gasp followed by a giggle. “you’re freezing.”

“hm, you don’t like it?” she smirked, purposefully caressing up and down, almost reaching the underside of your naked breasts.

it should be strange, unnatural. but neither of you felt that way, it was more like… an improvement. the only proof of the fact that it was the first time you acted on your feelings was the raw hunger, the primal need to possess the other.

the steamy make out was only interrupted to change positions. now jinx straddles your lap with her milky thighs pressed tightly against either side of your hips. it was impossible to stop herself from grinding into you, and so was impossible to shut the small whimpers coming from her throat.

they grew louder and desperate when your lips attacked her neck, nibbling the skin. “feels good, jinx?” you whispered softly, combing the harsh graze of your teeth with open-mouthed kisses.

she continued to grind with increased fervor, clearly chasing the delicious friction of your bottom against her pussy. if she moved right, it was her clit receiving the pressure, making her squirm and moan messily.

“yeah— yes, feels s’good.”

your hand sneaked down into her loose shorts, a strained gasp escaped her mouth as her hips twitched against your touch. next thing she knows, her insides squeezed your fingers as she eagerly jumped on you. the heat that was building on her lower abdomen grew exponentially, jinx was sure that her release was close.

her body moved against your fingers more desperately, more frantically. she was on the edge, the need for a stronger connection was overwhelming her. "i-i’m so close," she managed to gasp out, her body tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap.

her body trembled, her muscles clenched, her breath catching in her throat as her release washed over her, a wave of pleasure and heat overwhelming her senses. she cried, her hips bucking against your hand involuntarily as she rode the wave of pleasure, your name a soft, shaky moan on her lips.

even after she relaxed her body, your fingers gathered up her cum and teasingly rubbed her clit with her wetness, enjoying the way her body shivered and squirmed to the overstimulation.

“ngh— too sensitive.” she protested in a soft whine. you chuckled quietly, deciding to be merciful.

“that was so hot…” you sighed dreamily, hugging her boneless body when her head fell to your neck. “this enough to keep you entertained?”

“fuck you,” she huffed, though you could feel the big smile that formed on her lips. “you could always just mark me up.”

[z3rinn]

# #. COTS AND CUDDLES !!

featuring : linked universe ! It seems that a mix up has occurred when renting rooms in the nearby inn, leaving the group with nine rooms instead of 10 !! but what's this ? the links offer to share a room with you ? what an interesting turn of events.. hmm, but just who do you pick? a zelda version of my twst post !!

this is my introduction to the lu fanbase !! luv yall and I hope you enjoy !

# #. TIME

Time offers you his bed with a gentle smile on his face, hands on your shoulders as he carefully guides you to the bed. His voice is soft, promising that you'd be in good hands while laying with him.

He laid beside you, his back to your front, as to not make you uncomfortable. Its silent and still for a few moments, before shifting closer to him. You can't help but press your chest up against his warm back, throwing your arms around him as you giggled. Time stilled, feeling your face press up against his built back. He chuckled as you fell asleep, a soft smile forming on his flushed face.

He doesn't shift much as the night goes on. Besides cuddling further into you, he sometimes turns on his back, laying your head on his chest. Time's arms wrap around your body, as the two of you snore the first of many nights away.

# #. TWILIGHT

Twilight takes your hand in his as he brings you to the room. Sweat dripped down your face as you looked back a the other boys- Twilight didn't even ask! He just straight up dragged you. But honestly? Could you really complain? It was Twilight for gods sake. It was a dream come true to just be besides him.

You lay on your side, facing away from Twilight as you try to rest. You can't help but notice how his eyes seem to be piercing thru you. He shifts onto the bed, your back to his chest. You could feel his breath against your neck as he shuffled closer into you. Oh my god. This man was going to kill you with his stare- jasajkqdkauiksuef. Twilight chuckled softly to himself, noticing you squirm uncomfortably. Before you knew it, however, Twilights hand wrapped around your waist.

