#seems like some of you had the same idea before?? because it was out of stock for some time

[kiragecko]

I recognize that I'm probably not the target of this post. Or, at least, the reblog. But, this IS on topic, even if it has a different energy!

-

It can be challenging to renavigate a relationship with a subject when your previous relationship was HEAVILY effected by a cultural context that is no longer there.

I used to dip my toes into the Harry Potter fandom despite not being able to read the books. (I read for writing style, and hers didn't work for me.) This was back in the mid-2000s, and a huge number of my peers had grown up transformed by this series. They were now adults who considered it an important childhood touchstone. Saying that I hadn't liked the writing style, but thought the ideas were cool, could offend people who thought it was EXTREMELY well written.

So I learned to enjoy the fandom from the sidelines, accepting that I was a bit of a curmudgeonly fun-killer. Keeping the grumpy bits quiet.

And then public opinion shifted, and shifted HARD.

And suddenly the carefully mapped ground was unknown again. People wanted to rant about how the writing sucked. How terrible the ideas were. Positivity got attacked. Quiet enjoyment of fan creations was seen as public support of Rowling's beliefs. Mild comments about the writing being only okay gained "agreement" that it sucked and had never been worth enjoying. There wasn't ROOM to process my opinions about her beliefs for quite a while, because I was too busy trying to figure out how to reconcile with a completely new environment, which was equally dissonant with my opinions of the book, but in very different directions and with a LOT more aggression!

The urge to talk about not liking the books was STRONG. Because I HADN'T been able too before! People got mad if I tried! But I was used to a context of people assuming the book was great, and needing to contrast what I was saying with that assumption. In this new context, where the books were stupid and full of hate and poorly written, my statements sounded REALLY different. They echoed with all sorts of other voices that I wasn't expecting to be there.

-

I rarely make absolute statements, so I didn't come off as delighting in people's suffering if it gave me a chance to be right. There are some benefits to anxiously stuffing every sentence with context and exceptions! But I have a lot of empathy for some of the people saying tone-deaf things now. Because not everyone is able to master new tones at the same speed.

Sometimes people are still processing the fact that they might not get argued with if they state that the Anansi Boys wasn't that good, and they've been wanting to complain about Anansi Boys for YEARS without having to acknowledge that they HAD enjoyed Neverwhere and Sandman. And that gets in the way of the fact that something terrible has come to light.

Or they they try to talk about how Mr. Gaiman selling Good Omens 2 always felt disingenuous. Him telling people that Terry Pratchett would have wanted him to make it. They've never said it before, because fandom should be FUN, and it was just a little thing. But they care about Mr. Pratchett's memory a lot, and it had BOTHERED them. But bringing it up now gets them accused of 'boasting', and 'pretending that they knew all along'.

And sometimes, they're trying to work through a hard topic by finding its limits. They need to be able to explore 'everything he ever did sucked' before they can accept the nuance that 'he made beautiful works and also hurt people badly'.

-

There are a lot of people who jump to easy absolutes, rather than grapple with complexity. That's who this post seems to be about, and they aren't who I'm talking about.

But, conversely, It's easy to say the 'right' things when you were never invested in a topic. And you have the social skills to pick up what the 'right' thing is.

If you already HAD complex feelings about a topic, it can be harder to throw them aside and only focus on the 'right' thing. If you WEREN'T 100% buying into someone's public image, there's a period of working through your shit that kind of needs to happen.

-

Anyways, I've always been a bit uncomfortable about Neil Gaiman. I didn't think Anansi Boys was that good, and gave up after a few chapters. I wasn't surprised when people started coming forward, because there's been a little 'be careful here' tag attached to him ever since I read about the Good Omens photo shoot where he wore black and Terry Pratchett wore white and they joked about it. Something about how Mr. Gaiman told the story.

All of that is a bit tone-deaf to bring in now, even though they're things I've had to process over the last few months. They're part of my relationship with Gaiman's works that I had pushed to the side, and now need to recontextualize, but they aren't directly about the people who have been hurt.

I didn't predict that Gaiman was a sexual predator. I've recommended Gaiman's books in the past, and think his writing is some of the most gorgeous, poetic stuff I've ever read. Neverwhere is amazing. Sandman is also amazing, even if it, too, added some warning tags to Mr. Gaiman's file in my head. I don't think I'm vindicated in any way by what happened, or that talking about my previous reservations is a sign that I was oh so enlightened.

But I'm also 40-ish? I have enough experience to recognize that the world has endless 'clues', and they should be noted down, but not trusted. Maybe the first time something like this happened, I WOULD have excitedly talked about all the puzzle pieces I had gathered, which now fit into place. (But I was offline back then, so we'll never know.)

Gaiman seems to have hurt a lot of people, and lied a lot, and broken people's trust. All of which is more important than my feelings about a disappointing book that everyone kept bafflingly hyping. But in this sudden space for processing what he's done, the pressurized stuff inside of me needs to be processed before I can focus on that new content.

So the disappointing book gets priority.

[muwapsturniolo]

Raw Dawg 𐂯 M. Sturniolo

"We uhh...W-we could go raw?"

⟢ NSFW CONTENT AHEAD, smut, fingering, condoms/raw sex, snowballing (or some version of it?), that's it me thinks. let me know if i missed something please!!!!

part 1 here (you don't have to read part one because it's chris. this is just the matt version!!)

Dividers are made by @bernardsbendystraws (as usual)

Needy.

That's what you and Matt were both feeling.

It had to have been something in the air. The two of you woke up that morning with an anxious feeling in the pit of your stomachs. However, it wasn't anxious in a way that made you feel sick, no, it was something good.

As the two of you went about your day, the touches lingered, and the glances lasted longer than they should have. There were a few times his words seemed to have a double meaning, and there were also a few times when you shot him your famous bedroom eyes.

The day was filled with strong sexual tension - neither of you could handle it anymore.

The door shoots open as both of you tumble into his bedroom, teeth clashing, tongues tangled, and clothes falling - you couldn't get enough of each other.

As soon as you both land on the bed, his fingers find their way to your excessively wet cunt. It's not an exaggeration, you were dripping. You could feel it all day, the slimy liquid seeping out of you, squelching softly between your folds.

"Shit-" he hisses as he pulls away from the feverish kiss, looking down between your bodies. Your inner thighs were drenched with your own mess, his middle and ring finger looking the exact same. His mind was going crazy trying to figure out if he wanted to taste you, or simply fuck you. Both seemed like wonderful options, but with the way you're looking at him, he knew which option to go with.

He shoves his soaked fingers in your mouth, letting you taste your own juices as he haphazardly reaches into the nightstand for a condom. He tears it open with ease, having done it many times before. It was second nature to him, the two of you deciding it was the best contraceptive.

He rolls the condom on quickly, your hands holding the back of your knees as he lines himself up. In one swift motion, he was inside of you, both of you moaning at the first sense of relief. He grasps your thighs, starting to give you the pleasure you both so desperately crave, however, an issue occurs.

You whimper as he slips out of you, his tip prodding at the lower entrance you two don't indulge in. "Shit- I'm sorry sweetheart!" He grabs his dick once more and slides it inside of you, but it happens again,

and again

and again

and again

"Matt," you whine, tears of frustration already building in your eyes. He was frustrated too, all he wanted to do was fuck his girlfriend for hours on end - and he couldn't.

"Fuck sweetheart, I know I know. You're too fuckin' wet, I-I can't stay in!" He rakes his brain trying to think of a way to make this work.

"Get on top."

He catches the glare you give him and he groans, "Dawg, I don't know - Did you just call me dawg?" You stare at him in disbelief, there was no way he just called you, his girlfriend, dawg.

"First you tell me to get on top, and now you're calling me dawg?"

"Ok ok I'm sorry! I don't know what you want me to do! You're too fuckin' wet for me to actually fuck you and you being on top is the best thing I can think of!"

The two of you stare at each other, breathing harshly and frustrated. Both of your minds are buzzing with ways to make this work. The tension has been building all day, and you both were determined to make this work. It was only a few seconds later when Matt got an idea, his body language becoming shy.

"We uhh...W-we could go raw?"

"Matt- I know! We never go raw, we agreed on that, but baby I don't know what else to do. I really need you." His hands rub over the back of your thighs needily. You look over his face with an unsure look. Of course you wanted to have sex with him, you've been waiting all day, but would you risk going raw?

"...Fine, we can go raw. Just make sure you pull-" You're cut off with his lips slamming against yours, your body already melting into the kiss.

"Pull out, I know."

In one swift movement, he takes the soaked condom off, throwing it to the floor with no care. He was eager, he finally gets to experience sex with you raw.

Just like the previous times, he lines himself up, slowly pushing in.

It was shocking how much of a difference condoms made. You could feel everything, his warmth, the vein running up the side of his dick. He could finally feel the real warmth of your velvety walls, the sponge-like texture.

You two felt close - Connected.

He starts off with a few slow thrusts, trials if you will. When he realized that he was finally staying inside, something in him changed.

He pushes your legs to your chest, his grip harsh as he begins slamming into you vigorously. Your eyes roll back, your jaw dropping at the new and incredible feeling. The headboard was slamming into the wall, surely leaving dents and scratches into the plaster.

His moans combine with yours, creating a pitch-perfect harmony. Your bodies are covered in a thin layer of sweat, the heat between you too making the room smell like a mixture of lust and love.

You felt good, so good to the point where you no longer cared.

You manage to push his hands away from your thighs, your legs collapsing on the bed as you pull him closer. Your eyes are half-lidded, glossy as you give him those puppy dog eyes.

"P-Please, need you to c-cum in me!" You urge, pleading for him to give you something you usually would never want - but it was a craving, you were feigning for it.

You needed it.

You miss the way his pupils dilate due to him slamming into you with newfound vigor, your eyes rolling all the way back as your body lurches with each thrust. You could feel the tip of his dick reaching your cervix, nudging the sensitive spot and making you see stars.

"Fuck- god m'so close!" He grunts, his jaw clenched as he tries to get you closer to the edge.

He doesn't have to work that hard, all it took was him moaning in your ear and you were releasing all over him. You let out a small scream as your juices splash between you both, wetting the sheets beneath you as well as both your bodies.

Your nails rake down his back, leaving deep scratch marks on his milky skin as he continues to rut into you. It was becoming too much and he knew it. He whispers sweet words into your ear as he pumps into you relentlessly

"Gonna cum soon. You want me t'fill you up? Give you my babies?"

"Gonna look so pretty preg- oh fuck!"

The idea of you being filled to the brim with his seed, and being pregnant, was enough to send him over, his body shaking as he moans and groans into your ear.

The two of you lay there, fucked out and sweaty as you try to catch your breath. He sits up and pulls out of you, pushing your legs back to watch himself drip out of you.

You were a sight for sore eyes, you looked so pretty like this.

He couldn't help himself.

Despite knowing you're sensitive, he lowers his body and attaches his mouth to your cunt. You jerk and grab at his hair, yanking harshly as you feel his fingers dipping into you. Thankfully it wasn't long, but you still had no chance to catch your breath.

It was something so new and erotic, the way his lips met yours and his tongue pushed the warm salty liquid in your mouth. You moan at the taste, swallowing each drop eagerly.

He pulls back from the sloppy and lustful kiss, staring at you with hungry eyes.

"No condoms for the rest of the night. Hands and knees, now."

[celiababy]

already in love w ur page! i would love to see dads bestfriend joel from you!!

hi! thank u sm!! and ofc coming right up on a very hot and steamy platter 😛

Not Your Daddy

Pairing: Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You're back from your first year at college. You've changed and Joel is quick to notice.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (36/19), swearing, p in v, size kink, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem!recieving) no Sarah, alcohol

Celia's note: Heres jus a lil something :) (not proofread sorry) also part 3 of ain't right is coming so so soon I promise!!

Joel Miller and your father were good friends.

When you and your dad moved in next door a little over three years ago, they hit it off quickly. Their tendency to take on random jobs for cash is what bonded them. Also sports.

You were shy then, never able to hold eye contact and always avoiding him whenever he was around.

But thankfully, you've grown into a woman. Your first year at college changed you.

Now, you were back for the summer, eager to sleep in your own bed and spend time with your home-town friends.

But honestly, you were most excited to see Joel.

You wanted him to see how much you've grown. See how mature you've become, how confident.

You always had a little crush on him—mostly because he was the kindest out of all your dad's friends.

You also wanted him to be the one to pop your cherry.

You were a virgin, and kinda always fantasized about Joel being the one to take it from you.

Sure, you’ve done some stuff with guys, but never gone all the way. You were saving that for him.

You knew it wouldn't take long until he made an appearance.

Your dad had offered to host a small get-together to celebrate you being back. He would barbecue in the backyard and hold bets for the basketball game.

It was really just an excuse for him to break out the grill and gamble, but you didn't care. Only because you knew Joel would be there.

You even put on your shortest white sundress and blew out your hair for the occasion.

Your body was buzzing with the idea of seeing him again.

You wondered if he had changed at all.

Your mind started spiraling at the thought.

What if he had changed? What if he was dating someone now? What if he was engaged?

You glanced in the mirror at your nearly perfect reflection and suddenly felt so silly. What if this was all for nothing?

You didn't have long to ponder that thought because the doorbell rings.

You peak out your window and see Joel's truck in the driveway.

Your dad answers the door downstairs, the faint murmur of voices distracting your ears.

The anticipation was gnawing at you like a hungry dog.

After collecting your nerves, you slowly descend the stairs to meet them in the kitchen.

The loud cussing gave away their location. "You've lost your damn mind if you think there's a chance in hell the Privateers of all fucking teams are gonna beat—oh, hey darlin'," Your dad greets you, clearing his throat like he wasn't just cussing out Joel.

His back is to you, but when he turns around, your heart fucking ignites.

He's just as handsome as the day you left. He looks momentarily stunned by you, his eyes flickering all over your figure. God—how was it possible for someone to change so much? You looked more than amazing.

He immediately feels ashamed for basically checking you out in front of your dad, his eyes snapping back up to your face.

"Christ kid, they feedin' you up there at A&M?" He teases before stepping in for a hug.

He even smells the same as he did all those months ago, pine and smoke. You feel relieved.

It seems like the only thing thats different about him is a few gray hairs.

"Hey Joel," you greet with a giddy smile, hugging him back and relishing in his warmth. "How are you?"

Joel is very surprised. He almost doesn't recognize you. You're so much more...more.

"M'alright, aside from the fact that your dad's gonna give me a fuckin' aneurysm one of these days."

You laugh and shake your head. "Fighting about the game tonight?"

"Yeah, this fuckin' asshat thinks the longhorns might lose tonight—messin' up the whole fuckin' mojo," Your dad rambles, his voice beginning to raise before the doorbell rings again. "I'll get that, need to get away from this traitor." He snorts before heading to the door and leaving you both alone.

Joel rolls his eyes before landing his gaze back onto you and your cute little sundress. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns to face you with his body.

"You behavin' up there at school?" He asks light-heartedly, though you find it excruciatingly hard not to reply in some suggestive way.

"Mhm," You hum unconvincingly with a charmingly guilty smile, holding back a laugh.

Joel cocks a brow, pretending to look at you judgmentally. "Lyin’ is a sin, y’know." He huffs, a smile creeping on his lips.

“I’ve been good, just a lotta temptations s’all..” You murmur softly, your body naturally drifting closer to Joel by swaying on your feet.

The tension in the room is palpable.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head the tiniest bit to the side, his voice dropping what seemed like several octaves.

In fear of your voice cracking when giving a verbal response, you opt for a nod of your head, but then shrug just to tease him.

He glares at you but then scoffs, shaking his head.

"When'd you become such a little shit-stirrer, huh?" He chides, reaching over to ruffle the top of your hair.

You laugh before pushing his hand away, your fingers lingering on his wrist for longer than it needed to.

His skin is warm, he's almost hot to the touch. You're having a very hard time tearing your eyes away from his face.

All the sudden, your father calls you into the other room.

"Get in here! Max and Ruby wanna hear about your classes." Max and Ruby being your neighbors who had undoubtedly stopped by for the party.

You peer up at Joel, your eyes almost begging him to ask you to stay. But instead, he gestures with his head for you to listen to your dad.

"Go on now," He husks out, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Reluctantly you leave him behind in the kitchen, your body still whirring with the adrenaline high you got from just talking to him.

***

It was nice seeing everyone that stopped by for the party. You hadn't realized how much you missed your people.

But Joel was making it hard to concentrate on conversation when you guys were playing eye-tag the entire night.

He really couldn't help himself. There was just something so magnetic about you now—it was impossible to tear his eyes away.

He watched you talk to some of your high school friends, then get up to fetch something from the kitchen.

He couldn’t stop his gaze from falling to your ass once you turned around, his cock twitching in his pants because of the way your dress taunts him with its length.

He clears his throat.

Fuck was he thinking.

This was you he was ogling for christ sake. His best friends daughter.

These thoughts were not allowed. He needed to shut this down.

But the night goes on anyway, people getting more drunk and rowdy with each passing second.

Especially your father, who was currently in a screaming match with his work buddy about the game. They're all crowded around the small box tv in the kitchen, intently watching the tiny screen.

You're watching them from afar, amused by your father and the absurdity of it all.

"Ah fuck, we're outta ice," your dad groans, lifting up the empty bowl in annoyance. "Alright, one of you sons of bitches needs'ta make an ice run, m'not missing this game."

Joel groans out, dragging his hand down his jaw. "We're obviously gonna win—the team's up 46. Make the damn run yourself." He berates your father, who in turn just shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand at Joel.

"Every time I don't watch the game to completion, we fuckin' lose. M'staying riiiight here."

"Fuckin' superstitious bastard." Joel groans from under his breath, picking up his truck keys from the counter. "You want some more beer while I'm out? Maybe my liver too? God knows you need a new one, goddamn alcoholic."

You're laughing at them in the corner, finding their banter extremely amusing.

Then, you suddenly realize this might be your chance to spend more alone time with Joel.

You lurch forward, quickly blocking his path. "Can I come with?"

He looks down at you, a barely noticeable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He's just about to reply to you before your drunk father cuts in.

"Ya, go with him, he can't carry the ice by himself or else his back’ll give out."

Joel turns his head to yell at your dad. "Shut your damn mouth," he barks, then turns back around to face you, placing his hand on your lower back. "'Course sweetheart, c'mon."

The drastic change in his voice when he talks to you versus your father makes your heart flutter.

He guides you outside to his truck, only dropping his arm from your back when he opens the passenger door for you.

Hopping inside, you settle yourself into the worn down bench seat. Your eyes follow him as he rounds the front of the vehicle, swinging open the driver side door and cranking the engine.

His old country music starts blaring from the speakers of the car, accompanied by the loud drum of his engine.

He’s quick to whip out of the driveway, steering with one muscular arm on the wheel.

You want to drool at the sight—you know your other lips most certainly are.

"So, you got a boyfriend up there at school?" He asks after clearing his throat.

He wants to subtly test the waters, whether he knows it now or not.

You smile, the thought of dating any guy besides Joel was laughable.

"Nope. They're all kinda gross."

"Gross? Yeah, well, most guys your age are." He mumbles, thinking back to his late teens, early twenties—Yikes.

"What about you? Got a woman yet?" You ask, following his line of questioning.

Joel scoffs, keeping his eyes trained on the road. “Does it look like I got a woman in my life?”

He looks down at himself for a second to get his point across, making you follow his gaze.

His wrinkly navy shirt had paint stains on it, his jeans were so old, they looked one wash away from disintegrating, and his beard needed a trim.

You try to stifle your giggle by turning your head away. “Yeah, guess not.”

Your mind starts wandering off, imagining what being Joel's woman would look like...having dinner together...sharing a bed...showering together...

God you wanted to be his girl so bad.

You hear yourself speaking before you even know what you’re saying. “Maybe I can help you—y'know, find a woman n’all.”

Joel casts you an assessing glance, cocking his eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? N’how would you do that?”

He doesn’t even mean to sound sexy but the way he talks makes you wanna melt.

“Well, for starters, a haircut might do you some good.” You tease, scooting closer to him on the bench seat to fiddle with the overgrown hair by his neck.

The way your body is turned to face him gives Joel a clear view down the front of your dress, the skin of your breasts making his cock twitch.

“What’re you talkin’ about? My hair looks great.” Joel knows he’s lying, but he just wants to see you laugh.

Which you do. “Yea, maybe to a blind chick.”

“Oh, you got jokes, huh?” Joel chides, using his free hand to come up and playfully tug at your hair.

You erupt in giggles, swatting his hand away while simultaneously trying to tug his hair back.

Eventually, you two stop messing with each other, but you reiterate that you're serious.

"I mean it—it’d be super fun giving you a make-over."

Joel pulls into the gas station and shifts his truck into park.

"You've lost your damn mind if you think I'm gonna let you get anywhere near my head with clippers."

You roll your eyes and giggle, following him out of the vehicle.

"C'monnn, it'll be fun!" You squeal, trailing behind him as he walks into the store, the bell chiming as you both enter.

He pretends to ignore you, walking along the isles to the freezer section.

"I'll be super careful," You muse, snagging a bag of skittles from off one of the shelves before he can notice.

“I promise I won’t fuck up your cut.” You joke, laughing at yourself.

“Hey—watch it.” Joel warns when hearing your profanity, snapping back to look at you, only half-joking.

You roll your eyes—it's ironic coming from him who cusses like a sailor. You brush past him as he opens the freezer, letting your back lean against one of the glass doors, facing him.

"You're not my daddy, y'know. Can't tell me what to do." You purr, a shit-eating grin beginning to form on your perfect face.

Joel feels his blood pressure spike.

You're making this impossible for him and you know it.

His body moves for him before he can stop himself.

After he grabs two ice bags, he closes the freezer and subsequently steps closer to you, popping your personal space bubble.

"You're right. M'not your daddy." He husks, looking down at you and your parted lips. Your chests are centimeters away from each other, and you find yourself holding your breath. “Consider yourself lucky.”

The way he’s looking down at you like prey yet speaking so nonchalantly has your brain spinning. There was definitely an underlying threat in his words.

Before you can respond, he’s turned around and walking up to the register, throwing down a 10 dollar bill and telling the cashier to keep the change.

Science can’t explain the drastic acceleration your heart rate just experienced—but you can.

Joel fucking Miller.

He had to be insinuating something, right?

Your face is hot and so is the rest of your body, stumbling to catch up with him as he walks out the store.

He lugs the ice into his trunk like nothing happened, the tension in his muscles catching your eyes.

Yet, he still comes around to the passenger side, opening the door for you.

Now was your chance to get him back.

You lift yourself up in the truck, purposefully climbing into the bench seat in a way that gave Joel a clear view of your ass—as well as your thong that wasn't really covering much.

His hand clamps down so hard on the car handle that it nearly crumbles under his grip.

You hear him clear his throat before the door slams shut next to you, making you jump a bit.

When he passes in the front windshield, he's shaking his head and dragging a hand down his scruffy jaw. You can't help but giggle at his exasperated expression.

His takes longer to get into the car and start things up this time, trying real hard not to meet your instense gaze.

When he refuses to make eye contact, you huff out a breath and rip open your skittles bag.

This catches Joel's attention.

"You pay for that?"

"...sure." You murmur unconvincingly with a shrug, trying not to smile. "Want some?"

He watches as you pop a few in your mouth, holding out the bag for him.

Begrungingly, he grumbles out a 'yeah' and holds out his palm.

***

The party had fizzled out when you guys returned. There were a few stranglers sitting around and chatting, but for the most part, things seemed to be dying down.

So much for the ice.

Your dad and his friends had migrated to the living room and once Joel put the bags away, he joined them.

He sat on the couch with a grunt, his legs immediately settling into the manspreading position.

You tried not to drool but your mouth was definitely salivating. To avoid moaning just at the sight of him, you head upstairs, the old wood boards creaking beneath your feet.

You don't see it, but Joel's got his eyes on you, following you with his gaze till you're out of sight.

He feels guilty thinking about how much he wants to fuck you when he's literally sitting right next to your father, but he can't help himself.

It's a while before you come back down, when you do, theres a razor in one hand, clippers in the other.

"No." Joel instantly says, shaking his head.

"Yes." You squeal, beaming down at him.

"Awh, go on Joel, you been needin' a clean up." Your dad chimes in, smacking his shoulder. His other buddies encourage it until he has no choice than to give in just so everyone would shut up.

"Fine—fine. Y'all gon' get yours, thats for damn sure." Joel grumbles, stomping up the stairs.

You're laughing all the way up, bubbling with excitement.

"Come down and give us the reveal when you're done!" Your dad screams to which you giggle.

You basically shove Joel into your bathroom, pulling in a stool for him to sit on.

"You better know what yer doin'." He grunts, sitting down on the stool and looking at you with weary eyes.

"Anything I do to you would look better than what you have now."

Joel promptly stands back up when hearing your words, trying to walk away, but you grab onto his arm. "I'm kidding, I’m kidding! I promise I'll do a good job."

You press on his shoulders to sit him down again, your throat running dry when you see the way he’s glaring up at you.

He’s not actually angry—just a bit peeved that he doesn’t have enough self control to stop thinking about fucking you against the bathroom sink.

You start working, none the wiser, bringing the electric razor to his jaw.

Your bodies are close, Joel can smell your delicious perfume and it makes him wanna eat you up.

You start to notice how sometimes his eyes will flicker to your chest, before abrupdtly looking away and clearing his throat.

Your boobs did look great in this dress, maybe you should give him a better view...

The devilish thought pops in your brain and you're acting it out before you know it.

You set the razor down and grab the clippers, stepping around to the front of his body. "May I?" You murmur, not even waiting for his answer before straddling his lap.

You sit on his thighs and Joel feels himself straighten like a board.

“Kid—what do you think yer doin’?” He immediately sputters out, his expression stern.

He’s trying so hard not to look down at where your dress had ridden up from straddling him. He can almost see your cunt, for christ sake.

“Nothin’.” You murmur, bringing your shaking hand up to trim the hair on his jaw. You curse at yourself for not even having the wits to keep calm, you just know your flushed fave is giving you away.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel reiterates, completely unbelieving as his eyes drag down your body slowly.

Then, everything shifts.

There’s something more assertive in Joel’s demeanor that you can’t quite put your finger on, but you know it’s there.

You feel his calloused hand on your thigh, your body erupting in goosebumps when he travels it up dangerously high. Using his other hand, he grips your wrist, pulling it down and away from his face.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me.” His voice is a low murmur.

You’re both locked in eye contact now, hearts beating in sync.

He hears your breath hitch and sees how your eyes are flashing between his gaze and lips. He knows what you’re after—he’s just not sure if he wants to give in yet.

You, on the other hand, are dying of anticipation. He’s not budging, so you’re left to drag your hips up his lap and press down on the bulge in his pants.

"Girl—" He growls out before his hands come up to stop your waist from moving any further. "You don't know what your doin'."

"Do I have to fucking spell it out for you, Joel?" You rush out, dropping the scissors and latching onto his shoulders. You're panting and your face is pink, a needy/irritated expression woven into your features.

He feels your nails digging into his shoulder blades and sees that desperate look in your eyes—he's done for.

"No, I won't make ya do that f'me, sweet heart." He murmurs before abruptly picking you up from under your thighs.

A squeak of surprise leaves your lips at his effortless display of strength. You swallow your nerves after he sets you down on the counter, lodging himself between your legs.

"But I am gon make you say it."

Is he teasing you?

