#thank you for the tag!! the answers are actually spot-on enough for them that it actually makes me sad for them

[sun-marie]

ocs as types of suffering

I was tagged by @full---ofstarlight to do this uquiz! As per usual, I went with my BG3 kiddos

Ruathym Dhalmass: Self inadequacy

You crack under the weight of your own perceived inability. How can you be enough for anyone else when you're just barely enough for yourself? Insecurity causes you to have little back-bone, and so you fail to reach your full potential when it comes to what you're best at. You sabotage opportunities with fear you'll fail before you've begun. It hurts to never feel like your best is enough, but setting your standards too high or too low ensures it.

Zephyr Skybreeze: The Giver

Your energy depletes as you hand it out to anyone passing by your basket. People walk by and take, but no one ever leaves. You're constantly running on low when people keep asking you to give. You'd give your soul away for free, and then what left do you have of yourself if you can't say no?

I will tag @glamfellens as well as anyone else reading who'd like to play <3 (feel free to tag me so I can also read about ur oc kiddos :3)

[solar-wing]

⚣ Puppy Love: Sweet and Romantic, but also somehow Murderous ❤️‍🔥

⚣❤️‍🔥 A/N → something I started writing while finishing up Shadowing Nightwing. Is this what I imagine my relationship to be like with Jason on a regular basis...absolutely. Absolutely. Am I somewhat delusional and living in a fantasy world? Also, absolutely, but also, mind your fucking business. anyways...! This was inspired from multiple posts and authors, who I have tagged and hyperlinked. @allllium @maj-b-s Thank you for feeding my obsession—ahem—my therapist will be sending you a bill. tee hee... WARNINGS: 18 + MDNI | College Male Reader | Fluff & Humor | Minor Violence (Implied) | Swearing/Crude Language | Smut | Breathplay | Possessiveness/Jealousy | Everyone wants Y/N's man |

⚣❤️‍🔥 Summary → Meet Jason and Y/N: Gotham’s answer to the ultimate “relationship goals”—if your relationship goals involve an overly protective vigilante with a slight obsession for tearing apart his boyfriend’s scandalous wardrobe (and sometimes his coworkers). Their love story? Equal parts intense, adorable, and absolutely chaotic. Jason’s the growling, brooding protector who’d burn the world for Y/N, while Y/N is the sunshine with just enough sass to keep him in check… well, sometimes.

⚣❤️‍🔥 Word Count → 14.5K

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY ❤️‍🔥

If you asked anyone, they might hesitate to admit it outright, but the truth was hard to ignore: people envied Jason and Y/N’s relationship��and who could blame them? From the day those two started dating, they’d been like high-school sweethearts stuck in the honeymoon phase, but with ten times the intensity and none of the restraint. Not to sound bitter or envious—it was just a fact.

They were a painfully adorable couple. Jason was the doting, protective lover, almost to a fault. Sure, it’s a bit of a cliché, but he didn’t exactly help himself with the stark difference in how he treated others versus Y/N. Around everyone else, Jason looked permanently grouchy, as though every conversation he endured was a test of patience he barely passed. His eye-rolls, heavy sighs, and palpable disinterest didn’t go unnoticed; in fact, he made it pretty clear he couldn’t wait to walk away from anyone who wasn’t Y/N.

But the moment Y/N entered the room? Suddenly, Jason had nothing more important in the world. It was almost comical to watch this towering vigilante hang onto every word Y/N said like an overly attached puppy. Actually, that was the perfect way to describe their dynamic: Jason was a huge, lethal teddy bear with a soft spot, and Y/N was the unassuming boyfriend who had no clue how much sway he held over this giant who’d kill for him without hesitation.

Honestly, the best way to describe Y/N was as Jason’s polar opposite. He was social—well, social enough—and that sometimes got on his boyfriend’s nerves, who would’ve preferred to keep Y/N all to himself. It was partly jealousy, partly a possessive urge to monopolize his lover’s attention, but mostly it was Jason’s instinct to shield him from a world that had never been kind to the vigilante. Jason had been hardened by a lifetime of darkness, and he’d go to ridiculous lengths to keep Y/N’s light from dimming.

Not that Jason’s methods were exactly…practical.

“Jason, I get that you want to protect me, but you can’t shield me from everything,” Y/N said, finally sitting his boyfriend down for a much-needed conversation after yet another of Jason’s over-the-top protective stunts. “The only way you could do that would be to wrap me in bubble wrap and lock me away in a cave or something.”

“Trust me, I’ve considered it,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Y/N blinked, raising a brow.

“Nothing.”

Despite Y/N’s more social nature, he was everything Jason felt he was missing in life. He was the humor, the hope, the optimism Jason rarely allowed himself. And sure, his optimism came with a sprinkle of sarcasm when he was annoyed, but Jason loved that too. In fact, he was so taken by Y/N that it was nearly an obsession—though, to be fair, obsession was kind of expected from someone like him.

Would a therapist call it codependency or maybe some kind of unhealthy dynamic? Probably. But good luck telling Jason that. He’d likely see it as a personal attack—and let’s just say that if you value your life, you might want to avoid bringing it up. You’ve been warned.

But back to the point: Y/N and Jason’s relationship quickly became the kind that made even Y/N’s friends—most of whom were floundering in the love department—wonder just how he’d managed to snag such a devoted and caring guy. It especially made Jason feel appreciated, loved, and genuinely important to someone the way Y/N would never miss a chance to gush about his vigilante boyfriend to anyone willing to listen, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly loved every second of it.