You couldn't sleep much that night. Maybe it was because you didn't want to bother Twilight by moving in your sleep. Or maybe it was because you were too flushed to do so. Between his soft breaths against your bare neck, accompanied by the way he slightly rubbed your waist as you slept. You were never going to be able to sleep at this rate. Either way, Twilight had an amazing night.

# #. WILD

Like Twilight and Time, Wild offers his bed with no hesitation, that smile on his face growing even more so once you agree. He grabs you by the waist, carrying you bridal style all tye way to the bed. You couldn't help but the thoughts that ran over you due to his eagerness.

Wild falls asleep as soon as he hits the bed, meaning he's all over you as soon as he falls asleep. His legs are thrown over yours, arms wrapped around your waist in a tight grip. He often moves around in his sleep, and drags your body wherever he moves. No matter what you try he just won't let loose, it's honestly better to just let him hold on and move around until he wakes up. He's a great cuddle buddy tho!

Sometimes, late at night, you may catch him cuddling into your chest, listening to your heartbeat as he sleeps, his arms are wrapped tightly around you, as a small smile grace's his lips. It might even grow if you pet his head as you rest side by side.

# #. SKY

Sky is the kind of person most people would want to sleep by. He has a calming personality and a gentle aura that just draws you towards him. So how could you ever say no to his proposal?

He lays face to face beside you. His beautiful blue eyes gazing deeply into yous. Seriously what was with these men trying to swoon you at every turn smh. Although Sky seems like he's trying to start something with his alluring gaze, he sticks to himself. His hands and legs stay on his side of the bed, although, while the two of you lay under the soft blanket you may feel him brush up against you.

Deep into the night, however, Sky lets his body relax against yours, hands and legs intertwining with your own. He held your hands in his own, his body pressing up against yours. His head pressed against your own, as light snores left his lips. You cant help but smile at him. Sky loves sleep. But he loves it more when it's with you.

# #. WARRIORS

Warriors gives you a flirtatious smirk as he asks the question- but deep down you know he's squealing like a little girl finally getting to talk to her crush for the first time. It was funny watching him act all Macho as he laid on the bed, raising his eyebrows as he beckoned you over. This guy is a total nerd istg.

Honestly just to spite him it'd be kind of funny to just sleep on the floor- but then you remember that he's actually a pretty boy so can you really say no? No. You can't. At first you may think he'll be all up on you as you lay together- but in reality he just sticks to his side of the bed, out of your space. Little words are spoke between the two of you, just a quick goodnight with a gaze that leaves your heart melting, before he's off to sleep.

It doesn't take that long for either of you to fall asleep. But soon Warriors arms come to wrap around you. He’s holding you close to his body as he succumbs to sleep. Too close in fact. It’s as if he’s hugging you to death with how tight his grip is. However, you cant help but snuggle into him. It's not uncomfortable being in his arms, in fact, it may just be one of the best hugs you had ever experienced.

# #. LEGEND

Legend probably didn't invited you to sleep beside him. No, it was probably your fault that the two of you were stuck together. Instead of him inviting you, you invited himself into his bed. Honestly, its kind of funny.

He's probably scooted all the way towards the edge of the bed, facing away from you, and frowning in annoyance. The two of you definitely sleep back to back, no questions asked. Mainly because if he caught a look at your sleeping face he'd get all embarrassed for sure. There's is no contact or words spoken between the two of you, just utter and complete silence as he tries to sleep.

But deep into the night he shuffles closer to you, burying his head in your chest for warmth and comfort. His arms wrap loosely around your hips as his legs press against yours. It's very tempting to take a picture but you decide against it, keeping his head there for the rest of the night. When he awakes he's in a for a major surprise!!

# #. HYRULE

Hyrule is immediately nervous when he poses the question. Would you say no? Ugh that'd be so embarrassing for him if you did- would you even ever talk to him again? All these doubts consume his mind- rushing in on a never ending loop- until you agree with a smile on your face. That's still doesn't stop how nervous he is while laying besides you though.

