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leaentries · 8 months ago

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WORLD OF FIRSTS - MATT REMPE

SYNOPSIS: matt wants his girls first time to be perfect

WARNINGS: swearing, sexual content, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (pulling out), taking virginity, incredibly sappy matt, he’s just a big ball of love, not proofread

WORDCOUNT: 2.96k+

You took a deep breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Eyes alighted with fresh mascara and cheeks adorned with blush; you were ready for the night. You knew what was coming, yet the nerves still boiled inside your belly. Matt was nothing but courteous toward you, never pressuring you into anything. He promised he wouldn’t ask until you brought it up.

What is “it” one may ask? Sex.

You had never planned to end up a twenty-old-virgin, yet here you are.

It’s not for the lack of opportunities, not in the slightest. Sure, you’ve had the offers of hookups or one night stands with random men from the bar, but that just wasn’t your style. You weren’t holding out for marriage, per se, but you did prefer to wait until you felt it was the right time. In all honestly, it started to feel like that day would never come. At least, until you met Matt.

You had met Matt after securing a position on the Ranger’s media team, inevitably catching the eye of the 6’8 hockey player. His once confident demeanor was dwindled down to a blubbering mess the second you talked to him. Poor boy, don’t judge his size and skill on the ice, he was still just a kid who was head over heels for a girl.

Once he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out, it only progressed from there. You could hardly keep your hands off each other, taking to exploring other aspects of one another’s bodies. The first time things got a little too heated, you managed to break away and explain things to Matt. He clung to your every word, noticing the way you anxiously fiddled with your fingers.

Being the respectful guy that he is, he nodded understandingly, reassuring you that it was okay. He even pinky promised you that whenever you decided to go all the way, he would make it the most romantic experience you could dream of. And, he definitely tried his best.

You walked into his apartment on that clear Thursday night, only to be met with candles, all of your favorite scent, lit around almost every room in the place. Your eyes widened at the effort he clearly put in for tonight, not truly expecting it.

You turned to face your boyfriend, who stood biting his lip nervously, “Matty..” You cooed.

He walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I promised you I’d make it special.” He quirked his head to side amusingly, “You know I can’t break a pinky promise.”

You smiled up at him, finally being able to take in his attire. His soft grey hoodie hung loosely over the black sweatpants that adorned his muscular legs. Matt’s hair was tousled, clear evidence of his hands carding through the brunette locks in his worried state. You could practically feel your heat melting with the warm drips of love that filled every fiber of your being.

His eyes raked down your body, adam’s apple bobbing roughly as his gaze lingered on your breasts a tad longer than considered polite. The rise and fall of your chest began to increase as his hands trailed under your shirt. Matt’s thumbs rubbed soothing circles against your bare sides.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, baby.”

His reassurance brought an extra blanket of comfort, but also even more solidity that he was the right one.

You shook your head lightly, “No, I want to. I want to do this with you.” You tilted your head up more, now fully looking him in the eyes, “I trust you, Matty.”

He leaned down, taking your lips into a soft kiss. Although it was gentle and sweet, it conveyed how much care Matt had for you. All of the unspeakable things and unsaid words were passed through this simple kiss.

Your hands moved to grip his biceps as his tongue slipped delicately into your mouth. His hands pulled your hips closer to his, a small gasp leaving your mouth as his hardening bulge pressed into your soft tummy. He took the opportunity to lick at your teeth, a low groan leaving his chest. Matt finally pulled away, eliciting a whine of protest on your end.

He chuckled lovingly, “Don’t worry, baby. Just wanna take you to the bedroom first.”

You nodded, swallowing nervously. Matt intertwined your hand with his, leading you through the apartment to the main bedroom. Upon entering, you felt your breath hitch in your throat. There were more candles, except this time they were accompanied by slightly crumpled rose petals that had been haphazardly thrown about the bed and hardwood around it.

It rendered you speechless.

Matt’s eyes scanned your face, still not fully convinced everything was good enough for you, “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes darted towards him.

“I-it’s not how I envisioned everything, the roses weren’t in season apparently, and the vanilla candles were all I could find at the store to match. I should have tried harder or-”

You cut him off, “It’s perfect.” You reached for his fingers, pulling his body into yours, “It couldn’t be more perfect.”

A conflicted sigh left his mouth, his bottom lip swollen from the anxious biting. You lifted your arm up to cradle his face, “I promise,” You forced him to lock pinkies with your other hand, “I pinky promise.” You reiterated.

His eyes searched yours for any discomfort or hesitation. You gently pulled his face down into a confirming kiss. You let your hand fall from his face, fingers cascading down the tense muscles of his chest and abdomen. You tugged on the bottom of his hoodie, signaling that you wanted it off.

Matt smirked as he pulled away, “I figured I’d be the one undressing you first.”

You smiled, kicking his foot lightly in retaliation, “Well, since somebody won’t take charge, clearly I’m gonna have to.”

With this, something darkened in Matt’s eyes, his smirk only growing. He quickly discarded the unwanted material, revealing his toned torso. You immediately reached out to run your fingers through the dips and divots of his stomach. His skin was warm against your fingertips, the muscle smooth under your touch. He watched your hands move, stomach tensing as you brushed over sensitive areas.

He grabbed your hand softly, just as you reached the waistband of his sweats. He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on each fingertip, “So” on your thumb, “eager,” on your index finger, then following with the last three, leaving a lingering kiss on your pinky. Your breath picked up as he trailed his kisses down your palm, sucking gently on the pulse point in your wrist.

“Matt,” You sighed, the pressure building between your thighs becoming overbearing. The room’s temperature seemed to rise with each kiss he laid upon your skin, igniting tiny fires in every vein. You could practically feel the desire pounding in your ears.

Matt leaned down further as he stuck his nose into your neck and jaw, burying his face there for a moment. You brought a hand up, tangling it in the hair at the nape of his neck. The locks were soft between your fingers and you tugged lightly. His mouth started to suck teasing kisses and red blotches into the supple skin causing you to deliver a harder tug on his hair. Matt let out a loud groan, and with panic, you let go.

“I’m sorry, Matty,” You brought his head up, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He just laughed, “Hurt me? Baby, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” He took your hand, placing it back in its previous position, “And, for the record, I was into it.”

Your cheeks burned at his confession, but you believed him, especially with the evidence straining against the material of his pants. Matt resumed his attack on your neck, only this time he worked his way down until he was met with the collar of your shirt.

His hands hesitated for a moment at hem, his eyes looked to yours before moving forward. You nodded, giving him the consent. He gently pulled the shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere on the floor. His eyes immediately drifted to your breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Go lay on the bed," Matt rasped.

Not wasting time, you quickly crawled on the bed, leaning against the soft pillows. Matt kneeled down on the mattress, body coming to slot in between your legs. His calloused hands rested on your thighs, running seductive patterns into the plushy skin.

"So pretty like this," He panted through his need, "All laid out just f'me."

You whined, hips bucking with a mind of their own. The deep carnal desire was becoming too much, the new ache of want echoed through your bones. You shook with anticipation.

"Please, Matty," You begged, "Need you so bad."

"Use your words, pretty girl," He encouraged, "Tell me what you want."

You huffed with embarrassment, not yet used to having to voice your needs. Matt watched you closely, enjoying the flustered look on your face.

"I need you," You managed.

He tsked, "Gotta tell me exactly what you need, baby. Wanna give you what you want."

You swallowed the whine that bubbled in your throat, barely managing out your words, “Need you to touch me.” You grabbed his hand and placed it between your legs, “Need you to touch me here.”

“Fuck,” Matt mumbled under his breath. The feeling of your wet cunt through the fabric of your leggings was enough to have his cock weeping. He leaned down to kiss up your stomach, making sure to give the tops of your breasts attention. By the time he reached your lips, you practically inhaled him. You were desperate for him, and your body’s response betrayed any attempt to cover it up.

Matt’s hand snaked behind your back, fumbling with your bra clasp, his brows furrowed as he tried to focus on kissing you and unhooking it at the same time. Not breaking the kiss, you sit up slightly, reaching behind you to help him out. The second the hook popped off, Matt eagerly discarded the item. His breath stopped as he took in your breasts. Even though this wasn’t the first time he’d seen them, they never failed to make his stomach swirl and his cock throb.

His head dipped down to take a nipple into his mouth, tongue circling the peaked bud. Your head fell back against the pillow as you arched your back, pushing your tits further into his mouth. A load moan escaped your throat as he bit down gently.

“Fuck,” You panted, “Matty, need more.”

He smirked against you, fingers treading down to hook themselves on the waistband of your leggings. He sat up on his knees, before looking to you for permission. You nodded eagerly, the fiery desperation for him greater than anything you had ever felt. He slowly pulled them down, tapping your thigh lightly in order for you to lift your hips. Matt helped thread your ankles through, tossing the material with the rest of your discarded clothes.

Your legs instinctively fell apart, putting your glistening cunt on display for him. Matt could have sworn he’d cum in his pants right then and there. He sat for a moment, taking in your body. He took note of every curve, mark, and scar that littered your skin. He wanted to remember them forever.

Becoming impatient, you tugged at his drawstrings, “Don’t just stare. Want you inside of me.”

His body immediately fell to trap yours, his lips so close you could feel them as he spoke, “Can’t say things like that, baby. Or else this gonna be over far sooner than we’d like.”

He pressed one more searing kiss to your lips before dropping a hand between your bodies.

“Gotta stretch you out, okay?”

You nodded, wanting nothing more than for him to touch you where you needed him most.

His hand brushed against your clit, making you jolt with pleasure. Matt prodded at your entrance with his middle finger, before slowly slipping the digit into your slick walls. He quickly found a steady rhythm, your arousal seeping onto the bed sheets.

You bucked your hips as the pleasure coursed through your body. Matt took this as a sign to add another finger. He continued to work you up, gently adding a third. As soon as he sped up his fingers, you ground yourself down against the heel of his palm, the stimulation almost sending you over the edge.

"Matty," You cooed, "M' gonna cum."

And just as you began to ride to that peak, Matt removed his fingers. You almost let out a whine of protest, but the sight of him sucking your essence off his fingers had your soaked pussy clenching around nothing. Matt lifted himself above you once more, holding up his weight.

"You ready, pretty girl?" He asked, "We can always stop and watch a movie if you'd rather do that. I won't care, I promise."

You looked him dead in the eyes, "Matthew, I mean this in the most loving way, but please just shut up and fuck me."

He laughed as he took your lips into a hot fight of tongues and teeth, he mumbled against your lips, "I love you, woman." With that, he sat up and quickly threw off his sweats and boxers in one go. His cock slapped proudly against his abdomen, drops of pre-cum already seeping from his swollen tip.

He aligned himself, before slowly starting to inch his way in. Matt watched your face intensely, watching for any signs of you wanting to stop. You let out a gasp, the initial pain catching you off guard.

Matt leaned down to plant kisses all over your face as he eased himself in further, "I know, I know, baby. You're doing so good f'me." He hushed out, "Taking my cock so well."

You both let out moans as he sunk in the final couple of inches. You panted, overwhelmed by the way he split you open.

"You doin' okay?" He managed through gritted teeth. The tight grip your cunt had around his cock was almost too much for him to deal with.

You nodded, the dull pain finally fading away into need, "You can move."

He swallowed harshly, before pulling out gently and sheathing himself back in fully. Matt did this a few more times, or at least until he had a reign on his hormones. The feeling of being buried inside of you had his mind in a frenzy, wanting nothing more than to fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name. But he knew there would be time for that later, right now was all about you.

Matt reached up to intertwine your hands, his thrusts slowly getting faster and harder. You moaned loudly as the tip of his cock nestled so deliciously against your g-spot. Waves of pleasure surged through every sense you had, until all you could focus on was him. He intoxicated everything. There was only him.

Low groans left Matt’s mouth, his heavy breathing picking up as he tilted his hips in order to reach deeper into you. Your jaw fell slack, your grip on his hand tightening with the intense pressure in your lower belly. It spread from the tips of toes all the way to the tops of your ears, consuming you completely until the only thing still holding you to earth was Matt. His groans turned into breathy whines as he neared his peak, but he was determined to have you finish first.

Matt snaked a hand down your body, to rub sloppy circles on your clit. The added stimulation had your eyes rolling back and a loud cry leaving your mouth.

“Come on, pretty girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock.”

The sounds of his hips slapping against yours, paired with his encouragement finally broke the knot that had been tightening in your gut. Your moan fell silent as the force of your orgasm hit you like a truck. Blinding white pleasure danced through your body, your pussy spasming rapidly around Matt’s cock. Just your facial expressions alone were enough to send him toppling over that edge as well, his cock twitching as he quickly pulled out. He stroked his cock until ropes of white painted your stomach and chest, the warm liquid dripping down your tits.

Matt’s chest heaved as he fell beside you, rubbing soothing patterns into your hair. He whispers sweet nothings to you as you slowly came back to reality. You tilted your head to look up at him, smiling softly.

He placed a sweet kiss on your head, “There’s those beautiful eyes,” Matt cradled your face with one of his large hands, “You feeling okay? I wasn’t too rough was I?”

You shook your head, “No, everything was perfect. You were perfect, Matty.”

He smiled lovingly at you, eyes looking at you as if you’d hung the moon. He placed another kiss on your temple, before getting up and grabbing a towel to clean you off. Once his spent had been wiped off of you completely, you grabbed his wrist, tugging him back down to lay with you.

“Baby,” He laughed, “We gotta get you in the shower so I can clean you off.”

You groaned in displeasure, “In a minute, just wanna cuddle with you first. Want you to hold me.”

He fell into place behind you, pulling your body snugly against his, “If I ever say no to holding you, you have my full permission to kill me on the spot.”

You just grinned, burying yourself further into his warm body.

#matt rempe #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe smut #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe blurb #mr73 #nyr #new york rangers #ny rangers #lea writes stuff ♡

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goodeapple · 5 months ago

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dry clean only (modern hotd pwp, jace x sister!oc x luke)

pairing : Jacaerys x Ysilla (sister!OC) x Lucerys

warnings : MDNI. jesus where do i start... this is filthyyyyy. PWP, threesome, sibling incest, rimming, anal, DP, slight coercion, sibling incest, accidental voyeurism, unprotected intercourse, breeding kink (ofc), & did i mention sibling incest?

word count : 4,000+

note : i kind of lost my marbles with this one... brain drove straight to Hornyville and set up camp. in the nicest way, if u don't like, don't read <3

Laundry day. Fucking laundry day.

“Laundry day.” Ysilla had said when Jace stopped her in the hallway, and she shrugged before heading towards her room. So simple, so nonchalant, as if it were normal for her to parade around in nothing but one of his t-shirts. He lasts a solid forty minutes- a new record- before he pauses his game, and yells into the nearly empty house.

“Sil! Get in here!”

She takes her sweet time, minutes passing until she appears in his open doorway, propping her hip up on the jam. “You rang?”

Jace bristles at her nonchalance, bouncing his knee anxiously, still sitting in his gaming chair.

“You doin’ that on purpose, Silli?” He waves a hand in her direction, a sweep from the tips of her white pedicured toes to the spirals of her midnight curls.

His sister finishes texting, before at last giving over her attention.

Ysilla bats her feather duster lashes at him, all doe eyes and a pouty pink mouth. “Course not, I told you. Got nothing else that’s clean.”

“I find that hard to believe…” Jace grumbles. She swipes their mum’s Amex like it’s going out of style. Her wardrobe looks like a Christmastime department store.

“You don’t like that I’m wearing your clothes?” She asks, plucking at the hem of his shirt, pulling the thin material tight over her tits. The shadows of her areolas become prominent and Jace feels his balls draw up tight. Even so, familial annoyance is stronger than that of a hundred men and he rolls his eyes.

“It’s mine. Don’t take my shit without asking, brat.”

It’s a tepid delivery at best, but it has a fire lighting in her that makes her amethyst orbs glow.

“Fine.” Without any preamble, Ysilla strolls into his room until she arrives in front of him and pulls his shirt off and over her head. Tossing it in his face, she crosses her arms under her breasts, her rosy mocha nipples pebbling in the artificially cool air. “Happy?” He misses her smirk but he can hear it in her voice.

“Not on purpose my ass.” Jace growls, ripping the shirt off of him. Springing to his feet, his fist finds its way into her hair and he yanks her to his mouth. She tastes like matcha and spearmint, and the strawberry gloss thick on her lips.

She melts into his chest, putty in his devout hands. Her own hands rise to cradle his face, still lost in their kiss as she strokes her thumb over the defined edge of his jaw. Jace unwinds his fist, unclenching it to lay his palm flat at the nape of her neck. Too soon, she pulls away, smiling triumphantly as he tries to chase her lips.