No, his face looks too serious for him to be teasing.

Oh, maybe he just wants clear clarification.

Your heart swells at his consideration.

Sucking in a deep breath, "I want your dick in my vagina." You giggle out, knowing he was probably expecting sexier wording. Joel smirks, crashing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah? S'that what you want?"

You're nodding against him, smiling wide because you just admitted something that you never thought you would.

"N'have you done that before? Y'know, dick in vagina." He copies your candance, but you stop smiling.

Out of all the fucking questions, that was the one that you didn't want to be asked the most.

You had hoped if you came on strong and flirted like you had done it a million times, he would've just assumed you weren't a virgin.

But the bastard always had to be so careful.

You didn't want him to know because you figured it would turn him off—then all you'd become is his best friend’s daughter all over again.

You knew if you lied he would just sniff it out anyway, but you tried nonetheless.

"...Yea. Couple times."

You watch as Joel's face forms into a 'yea right' kind of expression before he sighs out.

"Why'a lyin' to me, kid?"

You groan, throwing your head back and hitting the mirror with the back of your skull.

"Thats why—I don't want you thinking I'm a kid anymore. M'not. I'm grown. I'm grown and I want..your dick in my vagina."

He scoffs, dragging a hand down in jaw in disbelief. "Lyin' ain’t a good way to show me your grown."

He was right. You hated that he was right.

Your face crumbles because you think you just ruined this whole thing. Yet, Joel's hands come up to cup your face, holding them there a moment before they drift down to rest on your neck.

"S'alright, you're alright. M'not mad at'cha." He reassures, making sure you're looking in his eyes before he continues. "M'flattered sweetheart, I really am but-"

"Please don't say some bullshit like you don't think you're the man for this job because trust me when I say this Joel, you're the only guy I've ever wanted to be with."

You gush out, your mouth a leaky faucet. But Joel still looks conflicted.

You figured now would be a good time to bring out the big guns.

"If you won't do it cus I'm a virgin, I'll just have sex with the first guy I see, how about that?"

Joel's eyes darken and his jaw clenches. Now you've just pissed him off. "Don't manipulate me like that." He says sternly, to which you immediately falter in your confidence.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. I didn't mean it." You shake your head at yourself, biting down on your bottom lip. Joel sighs, leaning back but still keeping himself between your legs.

"Look," you start up again, bringing your hand down to hold his muscular bicep. "I've wanted to do this with you for so long. I really want it to be with you. Even if it's just one time, that's okay. Just need you in some way—Joel."

Your voice tapers off into a whisper because his stare intimidates you.

He exhales through his nose before running a hand through his hair and fixing his back to stand up straighter.

"Alright." He huffs, his face looking like he just surrendered in war.

"Alright?" You repeat, hopes high.

"I'll do it," He removes himself from between your legs and slides his grip down to your thighs. "But not right now."

Your heart drops.

"Why not?" You whine like a kicked puppy.

He brings one hand up to pinch your cheek. "Cus your daddy's down stairs, m'not a fuckin' monster." He grumbles before letting go and starting to walk out, but you grab him.

"Fine, but can we at least.." You hop down off the counter and pull him back, kissing him abruptly.

It starts slowly at first, you're both scoping out the scene, but then you get eager.

A tongue slips into his mouth and he returns the favor, his hands finding themselfs back on your hips.

In no time, he has your back up against the wall while he devours your mouth like a man starved. And just as his hand starts sliding up your dress and he's about to go back on his word, a voice comes from downstairs.

"C'mon down Joel, we wanna see the new cut!"

You groan as Joel slips from you, walking back downstairs while wiping his jaw and adjusting the boner in his pants. *** Now it was a waiting game.

Everyone but your dad's friends had left the party; they were just sitting around, watching TV and drinking beers.

You and Joel can't stop making eye contact from the opposite ends of the room. It was like torture not being able to fuck him immediately.

You're quick to conjure up a plan, though.

"Hey dad," you start, twirling a loose thread from your dress around your finger.

"Ya?"

"Didn't they reopen Chambers, like, two weeks ago?" You ask, trying to keep your voice as inconspicuous as possible.

Chambers was the local bar that your dad and his buddies loved to go to. You were just trying to plant a seed.

"Mm, yea, I reckon they did." He sighs out, eyes glued to the TV.

"S'been awhile since we've been there." One of his friends chime in.

"We should go grab a few drinks—I've missed picking up broads from there.." Another friend says, to which your dad promptly hits his arm because he doesn't like that kind of talk when you're present.

Nevertheless, he casts you a questioning glance. "You gon' be alright if we go?"

You try so hard to mask your instant glee. "Oh yeah, I'll be fine! Y'all go n' have fun."

"Alright punkin," They all stand, gathering up their wallets and keys—everyone except Joel. "You comin'?" Your dad asks him.

You glare at him to make sure he understands what you're trying to do.

Joel inhales through his nose before sighing out with a smile. "M'gonna call it a night, boys."

Thank god.

They all grunt and groan in protest, but eventually everyone filters out of the house.

You stand in the door jam and watch as your dad and his buddies file into the car, Joel standing on the porch to wave them off. Words are exchanged between everyone, mostly cussing, as they make their depature.

You both watch as they leave the culdesac, even waiting until you couldn't hear the car engine in the distance before looking at Joel.

Your breath catches in your throat when he turns around to look at you, folding his arms over his chest.

"Sly work." He murmurs, walking forward and forcing you to walk back into the house.

You're not sure why you're so nervous all the sudden.

Because you were pretending to be bold and experienced before, you had no choice but to mask your nerves. Now, that Joel knows the truth, you feel...vulnerable. But in the best way possible.

He backs you into the house before closing the door behind him, his head hanging to look at the ground.

"I had to get you alone somehow." You murmur with a shrug of your shoulders.

It was the truth.

You hear Joel chuckle and watch as he brings his head up to look at you. He's assessing you.

A beat of silence washes over you both.

"You said you would, Joel." You try to say sternly, although your voice wavers because you're scared he might've changed his mind.

"I know what I said." He steps closer, your torso's centimeters apart.

The eye contact is heavy—it feels like an avail against you. But you love it—love him. You're holding back from jumping his bones right by the front door.

"Good." You practically whisper, slowly taking his large hand in yours. You wait until he interwines your fingers before turning around and guiding him up the stairs.

Every creak under his and your feet sounds deafening in the silence between you both.

His hand is sweating, but so is yours.

When you make it to your bedroom, you walk inside and sit on the edge of your bed, gazing up at him.

"How many women have you slept with?" You hear yourself blurt before you can stop yourself.

His lips tighten into a line before he sits down next to you. Your sides are touching, his hands are resting on his knees.

"A few." He grunts, turning to face you. "Lot of 'em forgettable. But this," he gestures between the two of you. "ain't no comin' back from this, you hear me?"

You nod, your hand slipping over his knee. You're trying to trail it higher up his thigh, but he stops you with his hand.

"Need to make sure you know that before we do this. Don't want you regrettin' it later-"

"I won't." You say curtly, only because you know with complete certaintly that there was no way you'd ever regret this.

Everything is still for a moment, the only sound in the room is the both of your breathing. He's staring at you so hard, just waiting for even a hint of hesitation.

But it never comes.

In one swift movement, Joel's lips are on yours, pushing you back into the mattress and settling on top of you.

It makes you dizzy how effortlessly he's making out with you now.

He slots himself between your thighs and you moan at the feeling.

It's embarrassing how little he had to do in order to get you off.

But it's Joel, for christsake—he could just stand there and you'd probably find a way to orgasm at least twice.

It feels like he's engulfing you entirely; his musuclar arms wrapped around you, tongue down your throat, chests pressed together—pure bliss.

Suddenly and devastatingly, he breaks away for just a moment. "Sit up." He husks, to which you immediately oblige.

He lifts your dress up and off, momentairly stunned by the sight of your bare breasts.

"Christ, you're unreal." He groans before latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, using his hand to grope the other one.

You're a mess of moans, but you manage to speak in between. "Take your clothes off too," you whine, pawing at his shirt.

Joel grumbles, taking his time. He strips his shirt off and your hands are quick to latch onto his belt, fumbling with the leather strap but eventually yanking it out of the loops.

His hands come out to steady yours. "Slow down, no rush." He purrs in his texan drawl, making you shiver.

You groan out in frustration, letting your back fall down against the bed again. "You gonna make me wait all summer?"

"If you keep bein' a brat, then maybe." Joel huffs, yanking you back by the legs so he can pull your thong off. He dangles the stringy piece of fabric by his finger, looking at it assessingly.

"Joel!" You squeal, embarrassed. He effortessly holds you down with one hand against your stomach, not letting you swat it away from him.

"This what you go 'round wearin'?" He teases, grinning sharply.

You shrug, all squrimy, prodding him with your legs. "Would it turn you on if I said I wore them for you?"

You almost don't notice when Joel stuffs your underwear into his back pocket because of how drawn you are to his eyes. He's looking at you like a man starved—you love it.

"You been plottin' on me, is that it?" His voice makes your wet hole clench around nothing. He's teasing, but you also feel like you've just been caught.

You definitely weren't as suave as you thought you were.

"Stop makin' fun of me. " You huff with a flustered face, narrowing your eyes at him.

Joel smirks, finally prying apart your legs and taking a good, long look at your dripping cunt. "Christ almightly..." He groans at the sight of you, his cock straining hard against his jeans. "Pretty lil thing."

Your back arches off the bed when you feel Joel's thumb brush against your folds, tantilizingly slow. "Nice n' wet, atta girl." He muses, spreading your lips apart with his fingers.

You wanted to make a joke about him inspecting you like some doctor, but the words died quickly on your tongue when you felt him stroke your clit.

"Joel," You moan, hips squirming impatiently. "Fuck, I need you,"

"You got me, babygirl," Joel murmurs before lowering his head and devouring your cunt completely.

His tongue laps at you with fever, primarily focusing on your aching clit. The sensation nearly makes you pass out, especially when he pushes a finger inside of your hole.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," You whine, fisting the sheets so hard that your knuckles turn white.

Having someone eat you out and it being actually enjoyable is one thing, but having Joel Miller eat you out and it being amazing, was blowing your mind.

He didn't even take breathers.

Joel was consuming you like he didn't need air. Soon, you feel another finger stretch you open, then another, until Joel has three fingers smoothly pumping in and out of you.

It quickly becomes all too much for your little brain. "Hmph..fuck Joel m'gonna come," You whine, your hips staggering against his mouth.

He doesn't answer you, in fact, Joel just wraps his musclar arms tightly under your thighs, securing you in place. In this position, you were rendered completely immoveable.

He kept you right where he wanted you.

"Waitwait, shit, Joel," His tongue is relentless, drinking you up like he was dying of thirst in the desert. Tears are forming in the lining of your eyes, the stimulation overloading you.

"Fuck!" You cry, coming completely undone beneath him. Your entire body shakes with pleasure as you finish, thighs squeezing the sides of his head.

Joel laps you all the way through it, humming contentedly against your soaked cunt.

When your body goes limp against the bed, thats finally when Joel lifts his lips off you. His entire face down past his nose is drenched in your juices; the sight makes your stomach flutter.

"Holy fucking shit Joel," You whimper, out of breath, chest heaving up and down. "That was amazing."

Joel lands a couple soft warning pats against your cunt, making you flinch and squirm from overstimulation.

"You cuss like a sailor, y'know that?"

"S'hard not to when you're makin' me feel so good." You're mumbling, wiping at the tear streaks on your face with the back of your hand.

"Mm, I know," He hums in that caring tone, crawling on top of you and placing a few chaste kisses on your lips.

It doesn't take long for your libido to rise again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kissing him back.

You bring a hand down to palm at his boner, giggling into the kiss. He groans at the feeling, rutting his hips into your hand. "Fuck me now please," You say breathlessly into his ear, nipping and licking at his neck.

He scoffs at your enthusiasm.

Finally, Joel pulls his pants off, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

You're enamoured by the sight of it. Long in length, even bigger in girth. You practically start drooling.

"You got a starin' problem too." Joel grumbles, grabbing you by the jaw and tilting your head up so he can kiss you again.

You chuckle into his lips, breaking away for a moment to speak. "I can't help it. It's handsome..you're handsome." You muse, getting a fist around his cock, managing to stroke it a few times before Joel stops you.

You don't have time to think or argue before he turns you over onto your side, situating himself behind you.

He's spooning you, except his left arm is hooked around your chest and his right has your leg lifted up, allowing his cock to slip between your folds.

Once again, he's got you right where he wants you.

"Joel," You bring your hands up to hold onto his forearm, pushing your ass back into him. "Put it in." You all but demand, trying to desperately grind your cunt on him.

He tightens his grasp on your collarbone, pulling you tighter against his chest. "Keep your leg up baby," Joel mutters lowly in your ear, letting go of your leg to guide his cock to your entrance.

His fat tip prods against your willing hole, making you dizzy with need. He runs his fingers along your folds one last time, gathering up your slick and using it to lubricate his cock.

Your heart is beating a million miles per hour. The moment you had been dreaming of for so long was finally here.

Joel, taking your virginity—your prayers were answered.

Slowly, Joel starts inching his way inside, the stretch making you gasp.

It feels fine at first, just a dull ache, but then it hurts—bad.

You squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth, trying to push through the pain. However, your body clenches down on the intrusive appendage, causing Joel to groan out.

It feels good for him, but he's been around the block a few times to know what's happening.

"You okay? I need'a stop?" He asks in that raspy voice of his, to which you immediately shake your head.

"Nonono, god no, don't stop. Just—just ram it in." You say foolishly, making Joel scoff.

"No, sweetheart, as much as I want to—bad idea." He brings his hand back down between your legs, rubbing a few slow circles into your clit. "Just relax and open up for me, thaaaats it," He encourages in that tone that lights fires in your core.

The perfect stimulation on the bundle of nerves made you forget all about the pain, letting your hole ease up a bit.

He takes the oppurtunity to keep breaching you deeper, peppering kisses to your neck and back in the process. His fingers stay glued to your clit, and before you know it, he's half way inside.

Your holding onto him so hard that your nails are leaving imprints on his forearm.

But you're so full of him and it's perfect. You can feel every twitch, every notch, every vein; or maybe you're just convincing yourself you can. Either way, mewls and moans are slipping from your lips and feeding Joel's growing ego.

"You feelin' good sweetheart?" He rasps in your ear, thrusting back and forth till he reaches that half way mark. You nod frantically, craning your neck to face him, desperate for a kiss.

He satisfies your wishes, kissing you slowly and passionately, like everything you've ever wanted.

His dick in you, his tongue down your throat, his arms pinning you to him. Fuck.

But you still want more.

In a shocking move, you slam your hips back against him, burying him all the way inside.

Moans fill your little bedroom, both his and yours, and for a moment, a flash of regret hits you like a truck.

He's big, and it fucking hurts.

But once the initial pain subsides, it’s like ecstasy.

"Fuck—girl, what'd ya do that for?" Joel hisses, tensing up because he's trying not to come fast.

"Couldn't wait," you pant, tears spilling out the corners of your eyes. "Please move." You're pleading because being stationary is somehow even more painful. You squirm in Joel's strong grasp, trying to stop the ache between your legs.

He's no match for you.

In a gentle but swift motion, Joel situates himself on top of you, closing your thighs together and putting them on one side of his body—all while still inside of you.

He cages you in with his big strong arms, looking down at your needy expression as he gradually starts rocking his hips into you. You're twisting your torso to remain looking at him, clawing at his biceps with your nails.

"This how you like it?" He huffs out, the sweat evident on his brow. "Deep n' slow?"

You want to respond to him, but it's hard to because every other sound you make is a moan.

He's so deep and never fails to hit the one spot that just makes you melt.

Opting for a non-verbal response, you nod with fever, gyrating your hips to meet his thrusts.

He chuckles, the sound alone makes you wanna come.

His name slips from your lips like a prayer—Joel finds it so cute because when he hits deep, your voice raises in pitch.

But he's no better, he'd been groaning in your ear since the start of it. He really cant help it, your cunt is like a silky, wet vice molded perfectly for his cock.

Joel lifts one of your legs up to his chest, securing his muscular arm around your thigh to keep it there. He continues he's deep thrusts, only this time picking up rhythm. He also brings his other hand down to lazily rub circles in your clit.

Christ.

Your head lolls back and your eyes roll into the back of your head. The stimulation was insanely perfect and all too much at the same time.

Your body wracks with jolts and spasms—your body trying to cope with everything it's feeling. Joel takes notice, a proud and lopsided smile spreading across his face.

"M'gonna cum," You whine, your body writhing against him with each thrust.

Your pussy is clenching down on him with each piston of his hips, Joel is not far behind you.

He rubs your clit in a way that makes you come undone, your back arching up off the bed and your toes curling from pleasure.

At the same time, Joel picks up his pace, only to pull his cock from inside you and pump it a few times before unloading his seed onto your naked torso.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing coming from the both of you. Joel's staring down at your pussy, entraced with the way your hole is constricting around nothing.

Then, he looks at your face. Your eyes are closed, your lips are parted, your chest is heaving up and down. He's admiring you and all your fucked-out glory.

He brings a hand up to your face, wiping off the tear stains with his thumb. "You alright?" He husks out, looking down at you assessingly.

"M'perfect." You coo, slowly opening your eyes and leaning up to kiss him. Joel returns it, loving the way your mouth opens so readily for him.

He'd have to try it out with his dick next time.

"Can we go again?" You murmur into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

Joel scoffs because he thinks you're kidding. You're not. When he realizes this, he shakes his head in disbelief, pushing you down onto the bed by your shoulders.

"Don't worry, we got all summer."

[itendtothinkalot]

strawberry ice cream

summary: taehyun’s never liked strawberry ice cream, but for five years, he’s pretended to, just to make you happy. one day, he finally confesses his feelings! trying to keep your cool, you’re struggling to handle the situation, but taehyun? he’s acting different, a little too confident for your own good. now, with his teasing, you’re not sure whether to be flustered or admit that maybe… you feel the same way.

genre: fluff!!! just all around fluff!

characters: best friend!taehyun x f!reader <333

words: 6.7k

warnings: none!!! i hope

Taehyun has dated before—many times, actually. He was smart, confident, and undeniably good-looking. Girls naturally gravitated toward him, drawn to his quiet charisma. And for the most part, he welcomed it. Dating was simple, effortless.

Until it wasn’t.

Because no matter how pretty, how kind, how perfect they seemed, something always felt… off. The spark that everyone talked about—the feeling that made people stay—it never lasted. He tried convincing himself it was normal, that love wasn’t supposed to feel like fireworks all the time. But deep down, he knew.

Love wasn’t supposed to feel like settling.

And maybe, just maybe, it was because of you.

The thought lingered at the back of his mind, unspoken but persistent, like a song stuck on repeat. You, his best friend. The one constant in his life. The one person he never had to impress. The one girl he never had to chase—because you were always there, smiling at him like he was just Taehyun, not someone to be won over.

And maybe that’s why it scared him so much.

Because if he admitted it—if he really let himself feel it—he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to go back to pretending.

—

“Here.” You handed him a cone of strawberry ice cream, your fingers brushing against his for a fleeting second.

Taehyun looked up at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Thanks.”

The contrast between you two had always been apparent. Where you were all bright energy, he was quiet steadiness. You were the type to run headfirst into situations, heart first, no hesitation—while he was the one standing behind, arms crossed, sighing before inevitably following to make sure you didn’t do anything too reckless.

Even now, as you excitedly licked your ice cream, eyes crinkling in delight at the taste, he couldn’t help but think—you’re so easy to love.

He took a slow bite of his own. Strawberry ice cream. Not his favorite. Not even close.

But it was yours. And for some stupid, unexplainable reason, that made it taste better.

“Are you even enjoying that?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. “You always make this face when you eat strawberry ice cream, like you’re forcing yourself.”

Taehyun raised a brow, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “Sure. Whatever you say.” Then, without warning, you leaned in and took a playful bite out of his ice cream, giggling as you pulled back.

Taehyun stilled.

You didn’t even notice.

“See?” you hummed, licking the remnants from your lips. “Mine’s better.”

He swallowed. Hard.

It wasn’t the ice cream. It wasn’t the teasing. It was the way you did things so effortlessly, so casually—like stealing a bite of his ice cream was just normal between you two. Like it didn’t mean anything.

For you, it didn’t.

For him?

His grip on the cone tightened slightly.

You had no idea, did you? No idea how badly he wanted to close the space between you and wipe the ice cream off your lips with his thumb. No idea how every time you leaned in close, his brain short-circuited trying to act normal.

No idea that he’d spent years convincing himself he was just your best friend.

And he’d keep pretending.

Because that’s all he was allowed to be.

For now.

—

Taehyun barely reacted when you slammed the door behind you, though his grip on his phone tightened slightly. He already knew tonight wasn’t going to end well—the second Soobin had smugly announced that he was setting you up on a blind date, Taehyun had felt a distinct irritation settle in his chest. Not that he could say anything about it. Not that he had any right to.

Still, he couldn’t help but scowl internally at his friend’s meddling. 

His expression remained unreadable as you stomped into the apartment, throwing your shoes off with more force than necessary. You muttered an impressive string of curse words under your breath, arms crossed so tightly over your chest that he thought you might combust.

Then, with a dramatic sigh, you spotted him on the couch. Taehyun barely had time to process before you fell onto his lap, burying your face into his sweater as you threw your arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Men are stupid," you declared, voice muffled against his chest.

Taehyun let out a breathless chuckle, adjusting to the sudden weight of you sprawled across him. "I mean, I won’t argue with you there," he said, keeping his tone light even though he was struggling to ignore just how close you were.

Your body was warm against his, your scent—something sweet, something unmistakably you—filling his senses. It wasn’t fair. How easily you curled into him like this. How naturally you sought comfort in him, never once realizing that he was part of the very problem you were complaining about.

"I take it that the date didn’t go well?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

You groaned dramatically, tightening your hold around him. "Disaster would be an understatement. First of all, he was late. Like—half an hour late! And then when he finally showed up, he spent the first ten minutes talking about his gym routine."

Taehyun hummed, resting his arm along the back of the couch as he definitely didn’t let his fingers linger in your hair. "Maybe he was nervous."

"Well, then he shouldn’t have tried mansplaining my own job to me."

Taehyun winced. "Yeah. That’s… rough."

Taehyun bit back a smile. God, you were adorable when you were ranting.

"Maybe Soobin should retire from matchmaking," he mused.

"Maybe Soobin should mind his own business," you muttered. Then, with a sigh, you dropped your head back against his shoulder, settling into him like he was the only place in the world that made sense. "It’s so unfair. Why is dating so hard?"

Taehyun stared at the ceiling. It doesn’t have to be.

But he didn’t say that.

Instead, he swallowed down the words, kept his arm loosely draped around you, and pretended like his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest.

Pretended like he wasn’t wishing, just this once, that you’d see him.

—

The two of you were having a conversation.

Well, mostly you were talking. Taehyun was listening, nodding every now and then, letting you ramble as he sipped his coffee.

“I just don’t get it,” you sighed, stirring your drink absentmindedly. “I mean, I want to be in a relationship. I really do. But it’s like—ugh, I don’t know, the moment I actually try, it never works out. Maybe I’m cursed. Or maybe my standards are just too high.”

Taehyun raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“Like, am I asking for too much? I just want someone who gets me, you know? Someone who actually listens when I talk, someone who doesn’t just nod and smile but really hears me. Someone who’s honest but not in a mean way, who calls me out when I’m being dumb but still sticks around anyway.”

Taehyun hummed. “That’s… oddly specific.”

“Right?” you huffed. “It’s so hard to find.”

Before Taehyun could even think of a response, a shadow fell over the table.

“Hey, I’m Yeonjun,” a smooth voice cut in.

Both of you glanced up at the guy standing next to your table—tall, sharp-featured, and clearly confident in his approach.

“I was with my friends and I just had to come over and tell you that I find you really cute,” he said, flashing you an easy grin.

You blinked at him, lips parting slightly in surprise before you shrugged. “Oh. Thanks.”

And just like that, you turned back to Taehyun, picking up right where you left off. “Anyway, like I was saying—”

Taehyun’s brow furrowed. He stared at you, then at Yeonjun—who was still standing there, slightly thrown off—before the guy awkwardly excused himself and walked away.

Taehyun narrowed his eyes at you. “That guy was flirting with you.”

You glanced over your shoulder, barely sparing Yeonjun another look. “Yeah. And?”

Taehyun frowned. “You keep saying you want to be in a relationship, but when cute guys approach you, you never seem to care.”

You turned to him, meeting his gaze dead-on. “That’s because none of them seem to know me. Not the way you do.”

Taehyun stilled.

You leaned in slightly, voice quieter but firm. “None of them treat me the way you do. What I want is… something we have.”

For the first time in a long time, Taehyun didn’t know what to say. His grip tightened around his coffee cup, his pulse suddenly too loud in his ears.

Because if you meant what he thought you meant—

Oh.

Oh.

Taehyun’s voice was quieter now, more cautious. “That’s because we’re best friends. Of course I know you. That’s... that’s how it is.”

There it was—the wall he built, the familiar, comforting excuse. He was doing what he always did—masking—keeping things light, brushing away the vulnerability that had sparked in him just a moment ago.

But he could’ve sworn he saw a flicker in your eyes.

Your expression changed for the briefest moment. A small tightening of your lips, a flash of something unreadable, almost like you were disappointed. But then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

You nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Of course, we’re best friends. That’s what we are.”

It almost felt rehearsed, the way you smiled so brightly, almost like you were trying to convince yourself of it. But Taehyun couldn’t be sure. Was it just him, or was there a shift in the air between you two now? Something that hadn’t been there before.

"Yeah," he replied softly, but the words felt heavier now, lingering in the space between you. “Yeah. Best friends.”

But in his chest, the tightness wouldn't loosen. It wasn’t supposed to feel this complicated, was it? Best friends didn’t look at each other this way, didn’t feel their heartbeats quicken when the other spoke.

He wiped his palms on his jeans, looking anywhere but at you.

You, on the other hand, were too calm. Too nonchalant. Like this wasn’t the most loaded conversation you’d ever had with him.

You leaned back in your chair, your legs crossed casually, as if you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his chest. “I mean,” you started, your voice sweet, like the conversation had just shifted into another territory entirely. “I am lucky to have someone who gets me like you do.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Taehyun didn’t want to just be someone who got you.

He wanted to be the one who had you.

His thoughts were moving faster than his words. God, what was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t take it back, couldn’t unfeel what he was feeling. And by the way you were looking at him right now—so utterly unaware of the weight of your words—he knew it wasn’t something you were going to suddenly realize.

He sighed, trying to laugh it off. “Well, that’s what best friends are for, right?” He almost hated how forced it sounded. How untrue.

The air between you both felt impossibly thick.

You didn’t say anything right away. Instead, you just smiled again, but it was a different kind of smile this time. One that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, almost too softly.

And just like that, the moment shifted—slipped through Taehyun’s fingers, leaving only a quiet, unbearable ache in his chest.

But he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Not yet.

—

Taehyun stared at the glow of his phone screen, his mind racing, unable to shake the thought that had been nagging him ever since that conversation. Could it be? No, he must be crazy. There’s no way. You were so out of his league, otherworldly even. And he... was just Taehyun.

But that one flicker of a change in your expression kept replaying in his mind, like an echo he couldn’t silence. The way you’d paused, the hesitation that flashed in your eyes. It felt like something had almost been said, but you’d stopped yourself.