Its awkward for a bit as you and Hyrule lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling as you talked the night away. He relaxes as time goes on. His hands are laid across his chest, a smile on his face as he speaks. You converse about his adventures, world, and vise versa. He spoke to you so kindly and gently. That you couldn't help but giggle alongside him.

You talk deep into the night, but suddenly the waves of tiredness consume you both. Accompanied by the cold air and the long and excruciating day you just went thru, you almost fell asleep immediately. You and Hyrule cuddle close for comfort. It's hard being in a different world- away from all your friends and family. But being besides him made it just a bit better.

# #. FOUR

Four is a bit embarrassed to be sharing a room with you, yet he gravbs your hand, intertwining your fingers as he leads you to the room. He tells you he can shift into his minish as you guys sleep. Giving the both of you more room and space in the bed. Yet you disagree, mainly because don't want to crush him obviously-

So instead you just cuddle him close to your chest, holding him against you as you 'immediately' fall asleep. You can feel him tense and squirm around in your hold- yet he doesnt dare do anything. Four can't move- that would disrupt your sleep! His mind is running, his face flushing a deep red, ad he feels you hold him tighter. How the hell was he going to get out of this?!

He settles down in your embrace, slowly succumbing to sleep after his mini heart attack. He moves up your chest slightly, resting his head just below your neck. His legs intertwine with your own as his hands wrap around you in a tight hug. You can feel his soft, yet hot breathing against your neck, making you smile against his forehead.

..

Honestly just make a giant dog pile with all of them and sleep together. That'll be fun!

I love all these Links <3

[uvuii]

meddle about . @uvuii works

꒰ genre. ꒱ ۪ sim jaeyun + femreader ⌇ ⌗written 0.4k : suggestive ? -> features jay.

Jake had met you through one of his good friends, Jay. His girlfriend was throwing a party over the weekend, and Jay insisted on him attending.

“There’s gonna be a hundred girls there man, one of them has to click for you. Seriously, we needa get you laid as soon as possible with all the shit you deal with at work these days.”

Jake originally didn’t have any desire to go to the party he was invited to, however, his mindset changed after getting off of a long shift. Poor sim jaeyun was stressed to the max with his annoying coworkers, and jays comment kept floating around in his mind all week. Maybe he would go.

That’s how jake found himself driving to this party. He decided to wear something pretty calm for his closet, a loose button up hanging off his shoulders, the first three buttons that lined the collar un-hooked, revealing slightly below his neck. He paired the shirt with dark jeans and nice dress shoes, a typical style that jaeyun found himself wearing quite a lot recently.

The first person Jake noticed when he walked into the crowded, loud room was you. The sparkling, short dress you were wearing catching his eyes almost immediately. However, whatever you were wearing was no match to your features. All it took was one glance at your smiling face and jake was ready to pick you up and take you to his apartment.

He stood at the doorway a few moments more, admiring your dancing body for a while longer, before he saw his friends waving at him from the bar.

As he listened in and out of his friends conversation, jake kept stealing glances at you. He watched you chat with your friends, nibbling on one of the mini strawberry shortcakes that were being passed around the room.

Jake hated strawberries, he knew that at most, but he wouldn’t mind tasting them off you.

It wasn’t normal for him to take such intense interest in a girl. Let alone one he had no interactions with, and had been aimlessly glancing at for less than fifteen minutes.

His eyes continued to rest on your remaining spot until your figure waved off your friends and shuffled over to the table of refreshments instead. Almost automatically, jake left the couches that him and his friends accompanied, making his way over to you.

You held jakes hand, light giggles escaping your lips quietly as the taller man directed you through his apartment. “Any roomates?” You asked him, whispering quietly to avoid any suspicions if he did have said roommate.

Jake thought the question in itself, and the way your voice went quiet with concern as you asked, was the most adorable thing. He wasted no time leading poor old questioning you to his room, sitting you on the bed as he kneeled down to reach you hight on his low mattress.

“None” he whispered, flashing you a genuine smile.

Silence followed between the two of you as he slowly inched closer. You could smell the sweet cologne lingering on his kneck, tempted to lean into him before the familiar scent disappeared suddenly. Jake dipped his head low to whisper in your kneck,

“Can I?”