“You’re so easy to tease, little brother.”

“Nothing little about what I’m about to give you.” Jace goads, running his hands down her bare back, tracing the twin dimples dotting the bloom of her backside. He pulls her forward until there’s not even a whisper left between them. The new stance does wonders for them both, Jace sliding his thigh between Ysilla’s. She’s not wearing any panties. And she’s already wet. He rocks his knee along her clit, the pearl perked and pronounced, and Jace knows if he keeps it up she’ll cream all over his leg.

“Bed. M’not bouncing on your lap in your game chair.” She whines, tugging off his hoodie and shimmying down his basketball shorts, a woman on a mission.

“Not like you haven’t done it before.” He bites but concedes, ushering her backwards into his bed. He gets her underneath him for a brief, blissful moment before he’s maneuvered onto his back. She likes to be on top- a throne fit for a princess, as she said once before. Plus, I like to see the face you make when you cum.

He spits into his palm, stroking himself quickly. A little extra slide is never a bad thing. “Sissy, spread your legs.”

Ysilla does what she’s told (for once) and goes gooey as Jace slips the head of himself into her opening. He gets a handful of her hips, thumbing at her hip bones as he eases her down, letting her slide onto every rigid inch. She whimpers, wiggling on his lap as she bottoms out on his dick. Gods above. Targaryen men and their horse cocks will be the absolute death of her.

“Jaceyyyyyy,” she whines, the pressure in her lower belly a heaviness she can’t shake.

“If you wanted dick, all you had to do was say so.” Jace chuckles but it’s labored. She’s so fucking tight- he doesn’t know if it’s the pilates she does or good genetics, but it’s like being in a turtleneck in July.

Within a second, his door squeaks open and the two tangled Targaryens would jump apart if they didn’t know exactly who would be getting home at 4PM on a Wednesday.

“Ooohhhh, what are you two gettin’ up to, eh?” Luke’s hand smacks down a greeting on Ysilla’s backside, and she jumps from the sting. He sprawls out in the previously occupied chair, giving himself a front row seat to his brother and sister’s debauchery.

Luke is sprouting, taller than even their dad. He tugs down his trackies, of course a stereotypical grey that hugs him just right, and his cock springs up, bobbing back and forth like a metronome. He’s not super thick around his shaft, but the kids got length that you feel knocking in your stomach.

Ysilla stares, shamelessly, her throat awfully lonely. He notices and lets her attention go straight to his head (both of them).

“See something you like, babe?” Luke winks at her, a cheeky grin plucking up his lips. He pumps himself once, a bead of precum crowning his pretty cock.

“Lukey,” he whines at Ysilla’s croon. His sister is so fucking stunning- gorgeous, breathtaking. He’d do anything for her. She’s the voice in his head, the drive in his passion, the star in his fantasies. She’s been there for everything- it’s hard for him not to be a little bit sprung.

“You forget about me, love?” Jace places a wet kiss at the cradle of her jaw. Ysilla smiles, tangling her fingers in his tight curls.

They have curly hair, all three of them. Ysilla knows Harwin isn’t her dad- her sperm donor, she means. Harwin has been there for all the things that mattered and those that didn’t, he’s her fucking dad. Blood doesn’t get to take that away from her. And in pictures, it’s easy to believe they’re all from the same vine. Until you account for Viz and Aeg and their momma, and then every family photo is a whole motley crew snapshot.

“Don’t be jealous, Jace.” She coos, in a mellow mocking voice.

He rolls his eyes, a pink blush prickling at his freckled cheeks. He steals a proper kiss this time, a wet peck that has Ysilla coming back for more, opening her mouth in a slow, sensual lick. Jace grinds into her, basking in her gasps that he drinks down drunkenly.

A particularly pitiful moan from the foot of the bed reminds her to be generous with her attention. Jace lets go of her mouth, head dipping down just so that he catches her swinging breast in his mouth. He widens his jaw, tongue lapping lewdley at her flesh, looking as if he’s trying to swallow it whole. Ysilla strokes his cheek fondly. He gets so needy like this- needs his big sister to keep him grounded. She lets her head loll back, pinning Luke with a simmering stare that is reminiscent of predator and prey. It shouldn’t twist up his belly like it does but he’s long passed caring about what gets him off. As long as she’ll let him taste her.

“Wanna join us, bud?”

Luke nods, all boyish enthusiasm, eager to please. “Wherever you want me, sis.”

Ooooh, that’s a fun thought. Her mouth floods with saliva, her taste buds perking up at the thought of Luke’s salty spunk. She gives a good handy, she could jerk him off until he busts. Or, she could flip onto her back, ride Jace in reverse and let Luke straddle her chest and maul her tits until he’d gift her a pearl necklace. Decisions, decisions. Ysilla rocks faster on Jace’s cock, dragging him in and out of her in a way that has her clit fluttering like butterfly wings.

Absently, she rubs down her left cheek, still stinging from Luke’s slap, and lets her fingertips dip into her cleft. She’s wet there too- fuck, more like soaked. She was riding her vibrator until Jace had finally called her to him. She’d been dripping since she stole his shirt from his dresser, going absolutely mental at the soft cotton caressing her nipples, his cologne soaked into the fabric. She huffed it like an addict, brought it up to her nose while she rode the vibe until her hand cramped.

Luke’s eyes follow her wandering hand, and his brows scrunch in agonized pleasure as she slips a finger over her tight, clenched hole. Decision made.

“Want you right here, Lucerys.” Ysilla murmurs, knocking her knees further apart, bringing her stomach to stomach with Jace as a result. “Want you both, at the same time.”

Luke’s eyes go gumball wide. “You forreal?”

She bites at her lip, moaning as Jace thrusts hard. He’s as excited by the idea as she is. She nods fervently, arching her back more invitingly and Luke fucking moans, tightening his grip on the base of his cock.

“Fuck, you two are so hot.” He grinds into his fist, his other hand drifting beneath him and rolling his balls between strong fingers. He kicks his sweats the rest of the way off, unable to stop himself as he jerks off faster, his sack tightening in a tantalizing threat.

Jace notices, releasing Ysilla’s breast from his famished mouth. “Don’t blow yet, bro. Wait ‘til you’re inside her.”

Ysilla smirks, turning her sights back to the man buried in her cunt.

“Yeah? Wanna wait until he’s inside me? Want you both to fill me up with your cum ‘till it leaks out of my holes?” She whispers at Jace’s throat, dropping an open mouthed kiss over his Adam’s apple.

Jace can give as good as he gets. “What if I do? What if I want to see my cum drip out of your tight cunny, and plug you up with something so it sticks? Could get you barefoot and pregnant, could get you bouncing on my cock all day long while your belly grows with my babe.” He rubs at her tits, pinching and plucking at her spit slick nipple with a tenderness he means wholeheartedly as he whispers his depraved fancy into her ear.

Ysilla clenches around him, tight enough that his vision whites out for a moment. She can’t help it, bouncing up and down on his fat cock, his words liquid lust in her tummy.

“Oh, Jace. Jacey Jacey, fuck, little brother.” She pants, taking every inch of his shaft over and over again, hissing at the stretch of it burning up her insides. Gods, she never tires of it- his cock is such a treat, one she only indulges in when she has the time to truly savor it.

“You got one more little brother right behind ya, pretty girl.” Luke whispers at her ear, kissing her pulse point with delicate lips.

Jace reaches into his bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle and tossing it on the duvet. “Lube, man.”

The eldest brother busies his hands, grabbing ahold of his sister’s plush backside, a cheek in each palm, and pulls her apart to expose her to their little brother’s lecherous gaze. Dropping to his knees, Luke spits a glob of saliva into her puckered hole, enjoying how her sensitive skin quivers under his attention. He coats his fingers generously with the thick gel, and he’s gentle as he presses one past the thick muscle of her entrance. She squeals sharply before Jace occupies her mouth, shoving in two fingers for her to suck on. Ysilla has an oral fixation- a dick, chewing gum, popsicles, all her go-to’s when she’s stressed.

Luke takes advantage of Jace’s help, gliding in another finger that makes her cry out even louder. Shit, she’s got to gut up if she wants to take his dick. He scissors them back and forth, methodical in working her open. He’s only ever done this to himself, but he’s got the basics down: preparation, lube, going slow, more lube, etcetera. He keeps it up until her whimpers have died down, and when he starts to feel her rock back against him.

Satisfied, he pulls out his fingers and coats his shaft with the lube, hissing at the cool sting on his sensitive skin. He spreads it over his head with a loose grip. He’s already worked up enough, the last thing he wants to do is let his big sister down by cumming on her ass instead of inside of it.

He edges up onto his hands, ready to push upwards onto the bed so that he can take his place behind Ysilla but he’s stopped by something straight out of a wet dream. Luke whistles low. That’s a million dollar shot right there: Jace’s thick veiny cock pulling out before pumping back into Ysilla’s hot pink center, the shine coating their thighs glistening in the late afternoon sun. He wonders if he could convince either of his siblings to let him film them. He knows the answer is most likely a hard no, but a boy can dream.

The carpet beneath his knees is starting to give him rug burn but he's so transfixed, it's like he's been hypnotized. A simple, sinful thought comes unbidden into his mind and he grins. While he's down here, he might as well sightsee. Luke ducks down, and sucks one of Jace’s balls into his mouth, just to hear his brother curse him in Valyrian. He rolls it around his tongue, before releasing it with a satisfied pop! and takes a lick of the cream seeping from Silli’s hole.

Ysilla flinches away, kicking out her foot to shove at his shoulder. He chuckles and relents, adrenaline tight in his muscles as he wraps his arms around her dainty waist and lines up behind her.

"Here goes nothin', gang." Luke shudders out a breath as he maneuvers into position, and edges forward painfully slow as Ysilla's pretty ass swallows his dick. It takes forever and a day, but finally, thankfully, he's all the way in, flush with the back of her thighs and mind melting out of his ears.

“Good Gods above, Lukey.” Ysilla has to remind herself to breathe.

“You okay sissy?” Luke pecks her temple, tucking her bangs back behind her ear. She blushes, cheeks burning hot- he’s such a good boy.

“I’m fine, dude. It’s just… neither of you are small. I can feel you tickling my tonsils.”

“Fucking hell. I can feel him, mercy, I can feel him through you, Silli.” Jace sobs wetly, hands shaking where he has a hold of her hips. Mother, Father and fucking Crone, this is infuckingsane. He can’t last like this, he isn’t superhuman for Gods’ sake.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Jacaerys. If I’m taking both of your cocks, I’ll get time to enjoy it. You’ll cum when I tell you to.” She commands, all eldest child superiority, even with a strained voice.

“Yes, sissy.” He croaks out, his irises misty like a spring rain. She hums approvingly, withholding her praise until he can deliver on his promise.

“Same goes for you, kiddo.” She aims over her shoulder.

“Anything you say, Silli.” Luke draws out, letting her agonize over every long inch before fucking himself back into her ass.

The brothers start to build a gentle push-pull rhythm, one in one out, trying to get her adjusted to having two dicks inside of her- as if that’s something that someone can get used to after five fucking minutes. But as the pain and discomfort fade into a fullness that she feels up to her throat, little jabs of pleasure have Ysilla pushing herself back and forth against her boys.

“This is crazy, holy shit this is crazy.” She gasps, hands wildly clutching at anything she can.

“Never felt something this tight. Squeezing the fuckin’ life out of me, bloody hell.” Luke gasps into her shoulder, eyes screwed shut in concentration, dragging his hips back and forth.

Jace can't talk- all of his focus on not blowing his top and facing his sister's wrath. Sparing a glance at her, he can't help but sigh out:

“You're so fucking pretty, Sil.”

The look of love that accompanies Jace’s hushed praise has the tightening snapping loose in Ysilla's belly, vainly getting off from his attention. Well that, and the fact that she's double stuffed like an Oreo.

Her orgasm slices through her, a hot knife through butter, and a violent shiver racks up her spine. She bows upward in some type of silly attempt to get away from Jace’s plundering cock, but all she succeeds in doing is arching into Luke’s greedy hands and greenlighting him into slamming into her hole even harder.

“Oh, oh! I can’t take it. It’s too much, stop!” Ysilla pleads, pushing and pulling at all of the naked skin surrounding her, overwhelmed and overfucked.

“Do you think she really means that, Lukey?” Jace asks and it’s too sugar sweet to be anything but condescending.

“No fuckin’ way, mate. This ass wouldn’t let me go for anything.” Luke slurs, half fucking stupid, his smarts being squeezed out by way of his prick.

“I’m not a unnhhhh. Not just a hole for you two to fuck.” Her words would land a better mark if there wasn’t a thin line of drool dripping off of her bottom lip, her eyes gone glossy. Her pussy throbs, her heartbeat pulsing there as well as violently in her ears.

Luke fish hooks her, pulling her into his lips by the meat of her cheek. “Shut the fuck up, Ysi.” He says it so adoringly before releasing her, only to keep her quiet as he slides his tongue into her mouth. It does the job, Ysilla suckling at it like it’s a lolli.

Jace lets his hands wander, worshiping the beautiful bodies laid out for his ravenous gaze. His fingers tickle over the dip of Luke’s slight waist, his thumb strokes the flare of Ysilla’s ribcage- his hands discovering and mapping a route of impassioned fealty that he will never forget. They're both his. It's an absolutely mental thought, one he should have no business entertaining but here, in his bed, none of them are to think of anything else but each other.

Jace grabs Ysilla tight by her jaw, ripping her away from Luke’s tongue. He brings her in close, forcing her to stare into his sweet chocolate eyes. “I’m gonna nut in your pussy, sissy, and Luke’s gonna fill that ass up. And you’re gonna take it, like the good girl you are, or I’ll put you on your knees and have you suck my cock until dinnertime.”

Ysilla giggles, delighting in the way Jace’s smirk turns down into a sneer. Humbling her brothers is an A1 skill, one she’s perfected over the years with a constant dedication to her craft.

“Promise?”

Jace chuckles, because he’s sick like she is. Still holding her close, his grip slips down to wrap around her throat. He pushes up, palm tight to her windpipe and forces her flush to Luke’s sweaty chest. He presses his feet into his mattress, praying for leverage, and plows every inch of his thick dick into her cunt.

Luke’s lungs shrivel up, the friction of his brother’s thrusting cock through the thin skin separating Ysilla’s holes too much for him to take. He hunches over her, slinging his arm around her hips. He yanks her into an arch, his forearm digging tightly into where her lower belly meets her mound, and humps desperately at the curve of her backside.

Jace chases them, fucking his hips up into his siblings wildly, the wet smack of his thighs against Ysilla’s fucking nasty. He wraps his legs around all of them, crossing his ankles above Luke’s tight, thrusting ass, keeping them all nice and close.

“Fuckkkk yeah, take that dick. Both of you.”

Gods bless football, the muscles threaded through his chicken legs all due to his practicing and playing. Fuck, he should make Sil wear his jersey after his next game. Maybe even convince Luke to give him a mouthful of his junk, make him stretch out his throat while Silli rides his lap. Do it in the car park after the match. His tint is dark enough- he could have them together, anyway he wants while the rest of his team would pile into their own cars, none the wiser to sinful shit their star striker gets up to with his own flesh and blood.

Jace knows he doesn’t have much left in his tank; he was ready to bust as soon as Luke slid home alongside him. He doesn’t want to finish yet- somewhat pridefully, not before his little brother. One thing is on his side though- he has a big fucking mouth.

“So pretty, both of my fucking sluts. Gonna knock you two up, breed you until you’re fucking sick of it.”

Ysilla and Luke’s eyes roll back, mirror images of lust, and Jace doesn’t know if he imagines it but he swears he can feel it as Luke breaks, his cum molten hot through the partition of Silli’s walls as he spills deep into her guts.

“Fuckkk yes, cum inside of her Luke. Make it messy, shit, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” Jace spits through clenched teeth, digging his heels cruelly into Luke’s soft thighs. As if on cue, both brothers’ trembling fingers dive between Ysilla’s legs, and rub furiously at her clit. She chokes, her nails rooting into each one of them, keeping them close as she breaks the fuck apart. One of them shouts as she clamps down in a vice grip, but it's all static in her ears, her orgasm washing anything away that's not white hot heat. It lasts so long her toes go numb and her knees shake tremors throughout her thighs.

Luke and Ysilla topple like a house of cards, landing in a jumbled pile of limbs and other sweat soaked appendages. Jace’s bed is a King but even so, the trio chooses to remain wrapped up in each other, gasping for breath and stretching out sore legs.