He didn’t know what to do with it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

In a moment of desperation, his thumb hovered over the keyboard, and before he could talk himself out of it, he typed: “how to know if a girl likes you?”

He hit search and scrolled through a few websites, the information flooding in with no filter.

“Sign 1: She initiates skin contact.”

Taehyun scoffed under his breath, thinking of all the little moments. Like when you’d casually rest your hand on his arm while laughing, or when you’d bump his shoulder whenever you wanted his attention. Sometimes it was the lightest touch, like when you’d accidentally brush his fingers when handing him something, but it always felt deliberate.

He groaned, covering his face with his hand. No way. It couldn't mean what he thought it meant, could it? 

He scrolled further.

“Sign 2: She confides in you about everything.”

Taehyun's mind immediately went to the way you’d always come to him with the most trivial, random things. From a bad day at work to maybe how you felt during a meeting. You told him everything, like you trusted him more than anyone else, like you couldn’t imagine telling anyone else first.

You always confided in him with a smile, always sought his opinion, even on things as silly as what kind of ice cream to get, or what outfit to wear on a date.

His heart skipped.

Sign 3: She constantly teases you.

Taehyun felt a soft blush creep up his neck. He couldn’t help but think of the countless moments you’d teased him. The way you loved to poke fun at his serious demeanor or the silly nicknames you’d give him just to make him laugh. You always seemed to have this way of keeping him on edge, teasing him just enough to make his heart race.

Even that one time when you’d cornered him with a playful grin, saying, “You know, for someone so smart, you’re so clueless about people.”

He could hear your voice in his head, that playful tone, that mischievous glint in your eye.

Taehyun blinked, pulling his phone back from his face and staring at the screen in disbelief. 

All these signs—these signs—they were all things you’d done. He’d never even thought about it before, too focused on the fact that you were his best friend, his person.

But now? Now it felt like something had shifted in his mind, the gears grinding and clicking into place.

A sudden panic flooded his chest. What if you did like him? What if you always had?

His thumb hovered over his phone screen again, as though he might text you right this second and ask. But then the overwhelming thought hit him: What if he was wrong? What if he misread everything? What if this ruins everything?

He tossed his phone on the bed beside him and buried his face in his pillow, groaning into it. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to know if he was about to lose the only thing that mattered most to him.

But one thing was clear now: He couldn’t just ignore this feeling anymore. 

And that made him, well, confident.

—

Taehyun felt the strange urge building up inside him—something he couldn’t shake off, no matter how many times he tried to distract himself. He wanted to know, needed to know. He hesitated at your bedroom door, then, taking a deep breath, he knocked.

You groggily opened the door, stretching as you yawned. "Taehyun?" you asked, your voice still laced with sleep. He couldn’t help but notice the way your hair was messily falling over your face, the way your eyes still held traces of sleep. To him, you always looked beautiful, no matter the time of day.

"I have a question for you," Taehyun said, his voice calm. "Do you like me?"

You blinked, still half-asleep, trying to process what he just said. "What?" you muttered, rubbing your eyes.

He stepped closer, his eyes focused on you with an intensity you couldn’t quite understand. “Do you like me?” he repeated, his voice unwavering. This time, his eyes were serious, and the playful tone that usually accompanied his words was gone. Your pulse quickened, and you instinctively took a step back, but Taehyun followed, his presence too close for comfort. You stumbled slightly, your knees hitting the bed as you ended up sitting on it.

“Do you like me?” Taehyun asked again, his voice low and steady, as though he was studying your every movement, every tiny flicker of emotion that passed across your face. He leaned in just slightly, watching the way your breath hitched, how you nervously avoided his gaze. There was something almost intoxicating about the way you looked flustered in front of him, and it made his heart race.

You gulped, feeling your face grow hot. His gaze was too intense, too penetrating, and suddenly, the room felt a lot smaller.

“Taehyun... what are you talking about?” You forced out the words, trying to sound unaffected, but even to your own ears, your voice wavered. Taehyun tilted his head slightly, watching you closely.

"I'm just asking a question." He smiled faintly, as if this was all normal to him. "That day, when you said you wanted to date someone who knows you… isn't that me?"

Your heart skipped a beat. "It could just mean someone like you," you stammered, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Hmm." Taehyun raised an eyebrow, his lips curling up slightly. “Could mean that. But it could also mean something else.”

You swallowed hard. "Mean what?" you asked, doing your best to hide the nervousness bubbling up inside you. You were trying so hard to act casual, but everything inside you was screaming otherwise.

"That you like me," he said, his voice almost teasing now, but there was something deeper in his eyes that made your stomach flutter.

You scoffed, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "Pfft. I always knew you were smart, I didn’t think you’d be funny too." You tried to brush it off, but your heart wasn’t in it. Taehyun’s gaze never left you, and his smile only grew, his eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

"Okay. Fine." He said, his tone shifting again, this time more serious, almost playful in a way that made you want to melt. "When you do find the perfect guy, be sure to let me know. Because I want to be ready, to prepare myself for the heartbreak of seeing the person I love fall for someone else."

You stood there in complete shock, unable to process what he’d just said. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You couldn’t say anything. Taehyun chuckled softly, standing up, but not without giving you one last lingering look.

“And also... you didn’t really answer my question,” he added with a teasing smile, turning toward the door.

Taehyun didn’t get a confession out of you but somehow he found something greater. Confidence. 

—

You woke up, uncomfortable. You could still feel the warmth of Taehyun’s words echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. You didn’t want to face him—not yet, not when things were so weird between you. So you stayed in your room, lying in bed, hoping he’d leave for a while so you could avoid the inevitable awkwardness.

You finally summoned the courage to get out of bed, dragging yourself to the kitchen for breakfast, hoping for a quick escape. You pushed the door open, only to freeze in your tracks when you saw Taehyun leaning casually against the counter, a glass of water in hand. His messy hair and sleepy eyes made it all the harder to ignore the strange rush of emotions in your chest.

You tried to turn around without saying a word, but as you moved toward the door, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey,” Taehyun called, his tone light but laced with an unmistakable playfulness. You didn’t even look at him as you slowly turned back to face him.

“I’m not gonna bite,” he continued, his gaze catching yours for just a moment before you quickly darted your eyes elsewhere. “You can get some breakfast. I can go if you want.”

He let out a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, even if he didn’t admit it. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and it made your cheeks heat up.

There was something different about the way he presented himself, almost as if he was trying to win an argument. Taehyun seemed different—almost too confident, as if he had finally come into his own.

You shifted your weight awkwardly, trying to find the words to fill the silence, but they didn’t come. Instead, you muttered, “It’s fine.”

Taehyun watched you, that knowing glint never leaving his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew it was messing with your head. It didn’t help that his relaxed stance seemed to suggest that he wasn’t bothered by the tension between you at all, while you felt like you were unraveling inside.

With a slight tilt of his head, he added, “Come on, you’re not gonna make me stand here all alone, are you?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, moving past him to grab something for breakfast. Taehyun didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he leaned back against the counter again, watching you closely, waiting for you to crack under the pressure.

You could feel his eyes on you, and you tried your best to pretend that everything was fine. 

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I can just pretend I didn’t say anything,” Taehyun said, casually leaning back against the counter. “Besides, I’m the one who said I liked you. Why are you acting like you got rejected?”

He let out a soft laugh, one that made you feel both at ease and completely on edge at the same time. The teasing tone in his voice only made the situation harder to navigate. How was it so easy for him? Why couldn’t you just tell him how you felt?

“I’m gonna go shower and head over to Soobin’s,” Taehyun continued, his voice light, but there was that quiet undercurrent of something else. “You can have the rest of the house to yourself.”

He moved to turn, but before he could, you blurted out, “No!”

The word slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. You froze, the heat in your face betraying the chaos inside your mind. Why did you even say that?

Taehyun paused, his back still turned to you, but his posture stiffened slightly, as if he’d expected more of a reaction but didn’t expect this one. He turned back to look at you, but your gaze immediately dropped to the floor, not daring to meet his.

For a moment, there was silence between you. Your brain was screaming for you to say something—anything—that could explain the rush of emotions that had flooded you in the span of a few seconds. But every time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to get stuck somewhere deep inside.

Taehyun, sensing your hesitation, raised an eyebrow, the faintest smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “What? You want me to stay?”

You opened your mouth again, but nothing came out. You were completely at a loss for words, your heart pounding in your chest, knowing that anything you said could ruin whatever fragile understanding you two had left.

So, instead, you stayed silent. Your mind raced as your thoughts collided with each other, all those things you wished you could say, but couldn’t seem to get past your lips. Taehyun was waiting for you to speak, but you couldn’t.

He sighed softly, almost as if he was amused by the effect he had on you. “You know,” he said, voice quieter this time, “I’m not gonna make it easy for you.”

With that, he turned around leaving you standing there, heart in your throat, unable to move.

—

As Taehyun drove over to Soobin’s, his mind couldn’t stop replaying the conversation from moments earlier. Five years. Five whole years. It had been that long since his feelings for you had started, slowly growing, deepening until they became something undeniable. But for all that time, he’d kept them buried, locked away behind advice, words of wisdom and a friendship that was too comfortable to risk.

He had watched you date other people, listened to you vent about your blind dates, your crushes, and your frustrations. And all the while, he had stayed by your side, always the supportive friend, the one who would laugh with you, talk to you about anything, and pretend that nothing was wrong when his heart ached with each passing day.

But today? Today was different. Seeing you crack under the pressure of his directness, your vulnerability laid bare—it had done something to him. The power he felt now, as if he held some control over your emotions, was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You were always so strong, so in control of yourself, never letting your guard down. But for the first time, he saw something shift in you. Something that made his heart race with anticipation. And what’s more, it was cute. Really cute. How you tried to act like everything was fine, like you weren’t completely freaking out inside, but he could see it in your eyes, in the way your hands fidgeted, how your voice wavered just slightly when you spoke.

And for the first time, he wasn’t angry with himself for not telling you sooner. He wasn’t frustrated with the years of yearning. In fact, it felt almost... right, in a strange way. Maybe he’d always had to wait, maybe he had to be patient, but he was willing to.

He didn’t care if you didn’t see it yet, or if you were too nervous to admit what he could already see. He knew that one day, you’d come to him. And when that day came, he would be there, ready to make you see him the way he’d always seen you.

For now, though, he was content to wait. To let you work through whatever you were feeling. He didn’t need you to have it all figured out right now.

He’d wait for you. And when you were ready, he’d be right here, as he always had been.

—

It was 12am and Taehyun was still out.

You couldn’t understand it. One moment, you were his annoying best friend who had ran through every bad decision in your head. You were a confident person who could face your feelings for Taehyun, and the next thing you knew…it was as if the ground had been ripped from under you. The fear of losing him, the uncertainty, the possibility of ruining the one thing that had always been so solid in your life.

As you paced around the house, your thoughts spiraled, each one more dramatic than the last. Did you scare him off? What if you ruined everything? What if this changes you two forever? The thought of losing Taehyun, not just as a friend but as someone who meant so much more to you, made your chest ache.

And yet, there you were, throwing your phone across the couch, staring at the screen, wondering what you could say, how you could fix it. You were terrified of the silence between you, terrified of confronting what you knew deep down: that you loved him.

Your mind was racing, and just as you were about to call him, the sound of the door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts. You froze, heart pounding as you looked up. There he was.

“Still awake?” he asked, surprised, his eyes flickering over to you. You didn’t know how to respond, your words stuck in your throat..

You nodded in silence, and then it hit you—the familiar feeling of him looking at you, noticing everything, like you were the most important thing in his world. The way he could see through you, the way he knew exactly what you were feeling, even when you couldn’t find the words to express it.

“Good. I bought us supper,” Taehyun smiled, and for a brief moment, everything felt normal again.

You looked over at the bag of food in his hands, and your heart fluttered. Of course, he got your favorite... How did he always know? You could never hide anything from him. He placed the food on the table, the sound of it all grounding you, bringing you back to the present.

“C’mon. I know you haven’t eaten,” he said, that familiar teasing tone in his voice.

How did he know?

Before you could stop yourself, you instinctively responded, “Yes, I have,” your pride rising to the surface.

Then, of course, your stomach grumbled loudly, betraying you.

Taehyun’s eyes flickered to you, his lips twitching into a smile. “Cute,” he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head in amusement. He prepared the food again.

You froze, your mind spinning. The word "cute" etched in the back of your mind. You had felt the warmth of his gaze before, the way he always seemed to see right through you, but this time, it felt different. It felt like he had just peeled away another layer of you, one that you hadn’t even realized was there.

You tried to steady your breath, but it was no use. The butterflies in your stomach had already taken flight, fluttering wildly.

You cleared your throat, “You know you can’t just throw those words out like that,” you said, but there was no conviction in your voice. It was barely a whisper.

Taehyun didn’t even look up, still focused on making the food. It was like he didn’t even realize the effect he was having on you. How could he not see it? The way his every word made your heart race, the way the mere sound of his voice seemed to leave you in a haze.

"What word?" he asked, acting so nonchalant, so... Taehyun. He was always this way—unbothered, like he wasn’t aware of the way he could turn your world upside down with just one glance.

You wanted to backpedal, to change the subject. But you couldn’t. "You know..." You trailed off, not sure how to say it. You didn’t even know if you could say it without completely falling apart.

Taehyun's eyes flicked up to you briefly. “Oh, you mean ‘cute’?” he said, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “But it’s the truth.”

The truth.

And there it was again. That word. The way he said it, so effortlessly, as though he didn’t understand the whirlwind he was creating inside you. The butterflies, the shivers running down your spine. The realization that he wasn’t just teasing you. He meant it.

This time, it wasn’t hunger. It was a rush of emotions, all tied up in those three little letters—cute. Your heart skipped a beat, then raced to catch up. You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips, but it wasn’t enough to hide how you felt.

You turned away for a moment, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered you were. But the heat on your cheeks gave it away, and you could feel his gaze on you, as if he knew exactly what he had done.

Your mind was a jumble of thoughts, your feelings all tangled up in confusion and longing. Was he teasing you? Or was it something more? Something real? Something you couldn’t name but knew, deep down, you were desperate to understand.

You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself, but Taehyun had already caught you off guard.

You stood there, your heart hammering in your chest, every breath you took feeling shallow as you tried to keep your composure. But, the more Taehyun’s gaze held yours, the more your resolve began to waver. He had always been the one to make you feel safe, to make everything feel easy, but this... this was different. 

You shook your head, trying to ignore the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “You... you can’t just drop that you’re in love with me and pretend that everything’s okay,” you blurted out.

Taehyun raised his eyebrows, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Oh, we’re finally gonna talk about it?” he asked, clearly amused by your sudden outburst. “Sure, let’s talk about it.”

You huffed, frustration bubbling inside you. You crossed your arms over your chest, pacing back and forth in front of him, your hands gesturing wildly as you tried to explain everything that had been running through your mind. “You... you can’t just tell me you like me when I wake up from a good nap. I—I can’t think straight! And now, I can’t even look at you without feeling... without feeling stupid!” You stopped in front of him, hands on your hips, face flushed with embarrassment. “It’s so embarrassing, and it’s just... it’s so stupid. I can’t even talk, or form sentences, or—ugh—why are you doing this to me?!”

Before you could rant any further, Taehyun interrupted, his voice low but teasing, his lips curling into a smile. “Stupid?” he asked, the amusement in his eyes clear as he took a small step toward you. “That’s how I feel every time I hang around you.”

You blinked, your frustration melting into confusion. Taehyun continued, unfazed. “The guys always ask me why I’m so quiet around you, why I let you do all the talking. And... well, they don’t know that it’s because I love listening to you. You don’t even know this, but I could listen to you talk all day. I’m just as talkative as you are with my friends, but with you...” He stepped even closer now, his voice softening, “...with you, I can’t think straight. I can’t breathe clearly. I just—I can’t do anything.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Taehyun cut you off, his voice growing more sincere. “You think you have it hard? I’ve been in love with you for five years. I’ve been pretending to be as quiet as I am for five years. And I’ve been pretending to like strawberry ice cream for five years. That’s how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You stood there, speechless. Every word he spoke made your heart twist, and yet, somehow, your mind was still stuck on the number five. Five years.

“F-five years?” You were still trying to process the gravity of it all, but Taehyun wasn’t giving you time to think.

He closed the distance between you. His hands rose slowly, his fingers gently cupping your face, his touch sending electricity coursing through your skin. The moment his palms made contact, your breath hitched, and your heart seemed to stutter in your chest.

“Yes,” Taehyun murmured, his voice barely audible as he leaned in a fraction closer. “Five. Years.” He didn’t move away.

You looked up at him, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and feelings. 

You felt it, though. The yearning in his eyes, the sweetness in his words, and the vulnerability that was now spilling from both of you. You had been afraid of this—afraid of the risk, of the fear of losing what you already had. But now, standing here in front of him, you knew.

And for the first time in your life, you didn’t want to run away.

Your voice trembled as you looked into his eyes, your heart racing. “What... what are we supposed to do now?”

Taehyun’s hands remained on your cheeks, his thumb gently caressing your skin as he leaned in just a little closer, his breath mixing with yours. “What do you want to do?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against your forehead as he closed his eyes for a brief moment.

You could feel the warmth of his words deep inside, the hope, the love, the honesty—and suddenly, everything else faded away. There was no need for anything more than this moment. Just him. Just you.

You swallowed, the words you had been holding back now slipping past your lips, “I... I want you to stay.”

Taehyun’s lips curled into a subtle smirk as he leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something deeper that you weren’t sure how to name. His playful tone contrasted the intensity of the moment.

"You asked," he said, his voice low and teasing, making your heart race, "and I’m staying."

You bit your lower lip, still unsure if you were more embarrassed or thrilled by how easily he’d taken control of the situation. The power he exuded made you feel small in the best way, a shift you weren’t used to but secretly relished.

You pouted, crossing your arms and looking away, trying to hold onto some semblance of your usual confident self. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

Taehyun chuckled, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture. "Maybe," he teased, leaning in so close you could feel the tension between you. "But I’m enjoying this even more... watching you try to act all tough while you want nothing more than for me to stay."

You stifled a smile, trying to look away, but you couldn’t help the flush creeping up your neck. This whole new side of him, the one that was so sure of himself, was doing things to your insides you couldn’t quite explain.

"Stop looking at me like that," you muttered, but there was a softness in your voice that betrayed your words.

"Like what?" Taehyun asked, his voice dangerously close, and you could feel the teasing grin in his words even if he wasn’t smiling.

"Like you... you know you own me now," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Taehyun’s smirk deepened, his fingers gently lifting your chin so that your eyes locked with his. There was something about the way he was looking at you now, something raw and sincere beneath the teasing, that made your heart flutter wildly.

“You’re the one who wanted me to stay,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing as he leaned in just enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “You’re the one who asked. And now,” he paused, his hand slipping to your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer, “now, you’ve got me.”

“You’re too smug,” you muttered, but there was no real heat in your words—only a soft, shy vulnerability that you couldn’t quite hide.

“You like it,” he whispered, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw. “Admit it.”

You swallowed, your heart racing faster. “I—I don’t know what you're talking about,” you stammered, your voice betraying you.

“Of course you do,” Taehyun said, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft, almost possessive kiss. “You’re just trying to act tough, but I can tell. I can tell you like this side of me. The one who knows exactly what he wants.” He leaned in just enough for you to feel his breath against your ear, making every part of your skin tingle. “And I think I want you to feel just how much I want you.”

“I—” You couldn’t even form the words to reply, too lost in the moment, too lost in the pull he had on you.

Taehyun’s smile softened, his fingers brushing your cheek once more before he pulled back, just enough to see the effect he had on you. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere.”

[hockeyluvrr]

could you possibly write something cute and fluffy about cole caufield? plot entirely up to you! please :)

of course! thanks for requesting, sorry for the wait!

MASTERLIST

Eyes on You || cc13

word count: 1,099

not my gif!!

You weren’t really a hockey fan.

Well, you liked the idea of it, the energy, the fast pace, and the passion. But you’d never really followed it closely like your best friend did. Everything you knew about hockey was based on your best friend's ramblings when she dragged you to Montreal Canadiens games. It was because of these games that you first noticed Cole Caufield.

Or, more accurately, he noticed you.

It was subtle to start out with. You weren’t sure if you were imagining things when you caught him glancing at you from the bench one game. When you brought it up, your best friend laughed it off.

“Trust me, he’s not looking at us,” she teased you. “They’re professionals, hun. Locked in.”

But, game after game, you swore the quick glances became more intentional. One night, during warmups, you stood by the glass with your best friend, absentmindedly watching as players skated by while you chatted. Then, out of nowhere, a puck hit the boards in front of you.

You were snapped out of your conversation, blinking in surprise and looking straight up at the boyish grin of Cole.

Your best friend practically squealed beside you, “Oh my god, Y/N. Did he just…”

Another puck against the boards. You snapped your gaze back to him, heart fluttering as he gave you a quick wink before skating off like it was nothing.

You had no idea how to process it.

————

The real turning point happened about a week later. Your best friend had left you at the table in a bar downtown, going off to flirt with some guy she just met. You were fine nursing your drink alone, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly you sensed a presence behind you.

“Not a hockey fan, huh?”

Your head immediately snapped up. Cole was standing in front of you, casual in a hoodie and jeans, the same boyish grin from warmups playing on his lips.

You couldn’t function for a moment, your mouth opening and closing. “What?”

He chuckled, sliding onto the stool next to you. “I see you at the games. You never seem that into it.”

“So, you’ve been watching me enough to notice?”

His grin widened at your words. “Maybe.”

You weren’t entirely sure how the conversation between you both flowed so easily after that, but it did. It really did. You learned that he was just as charming off the ice as he was on it. He had this way of making you laugh, of pulling you into his world so effortlessly that you forgot that you barely knew him.

By the end of the night, you had his number.

————

Texting with Cole became second nature. He was almost relentless with his messages, whether it was sending you the most ridiculous memes at random hours or chirping you for not knowing basic hockey terms.

It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him.

But what truly sealed the deal was the night he personally invited you to one of his games, with a promise of meeting you afterwards.You weren’t sure what you expected, but as soon as you left your seat to go meet him in the players lounge, Cole beamed at you like you were the only person in the room.

“You actually came,” he said, slightly breathless.

“You only reminded me, like, twenty times.”

He grinned. “Did you at least enjoy the game?”

You hesitated for a few seconds, then admitted, “Yeah. I might be starting to understand why people follow this sport for life.”

His eyes practically lit up at your words, “Oh, I’m definitely taking credit for that.”

The night ended with him walking you to your car, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, eyes flickering over you in the dim streetlights.“So…” he said once you both reached your car, rocking back on his heels. “Are you gonna let me take you out, or do I have to keep throwing pucks at the glass to get your attention?”

Your stomach fluttered. “Hmm. That depends.”

“On?”

You grinned. “Are you always this cocky?”

He stepped closer, playfulness dancing in his expression. “Nah, just with you.”

And with that, you were hooked.

————

Dating Cole was fun. There was no other way to describe it.

He had this infectious energy, always finding new ways to make you laugh, whether it was sneaking terrible dad jokes into conversation or playfully teasing you.

But what surprised you most was how thoughtful he was.

He had learned your coffee order by heart. If you had a long day, he’d randomly show up at your place with takeout and a goofy grin. If you were sick, he’d bundle you up in a ridiculous amount of blankets and insist you hydrate by shoving a water bottle into your hands every five minutes.

One morning, you woke up to a text.

Cole: Did you eat breakfast?

You: No?

Cole: Rookie mistake. Check your doorstep.

Confused, you opened your apartment door only to find a bag of pastries and your favourite iced coffee sitting on the floor.

You immediately texted him.

You: Did you seriously just do a drive-by breakfast drop??

Cole: Yep. Elite boyfriend instincts.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through you.

————

The first time you realised that you were completely and hopelessly in love with Cole was during a lazy Sunday afternoon at his place.

You were sprawled across his couch, mindlessly flipping through a book, while he sat on the floor, messing around with his PlayStation.

Every so often he’d glance back at you, like he just wanted to make sure you were still there.

At one point, he let out a groan, tossing his controller aside. “Alright, I officially suck at this game.”

You bit back a smile. “Maybe you should stick to hockey.”

He turned, resting his chin on the couch beside you, his eyes locking onto yours. “Maybe,” he said softly, “or maybe you should help me.”

Your heart stuttered at the look in his eyes. He had that look that made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Without thinking, you reached out, brushing a hand through his messy hair.

“Yeah?” You murmured.

His lips curled into that boyish grin you loved so much. “Yeah.”

And just like that, he leaned up, closing the distance between you both.

It wasn’t your first kiss with him, but it was definitely the one that changed everything.

Because in that moment, you knew this wasn’t just fun anymore.

This was real.

[star2fishmeg]

congrats on 1k followers so excited for your celly 🤭 can i request smut #55 with luke please🫶🫶

Thank you for requesting <3

SMUT #55 "Bite me!" If you insist."

📞 dialling…

“Ow!” he hissed, pain rattling up his funny bone as it smacked the tile. It was the third time he’d bumped a limb on the wall, taking the pain while she bumped into him instead. He thought he’d have some sort of power to see underwater with how much he’d been blinded by the showerhead before he turned in downwards slightly, enough where she was still feeling it and his chest would too. They’d periodically take turns in rotating, so he’d get the water and then rotate again, and he understood what she meant by unsexy - it was just a hassle. 

Y/n’s scoff echoed as she rinsed shampoo from her hair, Luke’s chest almost pressed against her back with how small her shower was compared to his. She only lived in a cosy apartment, just her and her friends renting somewhere close to their campus yet homey to carry on living there after. Her shower cubicle itself wasn’t grand, a squeeze at most but his little chuckles indicated that he was having a good time with his wandering hands over her shoulders and chest, occasionally finding her hips.

“Oh shush, this was your idea. I told you it wasn’t big enough.” She spun to face him, watching him adjust the shower head slightly to avoid their eyes, in which just seemed like a waste of water if you asked her. Her hands soothed over the expanse of his chest, fingertips lightly grazing down his abs and eventually arms winding around his waist, looking up at him. His stomach flipped, the proximity flushing heat through him and he should’ve have seen it coming. There was no possible way he could shower with the love of his life and not feel insatiably aroused.

“Well, I just wanted to make use of your roommates being gone without having to be quiet. Just wanted to be sexy,” he grumbled, hitting his elbow again in the exact same place, “shit!”

“Oh, bite me!” She rolled her eyes lightheadedly, more concerned about his limbs than anything else. How would he explain to his coach that he’s beat because of a shower? 

“Well, if you insist-” his grin only grew, raising his eyebrows and hand abruptly giving her ass a squeeze.

He had that glint in his eye, that mischievous glint meaning ideas were popping into his head and she knew it. He pressed his hips into hers, dropping his hint clearly. He was enjoying that shower, enjoying their skin so close together, her ass brushing against him and her hands setting all the little tinges into overdrive. It got him thinking, seeing her naked was thrilling enough, but winding her up at the same time, finding out her mind was storming with concerns, oh, he knew exactly what she needed. 

“-Ha ha. Are you actually okay, though? Lu, I can get out, I don’t want an injury or whatever…”

“In the shower?” he asked, kneading the flesh on her backside.

“Slip, fall, break something.”

He knew she was right, the other shower could barely fit one body let alone two, so he smiled, dipping down to place a kiss to her forehead and slick her hair back playfully. 