Though, do exercise a bit (lot) of caution, because once the topic turns to Jason, everyone’s in for a long haul—Y/N could and would talk anyone’s ear off that was willing to listen about how amazing his boyfriend is. Just as Jason was obsessed with Y/N, Y/N was equally smitten with Jason, and honestly? Jason wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright, Y/N, spill it! I need every detail about how you landed this guy. Don’t hold out on me—give me the exact prayer, word-for-word, quickly!”

“I—uh—well, I—”

“Come on, Y/N! My pen is drying up, and I’m not getting any younger!” His friend slapped a notepad and pen down in front of him, staring him down like he was about to write out a love spell straight from a witch’s spellbook.

“Girl, I don’t even know. The guy just kinda showed up in my life one day and never left,” Y/N shrugged, half-joking, though it was pretty much the truth.

It had all been by chance—well, kind of. If you could call Jason keeping an eye on Y/N “chance.” In reality, he’d been sort of… lurking, for good reasons (or at least reasons he’d justified to himself). It started one night when Y/N was finishing up his work-study shift at Gotham University. Now, calling an Uber would’ve been the smart, safe choice, especially in a city like Gotham. But he lived just 15 minutes away, and spending money on a five-minute ride? Please. He had a budget to consider.

That was before he found himself cornered in a dark alley by three oversized thugs who smelled like the embodiment of an ashtray mixed with cheap beer, a scent so thick it made his eyes water. The kind of men Gotham bred like weeds—rough, desperate, dangerous. Y/N barely had time to process the situation before one of them shoved him against a cold, brick wall, a knife pressing against his throat. His backpack was snatched and dumped unceremoniously onto the wet alley floor, its contents spilling out for their inspection.

His mind raced, paralyzed with fear and regret. He could practically hear his parents' voices reminding him to be cautious, to make smart choices, to avoid walking alone at night in places like this. Irony stung almost as much as the cold steel against his neck—the “responsible” choice would have been to spend that $15 on an Uber, not gamble his safety for a free walk. 

And was the money he’d save really worth risking his life for? Probably not. But hey, that was Gotham for you—always teaching life lessons the hard way. He braced himself, feeling the icy dread of not knowing if he’d make it out alive. Stories like these didn’t usually end well on the news in this city.

But fate, or something like it, had other plans.

Out of nowhere, a low, gravelly voice sliced through the night. “I’d drop the knife if I were you.”

Y/N didn’t dare turn his head, but he felt the tension shift as the thugs looked up, startled. Standing at the mouth of the alley was a figure who seemed to materialize from the shadows—a tall, broad man clad in black and deep red, with a sleeveless hoodie that revealed muscular arms wrapped in red bandages. A mask and hood concealed majority of his face, glowing red eyes staring down the thugs with an intensity that froze them in place. Strapped across his back were two long katanas, and a utility belt around his waist held holsters that almost certainly contained a pair of guns, adding to his already intimidating presence.

Red Hood.

Y/N had heard of him, of course. Gotham’s resident anti-hero, rumored to have a thing for…creative violence. The vigilante’s imposing size was enough to make anyone feel small; he towered over Y/N, his form carved out of muscle and something darker, something hardened. Even the thugs looked ready to wet themselves, and Y/N could feel the goosebumps rise on his skin as he finally dared to look up.

In less time than it took him to blink, Red Hood had closed the distance, dispatching the thugs with an efficiency that would’ve been impressive if it weren’t so, well, terrifying. Knives clattered to the ground, grunts and thuds filled the air, and Y/N just stood there, frozen like a deer in headlights, half expecting to wake up from a weird stress-induced nightmare.

But this was very real, as proven when Red Hood finally turned to him, and Y/N felt his breath hitch. Up close, the vigilante was even more intimidating—a wall of muscle wrapped in dark red and black, those red eyes glowing with an intensity that made Y/N’s knees wobble. There was no denying it; the guy was terrifying. Yet, for some reason, there was a weird, traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispering, He’s kind of hot, though.

“You alright?” The voice was rough, like gravel scraping across metal, but there was an undertone of concern. Red Hood’s gaze softened just a fraction, almost imperceptible, yet Y/N caught it.

“I—I think so,” he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes were wide, and he forced himself not to flinch as Red Hood stepped even closer, the hulking vigilante now looming over him. Up close, he could see the muscles tense beneath the suit, the power radiating off him like heat.

Red Hood’s head tilted slightly, as if assessing him, and Y/N swore he felt like he was being scanned. Which, honestly, was fair. He was some college kid wearing a sweatshirt that said “Gotham U” in block letters, and this guy looked like he wrestled criminals for fun. But instead of feeling like prey, he felt this strange pull, like something was drawing him toward the vigilante. It was probably just adrenaline… or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Red Hood gave a grunt, a sound that could have meant anything from “good to hear” to “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, punk.” But then he leaned down, his helmet casting an ominous shadow over Y/N’s face. “Next time, take the Uber.”

Y/N blinked, the absurdity of the situation hitting him all at once. “Noted,” he replied, deadpan, because honestly, what else could he say?