The peek of sky through the blinds gets dimmer the longer they all lie there, the glow from the TV glaring brighter and brighter as the room dips into darkness. Jace searches for his remote, doing his best not to jostle his bedmates, until he finds it under his pillow. Going for the red power button, his thumb hovers over it until a flashing icon in the corner of the screen pitches his stomach like he’s on a rollercoaster.

“Oh, fuck me.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to do that.” Luke groans, face buried in his sister’s back.

“Me either.” Ysilla chuckles wearily, already well on her way to unconsciousness, snuggled between her favorite boys. Jace winces, letting them enjoy the last few seconds of afterglow before he ruins the rest of their lives.

“Okay… neither of you can hit me for what I’m about to tell you.”

Ysilla blinks at him, suddenly wide awake at the tense tone he’s taken on.

“Jace… what is it?”

He stares at the F1 pause screen, Aegon T. connected via headset still lit up in green in the top right corner. His own headset rests innocently atop his desk, the mic almost pointing accusingly towards the bed. And there’s no way in any of the Seven Hells that their uncle didn’t just get an earful of his niece and nephews railing each other into oblivion.

“I think we may have a huge fucking problem.”

#hotd #house of the dragon #modern hotd #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x oc #jacaerys velaryon smut #lucerys velaryon #lucerys targaryen #lucerys x you #lucerys x reader #lucerys x oc #lucerys velaryon smut #hotd smut #hotd kink #hotd pwp

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growthhyp · 1 month ago

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Amazing stories! Would be hot to seem some dad/son stories.

The Milk Carton

James, a 40-year-old male with a skinny flat body, standing tall and straight as an arrow, reflecting his strong and unwavering sexual preference. He is dressed casually in a baggy pink shirt that complements his bright skin color, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thin arms, showcasing his meticulous nature and attention to detail, much like the work he does as an accountant. His short, blonde, straight hair is neatly styled, framing a gentle smile that lights up the room. In the background is a cozy living room, filled with the warmth of home and a hint of his organized lifestyle. Sitting across from James on a comfortable sofa is his son, Elijah, who shares the same bright skin tone and blonde hair. At 18 years old, Elijah is also slim and fit, mirroring his father's physique. He wears a gray hoodie and jeans, his youthful energy and curiosity visible in his posture. With his eyes slightly cast down, Elijah is absorbed in a conversation with James, displaying his shyness but also the deep love he holds for his father. Both of them are engaged in a heartfelt moment, with a sense of understanding and mutual respect, as Elijah follows in James' footsteps, pursuing a career in accounting. The room is adorned with subtle hints of their shared interests, creating an inviting and harmonious environment that celebrates their bond. Despite their different sexual preferences, the unspoken connection between them is palpable, as they share a passion for numbers and a love for each other that transcends any labels or expectations.

After the discussion, Elijah retreats to his sanctuary, his bedroom. He closes the door with a gentle click, the sound echoing through the corridor. His room is a stark contrast to the rest of the house, a cocoon of his own personality, filled with vibrant colors. The walls are lined with bookshelves, their contents revealing his love for fantasy and adventure. His computer, a gateway to his digital world, sits on a neatly organized desk, surrounded by notebooks and textbooks, a testament to his academic pursuits.

With the door closed, Elijah feels a sense of liberation. He opens his laptop and logs into his Tumblr account, his heart racing with anticipation. The screen flickers to life, displaying a dashboard filled with images of muscular men in various states of undress. His eyes widen, and his breath quickens as he scrolls through the feed, each picture more enticing than the last. The men are chiseled, their bodies sculpted by what seems like the gods themselves. The sight of them fills him with a warmth that spreads through his body, igniting a spark of desire in his loins.

He pulls off his shirt, revealing his own flat chest and slender frame. Elijah's gaze lingers on his reflection in the mirror, a silent reminder of the physique he craves. He runs his fingers over his chest, imagining the feel of solid muscles beneath his fingertips. He takes a deep breath and lets his hand drift down to the waistband of his jeans. With trembling fingers, he unbuttons them and slides the fabric down his legs, stepping out of them with a sense of urgency.

Elijah's hand wraps around his cock, stroking it gently as he sits on the edge of his bed. His eyes remain glued to the screen, watching as the men in the images flex and pose for the camera. Each stroke is a silent plea for transformation, a wish to embody the strength and dominance that he sees in the men before him. His cheeks flush with arousal as he picks up the pace, his breaths coming faster and more ragged. The room is filled with the sound of his hand moving against his skin, a rhythmic dance that matches the pounding in his chest.

His body responds with a spasm of pleasure, and with a soft and quiet groan, Elijah ejaculates, his seed spurting onto the fabric of his favorite pillow. The sensation is overwhelming. He collapses back onto the bed, his body shaking with the intensity of his climax. The room is quiet once more, the only evidence of his passion the sticky mess on his stomach and the soft, satisfied smile on his lips.

As he cleans himself up, Elijah's mind wanders to the outside world. He opens his phone and logs into his social media account. Scrolling through the feed, a vibrant poster catches his eye. "CARNIVAL COMING SOON!" it reads, with images of flashing lights and thrilling rides. His heart leaps at the sight of it. The carnival is opening just a short bike ride away. It's an opportunity too tempting to ignore.

With newfound excitement, Elijah walks out of his room, the scent of his desire still lingering in the air. He finds James in the kitchen, preparing dinner. "Hey, Dad," he says, trying to sound casual. "Could I go to the carnival tomorrow afternoon?"

James looks up from the stove, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. He wipes his hand on his apron, leaving a smudge of flour on his cheek. "The carnival, huh? What's the occasion?"

Elijah shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just thought it'd be fun to check out the new rides and stuff."

James nods, his expression a blend of amusement and concern. "Alright, be safe. And don't let those carnies sweet-talk you into anything, you know how they can be."

Elijah laughs, the sound light and carefree. "I'll be fine, Dad. I've got street smarts," he says, flashing a grin that James can't help but return.

With a nod of approval, James goes back to cooking, his mind drifting to the pile of paperwork waiting for him in his home office. Meanwhile, Elijah heads to the bathroom, the anticipation of tomorrow's adventure buzzing through him like an electric current. He brushes his teeth, the minty toothpaste a refreshing counterpoint to the lingering scent of his desire.

===

The next morning, Elijah wakes with a start, his body heavy and his thoughts immediately drifting to the carnival. He glances down and notices the familiar outline of his morning erection pushing against the fabric of his briefs. With a smirk, he reaches down to adjust himself, his hand grazing the sensitive skin. His thoughts of the carnival and the men he'll see there only add to his arousal. He quickly takes care of his morning routine, eager to get dressed and set out for the day.

The sun is high in the sky when he arrives at the carnival, the air thick with the smells of popcorn and cotton candy. The vibrant colors of the rides and games assault his senses, and the laughter and music create an intoxicating symphony that fills his soul. The crowd is a sea of people, all shapes and sizes, their faces alight with excitement and wonder. Elijah weaves through the throngs of visitors, his eyes darting from one attraction to the next, searching for something fun to do.

And then he sees it. A tent, standing tall and proud, with a sign that reads "The Greatest Sebastian - Your Wishes, Our Command!" Below the words is an illustration of a wizard, his muscles bulging as he holds a staff adorned with a crystal that seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy. Elijah's heart skips a beat, and without a moment's hesitation, he strides toward it. The flap of the tent opens with a flourish, and he steps inside, his eyes widening in amazement.

Before him is Sebastian, the very embodiment of masculine perfection. He's a towering figure with a body that seems to have been carved from marble by a master sculptor. His long, curly brown hair cascades down his broad shoulders, and his piercing yellow eyes seem to see into the depths of Elijah's soul. He's dressed in a velvet magician's robe that hides his incredible physique, but Elijah can't help but imagine the rippling muscles that surely lie beneath. On the table in front of him sits a single, glowing white orb that seems to pulsate.

Sebastian looks up from his crystal ball with a knowing smile, his teeth a dazzling white against his tanned skin. "Welcome, young man," he says, his voice a rich baritone that sends shivers down Elijah's spine. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

Elijah clears his throat, trying to find the right words. "Well, I… I've heard that you can grant wishes," he stammers, his cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and hope.

Sebastian's smile widens, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Ah, a young soul seeking change," he says, stroking his chin. "What is it that you wish for? Riches, fame, perhaps a lover's heart?"

Elijah's gaze lingers on the wizard's bulging biceps, and he swallows hard. "I… I want to be like you," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be strong, muscular, and… dominant."

Sebastian's eyes narrow, and he leans in closer, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. "A noble aspiration, indeed," he says, his smile turning into a smirk. "But such transformations are not for the faint of heart. They come with great power, but also great… changes."

Elijah's eyes light up with determination, his voice steady. "I'm not faint of heart," he says firmly. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, his smile never wavering. "Very well," he says, his tone dripping with amusement. "But remember, once you embark on this journey, there is no turning back."

Elijah nods, his heart pounding in his chest. "I understand," he says, his voice strong and steady.

Sebastian rises from his chair, his movements fluid and graceful despite his towering frame. He gestures to a shelf behind him, where an assortment of bottles and jars glint in the soft light of the tent. He reaches for a bottle that seems to call out to him, its crystal surface shimmering with an ethereal glow. It's filled with a white liquid that swirls hypnotically when he holds it up to the light. The potion is contained in a simple glass bottle with a cork stopper, sealed with a crimson wax that matches the color of the wizard's robe. The muscular man's hand dwarfs the container as he holds it out to Elijah.

"This," he says, his voice low and serious, "is a potion of transformation. Drink from it, and you shall become as I am: a man of great strength and power." His eyes dance with mischief as he adds, "But remember, young one, with great power comes great… attraction to those of your kind."

Elijah takes the bottle with trembling hands, the weight of the potion seeming to echo the gravity of the decision he's about to make. "What do you mean by 'those of my kind'?" he asks, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Sebastian's smirk deepens, his yellow eyes gleaming. "The potion has a peculiar side effect," he says, leaning in to whisper in Elijah's ear. "It tends to… enhance one's attraction to the same gender. You, my dear, will crave the touch of men as you never have before."

Elijah's eyes widen, but the excitement in his voice is clear. "I'm okay with that," he says, his voice barely audible. "I'm… I'm already…"

Sebastian's smile softens, his eyes filled with understanding. "You're already aware of your desires," he says gently. "That's good. The potion will simply amplify what's already within you. But remember, young man, it's not just about physical changes. The transformation will also alter your very essence, shaping your identity in ways you can't begin to imagine."

Elijah nods, his heart racing with excitement and anticipation. He takes the bottle from Sebastian's hand, the cool glass a stark contrast to his warm, sweaty palm. "Thank you," he murmurs, the words thick with emotion.

"Ah, but nothing in life is free, my young friend," Sebastian says, holding up a hand to stop him. "The price for such a transformation is steep. I require your payment in cold, hard cash."

Elijah's stomach flips, but his desire is stronger than his doubt. He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out his wallet, counting the crumpled bills with trembling fingers. "How much?"

Sebastian names a sum that seems exorbitant, but to Elijah, it's a price he's willing to pay for the body of his dreams. He hands over the money without hesitation, his eyes never leaving the potion. The wizard takes the cash, his grin widening as he counts the bills. "Ah, the currency of desperation," he says, tucking the money into a velvet pouch at his side.

Elijah pockets the bottle, his heart racing. He thanks Sebastian and practically sprints out of the tent, the sound of the carnival fading behind him as he makes his way home. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more exhilarating than the last. He can't wait to be alone in his room, to drink the potion and finally become the man he's always envied.

===

Once home, he slips into the kitchen, his eyes immediately drawn to the refrigerator. He opens the door and glances around, ensuring that James is nowhere in sight. The milk carton is exactly where he left it that morning, almost empty but with enough room for the potion. He opens the bottle and carefully pours the swirling white liquid into the remaining milk, watching as the two blend together. The potion's glow dims slightly as it mixes with the milk, but the energy it radiates is undeniable.

Elijah's heart races as he seals the carton and puts it back in the fridge. He glances at the clock; it's almost dinner time. He needs to get cleaned up and pretend that it's just another ordinary evening. With a deep breath, he heads to the bathroom, the bottle now a distant memory in the trash. The hot water of the shower cascades over his body, washing away the sticky sweat from his journey. The scent of the potion lingers on his fingertips, a tantalizing promise of what's to come.

James, on the other hand, is in the throes of a marathon cleaning session. The weekend has arrived, and he's determined to get the house in tip-top shape. He's scrubbed, dusted, and vacuumed every nook and cranny. His eyes are red from the dust, and his throat is parched.

He stumbles into the kitchen, his shirt sticking to his sweaty back. The fridge is a beacon of cold relief, and without thinking twice, he opens the door and grabs the milk carton.

James tilts his head back, the cold liquid cascading down his throat, quenching the fire that burns from his exertion. He pauses, his taste buds catching a hint of something peculiar, something different from the usual blandness of the milk. But thirst is a powerful motivator, and he dismisses the thought, chalking it up to the heat of the day playing tricks on his senses.

As he returns the carton to the refrigerator, the cold air hits his bare chest, causing his nipples to pebble. The room spins for a brief moment, and he sways on his feet, catching himself before he topples over. He chuckles at his own clumsiness and wipes the bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The carton feels heavier than before, the remaining 1/5 of the contents sloshing around like a silent taunt.

James stumbles towards his bedroom, his legs feeling like jelly. He's not sure what's happening to him, but the sensation is unlike anything he's ever felt. The warmth spreads from his core, radiating outward, enveloping his entire body in a gentle heat that's both comforting and disconcerting.

Suddenly, his legs seem to come alive, swelling and stretching before his very eyes. His feet feel massive, the skin taut and unyielding as his calves balloon to almost comical proportions. His blue pants are now nothing but shreds of fabric, clinging to his rapidly growing limbs. He looks down in shock, watching as his legs morph into powerful, muscular pillars of strength that resemble nothing of his former self.

James' hand fumbles to his crotch, feeling the fabric of his underwear strain against his growing cock. He gasps as it swells, the pressure building until the waistband snaps, the briefs falling away to reveal his new, massive erection. It stands tall and proud, thick veins pulsing with the potion's power. His testicles, now heavy and full, hang low between his legs. He can't help but touch himself, the sensation overwhelming. His hand wraps around his shaft, and he groans in pleasure as he feels his body respond to his own touch.

The transformation isn't finished yet. James' torso starts to expand, his chest puffing out as if inflated by an invisible pump. His ribcage widens, and the skin stretches taut over the burgeoning muscles beneath. The white sando he's wearing strains to contain his newfound bulk, the fabric stretching until it finally gives way with a resounding rip. His abs, once a sad six-pack, now form a perfect 10-pack, each muscle clearly defined and rippling with power. His pectorals balloon outward, pressing against his skin. His back muscles spasm, the tendons standing out in stark relief as they swell with newfound power. His shoulders broaden, making him seem even more Herculean.

As his arms begin to grow, James can feel the potion coursing through his veins, a tingling sensation that's both exhilarating and terrifying. The muscles in his biceps and triceps swell, bulging with newfound strength. His forearms thicken, the veins becoming more prominent as his hands grow to match his new frame. His fingers elongate and thicken, each digit now a testament to the power within him. His newfound biceps and triceps stand out like rounded boulders, begging to be touched and admired.

The potion's effects soon reach his face, and James gasps as he feels the skin around his eyes tighten and the lines around his mouth fade away. His cheeks plump up, giving him the youthful glow of an 18-year-old. The stubble on his chin retreats, leaving behind smooth, hairless skin that seems to glow with vitality. He runs his hand over his face, the touch of his fingers alien on the youthful contours. His eyes widen with shock as he looks in the mirror, seeing the reflection of a man who could be his own son. The only hint of his true age is the hint of curiosity and fear in his gaze.

James' body is now a masterpiece of masculine beauty, and he can't resist the urge to explore it further. He starts jerking his huge cock, the motion slow and deliberate. The feeling is unlike anything he's ever experienced, the potion amplifying every sensation. The veins bulge and pulse as he works his shaft, his moans growing louder with each stroke. His balls are heavy with cum, and the anticipation of release is almost unbearable. His hand is a blur, moving up and down with a mind of its own, driven by a primal need that's been unlocked within him.