“Angel, it’s all good, m’fine. You’re overthinking this too much,” he cooed, palms cupping her cheeks with a smirk spreading on his lips. His gaze shifted between her eyes and lips, eyes becoming half-lidded as his thumbs stroked her cheeks, “I have an idea that I think we’ll both enjoy. Do you trust me?” 

Y/n nodded surely, her head following his movements, hands sliding down her cheeks, shoulders, moulding over her breasts as he sank to one knee, his palms finding a grip on her thighs as he guided one over his shoulder. Her hands slammed against the tile and glass door, Luke’s hand caressing the thigh on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze for reassurance. 

“Lu, you can’t seriously…be…” she whimpered, melting at the glossy eyes that looked up at her, glazed in a wild desire. She could never say no to his mouth, never. A man on his knees flipped a switch in ways she could never admit out loud.

“Ssshh, empty that pretty mind of yours f’me, yeah? I’ve got you.” His lips brushed against her clit, placing a gentle kiss to the bundle of nerves and smiling against her, “Can I?”

She breathed out, a tremble in her voice from the ecstasy rising into her stomach and setting butterflies free, “Yeah, please. Please.”

Her head lulled back feeling his tongue swipe through her folds, flicking her clit before finding a rhythm in how he explored her. The most lethal combination Luke could offer was his mouth and his fingers in a tandem, his thumb spreading her folds apart to lap his tongue in long and slow strokes, taking his time to taste her arousal dripping onto his tastebuds. He buried himself deeper, nose brushing her clit as it pulsed with stimulation, her whines increasing with every lick and flicker over her entrance. 

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he rasped, breath tickling her folds and igniting a starvation in her. Her thighs tensed, throat loosening to let out the most obnoxiously pornographic moan she’d ever released in her life, freely now she was home alone with him. “M’so proud of you.”

Y/n’s heartbeat skipped beats, heat rushing to her cheeks, her hips grinding into his mouth. Heavy moans slipped past his throat, vibrating against her cunt and drawing elongated whimpers into the bathroom. “More, Lu, oh shit-” 

He let out a chuckle, intoxicated by her noises that played like melodies to his ears. He brought his thumb to her clit, massing circles and eating her out with a desperation, his slow, thoughtful lapping turning to a hunger. She laid her hand on his head, nails gripping the dampening curls and pushing him closer into her pussy with her whines growing short-paced and airy. His tongue becoming sloppier with his uncontrolled groans from his chest.

“Come so far, love you so much,” he pulled away ever so briefly for a breath, “so fucking lucky to be yours.”

Luke dove back in, his pace just as brutal with her hips bucking into his face, working with his tongue’s momentum. He was more than right. No thoughts clouded her mind anymore, it was completely blank and consuming the euphoria from the attention her pussy drowned in. She peered down, lips parted and chest heaving as she watched his head routinely dip into her, his words blooming warmth into her heart because only Luke could tell her how much he loved him poetically while eating her like a starved man.

[mizusbabygirl]

double double ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

player 380 (se-mi) x fem reader AND guard 011 (kang no-eul) x fem reader ────୨ৎ──── cw: no-eul and se-mi both have a g!p (girl penis), threesome, creampie, unprotected sex, blowjob, masturbation, sexting??, some fluff bc why not

i’m incredibly sorry for not posting a lot anymore. i’ve just been really busy lately but i’ll still take requests because yes, i need more ideas 🙏🙏.

you dip your fingers deep inside your vagina, your fingers trace around your wetness, the pink flesh inside your pussy. soft moans escape from your mouth as you struggle to reach over to grab your phone with your unoccupied hand to record yourself fingering and playing with your pussy and send it to the girl who you’ve been crushing on since high school.

this love interest of yours has also had feelings for you but you two have never dated since your former classmates didn’t like the idea of same-sex relationships.

but now that you’ve graduated and you finally feel confident enough to do whatever the fuck you wanted, you finally found the chance to have contact with that girl again.

se-mi was her name, wasn’t it?

you thought to yourself as you tapped on the record button on your phone and continued pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy. you made a few fake moans to make it seem more lewd than it already was. you found yourself spreading your folds with your fingers, playing around with your clit and teasing yourself until you eventually came.

what if she forgot about me and found someone else?

you thought again as you saved the video into your camera and tossed your phone aside as you made your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

she couldn’t possibly… she basically promised that she would give me the world back then.

you went back to your room and picked up your phone, starring at the “who’s this” message from her. you let out a big sigh and started typing away, explaining who you were, hoping she hasn’t forgotten about you.

“se-mi, you seriously don’t remember me?”

read

your head falls back against the couch’s backrest, feeling your phone drop out of your hands. your eyes become teary realizing that se-mi didn’t want anything to do with you anymore.

2 months later

it was the day before valentine’s day and you were in your room snacking on chocolate bars and scrolling through instagram, seeing all your friends post their partners. you felt happy for them but you were tired of being single and alone. suddenly, you see a notification and to your surprise, it was se-mi.

a smile grew on your face as you immediately opened her message.

“hey, let’s talk”

seeing that message made you giggle, you finally thought the universe granted your wish and that you were finally going to be happy.

just as you were typing, an incoming call popped up on your screen.

it was her.

as you were calling with her, your brain flooded with memories that you shared with her back in high school. you felt like you were finally at peace for once. you felt like you finally have gotten what you’ve wanted.

after the call, you both agreed to go on a date at a local restaurant the next day for valentine’s day.

“my pretty girl, i’m sorry i haven’t answered you for so long, nonetheless, i’m also sorry i never even tried getting in contact with you again after we graduated,” se-mi said as she held your hand tightly as the two of you walked out of the restaurant.

you stopped and watched her reach for something in her bag, she pulls out a letter along with a small gift box.

“it might not be much, but this sure is given to you by me with lots of love. happy valentine’s day,” se-mi said as she handed the gift and the letter.

you held the small box in your hands. curiously, you open the box carefully and find a small pink beaded bracelet. it was the bracelet she wanted to give you back in high school.

“se-mi, how did you manage to keep it for all these years? you really haven’t forgotten about me haven’t you?” you smiled.

“no. in fact, i’ve always dreamed about the day we could finally start dating and perhaps start a future together soon,” se-mi said and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

you starred into her deep dark brown eyes, her gaze looking soft and full of love that made you want to pull her into a kiss.

you missed the feeling of her soft lips meeting yours, her tongue entering your mouth, her taste, her soft whines. but here you are, experiencing that all over again.

you found yourself under her, her body pressed against yours, on top of you on your bed. both of you felt hungry for each other and the fabric of your clothes began to feel uncomfortable as if you were urging to take them off to feel her bare skin against yours.

“baby, before i take my clothes off,” she hesitated as she broke the hot make out session between the two of you, “i want to share a secret of mine to you”. se-mi rolls off the bed and unbuckles her belt. you tilt your head, you curiously wonder what type of secret she was hiding from you.

just as you began unbuttoning your shirt, she unzips her pants and pulls them down, revealing her grey boxers.

“you wearing boxers is your biggest secret?” you giggled but your smile eventually faded away as soon as you saw a bulge. your eyes widened as she pulled them down.

she has a dick..? it definitely looks real but it looks bigger than average…

you felt your pussy getting wet at the sight of her dick becoming hardened. so you immediately undress yourself, leaving yourself only wearing a pair of pink panties that will soon be torn apart by the hands of se-mi.

“se-mi…” you whined as her tip teased your clothed pussy. “you know.. it would’ve been funny if i told you about this back then so that way i could be pounding your pussy all day everyday in the school bathrooms,” se-mi giggled as she spread your thighs.

“oh baby..!” you moan out loudly as se-mi reaches over and rips open your panties, revealing your tight pussy covered in its own juices. you lick your lips at the feeling of her hard member about to enter your tight pussy.

se-mi rubs her tip around your slick, making you whine and feel frustrated since she kept edging you.

oh but how much she loves watching you whine and get all fuzzy when she teases you…

just before you could stick it in yourself, you feel her push her dick inside you, causing you to scream. “oh fuck.. never knew it was that fucking huge!” you let out a loud moan as she started thrusting inside of your baby maker slowly, but hard.

you could see the satisfaction se-mi had on her face and she looked fucking proud having her new girlfriend act like a slut for her dick. she watched you crave for it, savour it, watched your pussy devour it whole.

“you know,” she spoke up, her voice sounding quite raspy, “there was this girl that went to the same school as us and she also had a dick like me”. her thrusts accelerated but her main goal was to beat your cervix deep and hard, no matter the pace.

“her name?” you spoke in between moans. “kang.. hmm i don’t remember…” se-mi answered, her thrusts creating wet slapping sounds that mixed perfectly with her moans and yours.

“well for now.. it doesn’t matter, doll,” se-mi’s voice became gentle as she was about to cum. “oh fuck!” se-mi yelled out as she gave you a creampie, her hot cum filling up your womb.

you squirm around the bed feeling her hot load mixing around in your womb. “se-mi..” you moan, her body collapsing on top of yours. “her name was kang no-eul,” se-mi whispered into your ear.

2 months later, you and se-mi were constantly getting into arguments, meaning your relationship with her wasn’t working out how you wanted it to. but what she doesn’t know was that you recently started talking with no-eul.

yeah, you’re an asshole for that…

but are you really one? besides, se-mi wasn’t fulfilling any of your needs, not even the bare minimum. so what does she expect? does she expect you to still stay with her even though your relationship with her is in the ruins?

you don’t remember much about no-eul. all you remember from her is how she used to get in trouble at school a lot and how she constantly dated many girls at once. you never liked no-eul since you thought she was a jerk and an asshole. but you came to think about how she could probably have matured by now and how she could probably be better than se-mi.

the air felt warm, the flowers outside went from being small buds to beautiful colourful flowers with petals of all shapes and sizes. it was may and you recently have broken up with se-mi since you found no-eul now, and you realized how much better she is than se-mi.

you and no-eul weren’t dating yet but today the two of you decided to go to the mall as a small date. no-eul had a thing for constantly touching your thighs, hugging you, caressing you, even in public. you never minded it though, in fact, you loved it.

as the day was ending, no-eul had to go home but you didn’t have a lift so you went in her car. the ride home wasn’t awkward at all since the two of you were listening to songs on the radio that the both of you enjoyed.

“don’t you want to stay at my house for the night instead?” no-eul suggested as she parked outside of your home. you shaked her head, rejecting her offer since you weren’t comfortable enough yet. but as a way to build comfortability with her, you leaned in and gave her a peck on her cheek. “i’ll see you later, i promise,” you said as you gave her another kiss on her cheek and then you got off the vehicle.

that night, your feelings for her began to grow and so they did as the week went by.

“fucking brat,” no-eul grunted as she pushed your head against the bathroom stall the two of you were having sex in. your back was arched and you were bent over, taking her dick inside you. she pumped her dick in and out of your pussy and asshole.

she was so fucking advanced at this…

anyone who entered the bathroom could hear the moans and fast slapping sounds coming from the stall the two of you were in.

“fucking tempting me all day with you wearing a skirt and you only wore a pair of panties with a hole in them underneath, fucking pervert,” no-eul said as she put her finger inside your mouth as she kept thrusting inside your pussy. “don’t pull out,” you spoke up, your saliva coating her fingers as she put another one in. “you want me to breed you?” she asked using a sarcastic tone. you nodded. “you seriously want my cum dripping out of your pussy in front of everyone? have fucking morals,” she asked again, thrusting in slowly but hard, clearly giving signs that she was about to bust a nut inside of you.

“oh but how could i ever want to pull out? your gummy cervix feels so stretchy and warm,” she giggled as small spurts of her seed spurted inside of you. she gave her last thrust and pushed her dick inside of you, as deep as possible as her cum filled your cunt. it didn’t have much difference to se-mi’s cum. but you could tell se-mi’s was much more watery and no-eul’s was thick and sticky.

she pulled out, a string of her cum connected between her tip and your pussy. you turned around and adjusted your skirt and put your panties back on quick, not having enough time to wipe off her cum from your thighs and pussy.

“let’s go to my house at this point.. you’re going to feel uncomfortable all day if you walk around like this,” she said, giving you a kiss on your lips.

just as soon as you entered her home and she shut the door behind y’all, she unzipped her pants, bent you over, lifted your skirt, pulled down your panties and began fucking you relentlessly again. “take off your clothes please, oh fuck, i want to see your tits and everything,” no-eul said, her voice reeking with lust.

she threw you onto a nearby couch, you quickly took off your skirt and unhooked your bra, and took off the rest of your clothes.

she threw herself onto you, her tits pressing against yours, she gave you sloppy wet kisses on your lips. her nipples became hardened and turned into a bright pink color as she entered you again. this time, it slipped inside of you perfectly since her dick was covered in her own pre-cum and your pussy had her left over cum still dripping out of you. “you’re so hot, mommy,” you whimpered as she threw your leg over her shoulder and felt her jack hammering inside of you, beads of sweat coating her forehead. “mommy, eh?” she giggled, clearly feeling aroused by the pet name you gave her.

“come on baby, i want you on your hands and knees now, and don’t forget to arch that back,” she ordered as she randomly pulled out and saw you follow her order. instead, the upper part of your body laid on the couch making it better for you to arch your back as much as possible.

she slipped it in again, she gave your ass a sharp slap. her hands gripped onto your sides, thrusting in deep and fast.

“your ex.. se-mi.. wants to see you again,”

later that evening

you were laying next to no-eul, cuddling with her until you heard your phone ringing. you reach over to pick it up and took a look at the phone number that was calling.

it was se-mi.

“no-eul, you were right!”

“pick it up then, let’s see what she has to say,”

you answer the phone, and hear se-mi’s voice. you haven’t heard her voice since the day you broke up with her.

“i’m outside of no-eul’s but you can tell me to leave,”

“no, no, it’s fine—i’ll go unlock the door for you,”

“great, thanks,”

“before you hang up, why’re you wanting to see me again?”

“we’ll talk about it when you let me in,”

you hung up the call then turned to look at no-eul, who was listening to the entire conversation. “i’m not stopping you,” no-eul said. “but she’s my ex—aren’t you worried she might want to get back with me,” you added.

“and is that my problem? besides, you know who’s better,” she said then reached over to caress your cheek. you sighed, “fine”.

you opened the door and saw se-mi standing in the doorway. before you could at least say hi to her, she walked right past you and went directly towards no-eul.

could it be that no-eul asked se-mi to come over?

“slow down! fuck!” you yelled out as se-mi bounced you up and down onto no-eul’s dick.

here you are, having a fucking threesome with your ex and your current girlfriend.

“your pussy really loosened up after getting with no-eul, didn’t it?” se-mi giggled, her hands lifted your body up and down onto no-eul faster and faster until you couldn’t take it anymore. “too bad you can’t see how pretty she looks right now, bouncing up and down on you, no-eul,” she teased.

no-eul scoffed, rolled her eyes and said, “and too bad you couldn’t be a good girlfriend for her so she had to run to me.”

se-mi furrowed her eyebrows and stopped what she was doing. you got off of no-eul’s lap then watched se-mi push you onto the bed. you laid on your stomach and felt se-mi grip onto your hips and pulled you towards her. “se-mi.. i missed you,” you uttered. se-mi, with a smirk on her face, began to fuck your pussy from behind relentlessly. she didn’t care about starting off slow or gentle, she went fast and rough, her tip hitting the end of your cervix with each pound.

“no-eul, don’t you want to join?” you asked. no-eul got in front of you, pulling your hair, making your head lift up to look at her. “of course i do,” she said. “open your mouth, baby,” no-eul ordered as you opened your mouth slightly.

“good girl,”

no-eul slipped her dick inside of your mouth while se-mi continued pounding you from behind.

this would make a great porno, wouldn’t it? the title for it could be double double.

too bad no-eul was actually fucking other girls whilst the two of you were dating. she never matured.

se-mi was really the one for you. afterall, despite the ups and downs, she always stayed loyal and she knew your heart only belonged to her.

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ Silent Stars — Starscream x GN Autisitc Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Starscream being addressed as just "Screamer" by scornful Decepticons wasn't a coincidence. The mech was known for his shrill shrieking and near-squaking shouts, from indignation to pride. He was widely noted for how loud he gets, and this carried into his relationship with you. He yelled at the TV, at neighbors, not a thing was safe from his boldly proclaimed opinions. After suffering a few bouts of overstimulation because of it, you'd sat down your Conjunx for a conversation. You tried to be gentle, noting that you weren't mad, but explaining the damage loud noises gave you.

Today was the day after, and you picked up that you hadn't seen Starscream as much as you usually would. You'd have been more worried, but you could see him walking around the home, doing small tasks. Not wanting to interrupt his focus, you had your attention on the TV, the channel on your current media fixation. You heard the familiar heavy steps of Starscream going about his day, but you tried to give him space. "Human," he whispered from behind the couch you were sitting on, so quiet you couldn't even hear. He whispered a little louder, "Sweetspark"

You turned with a little 'hm?', meeting his crimson optics with your gaze "Yes, hon?". "I need to ask about your wants for your refuel this evening" Starscream whispered, scooting in a little closer. Dinner is what he meant. "Hmm, I think the same meal as yesterday" you said "There should be some leftovers, I'll heat that up later". Starscream shook his helm, beginning to stand. He went into the kitchen, and you heard the familiar small beeps and whirls of the microwave starting.

"Star, honey, could you come here?" You asked, and your Conjunx immediately sped-walked back to your side. He kneeled before where you were sat. "Yes?" He asked, voice still almost too soft. You cupped his faceplates with your hands as best as you could, leaning in to press a small kiss to his nose. You smiled watching the tension melt from his frame. "You can still talk to me" you said, petting his cheek with your thumb "I love your voice, Star. It's just all the yelling I had trouble with"

Starscream vented a soft sigh, looking up at you "I'm still not used to these.. fragilities" he admitted, speaking at his normal volume. "It's not 'fragilities', love, just boundaries" you gently corrected. "Whatever you call them," Starscream began with a little huff "How am I supposed to know when it reaches a point, hm?". "You could just ask" you said "I'm not gonna lie to you, babe, I'll tell you anything". Starscream still seemed mildly suspicious— honesty and vulnerability were practically foreign words to Decepticons, Ex-Cons or otherwise— but he gave an understanding nod even still.

"Then tell me, my little one," Starscream began, slowly standing "May I join you?". You nodded, patting the cushion beside you. Starscream sat, holding out a servo. He paused mid-air, looking to you in a silent ask of permission. It took you a second to realize what he was alluding to, but you were soon scooting up to his side and leaning against his frame. The Seeker immediately took the opportunity to gently wrap around you as much as he could, chin atop your head and arms holding you as close as possible without being restrictive. You gave an amused hum, returning the hold with one of your own around his waist.

After your bonding, he made you promise not to tell a single spark that he could be as clingy as a hungry scraplet, so moments like this were for you and you alone. He tilted his helm to give you a kiss atop your head, engine rumbling a low purr when feeling you lovingly pet his frame. "Make me aware if anyone breaks these boundaries of yours, dearest" Starscream mumbled "I'll snap them in half". You chuckled a bit, giving his chassis a soft kiss "I appreciate the idea, but remember what we said about fights on earth". "Yes, yes, I recall" Starscream huffed, fondness in his expression despite his attempt at an exasperated tone.

"Seriously though, thank you. It means a lot" you said, nuzzling into him a bit more. He hummed, optics lazily watching the TV as one of his servos moved to cradle your head "Anything for you, My Spark"

"Even your nest?"

"Especially that"

"Evennn.. your energon?"

"You already have my innermost energon, so yes"

"Eve-" you began, getting cut off by a kiss to your cheek. "All of it" Starscream said, mildly seriously, a reassuring but kind firmness "My own frame, spark, and whatever else you desire". Upon hearing the microwave beep faintly, you glanced up at your Conjunx "Then can you get my dinner for me?". Starscream grumbled, upset that he had to detangle from you, but he did just that. Once standing, he gave a big stretch of his arms "Yes, fine, you cunning little scraphead". You grinned, watching as he walked out. You called out to him, "It's why you love me though!". Starscream couldn't help but smile as he made sure the food was to your precise liking. He called back, "Never change, you hear me? Not for anything in this wretched galaxy"

[moodymelanist]

too good to deny it

happy @sjmromanceweek 2025 everyone! I'm so excited for this event to be back and we're kicking things off with some Nemerie 🫶🏽

Summary: Nesta has never kissed anyone before, and when she gets asked on her first date, Emerie takes matters into her own hands.

Word Count:

Read on AO3 here!

♡♡♡♡♡ Emerie

Emerie was suffering through her statistics reading when her roommate barged through the door in what looked like a state of panic. “Emerie. Em.”

“Yeah?” Emerie asked, looking up from her textbook at the sound of Nesta’s voice. She hadn’t known Nesta very long — they’d only been living together since the start of the semester, and this weekend was her last chance to get some decent studying in before midterms started in earnest — but judging by the look on her roommate’s face, this was something serious. “What happened?”

Nesta shrugged out of her backpack and sat down hard on the edge of her  bed. “I think I have a date this weekend?”

“What?” Emerie asked, fully sitting up at her desk now. “What do you mean you think?”

“Well…” Nesta trailed off with a sigh. She kicked off her white sneakers before shifting back onto her bed in an attempt to make herself more comfortable, and Emerie turned around fully in her desk chair, statistics studying be damned. This was way more important. “You know that guy who’s been driving me crazy?”

“Which one?” Emerie questioned. She’d heard Nesta complaining about a guy in her bio lecture, but there was also the guy in her political science lecture that drove her nuts, too. “Bio lecture or poli sci?”

“Bio lecture,” Nesta confirmed. Emerie wracked her brain for the guy’s name — it was something that reminded her of Narnia. Caspian? Casper? Something like that. “Apparently he was flirting with me the entire time.”

“What an effective method,” Emerie replied dryly, pulling a soft laugh out of Nesta. It made something go a little warm and fuzzy in her chest, but she pushed it aside the same way she’d been doing these last few weeks. “So he’s been pulling your pigtails all semester and now he wants to get serious?”

“I guess so?” Nesta answered hesitantly. She seemed uncertain, which was rare for her; in the short time Emerie had known Nesta, she didn’t tend to show anything other than a very healthy dose of self-confidence. “I mean, I don’t know. He asked me to go to dinner with him on Saturday and I said yes and now I’m kind of… panicking.”

“You? Panicking?” Emerie responded, raising both of her eyebrows. Nesta didn’t do panic, which was generally pretty helpful, but now that she was actually showing something like human weakness, Emerie didn’t totally know what to do with it. “Why? He’s just some guy.”

“Okay, but I don’t do just some guy,” Nesta said. She curled into herself a little bit and Emerie frowned, not sure what to do with that, either. “I haven’t done… any guys, actually.”

Emerie just blinked; she actually had no idea what Nesta was going with this. “What do you mean? Guys must ask you out all the time.”

“Not really,” Nesta told her, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

Okay, now Emerie was really intrigued. She closed her textbook and got up to come sit on the bed next to Nesta, their thighs nearly pressed together because of how little room existed on their twin XL mattresses. “Nesta. What are you talking about?”

“You’ve met my mom,” Nesta said, and boy, had Emerie ever. She’d thought her family was bad, but watching the way Mrs. Archeron bossed every member of Nesta’s family around had managed to put even her uncle to shame. Emerie had been a little worried that Nesta would be just as bitchy as her mom, but thankfully that hadn’t been the case, and they’d turned into fast friends instead. “Everyone back home already knows how insane she is. Even if I’d been allowed to date, nobody wanted to deal with her.”

“Oh my God,” Emerie said back. She privately thought it was dumb to pass up on the chance to call Nesta Archeron your girlfriend just because her mom sucked, but maybe she had more brain cells than the guys in Nesta’s hometown. “So you’ve never—?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, no.” Nesta looked away, her cheeks going even pinker. “I’ve never even touched a guy other than dance classes, and that definitely doesn’t count.”

Emerie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could someone as gorgeous as Nesta be freaking out about something as simple as this? Emerie didn’t have that much experience with guys — she’d figured out what that strange swooping feeling in her stomach when Jade from Victorious came on her television screen meant early, thank you very much — but from the little she did know, it wasn’t really that hard dealing with them. She imagined it would be even easier when you looked like Nesta, with her icy eyes, bronze hair, and general air like she knew exactly what she was doing and you’d be dumb not to go along with it. 

“It’s not that hard, really,” Emerie replied after a second, still reeling. Her first date with a guy on the lacrosse team had been pretty mediocre, but she hadn’t realized the reason she’d been so bored was because she’d wanted to catch the captain of the girls volleyball team’s attention instead. “You just have to laugh at their jokes and put your hand on their arm a little.”

At Nesta’s dubious look, Emerie added, “I’ve seen your Story Graph, Nesta. I know you know how to at least do that.”

“Okay, okay,” Nesta responded with a sheepish smile. “But what if he wants to kiss me?”

“It’s not as hard as it seems,” Emerie answered. “I mean, you’ve seen movies.”

“Of course I’ve seen movies, Em.” Nesta rolled her eyes and Emerie laughed. “But it’s not like I’ve actually done it myself.”

Emerie scrambled to find a response that seemed normal enough. “You can just practice on the back of your hand. Or maybe your arm?”

“Wouldn’t he be able to tell?” Nesta asked, biting her lip. Emerie tried her hardest not to notice how pink they were. “I don’t want to look like I don’t know what I’m doing. Or worse, kiss like a golden retriever. My sister says her boyfriend does that and she hates it.”

“Okay,” Emerie said slowly. She wasn’t completely sure how to respond to that, but she’d do her best. “We don’t have time to unpack the golden retriever thing, but I promise you won’t kiss like that.”

“Okay, but how do you know?” Nesta said back. “You can’t promise that.”

“Just kiss me and I’ll tell you,” Emerie blurted out before she could stop herself. She had to physically shove her hands under her thighs to stop herself from clapping her hand over her own mouth and make the situation even more embarrassing; she’d already done the worst, so now she just had to shut up until Nesta laughed it off.

Nesta didn’t laugh it off, though. She just narrowed her eyes like she was actually considering it, and Emerie nearly bit off her own tongue when Nesta said, “Are you sure?”

“I mean, only if you want,” Emerie replied, hoping it didn’t come off as desperate as she thought it did. Her heart was pounding so loud in her chest it was a miracle Nesta couldn’t hear it with how close they were sitting. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Nesta responded. She looked at Emerie expectantly and added, “Well?”

Emerie quickly shifted so she was facing Nesta properly, leaning on their cinder block wall for some more support while Nesta did the same. This close to her, Emerie could see Nesta had the faintest dusting of freckles across her skin that looked like they trailed down under her shirt, and Emerie hoped Nesta didn’t hear how thickly she swallowed.

“Okay, so…” Emerie trailed off before summoning her courage. She wasn’t going to squander this opportunity, and if Nesta decided to use this knowledge to her date’s advantage, at least Emerie would have the memory. “Pick a side to tilt your head so you don’t bump your nose.”

“Like this?” Nesta asked, tilting her head to the right so far it was a miracle she didn’t strain her neck.

“No, no,” Emerie answered with a little laugh. She reached out to touch Nesta’s face without thinking about it, her cheeks going warm as she tilted Nesta to a better angle. “Like this.”

“Okay,” Nesta breathed. Her eyes looked incredibly blue this close up. “Now what?”