He should have been scared—terrified, even. But instead, he found himself lingering on every detail: the way Red Hood’s chest rose and fell, the glint of his weapons, the sense of barely restrained danger that rolled off him in waves. And underneath all of that, a strange, quiet thrill that he didn’t quite understand.

Satisfied, Red Hood gave him one last look before he started to turn away, blending back into the shadows. But in a flash of impulsiveness, Y/N called out, “Wait!”

Red Hood stopped, glancing over his shoulder, clearly not used to random civilians asking for an encore. Y/N hesitated, realizing how ridiculous he must have sounded, but the words were already out there, so he figured he might as well keep going.

“Uh… thanks. For, you know, saving me. And also for the life advice,” he added, his voice dripping with awkward humor.

There was a pause—a long, silent pause where Y/N briefly wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake. But then, to his surprise, he thought he saw the faintest tilt of amusement in the way Red Hood shifted his stance. Was that… a chuckle? No, probably not. But he’d like to think so.

Red Hood nodded—a subtle acknowledgment—before disappearing into the night, leaving Y/N alone in the alley with nothing but his scattered belongings and a heart that felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest. As he knelt down to gather his things, he couldn’t help but survey the carnage of his soggy notebooks and papers, along with his now-broken laptop and tangled, half-shattered headphones.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he picked up a notebook that was more mush than paper. “Well, this is fine,” he muttered, trying to keep his spirits up. “Just a little water damage. Adds character, right?”

Then he spotted his laptop, the screen shattered and a piece of it barely hanging on by a hinge. He laughed, a bitter chuckle that held more disbelief than humor. “Guess it’s one way to force an upgrade,” he murmured, stuffing it back in his backpack like a defeated soldier gathering his gear after a lost battle.

And the headphones? Well, they’d been cheap anyway, held together by more wishful thinking than actual quality. “You were too good for this world,” he whispered dramatically, dropping them into the bag with a resigned sigh.

Despite the state of his belongings, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just survived something surreal, something that would haunt his dreams and maybe even—dare he say it?—excite him a little.

Unbeknownst to him, from the shadows a few blocks away, Jason eyed him from his hiding spot, a curiosity nagging at him, as if he’d found something worth watching over. He could see Y/N still crouched on the grimy ground, gathering his belongings—soggy notebooks, torn papers, a laptop with a shattered screen. He’d felt a pang of guilt as he watched, a flicker of sympathy mingling with a less-than-pleasant feeling of familiarity knowing all too well what it was like to lose the few things you relied on—to feel like the world had kicked you when you were down.

And while he’d never admit it, maybe a part of him liked that the kid seemed more amused than scared. After all, it wasn’t every day that someone didn’t scream when they saw Red Hood.

Of course, now that they were dating, Y/N was not surprised by the vigilante’s actions after their encounter when he’d come out of his apartment a week later to find a large box sitting on his doorstep with a plain label reading simply, “For You.” 

Inside was an assortment of brand-new school supplies including pristine notebooks in varying colors, a handful of smooth, high-quality pens and highlighters, and even a sleek, expensive laptop that he definitely could not afford on a student budget. Nestled beside it was a pair of high-quality Bluetooth headphones—the kind he’d ogled online but never dreamed of buying. And to top it all off, there was a sturdy, stylish bag to carry everything in.

And while most other people would’ve been slightly concerned at the fact that a random vigilante just happened to know their address after only one meeting where they didn’t even give their name, Y/N on the other hand, was processing the contents of the box with a mix of gratitude, amusement, and a new crush.

And so, their love story began, marked by Jason’s continued (and slightly overprotective) habit of rescuing Y/N from Gotham’s mean streets—even if the college student didn’t always realize he needed saving. Hence the “stalking” mentioned earlier.

Of course, was it technically stalking if it was done out of love and devotion for some random stranger you’d developed a massive crush on but couldn’t quite work up the nerve to talk to directly? Well… yes. Experts would say it’s still stalking. But hey, if those experts ever found themselves in a tight spot, Jason would be conveniently “unavailable” to save them.

Naturally, Y/N couldn’t exactly share the full story of his and Jason’s introduction. For one, his friends would roast him to the ends of the earth for being dumb enough to walk home alone in Gotham at night. He could practically hear their voices now: “Really, Y/N? Alone? At night? In Gotham? Do you not value your own life?” And frankly, he wasn’t about to give them that much material.

Oh, and there was also the tiny detail of Red Hood’s whole secret vigilante identity thing.

So, he went with a slightly edited version of the story, painting Jason as a “helpful stranger” who just happened to show up when Y/N “got lost” and had his bag stolen. And when his friends inevitably asked about the shiny new gear—a nearly $500 bag, top-of-the-line laptop, high-quality headphones, the works—he explained it all as a result of some extra scholarship money and financial aid he’d “saved up.” Sure, splurging on luxury tech and accessories might seem a tad unrealistic, but he’d throw in a line about a “really good sale” and call it a day.

Because as much as Jason’s habit of going overboard with gifts could be a little, well, extra, Y/N wasn’t about to complain. The man was thoughtful in a way few would ever believe, though his affection tended to be wrapped in thick layers of leather, weaponry, and a no-nonsense glare.

Jason loved hard, though he wasn’t quick to show it to just anyone. The guy kept his feelings locked up tighter than a Gotham vault, hardened by a lifetime of broken trust and betrayal. He wasn’t exactly the “wear your heart on your sleeve” type. But every so often, with the right person, he’d crack that tough exterior. And Y/N? Somehow, he’d slipped right through, without even trying.