But as he tries to think of the women he's been with, their faces and bodies failing to arouse him. His mind is a blank canvas, until images of muscular men start to flood his thoughts, their sculpted forms and piercing gazes igniting a fire deep in his soul. He tries to push them away, to focus on the familiar, but the potion's power is too strong. His hand moves faster, his strokes more urgent, as he imagines the touch of those men's strong hands on his body, their lips on his, their cocks inside him. The very thought sends a shockwave of pleasure through him, and he feels his body respond, his cock growing even harder in his grip.

Elijah finishes his shower and wraps a towel around his waist, the steam from the bathroom clinging to his skin. He walks into the kitchen, he opens the fridge, his hand reaching for the milk carton on autopilot, when something catches his eye. It's lighter than before, almost empty.

A muffled sound of pleasure reaches his ears, echoing through the hallway from his father's bedroom. Curiosity and confusion swirl within him as he tiptoes towards the door, straining to listen. The moaning grows louder, unmistakable in its urgency. It's definitely a man's voice, but it's not his father's. Elijah's heart races as he gently turns the doorknob and peeks in.

What greets him is a scene he could never have anticipated. There, in the place where James should be, lies a muscular 18-year-old boy, his skin glistening with sweat, his body a sculpted work of art that matches the men from Elijah's fantasies. The stranger's eyes are closed in ecstasy, his mouth open in a silent scream as his hand moves rapidly over his thick, erect cock. The sight is both mesmerizing and terrifying.

Elijah stumbles back, his mind racing. This can't be his father. The man before him is too young, too perfect. Panic sets in, and he retreats to his bedroom, his heart hammering in his chest.

He locks the door behind him, his thoughts spinning wildly. He must be dreaming, or maybe he's hallucinating. But the sound of footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echo through the house. They're real. The intruder is real.

Elijah's eyes dart around his room, searching for anything he can use as a weapon. His hand closes around a heavy book, but he knows it won't be enough. Then he remembers the potion. If Sebastian's claims are true, then he too can become a tower of strength. He rushes to the kitchen, his heart in his throat, and grabs the milk carton from the fridge.

The liquid inside is barely a quarter of its former volume. He quickly downs the remaining potion, the sweet taste of milk mixing with something else, something potent and powerful. He feels a warmth spread through him, starting in his stomach and moving outwards to his extremities. His body begins to tingle, and he knows that the transformation has begun.

Elijah retreats to his bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't lock the door. What if the intruder comes in? But the potion's magic is already working, and he's too focused on the changes happening to his body to worry about anything else. He sets the carton on his nightstand and watches in the mirror as his reflection starts to shift.

The towel around his waist feels tighter, and he looks down to see his cock growing, thick and hard. It's as if it has a mind of its own, reaching for the fabric as if to break free. He gasps, his hand moving to cover his mouth, as he watches his abs ripple and multiply, forming a perfect 10-pack that he's always dreamed of. His chest swells, filling out the space between his pecs and stomach, the muscles growing more defined with every second that passes. His skin stretches and tightens, the towel now a mere strip of material clinging to his burgeoning physique.

Elijah's legs, once skinny and unremarkable, now balloon with muscle, pushing him back onto the bed. He feels the mattress sink beneath the weight of his new body. His legs, now thick and powerful, are a work of art, each muscle clearly defined. He runs his hand over his newfound bulk, the sensation foreign and exhilarating. His calves bulge and his thighs thicken, the fabric of his towel giving way to reveal his massive cock and balls.

His arms follow suit, growing longer and more muscular. He watches, his eyes wide with wonder, as his biceps and triceps swell with power. His shoulders broaden, the towel slipping away to reveal a body that's no longer his own. His skin stretches taut over his newfound muscles, the veins standing out like rivers of life beneath the surface. His fingers elongate, the sensation strange and thrilling as he flexes his hands, feeling the strength that now courses through them.

The tingling sensation in Elijah's back intensifies, and he feels his spine stretch and realign. His shoulders pull back, and a defined V taper forms, highlighting the stark contrast between his narrow waist and broad back. He gasps as his ribcage expands, the sound echoing through the room. His face, once a reflection of his youthful curiosity, now takes on a more mature, angular structure, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His nose becomes more aquiline, and his lips fuller, framing a smile that promises both strength and sensuality.

But it's the sudden onslaught of testosterone that truly overwhelms him. His mind is bombarded by a deluge of sexual desire, so intense it's almost painful. Every nerve in his body is alive with new sensations, each one more electrifying than the last. The potion's power courses through his veins like molten lava, setting every inch of his skin alight with arousal. He can feel his cock growing even thicker, the weight of it heavy and demanding against his abs. His balls swell, the ache of impending release growing more insistent by the second.

James can't fight it anymore. He gives in to the potion's power, his hand moving faster and faster over his shaft. He feels the orgasm building, a pressure that threatens to consume him. His moans grow louder, and his hips buck involuntarily. His body is no longer his own, a marionette dancing on the strings of his newfound desires.

With a roar that echoes through the house, James climaxes. Cum spurts from his cock like a geyser, painting the walls and floor with his thick, white seed. The force of his release sends waves of pleasure throughout his transformed body, each muscle contracting in ecstasy. He collapses onto the bed, panting and spent.

Elijah, still in the throes of his own transformation, can't ignore the commotion. The intruder's moans of pleasure have turned to gasps for breath, and the smell of sex fills the air. He clenches the book tightly, steeling himself for what he might find. He opens his bedroom door and tiptoes down the hall, his newfound muscles flexing with each step.

The door to his father's room is ajar, and through the crack, he sees the figure of a man sitting on the edge of the bed. His heart stops as he recognizes James' bed, the bed he's slept in countless nights, now stained with a puddle of cum.

James sees the shadow in the doorway and turns, his eyes locking onto Elijah. For a moment, there's confusion in his gaze, as if he's seeing a ghost. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He tries to stand, his muscular legs protesting the sudden movement. "E…Elijah?" he finally manages, his voice a mix of wonder and fear.

Elijah's heart skips a beat. That's his father's voice, but the body? It's the stuff of his wildest dreams. "Dad?" he whispers, the word barely making it past the lump in his throat. The man before him looks up, and in those piercing blue eyes, Elijah sees the unmistakable spark of recognition.

James' eyes widen, taking in Elijah's new form. "What…what's happened to us?" he stammers, his voice a mix of shock and awe. The potion's power seems to hum in the air between them, a palpable force that neither can ignore.

Elijah swallows hard, his hand tightening on the book. "I… I don't know," he says, his voice shaking. "But… I think we should talk."

James nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the book in Elijah's hand before lifting to meet his son's eyes again. "Yeah," he says, his voice a gruff whisper. "Talk."

But talking seems to be the last thing on either of their minds as the potion's power surges through them, drawing them closer together. Before Elijah can say another word, James is on his feet, his massive frame towering over his son. The younger man's hand falls away from the book, his arm muscles flexing involuntarily as he watches his father approach.

Their eyes lock, the tension in the air thick with unspoken desires. Without warning, James leans in, his newfound strength and confidence driving him forward. His hand cups the back of Elijah's head, and their lips meet in a kiss that's equal parts tender and hungry. Elijah's eyes flutter closed, his body responding instinctively to the touch of the man he's always admired.

Their tongues dance together, exploring and tasting, as their hands roam over each other's transformed bodies. Elijah's strong, muscular arms wrap around James' broad back, feeling the heat of his newfound power. James' hands glide over Elijah's sculpted chest, the muscles flexing beneath his touch like living marble. Each caress sends sparks of pleasure through them, the potion's magic amplifying their senses to an unprecedented level.

Their kiss deepens, growing more urgent as the desire between them builds. Elijah can feel James' cock, now fully engorged and heavy, pressing against his stomach. It's a sensation that sends a jolt of excitement straight to his own groin, his cock pulsing with need.

James breaks the kiss, his eyes blazing with passion. He gently pushes Elijah back onto the bed, the mattress groaning beneath their combined weight. His hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of his son's newfound muscles. He can't believe this is happening, but the potion's power is too strong to resist.

Elijah's body responds to James' touch, his cock standing at attention as his father's fingers trace a line down his chest and stomach. The anticipation is agonizing, a sweet torment that makes him ache for more. He watches, his breath hitching, as James' hand wraps around his shaft, the older man's grip firm and sure.

James's gaze never leaves Elijah's face, his eyes searching for any sign of fear or hesitation. But what he sees instead is a hunger that matches his own, a need that's been stoked by the potion and their shared transformation. With a gentle tug, he guides Elijah's cock to the side, exposing his puckered hole.

The tip of James's massive cock, now slick with precum, hovers at the entrance to Elijah's ass. Elijah feels a mix of terror and excitement as he prepares to accept his father in the most intimate way possible. The heat of James's shaft sends shivers down his spine, and he can't help but arch his back, offering himself up.

With a low growl, James lines himself up and pushes in, the potion's magic allowing him to breach Elijah's tight hole with surprising ease. Elijah gasps as he's filled to the brim, his body stretching to accommodate his father's girth. James takes a moment to savor the feeling before pulling almost all the way out, only to slam back in, his balls slapping against Elijah's ass with a wet smack.

Their bodies move in a rhythmic dance of passion, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through Elijah, his moans growing louder as James hits all the right spots. James' muscles flex and bulge with every movement, the potion's power evident in every powerful thrust. Elijah can feel his father's strength, the weight of his new body pressing him into the mattress.

Their breaths mingle, both men lost in the moment, the only sounds the grunts and gasps of their shared passion. James' hand wraps around Elijah's cock, the friction of his palm against the sensitive skin driving him closer and closer to the edge. Elijah's eyes roll back in his head, his hips bucking up to meet every thrust. The potion's power is a drug, a heady mix of arousal and confusion that only seems to make the sensations more intense.

James feels it building within him, the pressure in his balls reaching a fever pitch. He can't hold back any longer. With one final, powerful thrust, he lets out a roar that shakes the room, his cock pulsing as he empties himself inside Elijah. The warmth and wetness of his cum fills the space between them, a testament to the bond that's been forged in the crucible of the potion's magic.

At the same moment, Elijah's body tenses, his own orgasm ripping through him like a bolt of lightning. He cums in thick ropes, the sensation so intense that his vision blurs. The potion has not only transformed their bodies but also their very beings, stripping away any remaining barriers between them.

As the aftershocks of pleasure begin to fade, the reality of what they've just done sets in. James pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard, and they both lay there, panting and staring at the ceiling. The silence is deafening, the weight of their actions pressing down on them like a heavy blanket.

Elijah is the first to speak, his voice a soft whisper. "Dad, what have we done?" The tremble in his tone betrays his fear and confusion.

James turns to look at his son, his new muscular body a stark contrast to the man Elijah has known all his life. "I don't know," he admits, his voice gruff with emotion. "But it's what the potion did to us."

Elijah nods, his own muscles still quivering from the intense pleasure of their union. They need to clean up, to process what's happened.

He pushes himself up from the bed, his body feeling both new and unfamiliar. He walks to his father's dresser, his muscular legs moving with a newfound grace. He opens the drawer and pulls out a pair of black shorts, feeling the soft fabric in his hand. The sight of them sends a thrill through his body, a symbol of the power and masculinity he's always envied in the men he desires. He steps into them, the shorts hugging his muscular thighs and accentuating his now prominent bulge.

James watches, his eyes taking in Elijah's new form, the potion-induced changes making it clear that his son is no longer a boy. The white shorts Elijah throws to him seem to glow in the dim light of the room, a stark contrast to the black Elijah has chosen. He sluggishly rises, his legs feeling like they're made of lead. He pulls the shorts on, the fabric stretching to cover his own massive thighs and the heavy weight of his cum-covered cock. The shorts fit surprisingly well, hugging his new body in a way that makes him feel both exposed and powerful.

"We need to talk," James says, his voice still unsteady. "We can't just…go on like this."

Elijah nods, his heart racing as he looks at his father's transformed body. "I know," he whispers. "What do we do?"

James takes a deep breath, his mind racing. "We can't tell anyone," he says, his voice firm. "We'll say I'm your cousin."

Elijah nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Okay, from now on, you're Joe."

"Joe," James repeats, testing out the name that now fits the youthful, muscular form he finds himself in. The lie feels strange on his tongue, but he knows it's a necessary one.

"Elijah, your dad had to leave for an overseas job," Joe says, the words feeling more real with each passing second. "We're all alone in this house now."

Elijah nods, the lie a protective shield around their new reality. "Yeah," he murmurs, his eyes still glued to his father's transformed body. "It's just you and me."

Their smiles are tentative, a blend of relief and the beginnings of excitement. They're in this together, two men who share more than just a surname. Joe runs a hand over his new abs, feeling the ridges and valleys of muscle that now define his physique. Elijah's gaze follows the movement, his own smile growing a little bolder.

#muscle growth stories #jockification #jock tf #personality change #male transformation #straight to gay #father/son #de aging

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johnbrand · 7 months ago

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The New Fad

It was strange how this seemingly irresistible fad suddenly swept in. I took a sip of my coffee, noticing how every man appeared to be identically dressed from my chair outside the cafe. The city was filled with men in suits. On the clock, off the clock, even if their workplace required them to wear a different uniform, the second their hours where up a 3-piece would be resituated onto the body.

This change had been so quick too. Brooks Brothers replacing Nike, businessmen replacing athletes. At first it seemed like nothing, but soon people I knew started jumping on board too. One was once the most raggedy of counterculture punks, but the next time I saw him he had come from the barbershop with his spiked, flamboyant hawk mowed down into a tame, respectable cut. Two more of my friends were a colorful, progressive couple, yet I later found out through their social media they had split to focus on their “domestic financial endeavors.” They had taken up investments and accounting since.

I did not see the appeal in this rigid conformity, this sweeping mentality to return to tradition. It was simply too drab, too starchy. This new trend meant every man was perfectly groomed, stiffly suited, and promptly coordinated towards his career. And with this came the resurgence of other forgotten subcultures: the craving to marry a homebound woman, the chance to create numerous offspring, the promise of a nuclear family. As a gay male who considered business casual as the only form of formality, none of this interested me.

With a sigh, I took another sip of my coffee, readjusting the sleeves of my hoodie before grabbing my phone. A new software update had installed, boasting upgraded accuracy in facial recognition. Raising the screen to unlock the device, I dreamily absorbed the beguiling swirl of colors and patterns. The phone was thinking, recognizing my identity.

<ah…a lot of work to do here. lets see…gotta add some layers…no more hoodies or leisurely clothes for you. only formal articles. that collar should be stiff, and lets get you in a charcoal tie to match that dark standard suit. so much better. dont you agree? just nod your head, thats a good boy. you dont want that shaggy beard or unkempt hair. no no, a good handful of texturing fiber will keep you with a solid, unwaveringly tall quiff. this is your new haircut, and that stubble will need to be maintained every day, got that? yes, you are a good boy, a good preppy boy.> <no no, just keep staring into the phone. you’re going to be clean and suited now, forever. returning to tradition, how men were always meant to be. and doesnt it feel right? dont you feel like youve come home? youve never felt so comfortable in your skin, so comfortable in your clothes. confident, conservative, and able to admit what you are. you are a preppy boy now. that sounds a little strange, right? thats ok, say it with me. preppy boy, I am a preppy boy. strange…but good, right? say it one more time. some may say youre a bit old-fashioned, but we both know why something becomes traditional–because it has always worked. nod your head slowly with me. it’s too hard to do anything but agree with me, right?> <now, the update is almost done, so let me just add in a few more quick things. lets see…fixation to the haberdashery…commitment to formality…dependence on the institution. what else am I missing…hmmm…are you a homosexual? no no, thats not going to work. good preppy boys are straight. nod with me, yes. desire of offspring…familial responsibility…an itch that can only be comforted by the omnipresent cinch of a fastidiously knotted tie. ah, it seems my time is up. just remember, your only aspiration in life is to be a good preppy boy. nod for me if you understand. thats a good preppy boy.>

Unable to recall what I was doing, I tucked my phone back into the seat pocket of my pressed trousers. I sipped once more at my coffee and took in the impeccable Financial District around me. All the men in suits, one could practically smell the crisp clean bills in their pockets. Back and forth from two destinations, the office with the other businessmen or the home with the wife and kids. Pulling up the sleeve of my suit jacket, my expensive watch informed me it was my time for the first. And once the hours were put in, I could return home to my own woman before beginning the cycle again.

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #preppification

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timdoubleyou · 1 year ago

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i found jay’s black jacket (an ID guide)

This black jacket is worn by Jay about 9 times throughout Marble Hornets, including his final appearance. And after some weeks of on-and-off research, I think I know the exact make and model.

This post will detail exactly how I found it, and serve as a guide for anyone that wants to find the jacket, whether that's for cosplay purposes, or if you're just keen on collecting items related to MH.