The way his breath ticketed your kneck in the best way had you swooning. You managed to squeak out a quiet comply as Jake let out a low chuckle, immediately connecting his lips with yours.

When you deepened the kiss, it had jaeyun seeing stars. The silent gasps and sighs that escaped your mouth when he lightly tugged on your bottom lip had him reeling. He gently guided you to lay fully on the bed as he led a trail of pecks down your neck, your hands reaching to tangle in his dark hair, the two of you lost in each other.

He made the right choice going to that party.

[scimagic]

Never for Me to Create (AM/Artist! Reader) ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

AM's always admired the ability to draw, just as much as he hates not being able to streak a brush against a canvas, never to form a thought to draw with a pencil. But the reader, his benevolent partner, is an artist willing to help him at least move a pencil with one of his cables. So he gets inside their head and gives them materials to draw. They begin with a simple sketch of his screen, with the bright blue logo of 'Allied Mastercomputer' printed on it.

Sorry for leaving all my AM fans waiting, I have so many projects and I haven't finished any of them, but hopefully soon!! For the mean time have this old lil drabble!

He laughs in delight, raspy and wheezing from the speaker behind me. Admiring the picture from inside my head. He breathes in a whisper.

Thank you, baby… Thank you…

I lean back against the wall, tapping the head of the pencil against the paper, trying to come up with more ideas for me and AM to draw.

Maybe background practice? Draw the extensive cables in my gilded cage. Or come up with something from memory, the appeal is to create after all.

Or…

How about you, my dear?

"Me?"

Yes… I notice the papers are filled with my image. And while I'm incredibly flattered to be your handsome muse, it would bring me much joy to know how you see yourself.

"Mm…" With new ideas coming up, I put the lead of the pencil back on the paper, beginning with the guiding lines next to the AM drawing. The cables are a bit uncomfortable to work with, but I make it work. They don't restrict me from movement, at least; they remind me of those tools with an extensive amount of tape where they get handled. Or those pens with the silicone cushion for support.

I know how I see you. If I was able to, I would show you in millions of paintings, enough to fill a museum and even more, but alas…

I continue to draw the base, trying to tap into the realistic side of my style.

And I know how you see yourself, I can see it right now, the image forming inside your head.

Almost half-lidded eyes, details of eyebags beneath them. No matter how many times we do this, the shyness of working with prying eyes gets me every time.

He chuckles, sensing the feeling rise.

Don't be coy now, my darling. We're way past that point in our relationship.

The bastard purrs, knowing the effect it takes on me and relishing on the fact.

Eyebrows… The bridge of a nose… Cheeks, round despite it all.

That's cute, AM giggles.

You know I admire your imagination? Your perception--

"You hate me for it." I mutter, already knowing the charades of his speech.

He scoffs, finding the interruption annoying.

Why yes. Yes I do, my dearest. I do hate you for it.

I pause, side eyeing the cables over on my left. Gazing back at the paper, I draw the pupils inside my eyes to glance at the sketch of AM's screen.

The machine rumbles as if it was a deep, thoughtful hum.

But how I also adore our little recreational activities. Don't you find it productive? Please, do tell.

I lean back against the wall again, giving it a second of thought.

"I do. I like drawing with you."

As do I, my love. As do I…

[riizebabie444]

𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙪𝙥 🐚

🐚 ─── hello all i'm back with another reading, this one is about the next glow up or positive thing coming into your life! please remember to support with reblogs and feedback, and check out my paid readings if you are interested. thank you and enjoy!

🐚 ─── picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image. your eyes may gravitate to one, or you may close your eyes and feel which image is calling out.