And okay, could Jason be a little intense? Sure (absolutely). But when a vigilante with a borderline obsessive streak decides he cares about you, well… let’s just say things are bound to get a little out of hand. That’s just the price of having Gotham’s resident anti-hero as your personal guard dog.

Not that Y/N thinks of him quite like that, but it’s kind of funny, considering Jason really does act like a lovesick puppy when it’s just the two of them, his tough exterior melting away—it gave the energy of a Golden Retriever, maybe, or a Siberian Husky with an attitude problem. But the moment anyone else entered the room, his whole vibe transformed. If Y/N was his safe haven, the rest of the world was an enemy camp. He’d switch from doting boyfriend to a blend of German Shepherd, Rottweiler, and Doberman with the attitude and aggressiveness of a Chihuahua on an espresso shot. It was a little terrifying for others but to Y/N? It was just… Jason.

Part of what made their dynamic so unique was how Jason let himself be vulnerable around Y/N, something few people ever got to see. Y/N was his safe space, the person he could trust to see the parts of him he usually kept hidden—the softness, the care, the insecurities he guarded as fiercely as he guarded Gotham’s streets.

Funny enough, Y/N quickly discovered just a few months into dating that Jason’s love language was, without a doubt, physical touch. Why was that funny—and possibly the most ironic thing he’d ever experienced? Because when they first started dating, Jason avoided touch like it was the plague.

It took Y/N a while to notice it, but once he did, it was painfully obvious. Jason had this way of keeping just enough distance, as if he’d drawn a line no one was allowed to cross. At first, Y/N thought it was just Jason’s natural intensity, but over time, he began to see the pattern. Jason was hyper-aware of any physical contact—quick to dodge, tense when someone brushed against him accidentally, even flinching at touches he saw coming. It was like he’d trained himself to see any sort of physical contact as a potential threat.

And it made sense, really, considering Jason’s past and the double life he led—something Y/N only found out about a few months after they started dating. Jason’s body told a story all on its own, each scar and faded bruise marking a chapter of battles fought and enemies conquered. The scars weren’t just skin-deep; they were reminders of a life filled with danger, betrayal, and loss. And Y/N began to understand why Jason had always kept his distance, why he seemed wary of even the gentlest touch. To Jason, vulnerability had always come with a price.

Also, talking about his family was a rare event, and when he did, there was a hesitance, a guarded tone. Y/N knew bits and pieces—enough to understand that while Jason loved his family, there were wounds there too, emotional scars that ran just as deep as the ones on his body. He avoided talking about them, save for the occasional mention of Alfred, the family’s butler. Alfred was the exception, the one person Jason spoke of with nothing but respect and a rare softness. In time, Y/N came to love and appreciate Alfred just as much, seeing how deeply he’d cared for Jason when others hadn’t.

But even with Alfred, Jason’s life had taught him that letting people in, letting people close, meant risking pain. So he’d built walls, high and impenetrable, where touch was a luxury and distance was safety. Yet again, somehow, Y/N had slipped through those walls. Slowly, patiently, he’d helped Jason find comfort in a gentle touch, a warm embrace, and the knowledge that here, with him, there was no danger. Just love.

At first, it was subtle—the occasional shoulder touch, the brief brush of his hand, like Jason was testing the waters. But as he grew more comfortable, his affection started to show in quiet, gentle ways: a hand resting at the small of Y/N’s back, an arm draped protectively around his shoulders, or the way he’d pull Y/N close, as if his presence alone could shield him from the world. Sure, his protectiveness sometimes bordered on overbearing, but Y/N didn’t mind one bit. He’d come to cherish those moments, knowing that each touch, each fierce little act of devotion, was Jason’s own way of saying, I love you.

And before Y/N even realized it, Jason had practically become his shadow, glued to his side like some overly affectionate—albeit slightly brooding—puppy. It was like a switch had flipped, and suddenly, Jason couldn’t go a full five minutes without reaching out to touch him, craving the comfort and reassurance of Y/N’s presence. Jason was always there, one way or another: a hand resting on his neck, fingers tracing along his arm, a warm weight on his thigh, or just… hovering in his orbit like a bodyguard who happened to look at him like he was the best thing in Gotham.

Rarely did a moment pass when they weren’t connected in some physical way. More often than not, Jason would find any excuse to pull Y/N into a full-on cuddle, whether they were on the couch or in bed, as if he was storing up warmth like a battery. And his favorite spot? Laying his head on Y/N’s chest, listening to his heartbeat with his eyes closed, completely at peace as Y/N’s hands ran gently through his hair. For Jason, it was the ultimate comfort, a reminder that he was loved and safe—a rare feeling in his life.

It was endearing, really. Jason might’ve been Gotham’s big bad vigilante, but to Y/N, he was a full-grown man with the energy of a giant, needy puppy, demanding his attention with that silent, intense stare of his. And honestly? Y/N wouldn’t have it any other way.

Of course, Y/N would be lying if he said he didn’t get a kick out of the way Jason would pout and glare at him whenever he stopped rubbing his head or, heaven forbid, dared to refuse his touch. Imagine this six-foot-plus tower of muscle—a guy who could make dudes on steroids look like scrawny sidekicks—staring down his boyfriend with an actual pout because he wasn’t getting his cuddle fix. It was a sight that never failed to make Y/N laugh (not that he’d do it out loud; he valued his life, after all).