Main post under the cut

Intro

The first step to identifying the jacket was to gather as many references as possible.

I went back to the web series and took screenshots from any entries the jacket makes an appearance. (shoutout to mg549′s very comprehensive MH wardrobe guide, without it this would’ve been much more of a pain)

Jay's jacket is, for the most part, very plain. It's a solid color, full-zip jacket, without any particularly eye-catching logos or other details. I had to look for moments where even the slightest distinction appeared clear on camera, at least as distinct as it can be. Even if it was just close-ups to get the shape of a zipper, or how many buttons are on a sleeve, it was the best I got. While I did manage to find a decent amount of these, there was just one crucial detail that would've made finding it near-impossible; the brand is never shown. Thankfully, I had another resource.

In 2018 Troy Sold a Lot of Stuff

In early 2018, Troy officially announced that MH would be continued in a comic series. To fund the first issue, he held a number of auctions for production items used during the web series on Ebay.

These included items such as Jay’s camera, Brian’s hoodie, A Masky mask, and Jay’s black jacket.

Lo and behold, the jacket listing includes a picture with the brand in clear view. It's from Gap.

Ebay does not archive sold listings older than 90 days. However, Worthpoint, a website for valuing and pricing collectibles, does. Using Worthpoint I was able to find all of these items, (and a lot more, which can be found in this doc I submitted to Archive Hornets)

Identification

With the picture from the listing and the series screencaps, I had a complete ID list.

(Top image is from the Ebay listing, with the contrast adjusted a little for easier viewing. The bottom two images are from Entry #79)

The Gap logo (This specific logo dates the jacket being made anywhere between 1986 and 2009, when it first appears).

Front Zipper (Note the shape)

The two front pockets

The two buttons and pointed cuffs on each sleeve (Second one is a little hard to see but it's jusstt peeping out at the side)

The blue piping in the inner lining

The zipper in the right side inner lining

The gray mesh inner lining

With these in mind, I could now go to the next and longest step-

Finding the Jacket

I combed three resell sites; Ebay, Depop, and Poshmark. My main goal wasn't to actually purchase the jacket, (although, I would like to at some point) but to find a jacket listing that had every identifier, and have a more definite baseline for finding others. I needed to be sure what I had was enough to properly ID the jacket. The references I had stitched together were decent enough, but I wanted to see if there was something better out there.

After tons of page scrolling and tab-switching and comparing and contrasting, I finally got lucky.

(first two images are from crashthecloset's listing on poshmark, last six are from shannfo-76 on ebay)

I haven't bought one myself as of posting, but I feel pretty confident this is it. The jackets were already sold, but every marker seemed to be accounted for. It also revealed new ones, like the reflective pattern and pockets on the inner lining, (zipper on the right side pocket, button on the left pocket) and the materials tag.

With that, here's some final notes that may be helpful if you try looking for the jacket yourself:

Online sellers often describe it as a light jacket, a windbreaker, a 2-in-1, or 3-in-1.

"Gap Mens Black Jacket" is the search phrase I used the most since it yielded a (very) broad result pool.

Most of the jackets I found came from Poshmark or Ebay.

The exact size of Jay’s jacket is unclear. My best guesses are either a US Men’s S or M, since Jay was pretty skinny and of average height. I’ve only been able to find maybe 2 jackets that are a size M, one of which is the first pic in the photoset above.

Gap has sold other black jackets that look remarkably similar to Jay’s, and they do pop up on resell sites. One of these was so similar, the only discernible difference was the style of the logo. I highly recommend making sure it matches the exact one Jay had before purchasing. (It's also more than fine to ask/msg me if you have any doubts!) As long as you know what to look for, you shouldn’t have a problem finding at least one.

One detail that confounded me was this sleeve poking out of Jay's jacket. At first I thought he was wearing a long sleeve underneath, making this shot a continuity error since he appeared to Only be wearing the green short sleeve under the jacket.

@hivemite pointed out that this might be a two-in-one jacket, which has multiple layers for different types of weather. While I have not been able to see the sleeve outside of two shots in entry #79 and #80, one listing I found did describe it as a 3-in-1.

that's about it! hope this helps :)

#marble hornets #jay merrick #ref #over and out #long post #happy entry 80 day. heres some extra tidbits just for the tags #at least two listings called this y2k which is really funny.#it is also strangely difficult to find these in sizes smaller than large #another thing kinda related. worthpoint is a shitty site unfortunately #as you can see with the jacket description. in which it apparently ‘‘works and comes with a charging cable’’#<- i mean that Couldve been an error on the original ebay listing #however that is. impossible to verify now unless someone somewhere had a screenshot #but each mh item from this particular auction there had consistently bad errors that inclines me to say that wasnt the case #ok this went too long for a few extra tidbits but can you tell i lost my mind

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o2fashion · 3 months ago

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Embrace your street-style fashion with O2Fashion cool hoodies for men. Our design makes you look stylish as well as keeps you warm and comfy at the same time. Its breathable fabric makes it perfect for your outdoor or indoor outings. Order now.

#fashion #oversized hoodie men #solid hoodies for men #best hoodies for men #black hoodie mens #buy hoodies for men #business #bollywood #design

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athenagc94 · 8 days ago

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Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 1

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

A concept I've been toying with. Will probably post the complete fic to AO3 once I've got a few more chapters written, but though I would share some of the chapters here first to see what people think. This fic is inspired by the (musical mostly, but also novel) of Daddy Long Legs.

Warnings: Implications of SA - nothing graphic

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 1

Eat the rich.

Seriously.

But what about Bruce Wayne? He does so much good for Gotham. He’s so handsome and tall. His philanthropy has… Shut up. Bruce Wayne didn’t get a free pass just because he was pretty. He was still a billionaire who needed a healthy dose of reality before you even considered calling him a good guy. Rich people were fucking weird, and you were a true victim of the elite and those weird habits.

Sure, their lavish parties paid your bills, if just barely, but that didn’t mean you had to like being a pawn in their game. This party lasted later than you wanted it to. They always did.

Ice sculptures weren’t cheap. Usually, they cost a quarter million to make depending on the time of year and whether Mr. Freeze had recently wrought havoc on Gotham. You counted eight in total as you wove through the crowds with a silver platter laden with aged beef sprinkled with edible gold leaf. It didn’t even taste good, but they were a hit.

One couldn’t account for good taste in these circles.

You still smelled vaguely of expensive hors d’oeuvres as you trudged up the stairs that emptied onto Park Row. A still quiet greeted you on the street. You were alone. No oddly built young men with an affinity for classic literature and Amazonian superheroes nipping at your heels like an eager puppy. While not the most unpleasant encounter you’ve had on the Gotham subway, you learned quickly it was better to be wary and take the kindness of strangers with a grain of salt.

A midsummer breeze rustled your hair as you drew the hood of your yellow jacket. Yellow was a bold choice for this side of town, but it also diminished your chances of getting taken out by a speeding vehicle on your walk home. Safety and preservation at all costs—that’s what you’d been taught.

Puddles rippled under your feet, pooling between the cracks and potholes that littered the street. A storm passed during the party, leaving the sky clear and a half-moon to light your way.

Silver linings. You could have been caught in the rain.

Hugging your bag closer to your person, you ducked down a side street. Darkness enveloped you like a shroud. You might have disappeared entirely if not for your obnoxious hoodie. The narrow alley had just enough room for you to walk, brick and mortar scraping your palms as you pressed past a dumpster.

You wouldn’t usually take a shortcut this late at night. Keeping to the main arteries of Park Row were safer, if just barely, but you were also anxious to get home to finish your—

“Drop the bag.”

Something solid pressed against your spine. A gun? A knife? It was hard to tell through your jacket, and it was the unknown that tightened your chest and throat. Given the narrow alley, you were more likely to get hurt if you fought back, and if he had a gun, it was over anyway. You could scream, but no one would come. You weren’t completely helpless, but you also knew when to cut your losses. It’s not like you had much on you anyway.

Lifting your hands in defeat, you slid the bag off your shoulder and set it on the ground.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Nice and easy.”

A shiver crept up your spine, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see you shudder. You waited, hoping he would take the bag and bolt, but you were never that lucky. He pressed the object more firmly against your back as he snatched the bag. Not a knife, you decided, given that it didn’t feel all that sharp.

Your mind raced as you considered your next move. Muggers didn’t usually stick around unless they had an ulterior motive beyond theft. Dread bloomed heavy in your chest. You were a woman, alone at night, walking in a dangerous neighborhood.

It was bound to attract some attention because men like this one sucked. People would say it was your fault for taking a shortcut, your fault for wearing yellow, your fault for deigning to be a woman trying to live her life. You, alone, would bear the consequences and the blame. It wasn’t fair, but it was how society treated its victims.

You swallowed your vitriol and said, “I don’t have anything else on me.” The waver in your voice betrayed your fear, and you hated yourself for it. “Just take my bag and go.”

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s your rush? I thought you and I could have a little fun before we called it a n—”

Bang.

Your ears rang as the bullet sent bits of brick raining down over your heads. The pressure on your back disappeared. You felt no pain, but you patted yourself down anyway. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug, after all. When you concluded there were no extra holes to concern yourself with, you whipped around to face the man. It would have been smarter to run, but you’d be damned if you left without your bag.

A young man with gaunt cheeks and sandy blonde hair gripped your bag in one hand and a rusty lug wrench in the other. His attention settled on something over your head. You shoved aware your embarrassment as you followed the line of his gaze.

Red Hood stopped on the edge of the roof with a gun held aloft in one hand. He whistled sharply, the noise distorted by a modulator in his helmet. “Drop the bag. If you want to fuck around, I promise my next shot won’t miss.”

You blinked up at him in disbelief. Most dubbed Red Hood the hero of Park Row—at least to those that needed it. He was more of a thorn in the side of the crime syndicates that operated out of here. You were convinced he didn’t really exist. You’d never seen him, only the evidence of his work, but there were enough vigilantes traipsing about to make you question his existence.

The leather jacket over his plated uniform was a choice, but who were you to question the fashion choices of the man holding the gun.

Hood whistled again. “Last chance.”

With gritted teeth, the man tossed you bag and sprinted off. Its contents scattered across a nearby puddle. Your catering apron, a beaten wallet, and some loose-leaf paper. Your heart leapt into your throat.

Your paper!

You dropped to your knees to salvage what you could as a pair of heavy boots hit the ground behind you. Misery swirled in your chest as you wiped away the muddy water with the sleeve of your hoodie. To think, you’d been swindled by a coward with a lug wrench.

“You should be more careful.”

You licked your teeth as the ink bled before your eyes. Not only was the paper ruined, but Red Hood saw fit to lecture you. Could this night get any worse?

“Maybe that guy should learn not to mug people.” You turned to face him, undaunted, even when he towered over you like a titan loomed over mortal men.

He hesitated, his expression hidden with his helmet, but you saw the way his shoulders tightened under your scrutiny. His broad frame blotted out the moonlight. You mirrored him, clinging to a shred of self-preservation in the face of a very real threat. Hood wasn’t good. He wasn’t bad. He just was. He might have saved you this time, but that didn’t mean you would stay in his good graces.

A beat of silence passed between you two before he knelt beside you to pick up the last of the sodden pages. There was no saving them. With a heavy sigh, you set them aside.

“Fuck.”

He took the pages and scanned their contents, not even trying to play it coy. You swallowed your protests in favor of a displeased glare. No one said vigilantes were well-socialized. If they were, they wouldn’t be parading the streets in costume.

“Is this… homework?” His modulator grated on your ears, but he sounded genuinely curious.

You didn’t expect follow up questions. From the sharp breath that crackled through his modulator, he didn’t know either. Knowing that his question caught him off guard amused you, so you decided to humor him with an answer.

“It’s an essay for a scholarship,” you explained, “Gotham University has one of the best writing programs in the city. I know I can get accepted, but I can’t enroll unless I have a scholarship to pay for it.”

“That’s shit luck.” He sounded upset, angry even. You might have been too if you weren’t still processing the situation. “Does that mean you have to rewrite it?”

“Next year, I guess.” You stuffed the rest of the things in your bag, shouldered it, and headed toward your apartment. I didn’t expect him to follow you, much like you didn’t expect him to have questions. It shouldn’t have surprised you when he did, still clutching your ruined essay in his gloved hands. Even standing, he felt like an indominable presence.

“Next year?”

“The deadline is tomorrow morning, and I don’t have time to rewrite it.”

“Couldn’t you submit it online?”

“Can’t. Electrocutioner zapped the foundation office last week and online systems are down until further notice. They refused to extend the deadline, so we’re forced to submit by mail or in person.” You decided to write yours by hand to stand out from the other applicants, a decision that you were now kicking yourself for.

Hood scoffed. “That’s stupid.”

“That’s Gotham,” you deadpanned, “Our city can’t shut down every time there’s an incident between Batman and the villain of the month. This was my last-ditch effort to secure money before the start of the new semester. I’ve tried the usual avenues with little success, even Wayne Enterprises despite being fundamentally against him and the expectations set by his foundations.”

Most came with an unpaid internship within a branch of the company. The experience alone would launch most student’s careers, but unpaid work did more harm than good for someone like you. Besides, you had no interest in business or medical research. Honestly, you should have never applied in the first place, but desperation drove people to do stupid things.

“I’ll try again next you,” you finished with another disinterest shrug. You prayed it looked convincing. “The writing program isn’t going anywhere, and I don’t need it to make it in the industry.”

Your stomach lurched. That program, Gotham University, could open doors you could only dream of knocking on—especially when it came to making connections. This industry was about who you knew rather than what.

You stopped and Hood stopped with you. Hood didn’t need to join you in your pity party. Your apartment sat around the corner. The fact that he had followed you this far should have unsettled you, but you felt oddly empty as you turned to face him.

Your eyes locked, even with the helmet shielding his. You wished to see his expression. Or know what his face looked like underneath. Were his eyes blue or brown, his hair light or dark? You didn’t even know what his voice sounded like without the modulation. Did it matter? He saved you. He empathized with your situation. It was more than you ever expected.

“I can make it from here,” you assured him, “I live around the corner and if someone jumps me between now and then, well, I know you’ll hear me scream.” You laughed, trying to make light of a situation that weighed heavily on your chest.

“Thanks for saving me,” you added when he failed to respond.

He offered the papers and the weight on your chest increased tenfold. “Are you sure you don’t want them? You could copy the part you can still read.”

You shook your head. “I’m not going to sweat it.”

But you would cry over it, probably into a bag of chips or a pint of ice cream while Bridgerton played in the background, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Sometimes these things aren’t meant to be.”

Hood inclined his head as if he wanted to say something more. You waited, more curious than anything. Another beat passed before his hands fell back to his side. “Try to stay out of trouble. I won’t always be around to save you.”

But he was tonight and that was all that mattered. You were about to tell him as much, but he had already turned to walk away. You watched him go until the shadows swallowed him, and only then did you turn to go home.

#writing #batfam #jason todd #batman #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red hood #fanfic ao3 #fanfiction #dc comics #dear daddy long legs fic

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kittykat-25 · 4 months ago

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Not Alone - an S.Coups Story

Pairing: Seungcheol x F. Reader

Genre: strangers x friends x lovers, Hurt x Comfort, found family, seventeen being the best friends and brothers.

Synopsis: After begging the famous K-pop sensation S.Coups for help in the Seoul street market your life completely flips upside down, bringing you true friendship and a chance at true love.

Warnings: brief show of domestic violence

A/N: This story is purely fiction. It talks about harsh things such as domestic violence, suicide and anxiety. This in no way represents the artist or their families. It is all made up🫶🏻

Chapter 2

As you walked through the crowded streets of the market you could feel eyes on you, looked at the reflection in the window you passed, seeing the man his face concealed by a hoodie quickly walking behind you. You pulled out your phone going to call your friend, but of course it was dead. You pulled your jacket closer around you and weaved in and out of the people. You felt a hand wrap around the back of your jacket, pulling you backward, you roughly shoving through the crowd and slip out of his grasp only to run into a solid chest, a hand comes around your waist to steady you. “Help me.” You begged quietly, hoping this guy was nice enough to step in. He looked over the top of your head to the man who had stopped in his tracks. His arm tightened around you. “Can I help you?” He asked, his voice deep and smooth. Your head buried in the man’s chest vibrated as his voice rings out, his hold on you obstructing your view until he stepped back, “he’s gone, are you okay?” He asked, you pull yourself together and look up at the face of the man who saved you. “Thank you,” your eyes take in the handsome face, and when recognition hits you take another step back bowing slightly. “I’m so sorry.” The man chuckled, “it’s alright I’m happy to help. I’m Cheol.” He said sticking out his hand. “I-I know, I’m y/n.” You shook his hand, he gave you a wide gummy smile. You smiled softly before pulling your hand back. Not wanting to impose the idol more than you had. “Well thank you again. Have a good day.” You said quickly, bowing again before turning to walk away. Cheol watched you walk briskly away, his hand still outstretched. As you walked through the thinning crowd you face a crimson color, you had just begged Choi Seungcheol for help. A freaking famous idol and he had helped without thought. Oh you were never going to be able to show your face in public again if any of this came out. You shook your head, laughing to yourself not feeling the new set of eyes watch you walk away.