“Just lean in,” Emerie told her. She thanked whatever god was listening that she’d happened to brush her teeth when she’d come back from her discussion section earlier this afternoon. “And close your eyes.”

Nesta didn’t so much as lean in as she aggressively pushed her mouth in Emerie’s direction, but Emerie certainly wasn’t complaining. Nesta’s lips were soft and full against hers, and she could faintly taste the spearmint lip balm that Nesta liked to use. Emerie was fully expecting this to just be a peck, but to her surprise, Nesta’s lips parted and suddenly her tongue was licking at Emerie’s lips.

Emerie gasped a little, surprised, and that was all it took for Nesta’s tongue to slip inside her mouth. She tried to show Nesta how good it felt to slide their tongues together, how to move their lips to form a semblance of a good rhythm, but who was Emerie kidding. Nesta was clearly a natural, and Emerie was one hundred percent benefitting from that right now.

“Um,” Emerie said once she realized just how long they’d been kissing and pulled away. She didn’t know what to say but she didn’t totally know what to do with the strange silence between them. “So. Um. That’s how you kiss.”

Nesta studied her for a few moments before her look turned knowing. Emerie wasn’t sure whether she should be afraid of that look or not, but wow, was it doing things for her. “Right.”

“Right,” Emerie repeated, still at a loss for words. Her lips were still tingling from where Nesta’s had been pressed against them a minute ago, and she had to fight the urge to bring her hand up to touch them. “So. Yeah.”

“I’m canceling my date,” Nesta announced suddenly. Her lips were an even darker shade of pink now from all the kissing, and it was really distracting. “We’re doing more of that.”

Emerie had to mentally rewind the last few seconds to make sure she hadn’t misheard. “What?”

“I said we’re doing more of that,” Nesta repeated firmly. She leaned forward so their lips were just barely touching, and even that was enough to make Emerie a little crazy. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“No,” Emerie said quickly, and then immediately realized how Nesta might interpret that. “I mean, yes. I want to.” 

“Good,” Nesta said back, leaning in to press her lips firmly to Emerie’s.

This time when they kissed, they were both smiling too hard for it to really count, but Emerie didn’t mind.

tag list: @c-e-d-dreamer | @jsmelodies | @queercontrarian | @nativeswfl | @that-little-red-head | @dustjacketmusings | @fieldofdaisiies | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @kale-theteaqueen | @goddess-aelin | @livinforthetea | @valkyrie-archeron | @agents-assemble | @sweet-pea1 | @lilah-asteria | @brieq | @mydnights | @jmoonjones | @readskk | @fwiggle | @bookstantrash | @climbthemountain2020 | @underneath-the-sidras | @illyrianshadowhunter | @sublimecoffeefestival | @superspiritfestival | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @burningsnowleopard | @bri-loves-sunflowers | @itsinherited

[naoluvs]

STAY, EVEN IF IT HURTS

Synopsis: Jason Todd is back, but he’s not the same—and no matter how much you love him, he won’t let you in. Yet, you refuse to walk away.

Pairing: AK!Jason Todd x F!Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD & Trauma, emotional & physical distancing, mentions of violence & Jason’s past torture, self-soathing & guilt themes, desperation & unrequited Affection (or so it seems)

You didn’t expect this.

When you walked into your living room only to find the one and only Arkham Knight sitting in your old armchair, you thought you were going to have a bullet through your chest.

But no. At first, he talked about how you changed, how your style had changed. Like he was disappointed in the small trinkets, plushies or whatever decoration you had around your apartment, things your first boyfriend once liked or reminded you of him.

Then, he pressed a button on his helmet, showing his face— and you couldn’t help but give in whatever words came out of his mouth. He was Jason Todd, you knew it.

He could mock the way your knees slightly buckled when he revealed his face, and you would just hum in approval. You can’t even remember how he convinced you to come with him.

That might be because you cried; too much, actually. Tears of joy, since at the end of the day, Jason was alive. And maybe sadness, taking in consideration that your once pretty boyfriend now carried a thick tension around him and a blank glare on his face.

It’s not that he isn’t attractive now, he’s still the old Jason, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.

He wouldn’t let you kiss him, hug him, touch him or basically do anything around him. He was living in an invisible bubble and kept his guard up when you accidentally got closer to him.

And you got used to it. You also did the math; he doesn’t stay without a long-sleeved shirt or long pants. He must’ve been wearing a thick coat of scars, taking note of the ‘J’ branded on his cheek.

You felt useless, really. He’s hurt and you want to help him, but he won’t let you. He won’t even let him show your love towards him.

For example, during the first week you moved in with him your decided to press a kiss on his cheek, but he immediately pushed you back, giving you a stern look before locking himself into his room for the rest of day.

And to be honest, you were tired of this. You love Jason and didn’t see him as the monster, a lost cause or whatever shit goes through his mind. You saw him as your boyfriend.

You told him countless things to reassure him, but he would wave you off, ignore or stare at you and nod. Sometimes, you could catch a glimpse of emotion in his eyes, but would quickly turn around.

You craved Jason for so much time, you even started to throw hints. For example, one night while he was in the living room you would take a long sigh, and walk with heavy steps towards the guest room you were assigned, and mutter things like ‘the bed is so cold alone’.

But he wouldn’t invite you in. So you manned up, and basically picked the worse night of most to sneak under the covers with Jason.

It was a stupid idea, but you were fed up. So, you guided your hand towards the cold door knob, and slowly twisted it. You couldn’t really make out where the bed was, but a set of uneven breaths and blanket shifting under some twisting and turning kind of did the trick.

You slowly stepped towards the bed, where you saw clearly that Jason was having a nightmare. You kind of had second thoughts about this, but you were just a few steps away from him.

A rather loud creak under your foot alarmed Jason. He rose from the bed in a flash, pressing a hand around your neck as he pushed you in the wall. He had this cold, determined look on his face.

“J-Jason?” you murmured, terror in your eyes. You shouldn’t be surprised that his first instinct is to fight. Upon hearing your voice, he releases you from his grasp. He then retreats back, walking towards the desk and leaning forward against it, gripping the edge.

“Get out, Y/n. Now.” his voice is cold, but there’s a tremor in it. You stared at his broad back— that same one you used to tease him about being small, but didn’t move from the spot he glued you to the wall. Afraid of taking a wrong step.

“Jason…” You start, ignoring the comfort you took in him almost strangling you. It didn’t leave a lustful sensation in you body, it left a… Weird feeling of consolation.

“What do you want?” Jason asked. “I…” you started, words tangled in your mouth, watching his fingers curl against the desk. “Spit it out, Y/n.” the way he said your name— low quiet, like it almost hurt to say, made your chest ache.

“I just needed you.” you pray that you chose a good set of words, because Jason’s head slightly moved to the gun sitting in the upper left corner of the desk. Now that sent shivers down your spine.

But he let the silence stretch, until he let out a short, humorless breath. “Leave.” You just swallowed, daring to take half a step forward. “Jason—“ “Now.” This time, Jason’s voice is sharp. A warning.

You just froze quickly looking over your choices: if you pushed, he’d snap. If you left, you wouldn’t be so sure if you had another chance.

So you just let out a small, dry laugh. It was a hollow sound, more out of need that amusement. You hadn’t genuinely smiled in a long time. “Sounds good.” you whisper.

You then wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to trap in the warmth your body barely provided. Jason’s room was like a freezer, or maybe it was just him.

“What sounds good?” His voice was low, tired, edged with irritation. His right hand gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, while his left dragged over the bridge of his nose. A familiar, stressed gesture.

Jason had spent years enduring white nights, haunted by his own mind. He wasn’t used to speaking after nightamres— let alone accepting comfort.

You swallowed, throat tight as he turned to his side slightly. “My name in your voice.” you let out a breath, forcing a small smile. “I… missed it.” The moment the words left your lips, you saw it—the flicker of something in his expression.

And then, just as quickly, it was gone before shielding himself again from you. Your smile faded, realisation hitting you in the face.

Bad move. You had reminded him of his past. It didn’t sound so bad, but the tension and silent rage that fuelled Jason made you think that you really fucked up.

Jason’s jaw tightened. His fingers twitched, like they wanted to grab something, break something—do anything except feel. He let out a short, stoic exhale.

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t.” Then, he turned away from you. That was it. That was all you were getting. And yet, you still stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, looking like your were waiting for something.

Jason sighed, dragging a hand down his face. His voice dropped, quieter this time, like the fight was draining out of him. “Go to bed, Y/n.”

Your tensed body relaxed, hearing the letters of your name roll out of his mouth again. Were you actually— even slightly breaking Jason’s massive, shell that he kept himself in?

“I was thinking…” You took a few steps. If there’s a moment, it’s now. Risk it. A beat of silence. Wait, that’s a bad idea. He just had a nightmare— but your fingers curled into your sleeves. You know what? Fuck it, you already did too much by inviting yourself in his room, it’s better to drain all that courage already.

So you took a slow step forward, then another. “I was thinking…” your voice was barely above a whisper. “Maybe I could stay with you.” No movement. No response.

But you knew Jason had heard you. Jason let the silence stretch, thick and suffocating. His back was still turned to you, his body so stiff it looked carved from stone. The grip on the desk didn’t ease. His fingers didn’t twitch.

For a moment, it almost seemed like he hadn’t heard you, or ignored your words. But then— a slow inhale; controlled, measured. “No.” his word cut through the air like a blade.

You stopped mid-step. Jason finally moved. Not toward you, but away. His hands lifted from the desk, and he exhaled, his head tilting slightly toward the ceiling, like he was forcing down something heavy.

“Go to bed, Y/n.” His voice wasn’t sharp this time. It was quieter, duller—like he was already detaching himself. Your chest ached as you forced yourself to move. Your feet felt heavy, like you were dragging every ounce of disappointment with you.

Each step toward the door was harder than the last. Your fingers curled around the cold handle but you couldn’t turn it. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut, breathing through the tightness in her throat. Then you turned back around.

“Jason, I—” your voice wavered. You swallowed, harder this time. “I can’t let you suffer.” Jason stiffened. He didn’t turn, didn’t move and you took a shaky breath.

“I love you.” The words hung in the air like a loaded gun. “I can’t—” your voice cracked. “I can’t live knowing you’re pushing me away.” Jason’s fingers twitched at his side.

“I… You just—” you exhaled, frustration burning in your throat. “You close yourself off from me. Why?!” Silence.

You took a step forward. “Why can’t you trust me?!” The words came out harsher than you meant. Desperate. Pained.

Jason’s breath hitched. For the first time all night, his shoulders tensed in a different way. Like something had cracked.

You swallowed, heartbeat loud in your ears. “Jason, you’re not a lost cause.” your voice trembled, but you didn’t — couldn’t stop. “You act like you have to carry this alone, like you’re the only one who knows pain. But you’re not.”

A sharp inhale. Jason’s fingers twitched. You took a step forward. Not aggressive—just enough to close the space. “You don’t have to do this alone.” Jason’s jaw clenched.

His face didn’t change—no glare, no sneer—but something was wrong. His shoulders were too still. His breathing too measured. Like a grenade waiting for the pin to be pulled. You felt your chest tighten. Maybe you had already pulled it.

You let out a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. “As long as this is here—” you lifted your hand slowly, cautiously— toward his chest, his heart. The moment your fingertips nearly brushed him, a sharp, bruising grip locked around your wrist.

You gasped. Jason’s fingers dug in—tight, unyielding. Not enough to break, but enough to warn. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Cold. “Don’t.”

You took a sharp step back, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Jason, I love you—” you exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “But I hate this.”

Jason’s grip had loosened on your wrist, but he didn’t let go. Not yet. “I love you.” The words cracked in your throat. “I look at you, and all I see is my beautiful—my handsome boy. Not a weapon. Never a weapon.”

Jason’s breathing hitched—so quietly, you almost missed it. You bit your tongue. “At least… that’s what I see in the rare moments you let me look at you.”

Jason’s fingers twitched against your skin. You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “And I’m tired of hoping. your voice lowered, something hollow creeping into it.

“I feel like you keep me around because it’s convenient. Like I don’t really matter to you.” you finally met his eyes, searching for something—anything.

“Throw me out, Jason.” your chest rose and fell with sharp, uneven breaths. “If I’m just something you tolerate, then don’t bother. You don’t have to force yourself to deal with me.”

You could feel his fingers tense again—this time, tighter. But they soon slip of your wrist, and he takes a step back. No words. Just silence. Jason’s expression shuts down completely. That dead, empty stare he’s mastered.

“Go back to bed.” he murmurs. How many times is he going to repeat that damn phrase? For fuck’s sake, your tired. You try understanding him, but he doesn’t want you to.

You let out a shaky breath, sniffing back tears that burned in the back of your neck. “Go back to bed?” you let out an unamused, broken laugh. “God, Jason. I’d rather just—just lay next to you. Feel something real. Hell, even just a hand on my shoulder, forearm—” your voice cracked. “A touch. Any touch.”

Jason didn’t move. His hand was still half-raised, like he meant to grab you again but thought better of it. You shook your head, rubbing at the deepening bruise like you could erase the feeling of his grip on her wrist.

“But I guess that’s too much to ask.”

You turned fast, wiping at your face with your sleeve, not wanting him to see you like this. Jason still didn’t say a word. You reached the door. Paused and waited. Nothing.

You chest tightened. With a sharp inhale, you yanked it open and slammed it shut behind you. Jason didn’t flinch at the sound. But after a long, empty moment, his hand curled into a fist at his side, short nails pushing the flesh of his calloused palm.

Jason stayed still, staring at the closed door like he could still feel you standing there. Like if he waited long enough, you’d come back. You wouldn’t.

You had always been loud, stubborn, relentless. But this? This was different. Your voice still echoed in his head.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck. He bit a breath, punching the nearest wall. The pain barely registered.

A deep, sharp crack split through the drywall, dust crumbling at his feet. He exhaled hard through his nose, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. He felt sick. Because you was right. Every goddamn word of it.

He did keep you close out of necessity—because the thought of losing you made something dark coil in his chest. But he couldn’t give you what you wanted. Not like this. Not when he wasn’t even sure he was human anymore.

Jason inhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His pulse was too fast, his body too tense. He needed air. Without thinking, he moved toward the door—stopped himself.

No. Not yet. He turned away instead, taking his gear and quickly putting it on, before grabbing his helmet from the desk and shoving it over his head, the cold metal pressing against his burning skin. Then, without another glance at the door, he stepped out into the night.

You on the other hand, as soon as you stepped out of Jason’s room, you felt like a fool. He suffered more than you, Jason needed you by his side. And you let your selfishness take over.

You just curled up in the corner of the room, pushing your knees into your teary eyes. You have to be more understanding. He came to you for a reason.

You could leave. You could walk out of his life right now, and maybe it would be easier.

But you won’t. Because he came to you for a reason. And even if he can’t say it, even if he pushes you away—you know he still needs you.

So, at the end of the day, you didn’t expect any of this.

a/n: i’m getting the arkham trilogy this monday😛, and i used the internet for Jason’s character. i’m going to be honest, i had this in mind for some time, and i hope i did good!!

[alaia777]

HIIII I hope you’re doing good! I just LOVE YOUR WORKS!! And I just saw that your request were open soooo… (It isn’t actually a request at first I just wanted to share a thought I had and you can write something for it if you want or ignore it as well it’s fine too but I just felt like sharing this idea!)

So basically, I was thinking about a Reo x Reader in which the scenario would basically be:

Reader is a friend of bachira, Isagi & Chigiri (obviously reader is chaotic & unserious if friend of bachira) and like Reo rlly likes reader’s vibes and kind of fall in love with her, but he doesn’t allow himself to have these feelings for her because he thinks reader is not from the same world as him and his parents will never accept him dating someone like that.

BUT dot dot dot,

Like a week later, his parents are having like some meeting with others important persons and their children have to be there too bc why not so Reo is here, AND WHO HE FIND AT THIS MEETING? READER!! And then he realises we’re actually from a rich & high status family and he sees us acting way different than we did when he saw us hanging out with bachira, like we are now acting respectful and serious while it was the opposite when Reo first saw us, and basically Reo is like ‘wow, she’s perfect’

THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST THROUGH ITS NOT REALLY ONE, I just felt like sharing that thought! Remember to eat & drink well, byee!

hellooo!! i really loved your idea, it was so much fun to write! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed working on it! take care, sending you all my loveeee <333

you’ve been friends with isagi, bachira, and chigiri for a while now. you were first friends with chigiri, who introduced you to them, and honestly, it felt like you fit right in—your personality blending perfectly with the other three.

you don’t like to pick favorites since that can break friendships, but if you had to, bachira might be something close to that. he’s always buzzing with energy—while the other two can have their moments of calm, bachira never seems to run out of battery. it’s like he’s constantly on, always looking for the next thrill, the next laugh, the next game to turn life into.

and you love that—finally getting to cut loose and just have fun. with bachira, it’s always something ridiculous. once, you both convinced isagi and chigiri to have a shopping cart race in an empty parking lot. you pushed bachira at full speed while he screamed like he was in a high-speed chase, and chigiri nearly crashed into a bush because isagi was too focused on winning to steer properly.

another time, you and bachira tried to see how many arcade claw machine prizes you could win in a row, turning it into a full-blown competition. bachira ended up with a ridiculous number of stuffed animals, chigiri kept missing on purpose just to avoid carrying them, and isagi nearly broke the machine by shaking it too hard.

“this thing is obviously rigged,” he muttered.

“or maybe you just suck at it,” you teased, grinning as you pulled out yet another prize on your first try.

even the simplest things turn into adventures with them, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

there has been an addition to your friend group. well, not exactly an addition—they were already friends with the others, but you hadn’t met them before. their names were nagi and reo.

nagi was easy to figure out. he was laid-back, always looking like he was five seconds away from falling asleep, but somehow still keeping up with the chaos you and bachira stirred up. he never tried to stop it—just stood on the sidelines.

reo, though—reo was different.

he was friendly, easy to talk to, always jumping into conversations with a confidence that made him seem like he belonged. but with you, there was something else. something hesitant.

he seemed to gravitate toward you without meaning to, always ending up next to you in conversations, standing just a little closer than necessary. but then, just as quickly, he’d pull away—like he caught himself getting too comfortable. like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to.

and you couldn’t figure out why.

he could figure out why.

he liked you.

your eccentric personality, the way you always seemed to smile—not just around his friends but around him too—made his heart weak. you had this way of making everything feel exciting, like the world was a little brighter just because you were in it. and unfortunately, he knew that whatever he was dreaming of whenever he looked at you was just that—a dream.

you two were from different worlds.

he couldn’t show up to dinner with his parents and introduce you as his girlfriend. not because he didn’t want to—god, he wanted to—but because he knew exactly how that conversation would go.

“who are her parents?”

“what does her family do?”

“does she understand our world?”

and he wouldn’t have the answers they wanted to hear. because, as far as he knew, you were just an ordinary girl from an ordinary life. no name that held weight, no empire backing you, no future that had already been paved out for you like his had.

so he kept his distance. as much as he could, anyway.

except it was impossible. because no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it wouldn’t work, that it couldn’t work, he’d always find himself right back next to you—laughing at your jokes, getting caught up in your energy, wanting more of you in ways he knew he shouldn’t.

but dreams weren’t meant to last. and this? whatever this was? it was never supposed to start in the first place.

that thought followed him everywhere—at practice, at home, and even now, as he sat stiffly at a round table, surrounded by people who spoke in dull, rehearsed tones.

these events were routine. his parents dragged him to them from time to time, expecting him to sit through dinner, shake hands, and engage in polite, empty conversations. it always bored him out of his mind. the food was expensive, the champagne flowed freely, and yet, it all felt lifeless.

there were other people his age, but they were no better. perfectly mannered, perfectly dull, sticking to scripted pleasantries that never led anywhere real.

he wanted you here.

he wanted to hear your laugh cut through the hum of forced conversation, wanted to see the way your eyes would light up whenever bachira pitched some ridiculous idea.

he could already picture it so clearly. except—

why was he actually seeing someone that looked exactly like you a few tables over?

his breath caught in his throat.

same face. same familiar spark in your eyes. but the version of you sitting there was—classier.

your hair was styled differently, and you wore a dress that looked like it cost more than someone’s monthly salary. it fit you effortlessly, draping over you in a way that made you look like you belonged here, like you were born for this world he’d convinced himself you weren’t a part of.

except it was you.

and reo felt his entire reality tilt on its axis.

he couldn’t stop himself from approaching your table, and when your eyes met his, you greeted him with a sweet smile—polished, composed, a little too perfect compared to the one he was used to.

“good evening, reo. it’s a pleasure to see you again,” you said, your voice smooth and measured.

the words felt so foreign coming from you that he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “why are you talking like that?”

for a split second, your expression wavered, the ghost of your usual smirk threatening to break through. but just as quickly, you reined it in, maintaining the same poised demeanor.

your parents, however, exchanged puzzled glances.

“honey,” your mother asked, her tone curious but polite, “do you know this young man?”

reo’s gaze flickered between you and them, his mind still struggling to reconcile the version of you he knew with the one sitting before him now.

you smiled—again, too polished, too controlled—and folded your hands neatly in your lap. “yes, mother. this is reo. we have mutual friends.”

mutual friends.

reo didn’t know why that made his stomach twist.

“is that so?” your father chimed in, looking him over with the kind of careful scrutiny reo had grown up around. “and what do your parents do, young man?”

reo didn’t answer. he was still looking at you, waiting for you to crack, to drop the act, to laugh and tell him this was all some elaborate prank. but you didn’t.

instead, you tilted your head ever so slightly and gave him that same polite smile.

and reo—who had spent weeks convincing himself that he could never be with you because you were from a different world—suddenly realized he had never known a damn thing about you at all.

reo didn’t give you a chance to react. one moment, he was standing beside your table, and the next, his hand was wrapped around yours, pulling you away from the lingering stares of your parents and the stiff, dull atmosphere of the event.

“reo—” you started, but he didn’t slow down, weaving through the elegantly dressed crowd until he found a quieter spot, a secluded balcony overlooking the city. only then did he let go, turning to face you with narrowed eyes.

“what the hell is going on?” he demanded, breath slightly uneven, whether from frustration or something else, you weren’t sure. “why were you talking like that? why are you here—like this?”

you exhaled, leaning against the cool railing. “because this is my life,” you admitted. “the one i never told you about.”

his jaw clenched. “so what? you’ve been lying to us this whole time?”

“no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “it’s not like that. i just, i didn’t want this to matter. with you, with nagi, with bachira, with chigiri and isagi—i didn’t want to be this person. i just wanted to be me.”

reo ran a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. “so you’re telling me you’re rich. like, stupidly rich.”

you huffed a small laugh. “yeah. basically.”

he let out a long sigh, looking away for a moment before glancing back at you. “so all this time, i thought i couldn’t be with you because i was the rich one and you weren’t.” he scoffed, shaking his head. “turns out, i was completely wrong.”

your lips parted slightly. “wait, what?”

he blinked, as if realizing what he had just admitted. his ears turned the faintest shade of red. “nothing,” he muttered quickly. “forget it.”

but you didn’t. a slow smile crept onto your lips. “reo, were you avoiding me because you liked me?”

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “can we not do this right now?”

but you were grinning now, stepping closer. “so if i had just told you the truth from the beginning, we could’ve been on a date ages ago?”

“alright, that’s it,” he huffed, and before you could react, he grabbed your hand again, but this time, it was different. slower. more deliberate.

“dance with me,” he said.

you blinked at him. “reo, there’s no music—”

“so?” he smirked. “i bet you’re a good dancer. with all that rich people etiquette training, right?”

you rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing when he pulled you closer, one hand settling at your waist.

“if i take you on a real date,” he murmured, “you won’t run off and hide another secret life from me, will you?”

you laughed softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “no more secrets. promise.”

reo grinned, spinning you under the city lights. “good. because i’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

[tiredtororo]

Y'know the headcanon about Teen Ford being more of a menace than Teen Stan?

Yup.

Snippet 2#

(Blackmail)

High school,usual banter after Chemistry class,Ford was shoved into a sweaty,locker room.

Stanley wasn't around at the same time, since for once he actually focused on his boxing class and decided to give it try.

Ford:*sigh* So much for a peaceful day.

Since it will take a while for Stan to come back when he realized Ford isn't at Stan O' War,Ford decided to try jamming the lock on the locker before he suddenly heard some angry voices coming up to the locker.

Extra: Urgh! I had it with that screw up Pines! Why did he have to join the boxing club again?!

Extra2: Dude,you will have no chance to get selected for that boxing competition.

Ford flinched when one of them punch the locker door hard.

Extra: Fine then. I will just make him 'not' get selected.

Extra2: How though? Not siding with him,but he's clearly a better fit. And coach seems to have his eyes on him.

Extra: Easy. I'm gonna use that freak brother of his,and made him withdraw from the club and that boxing nomination.

Extra2: You think he's going to withdraw just because you threaten his twin?

Extra:Nah,that good for nothing isn't smart. He's stupid. I don't need to actually go near that freak to threaten him. Or even better,I can easily just frame him attacking me in boxing class so he will get kicked out of that club. I mean, who's gonna believe that stupid,useless screw up than me?

Extra2: You're cold dude.

As the two bullies get their stuff and walk out,not realizing they have activated someone's 'overprotective big bro' mode as he step out of the locker.

----TIMESKIP----

A few weeks went by and Stan won the boxing competition after being selected.

Apparently the other two possible candidates suddenly withdrawn because of some scandal and apparently one of them was rumored being in a gang outside school,and they were suspended and sent to juvenile court.

Of course,Stan had no idea about it,no one told him about it.

Ford made sure of it.

Stan:Sixer, did ya see me?! Did ya see me punchin' the heck outta them?! *excited*

Ford: Yes,yes I did Stanley. You are wonderful. *playfully punch Stanley's shoulder*

No one would believe about those two extras yelling about the star student,the future scientist,Stanley's twin,framing them and purposely sent them to juvenile.

Who would believe Stanford Pines,the timid genius would do something like that?

No one.

(I swear I've seen this somewhere but I can't remember lol-)

[nemoredraw]

— TIM DRAKE X OC —[ENG version] (NSFW) Trapped Among the Rubble. (TIMO ship) (not canon)

Note: Hi! Here’s the English version. The Spanish version is available on my Patreon if you’re interested.

P.S. English is not my native language, so there are probably a lot of mistakes in both the writing and translation. I just hope it was translated well enough. I didn’t even read through it completely to check if everything was correct because I know I wouldn’t understand a damn thing.

Anyway, I hope it makes some sense, and if not, at least you’ll get an idea of the dynamic between these two. If you have any suggestions, questions, or doubts, don’t be afraid to comment.

Thank you so much for reading this far!

P.S.2: I’m not a writer, so I also apologize for the bigger mistakes you’re about to see while reading.

Best regards!

Red Robin was exhausted by Nemo, tired of the same routine over and over again. Nemo caused chaos, and as always, he had to be there to clean up the mess, stop him, and try to catch him to lock him up in Arkham Asylum. But the villain was cunning and elusive, always finding a way to escape or playing his cards so skillfully that he always managed to get away. However, this time things were different. Due to one of Nemo’s bombs, both of them got trapped under large concrete blocks. The pressure of the concrete on his body was unbearable, and the air, thick with dust, made it even harder to breathe. There was no way out of there. Any attempt to move anything could be much more dangerous. The only option was to wait for someone to rescue them. Nemo was handcuffed, but Red Robin kept his eyes on him as his mind tried to come up with a plan to escape that trap.