Jason could—and would—throw his ire at just about anyone else, often for the smallest of reasons. Anyone not named Y/N was fair game for his mood swings, his infamous scowl, and even the occasional growl. But with Y/N? Well, let’s just say he was spared from the wrath of Gotham’s most intimidating vigilante… unless he denied Jason cuddles or the sacred privilege of his bodily embrace. That, apparently, was the one line Y/N couldn’t cross.

The “punishment” usually lasted, at most, ten minutes. Jason would start by sulking, grumbling under his breath like a child denied dessert, and shooting Y/N the kind of glare usually reserved for Gotham’s worst criminals. Y/N, of course, would hold out as long as he could, but eventually, one of two things would happen. Either he’d cave, sighing as he finally opened his arms to let Jason claim his cuddle rights, listening as Jason mumbled dramatically about how he “should never be denied cuddles” because it was his god-given right, or—if Y/N took too long—Jason would take matters into his own hands.

And by that, it meant Jason would simply scoop him up, plop himself down, and drape his entire, solid weight on top of Y/N like some overgrown cat claiming it's human. There was no escape—Jason’s big arms wrapped around him like an anaconda, pulling him close until Y/N was completely enveloped, pinned down with zero chance of getting away.

Y/N didn’t mind, though. Quite the opposite, actually—it was hot. Sue him.

"Y/N, don’t take this the wrong way but… is your man single?” one of his coworkers asked, giving him a sly grin.

OOP—

GIRL. For your own sake—and for the sake of anyone within a mile radius—tread carefully. That man is as jealous and territorial as his possessive ass vigilante boyfriend, who’s on a level that’s practically legendary. No, seriously; Jason’s jealousy was on a scale that was insane.

Case in point: family game night. Tim had everyone playing this game where you had to come up with a word for each category starting with a randomly chosen letter. Simple enough, right? Well, when “J” was the letter of the round, let’s just say Y/N’s answers weren’t exactly… satisfying to a certain overprotective vigilante.

“Y/N,” Jason hissed, narrowing his eyes, “you’ve got two seconds to explain to me who the hell Jackson is.”

“I had to think of something!” Y/N replied, holding up his hands defensively.

Jason crossed his arms, staring him down. “And what does my name start with, hmm?”

“I—okay, listen, I panicked! I was thinking about Percy Jackson!”

Jason didn’t see it as jealousy—he was just protective, okay? But if his definition of protective happened to mean glaring down anyone who so much as glanced at Y/N, then so be it.

Y/N on the other hand…

Funny enough, Jason actually started complaining because every time he and Y/N went out together, people would give him looks, like they thought Y/N was in mortal danger. And okay, Jason got it—he wasn’t exactly small, or subtle. With his build, his perpetual scowl, and the way he seemed ready to throw down at any given moment, he could understand slightly why people would think the way they’d think. Shit, he’d do the same. But still.

When it got to the point of the cops getting called because the neighbors heard loud noises, grunts, and what they thought were sounds of pain and struggle after seeing a large and intimidating man drag Y/N into his apartment—when, in reality, they were just doing the dirty tango against the kitchen wall—it gets a bit annoying.

But that wasn’t even the real issue Jason had been complaining about. No, what had actually gotten under his skin was how everyone always assumed he was the threat, when in reality, it was Y/N they should’ve been worried about. People just didn’t see it, but Y/N had a dangerous side all his own. Just ask the kid who was dumb enough to try and pull a fast one on Jason by touching and caressing him in public when Y/N had stepped away for a moment.

The moment the college student came back… well, let’s just say things got ugly. Legally, however, Jason couldn’t speak about it. Not because he didn’t want to—oh, he’d love to relive the whole glorious scene—but because Y/N had made him, and his brothers, sign an NDA afterward. Yep, Dick, Tim, Damian, and Jason had to put pen to paper, bound to secrecy about The Incident.

Y/N had handled it with a level of ruthless efficiency that left the whole Bat family in awe. He’d dealt with that poor, clueless kid in a way that was so subtly devastating that even Bruce raised an eyebrow when he found out. Although, truth be told, Bruce wasn’t exactly shocked; he just hadn’t expected someone as sweet as Y/N to be quite so… resourceful.

After that, the whole family understood that, sure, Jason might look like the scary one—but when it came to those he loved, especially when it involved Jason, Y/N was a force to be reckoned with.

Y/N glanced back at his coworker with a slightly distant look before letting out a laugh, shaking his head. “Girl, don’t play.”

Girl—seriously, don’t do it.

Thankfully, she chose common sense and life at that moment, laughing along with him. “You know I’m just kidding! But seriously, where did you find him? The things I’d do just to get a man who looks at me with even half the love as he does with you.”

It was in Y/N’s honest opinion that Jason had to be an angel or some divine gift sent to him from the heavens above. Or God, the Universe, Santa Claus, took mercy on him knowing that kind of unserious trouble he could get himself into. Seriously, it was like his life was written by some dude who strove to put him in the most unthinkable scenarios ever thought of by man.

…

Hold up.

…

Nah…unless?

“But seriously, where do you even find a man like that? ‘Cause the ones out here? Girl, they’re giving ‘bare minimum’ and vibes. God really needs to start restocking the good ones.”