The bell chimed as you entered your favorite coffee shop, a bit out of your way but the small shop was cozy and you had a million things to do. You walked up to the counter and ordered your Americano before turning, you locked eyes with a man who gave you a small smile, his eye catching the discolored bruise across your cheek. Half smiling back you went to the comfortable booth in the back to set your stuff down. You knew the man looked familiar but couldn’t place where you had seen him. You grabbed your order and walked back to the table. Slipping into work mode you didn’t notice the group of men coming in. You looked up, eyes locking with the same deep brown pair from the market, his smile fading as he too noticed the bruise marring your face. You quickly looked back down at your screen, the blush creeping up your neck. You slowly look back up and find five pairs of eyes, all belonging to members of seventeen staring at you before they all quickly look away, not wanting to be caught. Chuckling you focus on your work, not letting the idols distract you.

Checking the time you quietly packed up your stuff and tried to avoid looking towards the other table, you had caught S.Coups looking towards you multiple times a small smile gracing His face if your eyes made contact. Currently he was laughing with his members, at one of the other’s expense. You walked towards the door, knowing your boyfriend would be here any minute to pick you up. You had almost made it to the door when a voice rang out, “hi again.” Scoups said, you turned a gave a slight bow, “hi again.” The other members sat up as their leader gestured you towards them. Looking back towards the door you walked over to them, “so you must be the girl Scoups-ssi supposedly saved the other day?” One of them spoke, you recognized him as well, Jeonghan. Scoups cut his eyes at his friends, but you spoke before he could defend himself. “I am, I’m very grateful he helped when I practically ran him over.” You chuckled. “What happened to get a nasty bruise?” One of the others asked, your hands touched the tender spot, “my desk was closer than I thought.” You said with a sad smile. You looked towards the window to see you boyfriend walking down the street, you inched away from the group of men, “it was nice to see you again, and thanks for the help.” You said as a goodbye. “Wait I never got your name?” The leader said standing up from his seat. Jeonghan smirking at one of the other men. “Y/n” you said as your boyfriend swung the shop door open, eyes cutting towards you. “Let’s go.” He snapped, not waiting as he walked back outside. The men all looked at each other then at you, “have a nice day.” You muttered following him outside. Scoups still standing, watched as the man gripped your wrist until you flinched and all but pulled you down the street. “Well that answers that question- truthfully.” Joshua said as Scoups sat back down. “What?” Mingyu asked, focused solely on his croissant. “How she got the bruise.” Jeonghan answered bitterly, glancing at his friend, who was still staring at the sidewalk where you had been standing.

As you follow your boyfriend down the street you can feel the dread as you get closer to the apartment you spend most of your time at. “I really should go home babe, I need to finish the product revision before Monday.” He scoffs at you, pulling you harder his grip getting tighter until you enter the building, The elevator door shut, “you’re hurting me.” You said as you pull against his grip. He yanked you inside the apartment, shoving you to the floor as he shut the door, his voice harsh, “My grip is the least of your problems.” The lock snapping into place was the last thing you remember hearing as he fist came down at your head and darkness swept in.

A/N: Hihihi!! I hope you enjoy the first chapter! The second will be longer I swear😅

Let me know if you want to be in the taglist🤍

@hi-cherry @hwasddeongbyeoli

#seventeen #svt x reader #scoups x you #friends to lovers #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan #joshua

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fariconfashion · 1 year ago

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kenuis · 1 year ago

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Come Through and Chill || plug!draken x fem!reader

You were just supposed to pick up some bud for the weekend... so how did you end up in bed with the hottest plug around?

Cw:weed, pussy eating, finger sucking, ptv, dirty talk, squirting, draken has a big cock (like coke can thick), belly bulge, pet names (baby, angel, good girl), not beta read (we die like men)

WC: 7.9 k I don't wanna talk about it.

Extra: Plug! Draken playlist.

‘Come through as soon as you’re off work, I got you.’

Blinking down at your bright phone screen you blink once, then twice. You hadn’t expected him to respond that quick in all honesty. “Hey girl.”

“Umm hello?!”

“Hey!”

You jolt as your friend calls your name, an amused tilt to her voice as she takes in your blotchy red cheeks. Tucking your phone away lightning quick you clear your throat, slumping back against the counter. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come out tonight?” Shaking your head, you cross your arms over your midsection as she tosses you a knowing smirk. You chew on your lower lip as trays of food and drinks whizz by you. Your legs and feet ache, hours of doing exactly what your co-workers are currently doing wearing on you. Your closest work friend raises her eyebrows as she leans her elbow against the shelf opposite of you. “So what’s the big plan then if you’re gonna be all by your lonesome?” You shrug, tucking your hands in your hoodie pockets, rubbing your finger over the ring that lays on your thumb. It’s a nervous habit you haven’t quite learned how to break. The spinning of the metal helps to center your thoughts as you stand there. You’ve already ordered a meal to take home after your shift, a bottle of wine in your fridge and endless hours of Netflix to carry you through the next few hours that will bleed into your first two solid days off in over a week. There was only one thing you were missing. Your phone buzzes again and your eyebrows hit your hairline.

`1 location attached.`

‘No rush though, just wanna make sure you find the place okay.’

A place you’d been quite a few times if you recalled correctly. Sure the nights of partying were a little hazy, but you’d been to this particular spot enough times to know your way on your own.

‘I’ll let you know when I’m on my way, it shouldn't be too much longer.’

“Umm, just gonna pick up some smoke and then go home and veg. I’ve worked so many doubles over the past week.” It’s your co workers turn for her eyebrows to hit her hairline. Her smirk grows and the amused tone in her voice quickly turns to teasing as she straightens up to pinch your cheeks.

“Ohhh you’re gonna go see that hot ass mechanic that was eyeing you up last weekend.”

You smack her hand away, trying to hide the way your face burns. “it’s not like that, I swear.”

“Suuuure.” She grabs your chin in her hand, squishing your cheeks together while she makes you look at her. “Is that why you gave him your number the last time we pulled through there? Cause you ‘just need bud.’” She giggles as she makes air quotes with the other hand. Letting out a snort, you manage to smack her hands away. “I’m serious!” Laughing you grab the to go box as the cook behind the window calls your name out. You grab what you’ve been waiting on and book it out the door, trying to ignore her hoots and hollers of, `it’s about damn time.`

The night air is sticky, twilight blues and purple mixing with the fading pink and orange that paints the sky that’s about to throw her dark blanket of night over. Your keys dangle from your hand, jingling together as you walk towards your car. I

t’s a perfect evening, with most of the summer heat knocking out of the air the darker it got. Setting your food and bag in the passenger seat, you pull your phone out as you fiddle around with the stereo system. Bobbing your head along to the song that starts, you find the last message thread you had pulled up on your phone. ‘Draken’ complete with a little dragon emoji makes you roll your eyes.

‘On my way. Be there in 20.’

‘Perfect. It’s right under the mat, just like I said. Enjoy, angel.’

Confused.

That’s the first feeling that creeps up on you as you walk down the hallway to his apartment. Usually it’s louder, a whole crowd that normally gathers here on Friday and Saturday evenings. There’s almost always music going, laughter coming from inside, the smell of food. It’s why you’d asked him to leave what you needed somewhere you could find it. The thought of being around tons of people after a long day of serving customers made you want to curl up in a ball, hidden away from the world.

Checking your watch you let out a small ‘huh’. It wasn’t late at all. 9pm glows up at you from your watch. It was early sure but still by now there would be at least some type of noise coming from the apartment.

Shrugging it off as you walk up to the door, you crouch down. Fingers brushing the rough edge of the door mat, you lift it only to find it empty underneath. Your brow knits together as you lift the entire thing only to find nothing but cold concrete staring up at you. Rising with a groan, you brush your hands off, watching as dust falls to the cement below your feet. Raising a fist, you almost hesitate, but as your foot hits the edge of the mat, another flash of annoyance shoots through you.

All your weekend plans consisted of were your tv, your snacks, your wine and unfortunately, his bud. Letting out a sharp sigh, you knock, the rapping of your knuckles on the black door breaking apart the silence that hangs heavy in the hallway.

Rocking back and forth on your heels as you wait, you pull your phone out. No new notifications flash on the screen and you open your messages, shooting one off before you knock again. You hear the chime of his phone and cross your arms over your mid section, waiting as you hear footsteps approaching the door. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, seeing that you’re still alone in the hallway when the door swings open, causing you to stop short and your mouth to dry out all in one swoop when you turn back to look at him.

The first thing you note is that he’s fresh out of the shower. A wafting scent of fresh pine, whatever scented soap he uses drifting across your nose. It tickles your senses, drifting into your nose. But that’s not where your eyes zero in.

Your eyes flick down to the exposed skin of his abdomen. He’s in the middle of pulling on a black t-shirt, the material catching and sticking to still wet skin. Water droplets roll down the ridges of his muscles, carving a wet path that your tongue would kill to follow. His abdomen is on a brief display for you, each outline of solid muscle searing into your mind’s eye. The deep V of his hips seem like they were chiseled out of marble, something you would find in the finest art galleries.

Your eyes flick back up, trying to pull your attention away from the hard lines and dips in his skin. His shirt flutters into place but at this point none of that even helps.

Wide eyes catch the dip of confusion in his brows, the way they knit together as dark eyes take in your form in front of him. Trailing down to see the frown that tugs at the corner of his mouth, pink lips opening and forming words. Forming words? Shit, he was talking to you and you couldn’t get your eyes off the droplet of water that trailed down his neck and clavicle, disappearing underneath his shirt. It warps around the gold chain that he pulls out of his collar and your stomach rolls at how insanely attractive the motion of his fingers and the sparkling gold against his skin is. “-okay angel?” Snapping your eyes to his, you swallow dryly . He raises a brow at you now, the tiniest upturn of his lips and the amusement that flashed through his eyes has you flushing. He definitely caught you checking him out. Finally your brain catches up to what he’s asked you. “Everything okay angel?” Blinking quickly, you look down at your feet, shoes scraping the doormat. It reminds you of the reason you knocked on the door in the first place. Looking back up at him, your lips curl over your teeth by a fraction. Frustration returns to your body, grounding you as you seem to snap out of your thoughts.

“Yeah uhhh.” The edge of your shoe catches the welcome mat and you nudge it. “I’m missin’ a little something.” His brows dip again, but then an exasperated sigh is falling from his lips and a light dusting of pink dances across the tip of his nose up to his ears. One hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, his bicep straining against the arm of the t-shirt he’d just put on. His other hand tucks into the pocket of his gray sweats. “Fuck I got caught up. Lowkey I was supposed to put your shit under the door when I got home and I had to handle something on the phone so I forgot.” He looks so endearingly bashful, the annoyance that has settled in your chest dissipates like smoke. Awkwardly, you scuff your toe against the ground, shrugging as nonchalantly as you can manage. “It’s fine I just, was hopin to get it and go.”

“Here, come on in and I’ll get it for you.” He moves to the side, a jerk of his chin the only hint of an invite you get to coming inside. Still feeling awkward inside of your own skin, you follow him in, arms still crossed like a shield. You offer him a tiny half smile as you cross the threshold, moving past him. There’s a crackle of electricity as you move past him that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight.

Chewing on the corner of your lip as you turn to look at him, you find heated and amused onyx eyes trained on you, His mouth tugs up in the corner again and a smirk spreads across his cheeks. “Whatcha lookin so nervous for?” He moves past you, his movements, fluid and smooth. When he moves past you, he glances slightly over his shoulder with a wink. “I don’t bite. Come on, my shit’s in my room.” There’s a heat that crawls up your neck and face, and you’re sure that your whole face is on fire as you trail behind him, hands going into your hoodie pockets. You’ve left your shoes at the front door, and your socked feet pad quietly behind him. “Didn’t say you did. Just kinda weird in here when ‘s quiet.” He chuckles as he opens the door to a room you recall being in once. It’d been filled with hazy smoke, and there’d been people packed in here like sardines, passing around blunts and listening to bass heavy music. You also briefly remember that it’s the night he put his number in your phone. You’d been leaning against the desk that night, while he sat in his desk chair right next to you.

At one point you’d been zoned out, sufficiently buzzed and listening to all the noise around you. A single finger had looped in your belt loop and tugged to get your attention. He’d checked on you, made sure you were good and given you water, watching with eyes that were more alert than they should have been for someone who had smoked as much as he had. His finger stayed hooked in the belt loop of your shorts the entire conversation and he’d only let go when your friends called your name, dragging you out of the room. But not before he’d tugged on your shorts, plucking your phone out of your back pocket. He put his number in and shot you a look that could only be described as heated. “In case you’re ever in need of some good bud.” Recalling the heat that had flowed in between the two of you, you want to bolt out of there like the entire place is on fire. It’s unnerving, it makes your insides hot and the feeling makes something in you burn specifically for the man in front of you to look at you the way he did just a mere week ago. “Yeah, ‘s a lil weird when people aren’t here but it’s nice to have a quiet night in. My roommates are both out tonight. Eatin’ at your joint tonight I think Did you just get out of work?” He takes a seat at his desk, turning the chair so he’s facing you. He pats the bed that’s pushed up next to it, motioning for you to take a seat.

Hopping up, you nearly groan in relief at being off your feet and something so soft. His eyebrows raise as he pulls out a scale, a jar full of bud and a small green pill bottle from the bottom drawer of his desk. “You good?” If your face gets any hotter, you’re pretty sure you’re going to resemble the surface of the sun. “Yeah I’m good. Just had a long day at work. I opened the restaurant this morning and ended up staying later than I mean to cover one of the other girls who was late and…” You trail off with a shrug as you tuck your hands into the sleeves of your oversized hoodie. “I didn’t realize how much my feet hurt until I sat down.” “Mmmm.” He makes a non committal noise as he measures out product. Long deft fingers are fucking with the scale, placing a pill bottle on it and dropping little green nugs into it. “You said 3gs right?” “Uh yeah. Don’t need much, just a little to relax this weekend. I finally have a weekend off and I’m gonna take full advantage of it.” You grin despite yourself, thoughts of a freshly rolled blunt and food with a bottle of wine and the softness of your couch filling you with happiness.

“Damn girl, look at you.” The tips of your ears start to feel the same heat as your face as he looks at you with a teasing grin. “Got any specific plans?” “I’m going to melt into my couch and not move for three days.” You bite your lower lip when he fully turns to you, a thoughtful look crossing his handsome face. He twirls the pill bottle in his fingers as he looks at you, eyes half lidded with an emotion you’re not sure you want to name.

The both of you are friends, acquaintances really and you’re not entirely sure if you’re ready to cross the line to anything besides that. But the way he’s looking at you promises something inevitable. He holds the bottle out for you and before your fingertips even brush it, he snatches it back towards himself, a smirk planted on his mouth. “How about you start your relaxing weekend here?”

Your brows furrow and your lip sticks out in the softest pout. A sharp protest sits at the tip of your tongue and you can’t help the whine that comes out in your tone. “Hey!”

“How about… You start the relaxation now?” Your brow furrows as he speaks, confusion flitting across your face. You stare at him for a long moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“What do you mean?” “I mean, smoke with me.” He leans backwards in his chair, reaching for a pack of blunts. Honey white owls, the same as he had at the party. It’s a good flavor, one of your favorites and it’s so tempting to start now. His bed is soft and his room is surprisingly clean, and it smells like a mix of his cologne and extremely good bud. Plus it’s one on one time that you two have never had before outside of a stolen moment of him grabbing you a drink in the middle of one of his and his roommate’s parties. “Come on angel, I don’t bite and it looks like you could use the chance to unwind.” “I have food in the car.” It’s the only thing that comes out when your mouth opens even though the word ‘yes’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. “I don’t want it goin bad or anything…” Trailing off, when his onyx orbs stay planted on yours, you realize that any argument is futile and you sigh. The mega watt grin that he gives you speaks of his satisfaction over his victory and he holds his hand out. “Gimme your keys. I’ll bring your food in and put it in the kitchen for ya.” Smacking your lanyard in his outstretched palm, you can’t help but roll your eyes at his instance and the boyish charm that drifts across his face. In exchange, he plops a rolling tray in your lap with strict instructions to start rolling while he gets your things sorted.