Dust floated in the air, suspended like a dense cloud that enveloped the space and made visibility even harder. Red Robin, trapped under the concrete slab, felt the weight not only of the block but of the years of constant fighting against Nemo. It wasn’t just about facing him; it was the feeling of being stuck in an endless cycle, where he always had to stop him, and yet, he always came back. The frustration consumed him from the inside. Every minute he spent there, his exhaustion became more evident, not just physically, but emotionally. The fatigue of an endless war that seemed to have no end.

The sound of his breathing, labored and broken, broke the heavy silence. He was close to Nemo, close enough to feel his unsettling presence. Despite being seemingly immobilized, Nemo never stopped smiling with that unchanging expression, that grimace that irritated Red Robin so much. The handcuffs glinted under the dim light filtering from some distant corner, but Nemo’s calm wasn’t that of someone defeated. It was the calm of someone who knew the game wasn’t over. The game never truly ends. There was always something more, an unexpected move.

—Do you think someone will come for us?— Nemo asked, his tone almost mocking, as if he was enjoying the situation.

Red Robin didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the scene, looking for any crack, any possibility of escape, or a way out of there before time ran out. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Nemo’s words. For so long, he had been waiting for his teammates to rescue him, but as time passed, the feeling that help wouldn’t arrive began to take over him.

—What have you done?— he finally replied, his voice deep and filled with doubt, although he couldn’t avoid the feeling of guilt gnawing at him. He always wondered if things could have been different. If maybe Nemo wouldn’t be a threat if he had acted sooner, if he had stopped him when he still had the chance. How many more times would he have to live this?

Nemo chuckled, a laugh that seemed to ripple through his body, fueled by the adrenaline and fun that never left him.

—You did what you could, Red Robin. But you know what they say… there’s always more at stake.—

Silence settled between them, heavy and palpable. Despite being handcuffed, despite being seemingly at Red Robin’s mercy, the hero knew that Nemo never played to lose. His unwavering gaze reflected something beyond the superficial calm; an unbreakable spark of enjoyment, the same one he always had, even in the worst situations.

Red Robin squinted, a mix of helplessness and fury flooding his being. Sometimes he had the patience to tolerate Nemo’s voice, but at that moment, with all the accumulated fatigue, the irritation was stronger. He moved closer to him, determined not to fall for his game. He wasn’t going to give him the luxury of exploding and slapping him like he wanted to, but instead, he knelt in front of him, staring closely into his eyes, while the villain remained seated, handcuffed, in a posture that only increased his air of contempt.

—Nemo… I can’t keep picking up everything you destroy. One day, this will end, and when that happens, I won’t be there to fix it. Then what will you do? Will you cry to your partners to get you out of this? Believe me… your partners wouldn’t give a penny for you.—

Nemo tilted his head slowly, his smile widening slightly, but his eyes reflected something much deeper. It wasn’t anger, not even annoyance, but that unbreakable spark of fun that never went out, as if everything was just another game for him.

—Oh, Red Robin, how naïve you are…— he whispered, stretching the words as if it were a shared secret. —You always talk as if you were indispensable. Like, without you, everything would fall apart.—

Red Robin didn’t look away. He wasn’t going to let Nemo drag him into one of his mental games. Not this time.

—It’s not about me, it’s about you,— he replied firmly. —You think everything revolves around chaos, that there will always be someone to pick up the pieces you leave behind. But one day, you’ll be left alone, trapped in one of your own traps, and then… what? Who will be there to get you out?—

Nemo tilted his head back, resting it against the concrete block surrounding him. The laugh that escaped his mouth echoed in the confined space, a sound that seemed to multiply in the darkness surrounding them.

—You know? I like seeing you like this, with that contained frustration. It makes you more human.—

Red Robin didn’t react, but his jaw tightened, marking the discomfort he felt with every word of Nemo.

—I’m not the only one who’ll get tired of this game, Nemo. Gotham gets tired. Your partners get tired. And when you’re no longer useful, when you’re trapped without a bomb, without a plan, without an escape… what will you do then?—

Nemo fell silent for a moment, as if Red Robin’s words had touched something deep within his mind. For a second, Red Robin thought he had planted a seed of doubt, that maybe the seed of uncertainty was beginning to grow. But Nemo didn’t take long to lean slightly toward him, without losing that relentless smile.

—Then… I’ll have to make sure that, when that day comes, you’ll be trapped with me.—

Red Robin, with a piercing gaze, raised his arm to show him the scene stretching around them. A scene of chaos and desolation, of irreparable consequences. A scene where they were both trapped, victims of their own actions.

—That day has arrived, Nemo, it’s closer than you think. You just have to look around.—

Red Robin’s tone was cold but filled with determination. He didn’t want to show even the slightest hint of doubt. Inside, he had already made a decision. This time, there would be no escape for Nemo.

—This time, you won’t escape, Nemo. This time, I’ll put you in prison… for your own good.—

With a quick movement, Red Robin grabbed Nemo by his clothes and pulled him toward him, shoving him in a way that Nemo could see the threat was real. The tension in the air was palpable, and although Red Robin’s words were firm, there was something in his expression that betrayed his frustration.

Nemo, showing no resistance, allowed Red Robin to pull him toward him. However, his smile didn’t disappear. His eyes slowly scanned the rubble, as if he was really seeing the ruin reflected in that landscape of destruction, as if he accepted that, in some way, this was his destiny.

—Well, Red… you almost sound like you care.— Nemo commented, his voice light, mocking, but with a hint of something else that wasn’t easy to identify.

Red Robin didn’t let himself be distracted. He kept his grip on his clothes, firm as a rock. He knew he had to stay in control, even though Nemo’s presence was becoming harder to handle.

—I don’t care about you, I care about stopping you before this kills you.— he replied coldly, without taking his eyes off him.

Nemo laughed, a low and almost imperceptible laugh, as if it were a whisper in the stillness of chaos. There was something in that laugh, something more than just mockery.

—Always so heroic… Always believing you can save everyone, even those who don’t want to be saved.—

Red Robin’s jaw tightened. That phrase, so characteristic of Nemo, always made him lose his patience, but now he couldn’t give in. Not this time.

—It’s not about what you want, Nemo. It’s about what you’ve done. And this time, there’s no escape, no bombs, no partners coming to get you. It’s just you and me, and when you get out of here, it’ll be straight to Arkham.—

A heavy silence filled the air between them. Nemo looked at him with an unsettling intensity, evaluating every word, every move. Finally, with a shrug and a sly smile, he murmured:

—If you really believed that… you wouldn’t be trying to convince me.—

Red Robin let him go with a slight shove, as if he needed to distance himself from Nemo’s unshakable attitude, from that smile that never left. But he couldn’t let that distract him. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was making sure Nemo didn’t escape, not this time.

The dust kept falling, and uncertainty lingered in the air. Maybe help would come. Maybe not. But what Red Robin knew for sure was that this time, Nemo wouldn’t get out of there like he always did. Or at least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

Suddenly, the ceiling began to shake, a crack echoed, and before he could react, something fell with force. The danger of being trapped under the rubble became real. Red Robin saw a concrete block falling directly onto Nemo, and without thinking, he lunged toward him, pushing him quickly to avoid the impact.

The blow was inevitable, but Red Robin managed to protect him, both of them getting buried even deeper under the rubble. Red Robin was over Nemo, his body shielding him from the fallen blocks while dust surrounded them.

Nemo blinked, surprised by Red Robin’s sudden action. For a moment, there were no words, only their heavy breathing, the sound of rubble settling around them, and the weight of the hero on top of him. Red Robin, although angry, had chosen to save him.

Then, that initial surprise shifted into something else. Something he couldn’t even fully define.

—Wow, Red…— Nemo murmured, his usual mocking tone, but this time, there was something more. A slight surprise in his voice. —If you wanted me this close, you could’ve just asked.—

Red Robin scoffed, barely moving to prop himself up on his forearms. His brow was furrowed, frustration evident on his face.

—Shut up, Nemo.—

But Nemo couldn’t stay quiet, not when his mind was still processing what had just happened. Red Robin had saved him. Despite everything, despite every fiber of his being probably wishing to see him behind bars, he had chosen to save him.

Nemo tilted his head slightly, making his handcuffs jingle as he moved his wrists.

—So… you’re still hell-bent on saving me, huh?—

Red Robin looked away for a moment, but it was enough for Nemo to notice.

—See?— Nemo whispered, with that sly smile of his. —It’s not just about justice. You care.—

Red Robin’s jaw tightened even more.

—I care about the lives you ruin, Nemo.—

—Mine included, it seems.— the villain replied, almost in a whisper.

The tension between them was palpable, different from all the previous times. Maybe because the space was even smaller, maybe because this time Nemo didn’t have a clear escape, or maybe because, deep down, they had always been trapped together. Only now, that trap was literal.

Nemo sighed dramatically.

—Well, Red, looks like we’re in deeper trouble. What now? Do we wait for rescue or do you keep convincing yourself that you don’t care about me?—

Red Robin tried to keep his eyes away from the man, maintaining distance even though it was impossible in such a confined space. The tension in the air was undeniable. He lowered his gaze, frustrated, towards the man who still had the power to destabilize him.

—You’re going to shut up and stay still. I don’t want to hear you anymore.— he said, gritting his teeth, unable to deny that every word from Nemo did affect him.

The atmosphere was still heavy, filled with that mutual discomfort. They were both trapped, not just under the rubble, but by their intertwined fates. No way out, no clear answers.

But Nemo wasn’t someone who knew when to let go. He tilted his head, looking at Red Robin with that intensity that made the skin crawl.

—You know?— he murmured, in a lower tone, almost… sincere. —Sometimes I wonder what you’d be without me.—

Red Robin snapped his gaze up, his eyes burning with contained fury.

—I’d be free.—

Nemo chuckled softly, but this time, there was no mockery in it. Only something more tangled in the tense air between them.

—I don’t think so.—

Red Robin didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because, deep down, although he hated admitting it… Nemo was right.

A strange weight fell over him, as if, somehow, he had glanced at something he had always feared accepting. What would he be without the constant presence of Nemo, without the endless missions and confrontations that never seemed to end? He could live a quieter life, less frantic, less… destroyed. He could live a life less tormented by the decisions of a man he was always supposed to stop, who always overwhelmed him, who always forced him to question himself.

But what Red Robin couldn’t accept was that the absence of Nemo would mean the absence of everything he had been. His life, no matter how chaotic, seemed intertwined with that constant struggle.

Red Robin fell silent, looking away. A heavy sigh, loaded with mental exhaustion, escaped his lips. He didn’t say anything, just let the silence stretch between them, like an invisible wall that rose every time Nemo challenged him with those words.

Nemo didn’t miss a detail of Red Robin’s reaction. That pause, that silence… it was more eloquent than any biting response he could’ve given. He didn’t need words to know that he had touched something inside of him, something the hero didn’t want to face. The uncomfortable truth that, somehow, all of this was more personal than Red Robin wanted to admit.

For the first time in a long while, Nemo also fell silent. Not because he had nothing to say, but because, for some reason, he felt that breaking that moment would make it less real. And there was something in the air, something strange, that kept him there, in that suspended moment.

The air was thick, laden with dust and tension. The rubble continued to fall slowly, but what weighed more was the palpable discomfort between them. Red Robin was still over Nemo, their bodies too close, too intertwined in a mess Nemo himself had caused. Everything seemed frozen in that instant, as if nothing else could move, as if the universe had halted its course for a brief moment.

Finally, Nemo averted his gaze to nothingness, exhaling with a smile that was almost… tired.

—You don’t have to save me all the time, Red.—

It was the first time he had said something like that. No mockery, no provocation. Just a simple statement, almost resigned.

But Red Robin didn’t respond. And that silence, more than any word, left a truth hanging between them. Did he really need to save him? Why did he feel that persistent need? Doubt began to take root in his mind, but it wasn’t something he could cling to for long. The answer remained the same: if he didn’t do it, someone else would. But who? Would anyone else save him from himself?

Red Robin slightly lifted his gaze, almost as if he didn’t want to be seen. He looked at the man beneath him, this time without any signs of arrogance or superiority, something rare in Nemo. No games, no masks. Something strange was happening in that moment, and Red Robin couldn’t stop noticing it. But he refused to give it importance. He couldn’t let himself. He couldn’t give it the weight he thought it didn’t deserve. He had to stay distant, cold, even despite the physical closeness they were being forced into.

If he didn’t save him, who would? That question still lingered in his mind. And the answer remained empty.

Red Robin closed his eyes for a moment, as if doing so could push away the question that had formed in his mind. As if he could avoid the feeling that, no matter how many times he caught Nemo, how many times he put him in prison or tried to break this cycle, he would always end up back at the same point.

Because if he didn’t save him, no one else would.

He hated himself for thinking that way. Hated that, deep down, part of him felt that responsibility, as if Nemo were his problem, his burden. As if, in some twisted way, his fate was tied to his. Everything Bruce had taught him, everything Nightwing had lived with Slade… those lessons and that history still resonated in his mind. He couldn’t fall into the same trap. He couldn’t be his cross.

The cycle had to be broken.

—Stop talking nonsense.— he murmured finally, his tone lower, more opaque, as if trying to drown out that inner voice urging him to keep going.

Nemo smiled faintly, as if he knew exactly what was going through Red Robin’s mind. As if, deep down, he relished the fact that, no matter how much the hero tried to convince himself otherwise, he would always end up coming back to him.

—Whatever you say, Red.—

And, in that moment, Red Robin knew that, no matter how hard he tried, he would never fully escape the shadow of Nemo.

Silence enveloped them again, but this time, it wasn’t just the echo of the rubble… it was the weight of a truth neither of them was ready to admit.

Red considered changing the subject, forgetting about it. He thought about all the ways he could shake off that uncomfortable moment, that persistent feeling that had begun to tickle his mind. He finally sighed, grabbed Nemo’s shoulders, and tried to move him to make room, but it was impossible. Everything was too tight.

—Nemo, for God’s sake, you just need to move over, you’re taking up all the space… I can’t be on top of you the whole time.—

Nemo let out a low laugh, almost like a purr of amusement, that kind of laugh only he could make, one that completely shifted the tone of the atmosphere.

—Oh, Red, I didn’t know this bothered you so much.— he murmured with that soft voice, laced with barely concealed amusement. —And here I thought you were comfortable.—

Red Robin gritted his teeth, ignoring the heat rising to his neck, feeling how discomfort took over every muscle in his body.

—Nemo, I warn you…—

—Are you going to arrest me for taking up too much space?— the villain joked, but finally moved a little, just enough to give Red Robin some maneuvering room.

Of course, he did so with exaggerated slowness, as if savoring every second of the other’s discomfort.

—Alright, alright… though I’ll admit, this had its charm.—

Red Robin rolled his eyes, feeling the frustration bubbling inside him as he finally managed to get comfortable, turning his back to Nemo. As if that would make things easier, as if simply not looking at him could help him distance himself from the tension that still lingered between them.

—Tell me you at least have a plan,— Nemo said, his usual tone but without the usual sharp mockery, as if, for once, he were showing slight concern.

Red Robin didn’t answer right away. Because the truth was, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure how to get out of this. There was no easy solution, and being trapped under rubble only complicated things.

Red Robin opened the communicator on his wrist and tried to find any nearby electromagnetic signal, but due to the collapse, there was none left. Frustrated, he looked around. Nothing.

Nemo, amused by the situation, got closer to his back, sliding his hand along the fabric of the cape, pulling it slightly. Red Robin turned his head slightly, gritting his teeth and frowning. What was he doing now? Was he playing with him again?

—What the hell are you doing?— Red Robin spat, barely turning his face to shoot him a hard look.

But Nemo just smiled, unhurried, enjoying the situation far too much.

—Relax, Red. I’m just killing time…— he murmured, giving the cape an extra tug, as if the texture fascinated him. —Besides, I’ve always wanted to see how durable this is.—

Red Robin took a deep breath, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine from the contact. It wasn’t so much the gesture itself, but how unnecessary it was.

—Let go. Now.—

—You have to admit, this is an… interesting situation.— Nemo continued, ignoring the warning. —How many times have we been like this? Trapped. Locked in. Together.—

Red Robin furrowed his brow even more.

—This is the first time we’ve been buried under rubble, if that’s what you’re referring to.—

—I’m not talking about the rubble, Red.—

That response made him clench his fists. Because he knew what Nemo was implying, he knew he wasn’t just talking about the collapse, but the cycle they’d been trapped in for so long. The endless cycle, where they found themselves caught, with moments of tension and provocations that always kept them together, even in a twisted way.

Red Robin closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the weight in his chest.

—If you really want to do something useful, help me find a way out, instead of… this.—

—Oh, but Red…— Nemo leaned in a bit more, his breath brushing the back of the hero’s neck. —This is much more fun.—

Red Robin felt a sharper cramp run from his neck down his back. His body went stiff, and he didn’t let Nemo see the reaction, but the silence said more than words. Red Robin turned, almost exhausted from the situation, and grabbed Nemo by the hair, pulling him back forcefully.

—I’m warning you, Nemo, I’m not playing.— He said, gritting his teeth.

Nemo let out a stuttered gasp, more from surprise than pain. His smile curved slowly, as if the hair tug wasn’t a warning, but an encouragement to push further.

—Oh, Red…— he murmured, his voice rough from the position he was trapped in. —That’s what I like most about you.—

Red Robin stared at him with contained fury, his fingers still tangled in Nemo’s hair. He didn’t want to give him more room to play, didn’t want to fall into his rhythm, but everything about him was designed to provoke him.

—Don’t tempt me.— he warned, his voice lower, more gravelly.

But Nemo just laughed, leaning as much as he could with his head still trapped between Red Robin’s fingers.

—What if I do? Are you going to stop me? Or will you just keep… reacting?—

That last word was loaded with meaning. And the worst part was that he was right. Red Robin was reacting. He was responding, instead of ignoring him, instead of keeping a cool head. And that only gave Nemo more power.

With a frustrated grunt, Red Robin released him abruptly, pushing him slightly to create some distance. He moved as far as the limited space allowed, taking a deep breath to calm the tension in his body.

—You know, Red.— Nemo said lightly, massaging his scalp where he’d grabbed it. —If you keep touching me like that, it’s going to be hard for me to believe you don’t want to play.—

Red Robin didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Deep down, he hated how much Nemo enjoyed all of this. And what was worse… he hated how much he was starting to feel it too. The weight of the tension, that uncomfortable feeling, was growing, and he couldn’t deny it.

Red Robin tightened his gaze on Nemo, a fire inside him that only wanted to extinguish itself somehow. What the hell was he playing at now? With unrelenting seriousness, he responded.

—I don’t recommend you push it, Nemo, or I’ll add sexual harassment to your penitentiary report.—

Nemo blinked a couple of times, but it wasn’t long before his low, deep laugh filled the small space they were trapped in, like a distant echo that only heightened the discomfort of the situation.

—Well, Red…— he murmured with genuine amusement. —I didn’t know you had such a sharp sense of humor.—

Red Robin didn’t smile. His face remained impassive, his gaze fixed on Nemo, as if trying to pierce him with it. He wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of any reaction beyond his warning. But Nemo, as always, enjoyed controlling the situation.

—You know what’s the best part?— he continued, with that playful smile that only heightened the tension. —That for that to have weight in my report, you’d have to admit you felt something.—

Red Robin narrowed his eyes, a mix of fury and exhaustion on his face.

—No. I just have to make note that you’re a damn nuisance.—

—Oh, Red, everyone already knows that. But what no one knows is how much this ‘nuisance’ affects you.—

Silence fell again between them, but this time Red Robin didn’t stay waiting for the next provocation. His voice became firm, almost like a mantra to calm himself.

—I’m getting us out of here.—

His tone was unwavering, as if trying to convince himself that this was the only thing that mattered. He ignored the laughter still vibrating in his ear, the persistent heat on his skin, and the discomfort of being so close to Nemo. He turned and began to search the rubble again, analyzing every crack, looking for an exit, any way to escape.

But he couldn’t avoid hearing the quiet whisper that came from behind him.

—Too bad… I could stay a little longer.—

Red Robin clenched his teeth tightly, feeling the frustration build in his chest.

—Typical… once we’re out of here, I plan to lock you up again.—

He said with a firm, annoyed tone as he groped every wall around, trying to find the weakest one.

Nemo, as usual, didn’t stop. His only mission at that moment was to provoke him. See how he’d react. And he liked what he saw.

He tilted his head, watching every movement Red Robin made with that sharp gleam in his eyes, like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

—Wow, Red…— he murmured with fake disappointment. —You say that like it’s the last time you’ll try.—

Red Robin ignored his tone, focusing on his task. But Nemo wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

—You know?— he continued, with a thoughtful air that only increased the tension. —Sometimes I wonder… what will you do when you actually succeed? When they finally lock me up in Arkham and I can’t get out.—

Red Robin kept feeling around the weakest wall, but his jaw tightened when he heard Nemo’s words.

—I’ll have one less thing to worry about in my life.—

Nemo leaned a bit, his voice sliding smoothly, so close to Red Robin that he could almost feel the warmth of his breath.

—Is that what you think?— he said with a twisted smile, brushing the limits of provocation. —Or will you feel like you’re missing something?—

Red Robin stopped for a second, just a brief flicker of doubt before he went back to work. He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t want to acknowledge it. But the truth was, Nemo was right. Part of him knew there would always be something more, something that kept him trapped in this endless cycle.

Nemo smiled. And it wasn’t a kind smile. It was that twisted smile he knew Red Robin couldn’t ignore.

—Because, let’s be honest, Red… if I weren’t here, what would you do with all the time you spend on me?—

Red Robin slammed the rubble harder than necessary, his breath more ragged from frustration than physical effort, not daring to look at him. His body tense, charged with contained energy that only increased the tension in the air.

—Anyone would think you’re the obsessed one.—

Nemo let out a low, vibrating laugh, like an electric current running between them, his presence expanding. He leaned in even more, bringing his lips dangerously close to Red Robin’s ear, his warm breath brushing his skin with an invisible caress.

—Oh, but if I’m obsessed…— he whispered, his voice a dangerous melody, —what does that say about you?—

Red Robin closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling the tension build in his chest. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, but the growing discomfort made him burn inside. He wasn’t going to fall into his game. Not this time.

With a huff, he used his strength to strike the wall he’d identified as the weakest, making some rubble give way with a loud crash.

—It says I’m getting out of here. With you or without you.—

Nemo smiled, that cold satisfaction on his face, as if he already knew what was going through Red Robin’s mind. Because deep down, he knew him too well. He knew that no matter how much Red Robin denied it… he would never leave him behind.

With an unexpected move, Nemo stretched out his handcuffed arms and pulled on Red Robin’s wrist, stopping him with a strength that surprised him. It wasn’t the moment to escape, not for Nemo. He wanted this agony to last longer, for Red Robin to feel trapped in his own helplessness.

In the blink of an eye, Nemo positioned himself over Red Robin, the weight of his body pinning the hero to the floor, while his handcuffed hands kept him immobilized. Red Robin, who hadn’t had time to react, found himself with his back on the ground, breathing heavily, not just from the physical effort, but from the surprise that the villain’s speed had generated.

—What the hell do you think you’re doing? —Red Robin spat, his voice cracking with fury, but also with an unease that filtered through his words.

Nemo grinned widely, enjoying the control, the power he had over Red Robin at that moment. He leaned in slightly, bringing his face close to the hero’s, making their lips dangerously near his ear.

—Just making sure you don’t ruin the fun too quickly.

Red Robin struggled, his body tensing, but the cramped space and the uncomfortable position of having Nemo on top of him kept him trapped, unable to move without shifting the debris around them.

—This isn’t a game, Nemo.

—Isn’t it? —the villain whispered, his gaze dripping with intensity, a dangerous spark ignited in his eyes—. Because to me, it seems like we’ve been playing the same one for years.

The tension between them grew until it became palpable, like a taut rope about to snap. Red Robin could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears, the frantic rhythm of his breathing. Not just from the rage consuming him, but from something deeper, something he didn’t want to accept or allow.

With a swift movement, he used the minimal mobility he had left and twisted his body, reversing their positions. Now he had Nemo trapped beneath him, his hands firmly on the villain’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, his gaze fixed on Nemo’s eyes, burning with contained fury.

—If you keep testing my patience, you’ll see what happens when I really snap.

Nemo let out a chuckle, amused despite being trapped.

—Oh, Red… that’s exactly what I want to see.

Red Robin’s body tensed even more, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. To Nemo, everything was a game, a dirty game to destabilize him, to push him to his limit. And that irritated him. With silent fury, Red Robin grabbed Nemo’s face, his fingers squeezing the villain’s jaw with such force that he could barely move. He wanted him to look at him, to feel the weight of his warning.

—What exactly do you want to see, huh? Say it, Nemo, because this situation is just pissing me off more and more.

Nemo let out a sharp gasp, not from pain, but from the strength with which Red Robin held him. His irregular breathing, the darkening gleam in his eyes, turned into something more dangerous than just a provocation. There was something in his gaze that had nothing to do with their usual game.

—That. —His voice slid into a whisper, heavy with something indecipherable, a silent desire—. That.

Red Robin clenched his jaw tighter, his fingers still dug into Nemo’s skin. The tension amplified, the atmosphere thick, almost suffocating. He couldn’t pull away. He didn’t want to pull away.

—Stop speaking in riddles and say it already.

Nemo narrowed his eyes, his smile crooked, like a bold provocation. He knew he was touching Red Robin’s weak point.

—I want to see you lose control.

The silence that followed was brutal. Heavy. Like a bomb about to explode.

Red Robin felt the rage burning in his throat, but the worst part was that it wasn’t just anger. There was something deeper, something he didn’t want to admit or unleash. Something that terrified him. Nemo knew. He saw it in every tense movement of his body, in every labored breath.

—It’s not going to happen —Red Robin growled, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Nemo smiled wider, as if that same frustrated growl was exactly what he had been waiting for.

—It’s already happening.

And the worst part was that, for the first time, Red Robin wasn’t so sure whether he wanted to stop it.

Red Robin fixed his gaze on Nemo’s, sliding his thumb over the villain’s lip, pressing lightly there while his other fingers remained dug into his face. His face remained impassive, but his body was tense, like a taut rope about to snap. He didn’t say anything, just watched him with that cold intensity that sometimes defined him, holding back, trying not to give in.

Nemo parted his lips, not out of discomfort, but because of the intensity of the touch. His gaze was fixed on Red Robin’s eyes, defiant, not looking away or retreating.

And then, slowly, calculated, he barely extended his tongue, shamelessly brushing against Red Robin’s thumb.

It wasn’t an accidental gesture. It was intentional. A silent challenge. A provocation loaded with something deeper than a simple taunt.

Red Robin felt a shiver run down his spine, but he didn’t withdraw his hand. Not yet. His grip tightened a little more, his breath heavier, and his body restless, as if he wanted to take control of something slipping away from him.

Nemo smiled against his skin, with dark satisfaction, relishing the contained reaction he could feel vibrating through the hero’s body.

—Come on, Red… —he murmured, his voice rough, like a soft poison seeping into his mind—. Let go of control.

The tension between them reached an unbearable point. Like a rope on the verge of snapping. Like fire threatening to consume everything.

Red Robin softened his gaze, but he didn’t look away from Nemo. Despite the coldness in his eyes, his breathing was still erratic, out of control, as if he couldn’t contain the intensity of what he felt. He tried to remain calm, but there was something in Nemo’s touch, something in his gaze, that made him question whether he really wanted to end it all.