“Where did I find him?” Y/N repeated, smirking as he wiped down the counter. “I don’t know. One day he just showed up, brooding and scary-looking, and now he refuses to leave.”

His coworker rolled her eyes, leaning closer like she was trying to decode some deep secret. “You’re dodging the question. Men like that don’t just show up. Spill the tea.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly? If I told you the real story, you wouldn’t believe me.”

And wasn’t that the truth? If he started explaining how Gotham’s most terrifying vigilante had saved him from a mugging, delivered new school supplies like some twisted fairy godmother, and then proceeded to burrow into his life like an oversized, territorial puppy, she’d probably think he was delusional. Or worse, that he was into some bizarre fanfiction-level nonsense. Which, fair.

Before Y/N could add anything else, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen and couldn’t stop the small smile that crept across his face.

Jason: Did you eat yet?

Y/N sighed, typing back a quick Yes, Dad, even though it was a blatant lie. He didn’t need Jason going full hover-boyfriend just because he skipped breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later, though, Jason strolled into the shop like he owned the place, a brown paper bag in hand. Y/N barely had time to react before Jason plopped the bag on the counter, his expression hovering between annoyed and smug.

“Didn’t I just tell you I ate?” Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow.

Jason crossed his arms, his biceps straining his jacket in a way that made his coworker openly gape. “And I didn’t believe you. So here.” He gestured at the bag like it was some great offering, clearly unbothered by the audience they had. “You’re not skipping meals.”

Y/N sighed, opening the bag to find his favorite sandwich neatly packed alongside a container of fruit and—of course—a bottle of water. His coworker, meanwhile, was staring like she was witnessing a rom-com play out in real life.

“You know,” she whispered as Jason stepped back to lean casually against the counter, his watchful gaze flicking between Y/N and the shop’s door, “if you don’t marry this man, I will.”

Y/N snorted, shoving a grape in his mouth. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

In all honesty, Y/N knew the kind of love Jason offered wasn’t for the faint of heart. As previously mentioned, when that man loved, he loved hard—like all-in, no-holds-barred, borderline territorial levels of hard. And he wasn’t just protective—oh no, he was possessive with a capital P when it came to the things he cared about.

What did that mean?

Well...

Considering the kind of life Jason had lived—where the things he loved or that brought him joy were often ripped away in the most brutal, gut-wrenching ways imaginable—it wasn’t exactly a shocker. Jason had become fiercely devoted to guarding what was his, with a vigilance that often toed the line between endearing and slightly terrifying.

It was like an aggressive dog who decided one day that a random shoe was its favorite thing in the world. The kind of resource-guarding where even looking at the shoe too long earned you a deep, guttural growl of warning. Ignore the warning? Well, congratulations, you just donated a finger—or maybe two—to the cause.

If it’s not clear by now, Y/N was the shoe, and Jason was the dog. And when it came to Y/N, anything—or anyone—that so much as hinted at upsetting him, threatening him, or even mildly inconveniencing him would quickly find themselves on the wrong end of Jason’s wrath. It wasn’t a matter of if there’d be hell to pay, but how much. Spoiler: it was always a lot.

So, picture this: Y/N comes home after a long day of morning classes and an equally draining evening shift. On the surface, he looks fine. Totally normal. But what no one knows is that he spent the last twenty minutes sitting in his car, quietly sobbing into a handful of fast-food napkins.

He knew better than to bring those emotions into the apartment, though. Because while most boyfriends would give you a hug and let you vent, Jason would go full vigilante mode. If he even sensed that someone had made Y/N upset, it wouldn’t just be hell to pay—it’d be Gotham-wide carnage. And Y/N, being the thoughtful boyfriend he was, liked to minimize unnecessary casualties.

Armed with tissues, eyedrops, and a firm I’m fine, just tired mantra, Y/N stepped through the door, hoping to slide under Jason’s radar.

Nope. Not happening.

The moment Jason saw him, his expression shifted. Y/N had no clue what gave him away—was it the puffiness? His voice? The way he stood?—but Jason immediately clocked something.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asked, his voice calm, but laced with that dangerous edge that said he was already running through a mental list of suspects who might need a "visit."

Y/N froze, debating his options. He knew better than to lie. Jason would sniff it out in seconds. But he also knew that the moment he opened his mouth, Jason wouldn’t rest until he figured out who—or what—was responsible.

And honestly? That was the kind of energy Y/N both feared and loved about him.

“I just had a stressful day at work, Jason. I’ll be fine,” Y/N said, sidestepping as he tried to make his way past the towering vigilante and towards the bathroom.

But trying to get past Jason when he was in that mode? Easier said than done. It was like trying to walk through a solid brick wall—one that was armed, brooding, and ridiculously muscled. Jason was locked into full protective-boyfriend mode, which meant Y/N wasn’t going anywhere until Jason had the name, address, and probably the social security number of the person who dared to upset him.

Why he needed the social security number? Well, Bruce did teach him to be thorough when handling "cases." And in Jason’s mind, this was no different.

In one smooth move, Jason’s arm shot out, stopping Y/N’s attempt to breeze past him. With two quick steps, Y/N found himself backed against the wall—well, Jason’s chest first, and then the wall behind him. Jason leaned in, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible, his dark, piercing gaze locking onto Y/N’s like a laser. That intense look he gave—the one that said I have no problem keeping you right here until I get answers—made Y/N’s knees weak.