This is crazy. Absolutely insane that one smile from this male had you turning into putty in front of him and you grumble under your breath but get to rolling away. When he walks out it’s silent except for the sounds of the metal grinder in your hands.

It’s a familiar mindless process of rolling, and you do it quickly and efficiently. By the time he walks back in with your purse in hand you’re licking the end of the blunt wrap to seal it. His eyes flick down to your pink tongue that sticks out from your pretty glossed lips. You don’t even notice as you’re focused on what you’re doing, brow furrowed cutely in frustration.

“Lemme see how good you did ma.” Your eyes flick up to his at the use of the pet name at the end of his sentence and you give him a bland look that has his lip tugging up in a smile again. You hand him the blunt before leaning forward to place his rolling tray on the desk, not realizing as you do that he’s already walking forwards. Your shoulder bumps into his abdomen, the same chiseled one you spotted earlier when he was sliding his shirt on.

You scowl when you hear his low chuckle sound throughout the room. “If you wanted to hug me that badly you should have asked.” Your lip curls over your teeth as he plops down on the bed in front of you. “You think you’re real slick aren’t you?” “I know I am.” He throws you a wink as he polyps down on the bed, leaning against the wall as you lean back against the headboard, pulling your knees up. Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he hands the blunt back to you along with the lighter. “Guests light up.” “Thanks.” There’s a soft shick of the lighter sparking, and then a sizzle as you hold it to the end of the blunt and inhale. Draken doesn’t say anything while you take your first deep inhale, instead opting to turn on the bluetooth speaker that rests on the shelf mounted to the wall above his bed. There’s a gentle boom of the system connecting, and then a few notes fill the room before music starts to flow out. Despite your reservations your shoulders relax a fraction as you blow out the smoke you’ve held in, the familiar pepper and citrus taste of the bud heavy in your airway and drifting over your tongue. You take another deep inhale, deep enough to make your lashes flutter and you’re completely unaware of the eyes that are currently glued to your face.

Draken doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone as pretty as you. All soft curves and shiny locks. A pretty smile that stretches wide over your cheeks. The way your head tilts back a little when you laugh and your nose scrunches. Truthfully, he was floored the first time you rolled up with your friends at one of the infamous house parties. You looked so out of place, skittish and shy until your friend shoved a blunt in your direction and told you to relax. Come to find out there’s a little fire, a spark that simmers underneath the shy outer shell. He can’t help that you’re intriguing enough for him to want to know what it looks like when you strip away all the layers to where you burn. Burn for him.

Your eyes open as you let out your second inhale and you lean forward, holding out the blunt for him. Your small, soft hands brush past his large calloused ones and the warmth that radiates off of them makes him want to groan as he thinks about how they would look wrapped around his length. He has to fight the temptation to grab one down while he places the blunt to his lips, right in the place where your glossed lips have been.

The cherry flavor from your lips gloss lingers on the blunt, mixing with the flavor of weed and the blunt wrap. His mind drifts to the thought of what you would taste like. If he sucks your tongue, would you taste like cherry and bud and something else? He inhales and looks at you again through heavy lids. Truthfully he’d smoked half a blunt the minute he’d gotten off work, but the thought of sharing one with you was too tempting to pass up.

When you’d sunk onto his mattress like it was your salvation he jumped at his chance and for now, he can tell he made the right call.

Now that he’s got you here though, there’s a little bit of hesitancy that lingers in the pit of his stomach. It’s been a long time since he’s tried something like this with someone who’s caught his attention like you have. It makes his insides churn with anticipation and he can’t help but sigh out his inhale, the smoke curling out of his mouth. One of the first things he noticed about you is that you don’t have the need to fill the silence with empty words. You’re content sitting with him in the silence, and it’s something he appreciates after a full day of dealing with customers. He takes his second inhale before he’s handing the blunt back. His eyes stay on yours when he wonders when this.. Tension that’s been building between the two of you is going to pop.

It’s like a bubble that traps the two of you in it, but instead of expanding, it shrinks, pressing down and pushing you two into each other. It’s been a month and a half since the first time you graced his doorstep and he’s thought of you every other minute since.

You’re about halfway through the blunt when you let out a sigh, sinking a little further into the pillows. You lick your lips and he tracks the way the tip of your tongue wets your plus mouth. Bloodshot eyes drift up to look into his, and he watches as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Thanks for this. I really needed it.” “Any time angel. You know. You’re kind of my favorite customer. Although you can’t tell anyone else that. They might start askin’ for special treatment and then I’ll be outta a side hustle.” He reaches over and grips your ankle, tugging a little in jest. His thumb brushes over the pretty anklet dangling around it and the minute the metal hits his thumb something shifts.

He traces the delicate gold chain, running his thumb over the tiny links. It glints against your skin, a little angel dangling from the chain and resting against the hollow of your ankle. A low dangerous chuckle vibrates through his chest even though the energy in the room is anything but light hearted. “Guess I was spot on with the nickname.”

“Yeah…” Your voice is just as low as his, as if, if you speak too loudly you’ll break whatever tentative vibe has taken over the room. “Um Draken?” “Ken.” He mumbles it as he moves, leaning a little closer. He leans on his elbow with your feet near his abdomen, nearly laying on his side as he blinks over at you. “Call me Ken.” “Ken..” The sound of his name leaving your mouth in a near whimper does him completely in.

Before he thinks too much, before his nerves get the best of him, he places the blunt directly in between your lips. There’s not much left to it, maybe one last hit. “Finish it.” There’s a soft demand in his tone and the feeling in his chest gives way to admiration as you do exactly as you’re told. “Ash tray is on the desk.” He murmurs the sentence out as he presses his lips directly to your anklet. You let out a soft whine before you swallow dryly, half lidded eyes taking in the sight of this big broad man laying the softest kidd on your skin. “I…” “You can tell me to stop when you want me to.” He looks up at you, his nose skimming the skin of your calf. The sight of it, the heat from the weed and the overall tension pops as you shake your head. “Don’t… Please don’t stop.” Your cheeks burn even hotter than before when he grins a heated smile up at you. Your breath starts to come a little faster as he works his way up your leg, large, rough, warm calloused hands moving up your calves to the back of your knees, spreading them wide enough for him to slot himself between. His hands don’t stop moving, massaging your sore calves. His fingers knead the knotted muscles so expertly and gently, you can’t help but melt into the touch. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth drops open in a groan. The moment your attention is off of him, he takes his chance, grabbing you and sliding your hips forward. You yelp in surprise when your back meets the mattress and he gives another deep chuckle, one that shoots a bolt of heat straight to your core. You’ve always been touchy when high, when your senses are heightened to a point where pleasure gets overwhelming. You swallow thickly and open your eyes so they’re glued to his. The music in the room continues to fill the space where both of you linger, and you’re unwilling to break the vibe besides a groan when his hands move from your calves to the top of your thighs. Squirming despite yourself, your eyes finally fall from his to where the backs of your thighs rest on the top of his. He’s broad in between your legs and your heart jumps in your chest as he moves to sit back on his heels. Draken’s - no Ken - is glued to the apex of your thighs, right where your clothed core rests. It’s right below his growing erection and the sight of you squirming underneath it makes him impossibly harder. “Fuck that’s a fuckin’ pretty sight.” You may have been unwilling to break the silence but a high Ken is also a vocal and touchy Ken. Reaching down, his hands skim up your thighs, over the flesh of your plush ass to your waist. He grips it hard, tugging you to sit up so he can slot his mouth against yours. Even cotton mouthed from smoking, it’s the sloppiest kiss of your life, His soft lips meet yours and he presses hard, claiming your mouth. He consumes you, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He strokes it against yours, one of his hands coming up to thread in the strands of hair at the nape of your neck. His fingers thread into your hair and he tugs, tilting your head back so your throat is exposed. A whimper leaves your throat and small hands come up to clutch at his forearms.

You push back against him, tentatively letting your tongue meet his, stroke for stroke. There’s little strings of saliva that connect the two of you when he finally finds it in him to pull away. It’s lewd and wet, your eyes glazed over as they flick down to take in the sight. The hand on your waist leaves, coming up to tap on your lower lip. “Open.” The command is stern, growled out in impatience until you obey, mouth dropping open. You cling to the edges of your shyness, and as much as he finds it endearing, he’s waited too long for this. “Stick out your tongue.” You’re practically panting as you do as you’re told and two fingers are laid on the wet pink muscle, rubbing against it. Your eyes widen and another whine slides out around his fingers, muffled and wet. “There we go. Feels good doesn’t it?” This man hasn’t even gotten you out of your clothing and you feel like you’re going to cum already. How he figured out your oral fixation you’ll never know but he’s exploiting it to it’s extent, moving his fingers in and out of your mouth. All you can do is cling to him and suck, little whimpers and moans falling out around his large fingers. Your hips start moving on their own accord, rolling against him until he’s tugging you into his lap, settling your aching core over his tented sweats. His hand in your hair trails down to your hip, rolling you over his erection with a groan. Every noise you make spurs on his insatiable need, and even though he feels impatient, even though he feels like tearing through every layer of clothing you two currently have on, it’s nothing compared to the desperate way your hips are chasing your high.

“Shhhhh.” The hand at your hip cups your ass, squeezing the denim of your shorts. The seam presses into your dripping core, the pressure of it and his length currently pressing into it with every roll of your hips makes electricity creep up your spine. Your eyes widen and you begin sucking his fingers even harder as the band in your belly starts to tighten. “Go ahead. Go ahead angel, show me how good this feels.”

Your eyes drift shut and your brow furrows just as cutely as he knew it would. A single tear gathers on the corner of your shut eye and with a shudder you come apart on top of him, just from him grinding you down on him and letting you suck on his fingers. He guides your hips against him the whole way through it, waiting until your mouth lets up on his fingers. Waits until the fierce sucking of his fingers eases into small kitten licks and your hips slow to a stop.

“That good baby?”

You can’t believe you feel this good already. Your mind is already halfway numb from a combination of the weed and his overwhelming presence, but a shyness lingers around the edges of your psyche and you can’t help the flush that takes over your cheeks. His fingers draw out slow, gentle as he drags them down your lower lip and over your chin. Realization of how easily he’s turned you to putty in his hands washes over you and your eyes widen a fraction.

Embarrassed, you lean forward, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. His entire chest rumbles with a deep laugh that sounds more like a rumble. “I.. I’m sorry I….”

He shifts, moving the both of you. Your world spins and all of a sudden you find yourself still in his lap, but now he’s got his back against the headboard. “That was the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long fuckin time.” Opening your mouth to apologize for a second time, you don’t even have the chance to say a single word when his mouth claims yours again. This kiss is hotter than the last one, a new burning passion to see you fall apart coming through every stroke of his lips. He swallows your whines, only breaking apart from you whip your shirt and hoodie off of your frame. You can’t even believe for a second that you let him, raising your arms to help. The sight of you sitting there in your pretty lace bra lights an even hotter fire in onyx orbs. Fingers dance up your spine while he brings his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking a line across your jaw and down your neck. You melt, hands slipping underneath his shirt to trace your fingers along the ridges of his abdomen. You trace every muscle with curious fingertips until you splay your palms flat on his stomach pushing his shirt up and over his head. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” The compliment flows from his lips as he sucks on your collar bone. You’re grateful you have the next three days off, because the marks he’s leaving are going to be impossible to cover up. Another soft whine leaves your lips as his tongue flattens and runs over the swell of your breast. The sight of it makes fire lick up your insides but a flash of silver in the middle of the pink muscle makes you stop cold. He has a fucking tongue piercing.

Currently he’s using that to his advantage as he slides your bra off, gathering both of your breasts in his hands and kneading the fat as he pushes them together. “Pretty fuckin’ tits. Fuckin’gorgeous.” His thumb swirls over your nipple before he’s dragging his tongue over it so the ball of his piercing flicks it hard. You squeal, squirming in his hold. You’re tempted to dart out of his lap, roll off of him and take a breather but he bucks his hips up at the same time he scrapes his teeth across the stiffened peak and your head tips back, another sinful moan falling from your mouth.

He shifts and the world spins again, your back hitting the plush mattress as he leans over you, raining kisses down your rib cage, sucking on the skin so hard it bruises. He does this in a path all the way down your abdomen, and you never thought you’d be this needy after already cumming, but there is a pulsing want and ache that only he can fill pulsing in between your legs. You’re practically panting by the time he reaches the spot you need him the most.

Your thighs are practically shaking when his big hands grab the back, pushing them towards your chest. A sharp nose runs up the seam of your shorts up to the button. “W-Wait, I…” “God you smell so fuckin good. I gotta taste you baby. Need to see how pretty she looks after she came for me.” Dark lashes brush his cheek bones as he looks up at you and pops the button of your shorts open with his teeth. You swallow thickly and thread your fingers into his hair, almost tugging it free from the ponytail it’s in as you lift your hips for him to slide your shorts off.

The rumbling growl that leaves his chest makes your eyes roll back, and your weeping hole to clench around nothing. His thumbs come up to your folds, spreading them open for him as you buck your hips up, chest heaving with deprived pants. “Please. Please.” You beg without even really knowing what you’re begging for, just needing something, anything to relieve the fire that’s starting to consume. Your high still hasn’t worn off and the extra sensitivity from where his touch presses into you is driving you close to the edge. “Ken, please.”

“Look at me.” His rough tone is demanding, drawing your attention to him as your mouth twists in desperation. “Keep your eyes on me or I stop. Ya hear me angel?”

You nod, but his hand darts out to grab your jaw, squeezing your cheeks until you speak, your tone cracking a little with want. “Yes, I hear you.” “Good girl.” His eyes stay on yours as he dips down, releasing your jaw in favor for spreading you wider. He purses his lips, before he lets out a long string of saliva, thumbs spreading you open again so he can watch as it drips in between your folds. You clench even though you’re achingly empty, a soft gasp filling the air in between you too. It bleeds into loud keen when his mouth finally touches you.

He sucks one of your folds into his mouth and your hands tighten in his hair as he alternates, sucking them until they turn puffy, swollen and aching with need. He moans into your pussy, running his tongue through your slick until the ball of his piercing flicks harshly against your clit. A squeal sounds from above him and he does it again, over and over until you’re bucking wildly onto his tongue.

He should prep you. He needs to prep you but your walls are already to spasm around his tongue and he’ll be damned if he lets you come anywhere but his cock.

Pulling away and sitting up just enough to work his dick out, he thrusts forward, his heavy, thick cock smacking against your abdomen. Your eyes fly open and you look down, letting out a desperate whine when you realize his length extends well past your belly button.

He’s got the prettiest, heaviest cock you’ve ever seen. Swollen and red, the slit weeping pretty pearls of precum that streak your stomach as he lets his length smack down on your abdomen again. “‘S not gonna fit.”