Nemo let out a broken sigh, his lips parting further around Red Robin’s thumb. His tongue slowly grazed the fabric of the glove, as if savoring the moment. As if enjoying the contained reaction he could feel vibrating through Red Robin’s body.

His gaze didn’t leave Red Robin’s. There was something dark and twistedly satisfied in those eyes, something that had nothing to do with the usual game. This time, it wasn’t just about irritating him. It wasn’t just about pushing him.

It was because he wanted to see him break.

Red Robin clenched his jaw. He knew he should pull away, let go, stop it before they crossed a line he couldn’t uncross. But his hand didn’t move. His breathing was still erratic, his eyes fixed on Nemo’s with an intensity that had nothing to do with anger.

It was something else.

Nemo smiled around his thumb, his tongue sliding over it with a slow, almost sensual touch, before releasing it with a soft pop.

—Well, Red… —he whispered, his voice rough and laden with poison—. I think I almost got you.

But Red Robin didn’t move. Not this time.

With relentless determination, he slid his hand from Nemo’s face to his neck, gripping it firmly, not with violence, but with a possessiveness that was all danger.

—Do you think this is a game? —he murmured, his voice low, hoarse, and dangerous.

Nemo let out a laugh, though it sounded somewhat erratic, more real than he intended.

—You tell me, Red… —he leaned in a little closer, the challenge in his eyes setting the air on fire—. Who’s playing now?

Red Robin tightened his grip on Nemo’s neck, knowing exactly where to apply pressure. He wasn’t taking away his air, but he was stealing something far more crucial: control.

Nemo’s back arched under Red Robin’s weight, but there was no resistance. Only a broken laugh when the hero’s fingers returned to rest on his lips, this time with more intent, more force, as if he wanted to silence him forever.

Nemo didn’t hesitate to capture Red Robin’s fingers with his tongue, his gesture hot and wet, a shameless provocation, almost mocking. His eyes never left Red Robin’s, intense, dark, as if challenging every move and, at the same time, enjoying the submission he provoked without lifting a finger.

Red Robin felt a shiver run through his body, but he didn’t move his hand. Not this time. He kept his gaze fixed, his breath still heavy, and tightened his grip on Nemo’s jaw, feeling the warmth of his mouth around his fingers, as the villain’s tongue wrapped around them with a dangerous naturalness.

Nemo let out a low sound, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, as if the situation was beyond his control but, at the same time, completely under his will.

Who’s playing now?

The question hung between them, burning with force, but Red Robin had no intention of answering. He just tightened his grip, diving deeper into the game, showing Nemo that if this was going to be a challenge, he would play by his own rules.

The warmth of Nemo’s saliva on his fingers enveloped him, a tempting touch, a caress that made him lose some of his sanity. Every fiber of his being urged him to pull back, to take control of the situation, but his body responded to something more than logic.

The atmosphere between them grew thicker, charged with palpable tension, as if the space around them was compressing, pressing toward a point of no return. Red Robin felt his control begin to crumble, his composure slipping away with every provocative glance from Nemo, with every defiant touch he made in response.

Nemo knew exactly how to push Red Robin to the limit, how to destabilize him with every gesture, every glance.

—Come on, Red… —he whispered, his voice raspy, like an invitation, like a provocation—. Don’t hold back so much. What’s the worst that can happen?

Red Robin didn’t respond, but his breathing grew heavier, a conscious effort to remain in control, even though what he really wanted was to step away from that fine line between control and chaos. But he couldn’t. Something inside him kept him there, trapped in this game he couldn’t escape.

His thumb moved slowly over Nemo’s tongue, a subtle gesture, but one that made everything feel even more dangerous. Every part of him screamed to pull away, to stop, but deep inside, something held him there, something that kept him firmly in that moment, unable to take a step back.

The tension reached such an extreme point that any movement, any breath, seemed to have the power to bring everything crashing down.

Red Robin caught Nemo’s tongue, tightening his fingers with more force, and the sound that came from Nemo’s throat destabilized Robin even more than he already was. He brought his face closer to his, and with a defiant gesture, he pulled Nemo’s tongue from his mouth, licking it possessively as he tightened his grip on his neck, making it clear who was in charge at that moment.

Nemo’s muffled sigh echoed in the air, a sound that seemed to cut the tension between them, but at the same time, it intensified it in a dangerous way. Red Robin felt a shiver run down his spine. The brush of their tongues was a dark and twisted act, a gesture charged with electricity and challenge, both verbal and physical. The pressure on Nemo’s neck wasn’t about the desire to dominate him, but something more primitive, visceral, that Red Robin didn’t want to acknowledge.

Nemo didn’t pull away. He didn’t retreat. On the contrary, he let out a low laugh, almost mocking, despite the pain he felt in both his tongue and his neck.

Red Robin couldn’t pull away. The intensity of the moment kept him there, feeling how the power struggle they shared was woven in a tense silence, filled with something much darker than what he was willing to face.

But he couldn’t let go.

The rational part of him fought against the visceral one, the one pushing him beyond his own limits, daring him to go further.

“Shut up, or I’ll make sure you don’t leave here in one piece.” His voice was rough, filled with rage, as if crossing that line was something he had been trying to avoid for far too long.

With Nemo’s neck still between his fingers, Robin leaned toward him again, their teeth clashing with fury as he devoured his mouth desperately, frustrated but also needing that primal contact.

The air between them grew thick, almost suffocating. Red Robin’s rage was like an overflowing torrent, and Nemo knew it. He could feel the tension in every muscle of his opponent, the restrained anger that was now spilling over, the real threat in his words. But that didn’t stop him.

When Red Robin moved closer, fury and desire fused in such a way that neither of them could stop it. Their teeth clashed again, and then, the brutality of their mouths joined in a wild kiss, like a storm that left nothing untouched. Nemo responded instantly, with the same energy, letting himself be carried away by the fury of the moment, without brakes, without reservations.

The friction of their bodies, the heat of their breaths, was all that remained between them. Red Robin’s fingers tightened around Nemo’s neck, while his other hand grasped him desperately, as if by touching him, he could free himself from the frustration that had built up over the years.

Nemo, for his part, didn’t seem to be trying to stop him. On the contrary, his hands rose, and along with his cuffs, they slid down Red Robin’s chest, pulling his body closer, as if he enjoyed that sensation, that ever-blurring line between violence and something more.

—This is what you want, isn’t it? —murmured Nemo between kisses, his voice low and defiant—. What you’ve been avoiding all this time?

Red Robin didn’t respond. His mind was clouded, his thoughts dissolving between rage, desire, and confusion. Every touch, every brush, pushed him further than he thought he could control. But there was no going back.

Nemo smiled, still caught in the kiss, as if chaos was completely on his side.

When Robin brought his finger back to Nemo’s mouth, seeking that contact once again, his mind was on the edge, crumbling between what he desired and what he knew he shouldn’t. But Nemo, as always, dragged him further than reason would allow. With the same provocation, with the same shameless acceptance, he received it, as if he had been waiting for that response.

Robin’s hand slid into his hair, gripping it tightly but with an unsettling softness, as if he enjoyed seeing Nemo in that state.

Red Robin’s voice came out hoarse, filled with everything that was happening.

—No, Nemo… —he whispered, his breath heavy, his words full of frustration, rage, and desire—. This is what you wanted.

Nemo smiled against the fabric of his glove, his eyes gleaming with dangerous satisfaction, as if everything was part of a plan only he understood. His tongue slid across it with a destructive calm.

The atmosphere, charged with dangerous electricity, seemed about to explode at any moment. They were both trapped in something they could no longer control, something they could no longer define.

With a voice almost choked and frustration between his teeth, Robin spoke:

—Would you?

Nemo looked up at him, puzzled. Robin pulled her finger out of her mouth brushing her lower lip and rubbing both their bodies together, looking to feel that friction. His body feeling that tension getting tighter and tighter in his body, about to give in to what was happening.With his voice cracking he asked again.

— Would you use your mouth?

The atmosphere was becoming even denser, charged with a desire that could not be undone, a tension that tightened the air around them. Red Robin's words floated in the space between them, almost like an invitation to chaos. The question was loaded, a direct challenge to everything they had both vowed to avoid.

Nemo, with his fierce gaze and a crooked smirk, watched Red Robin in silence, as if assessing not only his words, but every movement, every gesture on his body. His expression remained serene, but his eyes shone with the same spark as always, as if he had been waiting for that moment, that surrender, however momentary.

—That depends…— he murmured softly, almost as a whisper, savoring the power of every word, every reaction he got from Robin. The question had not only surprised him, but had also pushed him further into the game, beyond any limits they had both set for themselves.

Robin could feel the friction between their bodies increasing, what should have been a simple touch becoming something deeper, something that burned him inside. The helplessness of not being able to take complete control of the situation turned his stomach, but it kept him there, trapped. His body kept responding, his mind overflowing with every thought he didn't want to let grow.

Nemo, in an unexpected move, slid a hand down Robin's torso, stroking with deliberation, as if drawing a line that was not to be crossed, but still, inviting him to follow.

—If I did... what would you do, Robin? —he asked, almost with an innocent tone, but his eyes reflected something darker, something that didn't require an answer to understand.

Robin's heavy laughter mingled with their halting breaths, with the unbearable heat of that small space where there was no turning back now. His grip on Nemo's hair intensified, his voice husky and charged with something even he couldn't fully define.

Robin could feel that bold hand sliding down his back, pulling him further into his body.

— Keep your mouth busy.— Robin tugged lightly on Nemo's hair, showing him a bit of that intention he would have with him.

Nemo let Robin dominate him at that moment, his head tilted back by the force of his hand, his neck exposed, vulnerable yet defiant. His dark eyes watched him with a spark of dangerous satisfaction, as if he was enjoying having pushed Red Robin to that point of no return.

—Oh, Red…— she murmured in a breathy voice, a crooked smile curving her lips. If you think you can teach me a lesson, then I wish you luck.

The movement of their bodies was minimal, but the friction spoke volumes. Robin could feel the pressure on every part of him, the way Nemo's body molded to his, as if mocking his need for control.

—And if you're going to give me a job…— continued Nemo, his voice low, almost a whisper against his ear. You better be sure you can handle what you're asking.

Robin tightened his grip on Nemo's hair, drawing so close that there was barely any air left between them. His gaze was sharp, charged with fury and something darker, something he couldn't name.

—I can always handle it, Nemo.— he whispered fiercely. The question is whether you can.

Robin slid his face down Nemo's neck, breathing heavily against his skin, the atmosphere was unbearably thick, every touch, every movement, sinking them both deeper into something they couldn't even name. Robin breathed against Nemo's skin, soaking in his essence, letting desire, rage and need mingle in his mind until he didn't know which one dominated more. She thought of nothing else but biting him, leaving the mark that he had passed by. He was still holding her hair tightly leaving her neck exposed for him. Red made a firmer hip movement, to make it clear who was taking control of the situation. —Nemo… —He whispered her name in a loaded voice, against her neck, almost desperate to sink his teeth in there. —Are you going to be a good boy this time?

When he bit into her neck, he did it with the intention of leaving a mark, of making sure Nemo would feel that even after they were out of there. The tug on his hair only intensified the sensation, exposing him even more to her dominance.

The firm movement of her hips against Nemo's caused a sigh to escape Nemo's lips, but his attitude did not change. Despite being under Robin's control at that moment, she still maintained that defiant air, that way of looking at him that said she was enjoying it more than she should.

When Robin whispered her name against his neck, the tension peaked. The question hovered in the air between them, charged with anticipation.

Nemo smiled, that damned smile of his that never quite disappeared, even at times like that.

—A good boy? —He repeated in a low, dragging voice, letting the warmth of his breath collide against Robin's skin. — For you?

Robin felt Nemo move slightly under him, not to resist, but to challenge him even more. Her body arched just a little, pressing herself more against him, as if to gauge how far she could push him.

—I don't know, Red.— Nemo continued in his teasing tone. — It depends on how you convince me.

It was a challenge. One more provocation. As usual.

But this time, Robin was no longer in a position to ignore him.

Red Robin released his hair and put one of his hands under the man's jacket, starting to unbutton his shirt, something difficult at that moment when one had no patience to go from button to button, so he gave a tug breaking several of his buttons and then put his hand there and started to feel his skin. What started out as a game, one more provocation in their endless tug-of-war, had long since ceased to be. Robin felt his own barriers crumble with every touch, with every restrained gasp that escaped his throat without permission. Nemo had always known how to push him over the edge, but this time it wasn't just sharp words or challenges cloaked in smiles. This time it was real.

The sound of buttons popping under the force of his hand echoed in the cramped space, followed by the warmth of his palm exploring Nemo's bare skin, feeling the shudder of his breath, the slight shudder that ran through his body as his fingers slid over him. It was warm. Tempting.

Robin's lips found the exposed skin of his neck, devouring, biting, licking, sucking, leaving marks that he knew would not easily disappear. It was silent proof that he had been there, that, for once, Nemo was not in complete control. His mouth traveled to her ear, his hot breath crashing against it as he held back the rush of sensations that washed over him.

But Nemo, even in that situation, was not giving up so easily. His breathing was ragged, yes, but his sly smile still lingered, barely perceptible in the gloom.

—Wow, Red…— his voice sounded hoarse, cracked, but still tinged with that teasing tone that drove him crazy.— If you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was ask.

Robin clenched his jaw, his hand sliding harder over her skin, his fingers digging in firmly as a warning.

—Shut up.

And this time, it wasn't an empty threat.

His arm around his hunched back, holding Nemo close to him, his other hand on his thigh, sliding dangerously making Nemo tremble and hold back less.

What began as a struggle had become darker, deeper, more inevitable. Robin was no longer thinking about the consequences, or what it meant outside that confined space. He just felt. And that feeling burned him, made him lose himself more in every movement, in every choked gasp he tore from Nemo's lips.

His tongue ran along the warm, exposed skin of his chest, leaving a wet trail before closing his teeth over the most sensitive spot, wrenching an involuntary shudder from him. Robin felt it in her arched back, in the way her body reacted to his every touch. Her grip intensified, her arm clutching him tighter, as if she wanted to make sure Nemo wouldn't escape this...that neither of them would.

Her other hand slid with calculated slowness, descending on his thigh, intent on teasing, on wrenching away the control he so loved to pretend he had. And when her fingers pressed there, firm, Nemo tensed beneath him, his body betraying him with a reaction that said more than any words.

They both lost control, crossed that line that, they knew, they would eventually regret. The man unbuckled Nemo's belt with freezing speed, with a defiant look on his face and a nasal laugh at seeing Nemo like that. He grabbed him by the handcuffs, yanked him down and placed him face down in the cramped space. Robin held the man's neck, lifting his face slightly as he tried to lift his hips to help him pull down his pants with the same energy and desperation to calm the heat that overflowed from every part of both their bodies. With his teeth Robin undid his glove, slid his hand slowly over his underwear,feeling every crease, every throbbing in the area. He dared to whisper close to her ear.

— Nemo... Now no one is going to come and save you.

Nemo felt a shiver run down his back, yet in response he let out a weak laugh at the grip on his neck, soon his whole body trembled, preventing him from continuing with that defiant tone. Robin was slipping a hand under the fabric, little by little.

Nemo wanted to turn around, he needed to see it, but as soon as Red realized his intention, he pressed his neck again and landed on his body to prevent him from doing so.

— If we are going to do this, it will be under my conditions, Nemo... I don't want to hear you, I don't want to see you, I don't even want to feel your breathing.— replied the man in response to his attempts. Robin, between his fingers, grabbed Nemo's fabric and pulled it down, leaving his skin exposed. After exerting a final pressure on his neck as a warning, Robin hurried to position herself on top of him, blocking him with the weight of her legs. With almost shattering patience, Red unbuckled his tool belt watching the scene of Nemo beneath him, his hands cuffed and his breathing slightly labored. Nemo despite the situation just kept silent, something quite rare for the man, letting his opposite control the situation.

Nemo leaning on his forearms dipped his head down, letting his hair fall over his face, enjoying Robin's presence above him, reveling in the sound of the belt opening and setting it aside, away from the scene. The man sketched one last smile until he felt Robin drop a warm trickle of saliva over a sensitive area. Nemo tensed slightly, expectant of his next move. Robin's fingers moved over that area, letting the saliva take center stage, wrapped an arm around his torso and pressed against his back. Robin massaged there with clear intent, until she felt that one area was not as usual as it should be. A sly smile crept across the man's face, leaning slightly toward his ear.

Nemo let out a stifled sigh, as he gave a half-smile at the sensation of the fingers in that area.

—Yes... you can choose... isn't it wonderful?— he said with a hint of sarcasm and amusement.

Robin narrowed his eyes, observing Nemo's defiant attitude, which never seemed to budge even in this situation. Robin with his sturdy hand grabbed Nemo's head and forced downward, leaving his face on the floor, his cheek rubbing intensely there. His two fingers pushed into his main entrance, giving him no respite to react to anything, and as he did so, his fingertips searched for that rough part inside, a slightly more swollen one, one that he knew if he found it would not give him respite a second longer. Robin massaged there with just enough force and the tranquility of doing a job he seemed to know perfectly well, his fingertips downward as he felt Nemo's legs tense and tremble slightly with each touch he made to the area.

He knew he was rubbing the right area, because Nemo didn't respond, just breathing heavily as his hands clutched the ground lifting his hips slightly, seeking more of that contact. Red released his head, amused, this time his hand came to rest on Nemo's lower back and pushed down, causing the area to tighten further, still with his fingers inside. That only caused the man to let out a groan as he felt the intensity with which his insides were being squeezed. Red let out a heavy sigh after that, one that let it show how desperate he felt to use that area. He withdrew his fingers from there, impregnating his entrance with the residual essence.

Nemo was breathing agitated, wanting more of that contact and her touches. Robin took it upon herself to let him know that this moment wasn't going to take much longer, firmly something other than her fingers moved in, sliding into the area almost as a bodily reflex. Instantly, as if Robin already knew Nemo's body, he found a way to break through, entering with a sudden lunge. Nemo's body jumped, startled by the sensation and his strength. Robin on top of Nemo's body, his hands holding his waist so he wouldn't escape from him, he didn't decide to move yet, he wanted to feel how this enveloped him, how he clenched at his touch and how warm he was in there. Robin sighed in pleasure, as he tried to push himself in further, to feel how he could envelop him all the way. Nemo trembled as his hips jerked forward from the inertia, but Robin wouldn't let him escape, his body following him and clinging to him by squeezing his waist and pulling him in.

—Where are you going…— Robin said in a voice heavy and almost hoarse with pleasure. —We've just started…— After that he began to move slowly, letting every fold rub against him. Nemo stifled his moans as his forearms clung to the floor.

Robin soon lifted Nemo's hips, positioned himself in an easier position to pick up the pace and continued to lunge against his body as he panted on his back slightly bent towards him. The contact of their two skins felt like a burning fire that wouldn't cease, it only fanned more and more. Robin needed much more than that, he felt his as body tensed with each thrust, as Nemo shuddered with each movement and shrank beneath him.

—Very good... very good… — Red said without any control over what was coming out of his mouth, moving him with more inertia, raising the intensity of his breaths.

Nemo let out a whimper, a breathy one, as if he was restraining himself from raising his voice too much, or perhaps from showing how much he was enjoying the situation. Robin looked up weakly, consumed by the pleasure of each movement, watching Nemo hidden in his arms, between choked moans and shudders. The boy's back strained in front of him and his hips lifted with each intense contact.

Red enjoyed that view, but it was not enough, he wanted to see Nemo devastated, destroyed.

—Come on Nemo... you can do better,— he said with a mocking tone, grabbing him by the arm to slightly reposition his back. Nemo let out a gasp at the contact, he let himself be done with a heavy head, he felt he couldn't think clearly at that moment.

Robin gave a slightly mischievous grin at the sight of him like that, deciding to turn him over, lay him on his back and finish what he had started. With some difficulty, because of the confined space, he managed to turn him violently, positioned himself on top of him again and soon plunged back inside him, continuing with the same intensity as before. Nemo only spread his legs wider for him, causing Robin to lift his hips with both hands over that area.

He reflexively grabbed his hair in pleasure, his legs spread wide for Robin as he moved greedily and impatiently over Nemo. Robin had no qualms about watching the scene, while Nemo dodged his gaze, something that unnerved his opponent. He soon grabbed her face firmly to expose it to his eyes.

—What's the matter, are you embarrassed now?—

Robin didn't let go of his face, but rather exerted more pressure there, letting Nemo's tense eyes hold his gaze. Soon those eyes relaxed, narrowed in pleasure as his mouth opened slightly to release noises.

—R-Robin…— A breathy voice came from his wet lips, a spark that fanned the man's sensation against his body. He opened his eyes a little wider, as if he didn't want to miss any of it, expectantly. Nemo tensed a lot more, more cramping through his body. That's when one of Nemo's hands landed on Red's forearm, digging his fingers into the skin. Nemo jumped with each lunge, as if his body wanted to escape that inevitable end. As his eyes were lost in the nothingness, for a second he stopped letting out noises through his mouth. Robin didn't stop, she rammed him with the urgency to reach him, to do it at the same time as him, she knew that Nemo was melting between her hands and she couldn't stay behind, she didn't want to.

—Are you going to cum? Are you going to cum just because I'm doing this to you?— Robin said with a hint of defiance and provocation, even though he was about to get it too. — Afh... Nemo... where do you want me to do it...? — Nemo couldn't answer, his mouth opened wider as his spine arched back up again, but this time louder, more breathy. —Nemo... Nemo…— Robin said in a thicker, tighter voice. — I'm going to do it inside... I'm going to… — Nemo's eyes widened, his body arched instinctively, shaken by a wave of ecstasy that flashed across his skin like lightning. A pleasurable shudder took hold of his hips, ascending in electrifying spirals up his spine, leaving him breathless. Robin at the sight of it let out a moan of pleasure, almost frustrated, exasperated and vulnerable, he couldn't take any more than that, Red followed it by giving his body one last jolt, feeling his body react instinctively to the pleasure, teetering dangerously on the edge of that precipice, where desire and surrender intertwined in a single unbridled heartbeat.

Red Robin collapsed onto Nemo, his body still trembling from the intensity of that explosion of sensations. The air was thick, loaded with everything that had just happened between them. Robin could still feel the residual spasms running through his body, his chest rising and falling with difficulty as he tried to catch his breath. His forehead rested against Nemo’s shoulder, feeling the accelerated heartbeat beneath him, that pulse mirroring exactly how he felt himself.

For a moment, there was only silence. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. As if saying something would break the fragile balance they were in now. As if admitting what they had just done would make it real, irreversible.

Robin closed his eyes for a moment, his mind dazed by the wave of sensations and thoughts swirling in his head. He couldn’t afford to think too much about it. Not now.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he placed one hand on the ground to sit up slightly, but without fully pulling away. His eyes met Nemo’s, who was looking at him with that same mixture of exhaustion, satisfaction, and something else… something Robin wasn’t sure he wanted to decipher at that moment.

He said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Only one certainty remained, deep and dangerous: what had happened between them wouldn’t stay buried beneath those ruins.

Robin swallowed hard when he saw Nemo, when he felt that gaze upon him. He sighed and averted his eyes slightly as he raised a hand to his head, stroking it almost as if rewarding him for behaving… well?

Robin swallowed again when he saw Nemo, trapped in the intensity of that fixed gaze on him. A sigh escaped his lips as he barely looked away, as if he needed a break from everything that moment implied. Without thinking too much, he placed a hand on Nemo’s head, caressing it with unexpected gentleness, almost as if rewarding him for having… behaved well?

—Not bad, Nemo… Now stay like that, calm and… quiet.— Robin’s voice sounded rough, accompanied by an uncomfortable cough, as if he didn’t quite know how to handle what had just occurred.

Nemo raised an eyebrow, still recovering, his body lightly vibrating with the echoes of pleasure. He propped himself up with his arms on the ground and leaned toward Robin, letting out a low, breathless laugh. His smile, crooked and provocative as always, hid something else in his eyes… something softer. Exhaustion? Satisfaction? Maybe both. But there he was again, the same old Nemo, mocking, defiant, as if nothing could truly break him.

—Well, Red… If I had known that’s how you reward good behavior, maybe I would have behaved better from the start.

Robin clenched his jaw, his gaze avoiding Nemo, but his hands still remained on him, though now without applying pressure. His skin burned under his touch, as if the mere closeness was a constant reminder of what they had just done. He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t even know how to process it. His mind was in absolute chaos, a whirlwind of contradictory impulses. His whole body screamed that this had been a mistake, an unforgivable one. But his fingers, unable to pull away, told a different story.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and dense, until Robin, with his face still flushed, gathered enough willpower to regain some control.

—Don’t get confused, Nemo. This changes nothing.

The words were firm, spoken with the harshness of someone clinging to a certainty that might not even exist. But his voice… his voice betrayed something deeper, something he didn’t even want to admit. Nemo softened that mocking smile.

After a few seconds of silence where Nemo simply didn’t add anything more, Robin narrowed his eyes and, without leaning too far away, bent over him, coming only a few centimeters from his face. His breath was still uneven, but his tone was lower when he asked:

—Are you okay?

It was a simple, almost mundane question, but at that moment it weighed more than Robin wanted to admit.

Nemo stayed still, as if the question had caught him by surprise. His breath was still irregular, his gaze met Robin’s, and in it was that same defiant spark as always, but also something else… something Robin couldn’t decipher.

—I never thought you’d say something like that…— he murmured, his crooked smile barely visible, as if irony and exhaustion were mixing in his tone. —But… yeah, I guess I’m fine.— Despite everything they had just done, his expression was calm, as if in that moment he found a strange kind of peace, a balance within the chaos.

—And you?— he asked, his tone barely a whisper. —You’re still doing what you always do… playing the hero, but with something else, right?

The smile on his lips was subtle, but his words hinted that something had changed. Even though neither of them wanted to admit it.

Robin held his gaze more firmly, his body still tense. He knew what Nemo was trying to do. He knew that every word could be a hook, a trap woven with his usual game. And although they had crossed a line they should never have crossed, he couldn’t afford to fall further.

—I’m not playing, Nemo.— he declared, his voice rough but determined.

Finally, Robin sighed, trying to impose himself over his own thoughts. He leaned down and began pulling up Nemo’s pants, his movements awkward but firm.

—Come on… no one can see us like this. I’ll help you.

His tone sounded more like an order than an offer, but he couldn’t help it. Nemo was still handcuffed, still beneath him, and the image they were projecting wasn’t something Robin could process for much longer without losing the little self-control he had left.

Nemo watched him in silence, his expression hard to read. There was no mockery, no immediate provocations, just an unusual stillness. He stayed still as Robin pulled up his clothes, and although his nature had never been to stay quiet, in that moment he seemed to have no need to speak.

But when Robin finished, when his hands were still resting on him, Nemo let out something unexpected.

—Thanks… for helping me.

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a game. There were no double meanings in his voice. Just honesty. Raw, direct, unembellished.

Robin looked up, surprised by the genuine tone in Nemo’s words. It was the first time he had heard a “thank you” from his mouth without sarcasm. And though his face remained serious, something in his gaze faltered.

Without knowing why, without thinking too much, his hand slid to Nemo’s hair, brushing it gently away from his face. It was a brief gesture, almost insignificant, but enough for him to lean slightly over him and brush the corner of his lips with a kiss.