Not that he minded. Let’s be real: Jason’s body, his sheer presence, had always been Y/N’s favorite place to decompress, even if it came with the added pressure of being metaphorically (and sometimes literally) pinned to the hot seat. And honestly? Who could complain about being wrapped up in the arms of a man like Jason. If you wouldn’t feel the same, take your judgment elsewhere.

Jason tilted his head, his voice low and commanding as he leaned in closer. “Talk to me, baby. What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Y/N muttered, looking away, though his traitorous heart betrayed him by picking up speed. He could feel Jason’s gaze on him, heavy and unwavering. “Just a bad day.”

“That’s not nothing,” Jason replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His arm caged Y/N in further, his body so close that Y/N could feel the heat radiating off him. “Bad days don’t make you cry in your car before coming home.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. Damn it. How does he always know?

Jason leaned even closer, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he whispered, “I’ll ask again. Who made you cry?”

That commanding tone, combined with Jason’s overwhelming presence, had Y/N’s walls crumbling faster than he’d like to admit. “Jason, it’s nothing you need to get involved in. It’s my boss—he’s just been... making things harder than they need to be,” he said, his voice faltering as he tried to downplay the situation.

Jason’s jaw ticked, and his free hand gently cupped Y/N’s chin, tilting his head back so their eyes met. “Details. Now.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before the frustration, hurt, and exhaustion bubbled over. “He’s cutting my hours—again. And I need those hours, Jason. For rent, for groceries, for school. I’ve tried talking to him, emailing HR, even bringing in a neutral third party, but nothing changes. And today…” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “Today, he reduced my schedule to the point where I’ll barely be able to afford ramen next week. And then he called me into his office to give me some bullshit ‘coaching moment’ that was really just him tearing me down in front of everyone.”

Jason’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as Y/N’s words sank in. “What did he say?” His tone was dangerously calm, the kind of calm that meant bad things were about to happen to someone.

Y/N shook his head, his voice breaking as he tried to get the words out. “I—I don’t want to repeat it. It was nasty, Jason. Just nasty.”

Jason’s grip softened immediately, his hand moving to the back of Y/N’s neck as he pulled him into his chest. “Baby, come here,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. Y/N didn’t resist, letting himself melt into Jason’s arms as the tears he’d been holding back all day finally spilled over.

Jason held him tightly, his strong arms a fortress of safety and comfort as he whispered, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it out.”

They stayed like that for a while, Jason eventually guiding Y/N to the couch so they could sit down. He pulled Y/N into his lap, holding him as if to shield him from the world. Y/N buried his face in Jason’s chest, the warmth and strength of his boyfriend grounding him as Jason’s hand gently stroked his back.

After a while, Y/N’s voice broke the silence. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash, Jason. Please.”

Jason’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. “I promise.”

The next day, Y/N found himself questioning that promise when Jason showed up at his workplace. The vigilante didn’t cause a scene—he didn’t need to. A quiet, private “conversation” with Y/N’s manager in the backroom was all it took. Whatever Jason said, it worked. By the time he left, Y/N’s hours had mysteriously been restored, and his manager couldn’t look him in the eye without stammering.

When Y/N confronted him later, Jason just smirked, pulling him into a kiss. “I didn’t do anything rash,” he said innocently. “I just... clarified some things.”

And honestly? Y/N didn’t even want to know what “clarified” meant.

It was that incident—the one where Jason paid a visit to Y/N’s workplace—when Y/N’s coworkers finally met the infamous boyfriend they’d only ever heard about in passing. Well, passing might’ve been an understatement, considering Y/N used any and every opportunity to talk about his man. At first, the constant mentions of “Jason this” and “Jason that” had been met with teasing eyerolls and mock groans. But after seeing Jason in action, shutting down their tyrant of a manager with one calm but devastating conversation, everyone got it. Completely.

Jason and Y/N quickly became what the group lovingly referred to as the “template” for relationship goals. Y/N didn’t mind the label; he liked that people saw the best parts of their dynamic. What they didn’t see—or couldn’t fully grasp—was the effort and balance behind it all. Jason wasn’t just the tall, brooding vigilante who swooped in to save the day, and Y/N wasn’t just the sweet, supportive boyfriend standing in his shadow. Their relationship was a partnership in every sense of the word, built on mutual protection and care for one another.

It was that incident—the one where Jason paid a visit to Y/N’s workplace—when Y/N’s coworkers finally met the infamous boyfriend they’d only ever heard about in passing. Well, passing might’ve been an understatement, considering Y/N used any and every opportunity to talk about his man. At first, the constant mentions of “Jason this” and “Jason that” had been met with teasing eyerolls and mock groans. But after seeing Jason in action, shutting down their tyrant of a manager with one calm but devastating conversation, everyone got it. Completely.

Jason and Y/N quickly became what the group lovingly referred to as the “template” for relationship goals. Y/N didn’t mind the label; he liked that people saw the best parts of their dynamic. What they didn’t see—or couldn’t fully grasp—was the effort and balance behind it all. Jason wasn’t just the tall, brooding vigilante who swooped in to save the day, and Y/N wasn’t just the sweet, supportive boyfriend standing in his shadow. Their relationship was a partnership in every sense of the word, built on mutual protection and care for one another.