You look up at him with wide watery eyes, lips parted as you pant despondently. But no matter how much your voice shakes, your hips move, trying to slip him inside as desire takes over every cell in your body. “Ken, ‘s not gonna-” He chuckles breathlessly, sweat starting to break out on his hairline as he draws back to rub the aching head of his cock along your folds. “‘S gonna fit angel. Imma make it fit.” Slowly, he pushes in, head tilting back as he starts to push in despite the resistance he’s met with. You’re so fuckin’ tight he’s pretty sure that he’s already ready to blow his load and he’s only got the tip in. “Goddamn. Fuuuuuck.” The little high pitched whines that fall from your plush mouth and he can’t helo but reach down and grab your waist in his broad hands. Grip bruinsingly tight, he fucks into you, pulling out and fucking back in shallowly, inch by agonizing inch. Your pussy is gripped around him so tight it’s practically strangling his cock. “Relax ‘f me. God you’re so fuckin’ tight angel. Need you to relax.” A shuddering breath leaves your mouth, and his thumb drifts down to the little bundle of nerves that pokes out, working it in slow circles. Your thighs shake even more as you give. Your walls relax, eyes rolling back as his entire length finally sinks into you. A wet cry leaves your throat as tears leak from your eyes and the man above you lets out a moan so deep you feel it in your own soul. “There it is. Fuckin’ took the whole thing. Such a good girl.” Your hands grip the sheets, lower lip trembling as a tiny sob leaves your mouth. “Ken… so full. I’m so full. ‘S too big Ken. ‘S too fucking bi-” Before you can finish your sentence he’s pulling out and sliding back in, using the grip he has on your waist to drag you up and down his length. You cry out, loud and high as he bumps into your cervix. Your chest heaves and you squeeze your eyes shut as he starts to move you up and down. He’s so big and broad and strong all you can do is lay there and take it as he moves you up and down, eyes glued to the way your slick is coating his cock, how some of it sticks to his abdomen. Strings of slick connect the two of you as he moves you, practically the length of his cock, soaking even his thighs. One of his warm palms spreads out over your abdomen and he pushes down on the bulge that’s appeared. His mouth practically pours out filth as he pushes on his cock pushing through your stomach and you scream his name. “Fuck baby. Look at that. Pokin’ through your stomach. You look so fuckin sexy like this. So fuckin pretty all fucked out on my cock. You like that baby?” You nod, sobbing as he starts to move you faster, your clit hitting his pelvis with every rough smack of his hips. The orgasm that hits you, hits you out of nowhere, hard and fast and so overwhelming that you see nothing but pure white. “‘M cummin’ fuck fuck fuck fuck ‘m cummin!” Your legs kick out and shake as your cream around his cock, a frothy ring of white forming as he fucks you. He hasn’t let up, his grip still tight on your waist as he moves you, rolling his hips into and fucking you onto him. His head dips down into the crook of your neck, heavy pants brushing past the skin of your neck as you sob and keen through your orgasm. Your hands fly up to bury into his hair, moving until your arms are wrapped around his neck. All you can do is hang on as he fucks up into, using your body for his pleasure. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well angel. You were made for it. Made to take my cock.” His breath stutters on the sentence as your velvet walls pulse around him and you whimper, your nails digging into his muscular shoulders. His masculine scent envelopes you, and everything about him crowds your senses as he drives into you. The entire room is filled with the sounds of your slick squelching around his cock, the cries that fall from your mouth and the filthy words he breathes harshly into your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up. I have to. Have to fill this fuckin’. Perfect. Pussy.” Each word of is enunciated by a sharp thrust of his hips and you practically wail out his name.

“Can’t.. Can’t take anymore Ken please.” Bleary, misty eyes look up at him, blinking past tears as your body jolts with the force of each thrust. His pace is picking up and he’s huffing out deep breaths, and you can tell by the way his abdomen tightens that he’s about to cum. His thrusts are getting sloppier, but you’re right on the edge with him, walls starting to clamp down again. “Ken I can’t!” “You can.” He places a soft kiss right under your jaw, dragging his lips up until they’re resting against yours. “I know you can. Give me one more baby.” You try to shake your head but your mouth falls open when a hand snakes between you two again and starts to make firm circles on your swollen puffy clit. “Ken.. please I…”

Your cheeks heat and your hiccup out an embarrassed sob. You’re not inexperienced by any means, but you’ve never had something that feels like this. That feels this overwhelming and good. You’ve never had someone who fills you this much, who hits every sensitive spot, whose cock is so big it sticks out from your tummy and pushes past your cervix with every sharp thrust. There’s a foreign feeling that’s settled in your stomach and it increases the more he plays with your clit and with every thrust that rams into the tight ring of muscle inside of you. Words tumble out before you can stop them and the minute they’re out, embarrassment and lust flood you in the same instant and it makes you dizzy. “Ken please.. Feel like I’m gonna go to the bathroom!” A rumbling groan is the only answer and his thumb speeds up its pace, his thrusts sloppy. “Fuckin’ squirt baby. Squirt on my fuckin’ cock. I know you can. Make a mess ‘f me.” Another sharp thrust and a pinch of your clit sends hurtling into oblivion as you do just that. Your last release comes squirting out of you, coating his hand, his thighs, the mattress, his abdomen. You feel it run down the swell of your ass as you cry, your nails clawing at his back as you call out his name, sobbing and cumming as he doesn’t relent, panting and groaning into your neck. Hot ropes of cum start to coat your insides, filling you to the brim as he moans. It’s unhinged and messy, his cock head pushing past your cervix to coat your insides, filling your womb almost overly full. Your name leaves his mouth in a rumbling shout before his teeth sink into your shoulder, biting down to muffle the moans that leave his throat.

His hips finally slow and he lays his forehead into the crook of your neck, his hands drifting down to your quivering thighs, massaging them as you both catch your breath. You let your palms lay flat on his broad back, running them up and down as little shuddering breaths leave you.

Finally moving to look down at you, he blinks the sweat out of his eyes, brushing the hair out of yours. Both of you are a mess, covered in sweat and slick, your entire body marked with his love bites and his back scratched from your nails.

Bliss and submission is written over your face and your eyes drift shut as his palm comes to cup your cheek. You’re so good for him, it makes his chest squeeze tight. He’s already softening inside of you, and surprisingly, you both still feel a little high, the combination of pleasure, euphoria and rapture making it that much more heightened.

Both of you hiss as he slides out of you, moving so he’s hovering over you and bringing you to relax your legs completely. There’s a few moments of silence, soaking in each other’s presence.The air between you two settles into something you’re not sure you’re ready to name and you turn your head to say something to him, but find him already staring at you. He pulls you onto his chest, uncaring of the sticky sweaty mess you’ve become. His hand drags up your spine slowly, gently, and he pushes your head down so it’s tucked onto his shoulder. Ken is gentle as he continues to rub up and down your spine, grounding you and bringing you back down to earth. Humming contently, you drift until a rumbling laugh rouses you, and you move your chin until it rests on the top of his chest and you’re looking into those dark alluring eyes. Your hand comes up to trace the dragon tattoo on the smooth skin on the side of his head, following the inky black swirls as he continues to dance his fingertips up and down your skin. “So… wanna smoke again?”

All works belong to @ kenuis do no repost anywhere else without permission.

#✧.*Isla. grimoires #✧.*grimoire. Tokyo revengers #draken x reader #ken ryuguji #ken ryuuguji smut #draken smut #ken ryuuguji x reader smut #tr #tokyo revengers #ken ryuuguji x you #draken x you #✧.* tw: weed #banner by benkeibear

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greenlantrns · 30 days ago

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cg ! jason todd one-shot

summary: you lose your favorite stuffed animal and jason goes through great and semi-embarrassing lengths to get them back to you.

tw: jason is a crime boss, so yanno. expect allusions to crime boss activities and a sprinkling of swear words.

The thing was, on average Jason did his best to keep his two lives — so to speak — completely separate. He didn’t even like wearing clothes home if the Red Hood had worn them all night which sometimes meant changing from one pair of sweats and a hoodie into another pair of sweats and a hoodie. There was a big red line drawn in the sand when it came to you and your home together and the rest of his business.

Still, sometimes things happened. Like for example, an unexpected move. For a long time you’d lived in a one bedroom apartment just the two of you. You alternated between sleeping on the couch, the floor, and Jason’s bed because you had that annoying kid ability to sleep comfortably just about anywhere and that had worked until it hadn’t. After finding you asleep on the counter slumped against the refrigerator Jason had decided that if you were going to stay — and he sure as hell hoped you’d stay — you needed a bedroom.

You’d been living in your new place for a solid week before either of you noticed what was missing. Your stuffie was something you kept under wraps, tucked behind your pillow until nighttime. You didn’t often carry him around unless you were feeling particularly small or particularly fussy and so it made sense that in all the excitement of a move you hadn’t noticed their absence for a few days.

That said the calm before the storm never lasts and Jason wasn’t fully prepared for how forlorn a kid could look for hours on end and for days at a time. This was no regular pout, he was convinced.

Jason had tried to look for the thing. He’d turned their new place upside down searching and then some. He’d gone through boxes once and then twice, he’d turned pillow cases inside out and couch cushions upside down.

It wasn’t until you made a single sniffly little comment that Jason’s life flashed before his eyes.

“What if we left him behind Jay?” You’d asked in that pitifully small voice and Jason had winced internally — likely externally too but he liked to believe he had a better poker face than that.

It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind it was just that— well, their old place was already in use at the moment.

After moving out of their one bedroom Jason had felt oddly sentimental about the crummy old place. Sure they had outgrown it but it wasn’t like he didn’t have the funds to keep up with rent. On top of that seeing as it had once been his home and not just some random base of operations there were only a few people that even knew the place existed.

It’s anonymity had made it a perfect place to set up his primary ‘office’ if you will. It was a perfectly good space that was unknown to those who were apart of the larger operation that could function as a rest stop and meeting ground for those of his men that he trusted the most.

If the thing was there than Jason was pretty screwed.

He grimaced. “I’m sure we didn’t, kiddo.”

Your lip looked wobbly and although you hated to cry Jason could tell you’d been barely fending off tears since you’d realized you stuffed animal was gone. He thought he’d been prepared for the dam to break but fuck if it wasn’t hard as hell to sit there and watch the tears slowly well in your eyes.

Jason wasn’t always the most physically demonstrative. Sometimes his body felt like it was on auto pilot; after the pit it sometimes didn’t even feel like his body was his at all. It didn’t bother him much if he didn’t think about it but it did make physical affection a bit difficult.

He tried his damndest for you though and you never seemed to care about the stilted affection Jason had to offer just as long as he was there. With unsure hands Jason pulled you into his side.

“I’ll find your friend, I promise,” He murmured.

You pulled back and wiped hastily at your eyes as you narrowed your gaze to look up at him. “How can you promise, what if he’s gone with our old house forever?”

“Well,” Jason paused. He hadn’t planned on sharing the fact that he still technically owned — or rented — their old place. He thought it’d bring up too many questions and he’d prefer you to be as ignorant as possible to his nightly goings on. “I still have keys to our old place and some of my friends live there now.”

You tilted your head while you considered his words. “You got friends?”

Jason scoffed and thwacked you on the nose gently. “Yes, I have friends smartass.”

That elicited the smallest of smiles and Jason nearly slumped in relief after about a week of frowns and near tears. Jason planned to go later and preferably alone but before he knew it you were practically catapulting off the couch. You’d tossed your blanket to the ground and were searching frantically for your shoes even though you were still in pajamas.

“Just leave your mess why don’t you!” Jason called as he sighed and picked up the blanket you’d discarded on the floor. “kids like a little tornado.”

Jason heaved himself up from the couch and went to wait by the door trying his hardest not to relax into the hands-on-hips-exasperated-dad stance that was becoming more and more natural to him the longer you were around.

“Ready!” You shouted as you skidded to a halt in front of him. You’d thrown a sweatshirt on over your pajama pants that absolutely belonged to Jason and on your feet were a pair of winter boots. Jason raised an unimpressed brow as you grinned up at him.

“It’s a bit late for you to be out don’t you think?”

“Nuh uh!” You insisted. “Gotta find my friend, Jay.”

Jason crossed his arms. “I’m not taking you out in the middle of the night, you forget where we live?”

A pout was forming but Jason tried resolutely to ignore it. “But Jay,” your voice had taken on that soft, pitiful quality again and Jason felt his resolve wearing.

“This is Gotham, kiddo,” He emphasized again but your puppy dog eyes didn’t waver and dammit he was becoming a pushover.

He quickly began to rationalize in his head. Their old place wasn’t far, they could probably walk but it’d be incrementally safer to get a cab. Jason knew he had guys in the apartment at the moment but they were his most trusted for a reason, right? Jason’s sigh was long suffering as he held out his arms.

“You’re not getting down if you come, you know that right?” He asked as you grinned real wide. You went into his arms easily and allowed yourself to be lifted up into his hip. It’d taken Jason some practice learning how to carry you like a kid and not a sack of potatoes but he was getting better. You nodded enthusiastically.

“Until we get there,” you amended after a moment of thought. “Gotta help look.”

Jason relented because of course he did where you were involved and with that the two of you set off. Getting a cab was easier said then done but Jason made it work with the help of you wildly waving your arms. When you both got to your old complex you managed to convince Jason to let you down but you still had to hold tight to his hand.

Jason ran cold most days, another side effect of the pit he’d wager, but you still clung to him when a chill caught you and he couldn’t help but drop your hand so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders.

He didn’t bother knocking when he got to their old door but when he stepped in the apartment came to a stand still. His men — and women, though in his defense he hadn’t known Sasha would be there tonight — stared at him wide eyed. Jason stared back before clearing his throat.

“Evening,” He spoke to the room snd it was clear they hadn’t been expecting him. Not that they were doing anything they shouldn’t have been more just that Ian had his feet on the fucking table like he’d been told not to a million times and Lenny was eating some greasy sack of who knew what from Bat Burger — if there was anything Jason had tried to drill into these idiots skulls it was that the amount of fast food they ate would kill them before any Gotham lunatic could but he’d have to table that argument for the night.

“Hey boss,” Sasha said, all easy confidence because out of all of them she probably took his shit the least.

“I’m here too!” You whined at being blatantly overlooked. When this brought the immediate attention of everyone in the room down to you you felt heat creep up into your cheeks, getting a bit bashful as you took a half step behind Jason. Noticing the kid Jason saw some people shift their guns out of sight or into waistbands and he couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate it. You only vaguely knew what the Red Hood got up to and Jason was perfectly fine with that for now.

“Everyone, we’re on something of a manhunt.” Jason explained. He spoke with the same detached professionalism he would use at one of their actual meetings and hoped his own cheeks weren’t burning red. “I’ll let my colleague explain the rest.”

Jason turned to look at you but you still looked a little nervous. He bent a little to speak softly to you, “just like we rehearsed in the cab, got it?”

You nodded.

“Um well,” you were alternating between talking and chewing nervously on your lip. “I’m looking for my friend. He’s really soft and he’s got really cute ears! He’s a little floppy now cause he’s old and he’s kinda small so you might have missed him but I think he’s here.”

The room was quiet and Jason’s men alternated between looking at you, each other, and then Jason, to see if maybe they were misunderstanding something.

“I’m sorry, boss,” Lenny started. “Are we looking for a stuffed animal?”

It sounded ridiculous when said out loud but Jason thought back to your teary eyes and was reminded of the importance of this excursion. “We’re not leaving until he’s found and this one,” Jason tried to ruffle your hair but you squirmed away from him, embarrassed in front of so many people. “Has a bedtime, so get to it.”

Everyone got to searching slowly at first but you were clearly unsatisfied with this. You huffed as you redirected people in the direction of ‘where stuffie is most likely to be’ and ‘where stuffie is least likely to be.”

“You got a bossy kid,” Ian muttered as he began pulling up couch cushions. Had the situation been less absurd — a group of gang members and hardened criminals searching top to bottom for a stuffed toy — Jason might have taken offense on your behalf. In this case he just laughed but schooled his expression when you shot him a look.

“You’re not looking, Jay!”

“I’m supervising Ian, he gets distracted easily.”

You narrowed your eyes between the two men but were placated as you went back to your search.

“Yeah, maybe a little bossy.”

It was nearly a half hour later when Sasha emerged from Jason’s former bedroom.

“Found it!” She called.

You gasped and turned around nearly in a blur. You’d been in the middle of arguing vehemently with Lenny about how Bat Burger was bad for him and home cooked meals were always better. Lenny had made a good argument but come up short when you mentioned how much you liked Jason’s cooking.

He looked at his boss incredulously. “You cook?”

Jason shrugged. “I dabble.”

That had all been interrupted when Sasha came out brandishing the worn stuffed animal in one hand like a hunting trophy. You immediately grabbed the old thing hugging it like your life depended on it before doing the same to Sasha. Sasha looked taken aback but reciprocated the hug right back.

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“No problem, kid.”

After the stuffed animal was safely returned to you the events of the evening seemed to catch up to you. You looked suddenly very tired and didn’t fuss at all when Jason gathered you up into his arms.

“Alright guys,” he said softly. “It goes without saying this stays between us, yes?”

They all nodded affirmatively and Jason tried to ignore how amused they all looked. “Sasha. You’re in charge. Lenny, pick up a fucking cook book, will you?”

There was a chorus of ‘got it boss’ and ‘night, red’ that followed Jason out the door but he didn’t mind them much at all as he carried you down the hall. He could tell you weren’t sleeping by the way you were toying with your stuffed animals tail.

“Thanks,” you mumbled sleepily.

“No problem, baby,” Jason responded.

“Jay,” you spoke again after a beat of silence.

“Yeah?”

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

It was sort of funny, considering the two of you had moved to give you your very own bed, but Jason couldn’t say he minded. “‘Course.”

#i truly lost sleep over this #sorry if anything seems ooc or funky i’ve never been part of a criminal empire #i tried to keep everything about the reader vague!#you could be a kid or a regressor #and the stuffed animal can be whatever you like it to be #sfw agere #age regression #fandom agere #dc agere #collin writes

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