There was no urgency or desperation in that contact. It was barely a touch, a gesture too soft for what they usually were. But its simplicity made it more dangerous than anything else.

Nemo stayed still. His gaze, fixed on Robin, reflected genuine surprise. He didn’t respond immediately. He just watched him, not knowing how to react to something that didn’t fit the dynamic they had always shared.

That kiss wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t a misjudgment driven by the heat of the moment. It was something more. And that threw him off completely.

His breath slowed, his body, for the first time in a long time, didn’t react with the intention to regain control of the situation.

—What are you doing, Robin?— he asked, his voice quieter than usual. There were no games. Just a real question, unembellished, without pretense.

Robin seemed to snap out of it suddenly. He pulled away just a few inches, breaking the contact, his expression hardening again.

—I… thought I…— he murmured, pulling away as much as he could from Nemo and diverting his gaze. His own breath was erratic as he hurried to fasten his uniform, trying to regain his composure.

Nemo watched him in silence, his gaze darkened by something Robin couldn’t identify. But instead of taking advantage of the moment, instead of pushing beyond what they had already done, he simply let it go.

He stayed still, letting Robin pull away, though inside, something twisted with discomfort.

—You thought that…— he repeated Robin’s words with a bitter smile, his gaze following him intently. He didn’t add anything more. Didn’t ask, didn’t pressure. But the doubt was there, hanging between them like a ghost that was impossible to ignore.

Silence fell again, heavier than before. Robin ran a hand through his hair, his expression filled with conflict.

This had all been his fault. He had crossed the line. He had given in.

—This has all been a mistake…— he murmured harshly. —None of what happened… it can’t leave here, understood?—

Nemo looked at him without flinching. His eyes no longer held the defiant sparkle from before, but they didn’t show submission either. They just studied him, as if trying to decipher something even Robin didn’t understand.

—What happened, happened.— he finally said, his tone calmer than expected. —I don’t need you to tell me what I can or can’t do, Robin. You know I’m not someone who gets intimidated by empty threats.

His voice didn’t sound challenging, just simply confident.

And in that moment, Robin understood that, even if he tried to erase what had happened, even if he tried to convince both of them that it had been a mistake, nothing he did could change the fact that something had shifted between them. Something that couldn’t be undone.

Nemo moved just slightly, with a calculated slowness, as if every movement could make something inside him break. His breathing was deep, measured, but in his eyes, there was a flash of something else, something he was trying to hide behind his apparent calm.

—But… don’t worry. I’m not one to spill secrets. If you decide to forget this, I will too. In the end, it’s just another thing between us.

His voice sounded different this time, stripped of his usual mocking or provocative tone. It wasn’t a challenge, nor an empty farewell, but a resignation seeping through the cracks of his mask. However, Robin felt how those words pierced him, more than he would have wanted to admit.

—Another thing between us…?— he repeated in a whisper, furrowing his brow with a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something that hurt more than it should.

His jaw clenched, his chest filled with a weight hard to ignore.

—And what am I supposed to do with that?— His voice trembled slightly, barely perceptible, but enough to betray his internal conflict. His eyes burned with contained emotion as he looked at Nemo. —Do you think there’s anything more than just power and control between us? Nemo… look at yourself, this isn’t something that has to do with the two of us. This is your thing.

The venom in his words didn’t go unnoticed, but Robin wasn’t sure if he was trying to hurt Nemo or if he was trying to convince himself he was right.

Nemo slowly lifted his gaze, locking it on Robin with an intensity that took his breath away. His expression was serene, but in his eyes, there was something fierce, something burning.

—Is that what you think?— his voice was barely a whisper, but each word carried the weight of something bigger. A challenge, yes, but also a truth Robin didn’t want to face.

He leaned in slightly, not aggressively, just with that presence that always seemed to envelop him like a storm.

—If that’s what you want to believe, fine. But don’t make me carry something I’m not the only one who dragged here.

Robin felt his chest tighten. His fists clenched by his sides.

—You’re not so innocent in this, and you know it,.— Nemo continued, his voice growing lower, more intimate. —Not everything is power and control, Robin. There are more layers, more motives. But if you want to keep playing the blame game for everything that happens, go ahead. I… I’m used to it.—

The confession hung in the air, hitting a corner of Robin that he himself was trying to ignore. His lips parted, but no words came out.

Finally, after a silence that felt eternal, he shut his eyes tightly, as if he needed to contain the storm inside him.

—You’re right… I’m sorry, I didn’t…— He sighed, his voice barely a thread, full of something he didn’t even completely understand. He still kept his distance, though every cell in his body screamed for something else.

Nemo stared at him, as if analyzing every inch of his expression. Something in his features changed subtly, as if he hadn’t expected this surrender from Robin.

—It’s fine.— he murmured with an unusual calmness. —We’re not saints, Robin. You and I… we’ve always been a disaster waiting to happen.

His words felt like a blow, but there was no anger in them. Just the raw, naked truth of what they were.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was dense, laden with meanings neither dared put into words. Nemo ran his tongue over his lower lip, thoughtful, before throwing the final jab.

—If you want to forget it so much… then do it.

There was no challenge in his voice, no resentment. Just acceptance.

—But don’t pretend it never happened.

Robin swallowed hard. Something inside him broke, but he wasn’t sure what.

—No, it’s not that, Nemo… it’s just that… it’s complicated…

Unaware, he leaned in slightly, his hand finding Nemo’s shoulder in an instinctive gesture.

—It’s fine, let’s leave it at that. No need to keep going in circles. That will just confuse us more.

Nemo let out a soft laugh, not mocking, but with a hint of resignation.

—Confuse us more?— he repeated, savoring the words with a faint ironic expression.

He leaned in slightly toward Robin, with the shadow of a smile on his lips, but his eyes spoke of something deeper.

—Robin… we’ve been playing a game neither of us fully understands for years. The confusion started a long time ago.

He let the phrase settle in the air, giving Robin enough time to process it.

After a few seconds, he sighed and looked away, giving him the space he seemed to need.

—But it’s fine.— he said with unsettling calmness. —If you want to leave it like this, we leave it like this.

He paused, his voice dropping even further, becoming barely a whisper.

—I just hope you’re ready for what comes next.

Because, whether they knew it or not, this wasn’t over. It never was.

—What comes next? What do you mean?— Robin’s voice was a thread of uncertainty, but his hand remained firmly on his shoulder. He didn’t want to pull it away. He couldn’t. As if that contact were an anchor, a last attempt to hold onto something that was inevitably slipping away.

Nemo gave a faint, crooked smile, as if he knew a secret Robin hadn’t discovered yet. He didn’t move, letting the other’s hand remain there, letting the warmth seep through his skin.

—What comes next…— he whispered, and his voice sounded like a warning, like an echo of something that had already happened too many times. He turned his face just slightly, enough for his eyes to lock with Robin’s, making the tension between them unbearable.

—That moment when you convince yourself this meant nothing. That it was just a mistake. And then, when you see me again, when we’re on opposite sides of the city and you trap me again…

He leaned in. Just a little. Enough for the distance between them to shrink to a breath, to a decision neither of them had fully made.

—You’re going to remember what happened here.— His voice dropped to a murmur, filled with venom and certainty. —And you’re going to hate yourself for it.

Nemo tilted his head, savoring the weight of his own words, the impact they had on Robin.

—And I’ll be there to remind you.

Because that was the real game between them, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter how many times they tried to shut doors, pretend they had never crossed lines. They always returned to the same point. They always found themselves tangled in a web of broken promises and glances that said more than they should.

Robin tightened his grip on his shoulder, his fingers digging deeper into his skin as if he wanted to anchor him to reality, as if he could stop him from slipping through his fingers. His gaze, intense under the mask, burned with something he didn’t even know how to name.

It hurt. Because Nemo was right. Because this would never end. Because every time it would get worse. Because this burden would weigh more than anything else.

—That won’t happen.— His voice came out rough, broken by the contained emotion. —I’ll get you into Arkham. You’ll serve your sentences… and you’ll rehabilitate. And when all of that passes… I’ll have been there. And I’ll still be there.

Nemo let out a soft laugh, but not mocking. It was a bitter, worn sound. As if he had heard those words before. As if Red Robin’s promises were as predictable as gravity.

—Rehabilitate me?— He repeated with disbelief, no usual mockery, no typical challenge. His eyes narrowed, observing him, analyzing him with an almost painful intensity. —And what if I don’t want to be saved, Red?

He leaned in a little further, his breath grazing Robin’s mask.

—What if I prefer you keep trapping me, over and over again?

His voice became an intimate whisper, a thread of electricity between them, something only Robin could hear. Something that made the entire world disappear.

—Because if you take this from me… if you take your presence from me… what’s left?

There was no arrogance in his gaze. No mockery. Just something raw and exposed. Something that, if Robin dared to see it, would change everything.

Robin fell silent… surprised, yes, but more than anything, broken.

—Nemo…— He swallowed hard, feeling his own voice tremble. —I can’t play this game all my life… not like this.

And then he did it. He hugged him.

It was instinctive, desperate, something his body did before his mind could analyze it. He wrapped his arms around him, with all his warmth, with everything he was.

“I don’t want you to keep running.” He whispered against his hair, holding him against his chest, enveloping him in something Nemo didn’t remember ever feeling. “And I’m not leaving your side. I’m not lying when I say I’ll be here.”

Nemo froze, his body refusing to accept what was happening. Because this wasn’t part of the game. This was real. Something dangerous.

His breathing became erratic, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have a quick response, a ready mockery, an easy way out.

Robin was serious.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his neck, feeling the vibration of his breath, the quickened heartbeat under his skin. He didn’t try to pull away. He didn’t try to escape.

—…Don’t play with this, Robin.— His voice was a muffled whisper. —If you give me something real… I won’t be able to let it go.

Because Nemo could run from everything. From Arkham, from the police, from his own allies if necessary. But if Robin gave him a reason to stay… Maybe, just maybe, this time he wouldn’t run.

Robin buried his face in his hair, memorizing his scent, feeling the softness of his strands between his fingers. He held him tighter, as if fearing he would vanish into the air.

—Please… don’t let go. Stay. Don’t run anymore. Not from me, not from yourself.

His thumb brushed his cheek with a tenderness impossible to ignore.

Nemo fell silent, trapped in that moment, in those words that shackled him in a way no shackle had ever done before.

It wasn’t Robin’s hold that kept him there. It wasn’t the cuffs, nor the rubble.

It was the way he spoke to him.

It was the way he touched him.

It was the way he looked at him, as if there was still something in him worth saving.

—…I don’t know how to do that.— His confession was barely a whisper. It wasn’t an excuse. It wasn’t manipulation.

It was the purest truth he had to give.

Robin pulled back just enough to look at him closely.

—You don’t have to do it alone.— His words were a promise, one he had been trying to keep for too long. —We’ll do it together.

Nemo looked at him, his expression a storm of emotions.

He had always known Robin was stubborn. But he never thought he’d go this far. He never thought someone like him would make a promise like that.

—You’re an idiot.— He whispered. There was no mockery in his voice, just exhaustion. And a small, tiny part of him that wanted to believe.

Robin smiled softly. —Please… give up.— His voice was low, almost pleading. —Let me help you.—

Nemo closed his eyes, his forehead still against Robin’s. He felt his warmth, his steady heartbeat, his unwavering conviction.

He tightened his hold, gripping the other man’s uniform as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.

He took a deep breath.

And finally, he surrendered.

[bengiyo]

Ben’s Big BL Blurb 5: Let’s Talk About Sex

I was mostly planning to check in again after the current Japanese shows ended, but after three out of four sex scenes left me wanting this week, I want to write down my ideas. I maintain that bed scenes, like action scenes, need to tell us more about the characters. Many sex scenes serve as a release of tension or confirmation of existing feelings. As usual, MAME seems to understand this, and others should probably take notes. 

Call Me By No Name is Doing Nothing For Me (5/8)

I have just about given up on this show. I don’t get Megumi’s whole deal, why she’s so in love with Kohata, or Kohata’s reticence. I was really hoping that an intimate scene would open up some space for vulnerability and truth with them to give us some answers about why these two weirdos are drawn to each other, but that’s not what we got. I was hoping that when we saw these two go at it we’d learn how much Megumi has felt for women before, or how she responded to Kohata’s experience. Instead, I’m left feeling cold by the whole affair, and generally baffled by the conflicting themes around going somewhere she did cutesy girl nights before, and ordering the cute food. This one is a chop.

Impression of Youth is Wasting My Time (5/9)

I have my own squicks as a former teacher with stories where a teacher messes around with their student. However, I don’t see the point of doing a teacher-student story if we’re not going to explore any of the lines being crossed here. We also didn’t get a good arc about the student helping the teacher properly reconnect with a feeling, or discover something, that helped him get back to his art. We simply had him start painting on the beach again, the kid confessed, and then they fucked with awkward kissing. I was a bit let down by the brother’s fast encouragement of the whole thing. It felt like they were reaching for the same energy we had in Call Me By Your Name (2017) with Oliver and Elio, but it’s missing the component where Oliver knew what he was doing the whole time for me. The overall alignment feels off, and I’m getting so little emotion from this show as a result. On top of all that, they showed us the kid’s boxers before implying he was nude in the shower! Ridiculous! 

When It Rains It Pours is Being Shy About Sex in a Show About Cheating (5/7)

This is the biggest offender of the week for me. This show is all about how the leads cannot have sex from the people they love, and find someone they can commiserate with in each other. When the dam finally breaks and they both need the release in each other, I was so dismayed that the show tried to gloss over as much of the sex as possible. It’s so fucking annoying for me when the shows about sex get precious about it and won’t show it. I was thankful that they tried to capture all the emotions happening around the weekend they spent together, but I think we lost a lot in not having Hagiwara blow Sei, because you just know that man has a people pleasing streak that would require him to give pleasure back. The lack of sex also means that there is no gap time between the infidelity and the discovery. We don’t give enough time for the shift in their relationship to breathe before the crisis (@respectthepetty). I’ve lamented before about Japanese shows only showing toxic or breakup sex, and so it’s damned annoying that they’re doing that in the cheating show because they probably want these guys to be together by the end. I was really hoping Mood Indigo would have some company finally (especially after Love in the Air Koi), but I clearly need to stay patient. Cannot overstate how lame it is for the show about two guys cheating because their partners won’t fuck them being shy about the sex effectively sides with the partners who won’t fuck them. Finally, I am not over them getting the insertion angle wrong while making points about it!!

Your Sky Could Have Been A Good Follow-Up on 2gether

I’ve been sitting on this one for a bit because I don’t know what I want to say about this one. I was really into it in the beginning, but it felt like this show didn’t really know what it wanted to do after resolving the issues with Oh. I personally liked the dad being confronted by his wife and father about the way his homophobia was hurting his son, but I didn’t really enjoy it as a Very Special Episode. I would have also liked to see Teerak’s newfound assertiveness in this period beyond is refusal to cave. I think this show also deeply underutilized its own supporting characters, especially the side couples. Still, I thought Thomas was probably the most beautiful newest BL boy we’ve gotten, and I liked the way he and Kong worked together. I also really enjoyed Teerak being allowed to want sex, ask for it, and take charge of it. That’s so important for a cute character. Letting us know that Teerak has also become protective of the private moments he has with Fah, and is growing into his desire for Fah really is a great way to finish a show.

Final Verdict: 7, Recommended With Reservations. I find it hard to give this a stronger recommendation. I just think the show ends up being overall inessential from how much of it ends up being fluff that doesn’t connect much to each other. The biggest things I liked were Fah and Teerak, especially in the early episodes, and I liked the family dynamics. Still, I feel like this show didn’t know what to do without Tine’s internalized homophobia, and what to do with Fah’s ex that was mentioned. There’s just too much hanging off this to recommend it as a strong drama. Everyone is very pretty, and the performances are earnest. It’s a show that means well, even if it’s a bit indulgent. 

The Boy Next World Understands that Phu Has a Dick (5/10)

MAME, as usual, understands the assignment. There’s no way that their first encounter is going to be Cir showing up to stick is dick in Phu’s ass. He’s been obsessed with this boy for years in a way that prioritizes Phu’s wellbeing. It was absolutely correct to payoff that Cir keeps making Phu hard by having Cir take care of him, let us see that Phu enjoyed it. Like @babyangelsky I think it’s important that we let go of the notion that cute characters cannot want and enjoy sex. We got so much from this. We know that Cir likes to give pleasure, and that he’s not going to ask for it from Phu. We also know that Phu cares about Cir, too, because he asked about his time in the bathroom (Cir clearly jerked off and rinsed his mouth, y’all). What’s so excellent about putting a sex scene at this point is it means we’ll see their sex change after Phu learns that Cir has been stalking him for years. MAME is consistently the best storyteller at using the kisses and sex to help inform the arc of the relationship. Most importantly, she gets what the angles are supposed to be.

Ossan’s Love Thailand Is…Fine (5/12)

I’m not really into this one much right now, despite what I think is a pretty solid performance from Krit Shahkrit. I understand the choice to go back to making Kongdech a widower, but I don’t think giving him a daughter who initially opposed the romance added much to this for me. I’m hoping activating Thor’s character next week will add some energy to this for me, because I’m feeling a bit flat with it at this point. I’m glad they’re letting Earth and Mix continue to play adult characters, but it doesn’t feel like they knew what they wanted to do with office romance dynamics here.

Gelboys is a Welcome Return from Boss Kuno (1/7)

Started this today and I am seated. I really love how much it feels like we get to actually be inside of Bangkok. I love that we opened with an ad for the Bangkok rail system as a mechanism for freedom. I love how filming on iphones has enhanced the naturalistic feeling of the production. I also love how we completed the major arc of the het angst of Make It Right in the first like five minutes. Incredible stuff. I’m so excited to see the mess Fou4Mod is going to make of everything, and I’m excited to see Chian dickmatize that boy. Curious to see how much this feels like a bubble show. Shout out to Boss for showing us a naked teen at the start of this show to scare off the pearl clutchers.

RED BLUE is EVERYTHING (6/8)

This is not BL, but it’s got enough BL boys rolling on the floor and sweating on top of each other that I’m saying here loudly that I LOVE IT. Kimura Keito is fantastic in this, and I loved his fight with Okura Takato in episode 6. I almost didn’t recognize my boy from his role as Amane in If It’s With You with the change in his hair. I did not know I needed a wrestling show with BL boys…who am I kidding? We’ve been asking for this every year. This is hitting all the notes I want from a sports shonen show. It’s fantastic.

Please Use the Sex Well in Romance

I think there’s a real place for clean romance in the BL genre. Some of our favorites don’t involve sex being a major component of their romance narrative, but that often requires significantly more drama and better storytelling and plots. What I cannot abide is when I find myself bargaining about how a show that wants to talk about sex every episode seemingly doesn’t want to deal with sex. Romances about sex that don’t use the sex well in their stories are as bad as comedies with terrible jokes, or action flicks with no suspense and satisfying fight sequences.

Other than that, I dropped I'll Turn Back This Time. It’s just too stupid and incoherent for me to put up with it’s nonsense. Seeya next time. 

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy II

an art professor Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU...

II.

-It takes about three classes for you to finally relax around Professor Wick. You still feel his eyes upon you when you pose, but he does not make you feel uncomfortable. In fact…he is painfully proper with you. As he should be, of course, but sometimes, late at night when you are kept awake by your thoughts of him…you wish he would be just a tad forward. It's unseemly, what you would let that sweet man get away with. Therein lies the conundrum, you suppose. If he made a pass at you…he wouldn't be so sweet. 

-One day you are making your rounds during the break, when you happen to notice Professor Wick was drawing at his desk along with the students. You were in a reclining pose, feigning sleep. The way he drew you…you know better than to think you could possibly look so alluring in real life, but there is something in the varied weight of his lines, the soft shading. Somehow he configured the shadows of the background to suggest wings folded over your supine nude form. 

You've never really liked your body. Well…who does like themselves, truly? But modeling in the classroom, seeing your flesh turned into art, has helped you find a confidence, or at least an acceptance, you didn't have before. Wick’s rendition goes beyond all that, though. You can't let this go to your head. It’s too much. “I hope…you don't mind.”

Again, he's crept up on you without a sound, and you nearly jump out of your skin. 

Clutching your heart, you look back at him. 

“No…I…it’s beautiful.”

You don't know where you get the courage to meet his high-polished onyx gaze, but you feel something inside you implode…then melt. 

“You're beautiful, y/n.”

You have no idea that this is the first time he's drawn anyone besides his wife, since she passed. 

You stand like this in agonizing stasis, close, but not touching, for you don't know how long. You're not sure what might have happened, given enough time, but some of the students return to class, and the moment is broken. You don’t know if you're disappointed, or relieved. 

-You don't know why it's taken you this long, but you finally look up “John Wick+artist”. What you find takes your breath away. Yes, he's a skilled draughtsman. And a painter. And sometimes he combines all these things with bookbinding. 

He's incredible. 

His paintings are dark, with a touch of fantasy, evoking grisly folktales and the old masters in his play of light and shadows. He uses perspective and foreshortening to explore the human body in exciting new ways. He made his name with a series of ethereal ballet dancers in precarious situations. Later, he only painted his wife, Helen. She was a photographer, and in a snap of them with cheeks pressed together they seem impossibly happy. You see that she succumbed to a terminal illness two years ago.

The art world has not heard from John Wick since. 

You do not know this man, really, but you cry for him all the same. 

-You have no idea, how you move him. It's not just that he's seeing you naked on a regular basis, though that does not help. It's the flash of your eyes across the room, your smile and your laughter as you joke around with the students while they draw you as God made you. There is a light in you that he cannot turn away from, perhaps because he has lived in darkness for so long. He craves you– and he knows he shouldn't.  He traces your form with charcoal on paper, and he tells himself that that will have to do. 

He looks you up too. 

He finds your little miniature paintings on your social media, your digital portfolio for all to see. You make tiny eclectic diorama scenes you cook up with a 5/0 brush, sometimes you add moving parts and teeny dolls with teenier twee companions. Polly Pocket never had a pet opossum…poor girl. Your diminutive pieces hint at a longing for the enchantment of childhood lost, and maybe a cozy home that feels whole, if not strange to an outsider’s eye.

He notices you have not created anything you feel like sharing lately. He wonders if you are ok. The answer amongst the creatively inclined is usually not. But if you are not happy…you hide it well. 

He senses there is a well of strength in you that he wishes he could drown himself in. 

TBC...

___

masterlist/chapter map

pinterest board/ photo credits

[moonyflesh]

MARK HOFFMAN CHARACTER ANALYSIS (in the eyes of someone who’s rewatching the entire franchise).

Mark Hoffman's character is one that is arguably rather divisive and hard to pin down, and I wanted to provide my thoughts on it as I think it may expose some ideas that haven't been discussed before. My thoughts are also from the perspective of looking back, so this is perhaps wrong and not how the directors or writers intended it, but, just the way I interpret the films.

I think the best way to describe Hoffman is as a murky/dirty body of water. This is because he is putting on an exterior face the majority of the time we see him, so we have to be careful how we read him. I think in the timeline, when we first see him around the timeframe John kidnaps him, he is a moral, decent man then. Clearly heavily effected by the death of his sister, and his killing of Seth Baxter, but still noticably removed from the Hoffminator we see in Saw VII.

But at this point lore wise, the first major character defining trait we observe from him is he believes in dispensing justice - just not the same as John, or the law. Seth Baxter for example, or in Saw IV when Hoffman covers for Rigg when Rigg punched Rex, even though Rigg was in the wrong. Hoffman saw Rex as deserving, and viewed what Rigg did as justice served, so he stepped outside the conventional methods of law and took his own actions for what he felt was right.

I don't think Hoffman ever completely bought into John's framework and moral philosophy when it came to rehabilitating suspects. In the flashbacks of John and Hoffman working together in Saw V, Hoffman seems uneasy about all of it, and reluctant. By the time of Saw III lorewise, and based off the body language and the way Costas plays him, (Saw V flashback of III) I feel it is very safe to say Hoffman was always planning to have an exit out of working with John. If Saw V established anything about his character, it's that he is a cold, quiet, calculating man who is also thinking one step ahead.

He is also seen to be critical of others, when he views them as not appreciating life. Such as the "all he had to do" line in Saw III, and him criticizing Rigg in the beginning of Saw IV for questioning his choice of being a cop. This may be an aspect picked up from John, it may be Hoffman's own judgmental side coming out. However, I think there is another very important aspect of Hoffman's character that is pivotal to understanding him, and why he acts the way he does: the sociopathy.

I don't believe this to be a natural part of his character, I think the more brutal elements were simply added as an attempt to add depth to him because his character was arguably all over the place with no real clear motivation. Which, personally I really like. It makes reading into him much more interesting. But, lorewise, I think it is safe to say the killing of Seth Baxter induced this sociopathy like a seed into Hoffman, and taking part in Jigsaw's schemes allowed the seed to grow.

Hoffman is a hard to read character, but the way I see it, he has a clear moral descent, because lorewise, the first time we see him and the last are two opposite moral extremes. Logically speaking, there has to be a descent. This descent, because of the writing, and Costas' acting, is complex to read. But 100% there. I believe it happens in the early days of working with John, but you could make an effective arguement for another specific time.

Regardless, in Saw VI, we observe elements of sociopathy and clear sadism influence his actions.

At this point, the morals and justification attempts Hoffman may have had when working with John earlier are quickly evaporating - Hoffman is clearly primarily acting out of self interest. This is that seed of sociopathy growing, and manifesting in cruel ways, such as listening to the audio of The Pound of Flesh Trap or grinning while pouring extra gasoline onto Erickson. Hoffman has always been more concerned with punishing wrong-doers than rehabilitating them as also seen when he carelessly dumps Timothy Young on the ground. It seems in Saw VI they really wanted to highlight this sadism of Hoffman's, which likely took time to manifest in his character.

As for Saw VII, I'd say it's clear Hoffman clearly has lost any trace of morals he once had. Saw VII was full of great ideas with mixed exectution, and one aspect that really suffered was the strategical intelligence that Hoffman previously displayed - being one step ahead. It was inconsistent in VII, from outsmarting Gibson with the machine gun but sending in dvds??? It could be understood as Hoffman's cockyness, and narcissism. But, Saw VII is a bizzare case to put it lightly, so I won't go too harsh on it. We just have to enjoy it for what it is.

I don't know if I'd describe him as a vigilante the same way as John. I think some may struggle with understanding his motivations because of how murky/neutral Costas plays him. (Which I personally enjoy). While I think there's a effective discussion to be had about how the shift towards vigilante killers in Saw as well as misunderstanding John Kramer's character hurts the later films, I do genuinely enjoy Hoffman's character and the depth it has.

Here’s basically a summary of why I fell in love with Hoffman’s character:

1.) There’s this hard to pinpoint, unclear-descent in morality through his behavior as the movies go on, making him so much more mysterious than Kramer- he doesn’t have nearly as much a reason as John to continue with the role of ‘Jigsaw’.

2.) He’s just a man seeking to dispense justice the way he sees fit— the definition of a ‘vigilante’.

3.) There’s a budding sadism/sociopathy that continues to grow the more he kills- making him less like John and more like Amanda (with the sole purpose of revenge instead of giving someone a second chance; opposite Kramer’s motive).

4.) There’s also an underlying narcissism in him that I think not only I, but a lot of the fandom seems to relate to (whether willingly or not).