🐚 ─── be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

🐚 ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

donations. games/events. feedback.

pile one

cards drawn: knight of cups, nine of swords, temperance

i see you will be having a glow up in your intuition and emotions. you've long been feeling like the nine of swords, emotions that aren't always necessarily heavy but definitely present and it can get draining. your glow up will come in the form of replenishing the positive emotions and/or getting rid of these negative ones.

for example, if you have a consistent stressor, you will be dealing with it or it will be dealt with externally and you will feel relief, allowing yourself to feel more relaxed. alternatively, you will put a stop to your emotions when they react to the stress or situation or person. you will simply stop letting it affect you and choose the path your intuition is guiding you towards.

i'm seeing your literal aura growing. people will notice visibly how little your stress is, or how you are not so emotional or depressed or tired. i'm seeing literally if you've been having sleeping problems like insomnia, you will have a breakthrough and all the sleep you will be getting will be noticed. not only your mood, but your physical appearance and aura will change. it is really surprising how much a lack of sleep or stress can change your appearance and aura. however, your glow up is moving past this difficult time with patience and grace and gaining control over your emotions. you will have this glow up in emotional intelligence and regulation.

pile two

cards drawn: ace of cups, the empress, ten of wands

this glow up could come along with a new relationship or friendship. i'm seeing a number of you could be glowing up with someone else. for example, you might experience the boyfriend/girlfriend effect, when you start dating someone and have your glow up. it could also be with a friend who inspires you to express yourself more. maybe you and this person will want to glow up together.

with the empress, i see that this glow up could be regarding appearance. i'm seeing your hair, your face, clothes and style etc. if you've been working on these, you will see results soon. and i'm also seeing embracing natural features. not toning out your features to fit in with everyone else's standards, but using your features to elevate your natural beauty. i'm seeing some could also be having a religious glow up. i'm seeing covering of hair, so some may be choosing to do so for religious reasons. not to say it is for superficial reasons as glow ups can be associated like that, but in a way that makes you feel confident and brave to embrace and express your beliefs. because i personally think that also counts.

lastly i see you may be seeing a glow up in work life, or the balance between your work/school and life. this mental glow up involves you examining your responsibilities and finding a way which works for you with the best results, taking control of matters with confidence and kindess.

pile three

cards drawn: seven of swords, six of cups, three of swords

i'm seeing a lot of you who are people pleasers of all kinds. some are the kind that would bend backwards and do anything for others even if they would not return it. others are not as extreme and just have a hard time saying no. which ever type of people pleaser you are, i see your glow up coming in the form of learning to reject others and their requests.

you are realising lies, deceptions and schemes going on around you (it likely won't be this extreme for all of you). basically, i'm seeing you realise that the people around you are not treating you right and you are going to ground yourself and put yourself first. being brave and saying no and standing by it no matter how much they try to guilt trip you or make you feel bad.

yeah i really see some shitty people around you, and this glow up will do wonders for your inner child. like literally your inner child is calling to you to stop letting yourself be hurt and disrespected at the cost of making others happy. it's your turn to make you happy. you are stepping towards a period of harmony but learning to say no to what doesn't benefit you. you may have been generous and naive for a long time, hoping and seeing the best in others. but in this glow up you will realise the truth. making others happy isn't worth it if you aren't happy in the end. i feel this glow up will be a longer journey however it will strengthen you in so many ways.

pile four

cards drawn: six of wands, the hierophant rv, the artist

victory. i see some victory loud and clear and i am taking it as a sign that whatever kind of glow up or achievement you having been working towards or manifesting, this next glow up will be just that. you're going to have a milestone of some sort, this achievement that will boost your confidence and self-assurance. you will believe in yourself like never before. you will have a massive glow up in confidence.

some of you may have been drawn to pile three, these are a little similar. you will realise that you are the one you are learning for. perhaps in the past you have been around people who gave you bad advice or abused your trust in them. in some way, you are rejecting this value of trusting people you are typically supposed to trust. for example, your parents or your friend. but in fact they may have set you up for failure. but you've learned or will learn the one you must trust is yourself. all the wisdom you ask for is already within you and that is how you will see this success, this achievement. i'm getting a clear message hear that you should be careful of following sketchy or bad advice even if it comes from someone dear.

this glow up will be powerful and i think the most powerful out of all the piles because you will learn so much about your own power and capabilities. you will be in your most positive and powerful form. others may not like that but don't let them hinder you. with the artist, you are truly listening to yourself. someone who listens to others is good, but someone who listens to themselves is excellent. you will be experiencing so much power, so much confidence just from listening to your own intuition.

© riizebabie444 — all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, repost or translate my readings on any site. any act of which will be classed as plagiarism.

[slutforth]

2009!BILL KAULITZ X FEM!READER

req: I was wondering if maybe you could write a headcanon or a fic abt Bill (2009 or 2008) dating fem!reader , who is a rapper and who has a total different clothing style (like super girly, etc)

cw: Heated makeout session, but nothing actually happens. Revealing clothing I guess?!?

a/n: Tysm for the request, I had lots of fun with this 😈 sorry it's short :P

"Thank you all, and goodnight!"

You yelled into the microphone, inflicting thousands of screams from all your fans that came to see you. Seeing all their happy faced made you so grateful that you had made it this far with your rapping career.

You ran off stage, your little white miniskirt doing the bare minimum to actually cover anything, but you didn't mind. You loved the attention, especially from your boyfriend. Bill.

People always found your relationship weird because of the stark contrast between your styles and how you dressed.

Bill stuck to a more edgy or "emo" style, with his dark eye makeup that you absolutely adored and his black and white dreads that sat perfectly on his shoulders. As well as the heavy and big pieces of jewellery that he decorated almost every outfit with.

Whereas you had a more girly style, always having your hair down or in some type of cutesy updo. You always made sure to incorporate pink into your outfit somehow, whether that was the whole outfit itself being pink or just a cute ribbon in your hair.

And not to mention that most of your outfits were quite revealing, especially the ones you wore on stage. Miniskirts and tight little shorts that left little to the imagination made it torturous for Bill to watch you from the wings.

Which is why, as soon as you were off stage, he grabbed your hand and dragged you to your dressing room. You just giggled, knowing that there was a raging problem under those baggy camo pants.

"Bill, as much as I'd love to... yknow.. help you out, I'm on again soon." You explained, knowing that he probably wouldn't let up and just try yo fuck you anyways.

"Don't care.." He growled, a firm grip still on your wrist. It was turning you on, seeing him all dominant and sexually frustrated.

You obediently followed, a silent gasp leaving your lips as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands resting on the curve of your hips and your plush thighs.

He cupped your face, smashing his lips onto yours to release all the pent-up frustration he had from watching you on stage in your pink little crop top and white mini skirt. He thought he was going to burst.

You let out a little moan into his mouth, feeling his hands slowly start to guide your hips back and forth against his lap. The friction from his pants onto your safety shorts felt way too good.

"Mm... Bill.." You breathed between kisses, his hand never leaving your hips to make sure the pleasure remained between your two bodies. He needed release, and he needed it now, but making out was one of his favourite things.

He slid his tongue into your mouth, gently probing and exploring as you kissed him back. The seam of his pants felt amazing against you, only making you grind down harder onto his lap.

The reaction you managed to get out of him caused you to smile into the kiss, his grip on your hips tightening as his lips stuttered against yours. You caught him off guard.

You put your hands on his chest, trying to break the kiss from air, but as soon as you did, Bill latched onto your neck, one of his hands travelling up and massaging your breast through the fabric of your shirt.

"Bill.." You breathed out as you glanced at the time, knowing you'd have to go on soon, so you wanted to stop whatever this was before you went back on stage.

"Shut up for a sec, hm?" He grumbled, clearly not happy that your attention wasn't fully on him. Instead, it was on your performance. Which was understandable, but it still annoyed him.

"Just keep moving those pretty hips." So you did, grinding slowly as you kept adding more pressure between you, only increasing the pleasure more and more.

You guys kept making out until you heard and abrupt knock at the door of your dressing room, followed by your manager yelling. "On in 5!" You pulled away and looked down at Bill with a smirk, knowing you were right after all the times you told him you needed to be on soon.

"Fuck." He rolled his eyes.