“Y/N, how much is your rent for this place? It’s really nice, and I’m looking for something closer to campus,” his friend asked one day during a study session at his and Jason’s apartment. A few of their classmates had joined, and the group was sprawled out in the living room, surrounded by open textbooks, laptops, and half-empty mugs and cups.

Y/N was about to answer—he really was—but then paused, his face twisting into a look of genuine confusion as he stared off into the distance, like he was searching the recesses of his brain for an answer that just wasn’t there. “Uh… I think $1,100? Maybe? Don’t quote me on that, though. I’m not 100% sure.”

His friends all exchanged baffled looks. “Wait, what do you mean you’re not sure?” one of them asked, narrowing their eyes. “How do you not know your own rent?”

“I do! I just… forgot,” Y/N said with a shrug, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Now they were all staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Y/N, literally what the fuck? How do you just forget how much you pay in rent? Who forgets that?”

“I don’t know, okay? I knew it when I signed the lease, but every time I try to pay it at the beginning of the month, Jason’s already paid it. Sometimes months in advance! And, I don’t know, after a while, it just stopped being something I thought about.” Y/N gestured vaguely, as if this explanation somehow made perfect sense.

That didn’t stop the dumbfounded stares—or the flicker of envy in more than a few pairs of eyes.

“Wait, wait, wait.” One of his friends held up a hand. “So your boyfriend just pays your rent for you every month—without even asking—and you just… let him?”

Y/N snorted, sitting back on the couch. “First of all, rude. It’s not like I just let him. Trust me, if you were in my shoes, you’d understand that trying to stop Jason from taking care of me is like… I don’t know, trying to explain to someone in a MAGA hat what a cult is and that they’re in one. You’re not winning that battle.”

Can the church get an amen?

Y/N wasn’t lying—not even a little—when he said that trying to stop Jason from taking care of him was an exercise in futility. If anyone dared to tell Jason he was “doing too much” for his boyfriend, congratulations, they’d now joined the prestigious ranks of those “experts” Jason would gladly let fend for themselves in a crisis. When it came to Y/N, Jason handled it all: physically, emotionally, financially—you name it, he was on it like white on rice. And no amount of protesting from Y/N could change that.

And oh, did Y/N protest.

“Jason, did you pay my rent again?” Y/N asked, stepping into the apartment with his wallet still in hand and a clearly exasperated look on his face. He’d just come back from the leasing office, only to find out his balance was already cleared with a sex month advance payment. Again.

His frustration hit a slight pause, though, as he spotted Jason lounging shirtless on the couch—pause for an aroused deep breath—engrossed in what appeared to be an intense game of Mario Kart on his Nintendo Switch. A book Jason had been reading earlier was tossed haphazardly to the side, forgotten in the heat of the Rainbow Road battle.

Jason didn’t even glance up as he responded, “Yeah, I did. Why?” His thumbs moved quickly over the buttons, his face set in that annoyingly sexy, hyper-focused expression that made Y/N momentarily forget why he was upset in the first place.

“Why?” Y/N snapped, pulling himself out of that temporary daze. “Because I told you not to! That’s why!” He stormed over, planting himself squarely in front of the couch, arms crossed and glare locked on his boyfriend. “Jason, we’ve talked about this. I can handle my own rent.”

Jason sighed, finally pausing his game. He leaned back against the couch with an air of deliberate calm, setting the joy-con controllers aside. “I know you can,” he said, his voice smooth and measured in a way that made Y/N’s resolve falter. Jason’s eyes flicked up to meet his, dark and steady, pinning Y/N in place. “But here’s the thing, babe—you don’t have to.”

“That’s not the point,” Y/N shot back, his voice wavering slightly as Jason stretched lazily, his arms going behind his head in a way that made the muscles in his chest and shoulders flex. Unfair. He was doing this on purpose.

“Isn’t it, though?” Jason’s lips curved into a slow, smug smirk. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and Y/N’s breath hitched as the intensity of his gaze locked onto him. “Taking care of you isn’t optional for me. It’s my job. Whether it’s paying the rent, making sure you eat, or keeping your gorgeous ass out of trouble, that’s mine to handle.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned as he tried to maintain his glare, but it was a losing battle. “Jason,” he said firmly, though the quiver in his voice betrayed him, “you can’t just decide these things without asking me.”

Jason tilted his head, studying him in a way that felt equal parts tender and possessive. “Sure I can,” he said smoothly, reaching out to hook his fingers lightly around Y/N’s wrist, tugging him forward until he was standing between Jason’s knees. “You can handle yourself—I know that. But you don’t need to. Not when I’m here.”

Y/N opened his mouth to protest, but Jason tugged him down into his lap, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him close. His free hand slid to the back of Y/N’s neck, his thumb brushing against the skin there in a way that made Y/N’s heart race.

“Tell me,” Jason murmured, his voice low and commanding, “why should I let you stress over something I can fix? Hmm?”

Y/N bit his lip, trying to muster the strength to argue, but Jason’s tone, his touch, the sheer weight of his presence—it all left him scrambling for words. He hated how easily Jason could reduce him to this flustered mess, and he really hated how much he secretly loved it.

“You’re impossible,” he finally muttered, dropping his head against Jason’s shoulder, his voice soft and defeated.

“And you love me for it,” Jason murmured against his ear, his smirk practically audible.

Y/N groaned but didn’t pull away, his fingers curling against Jason’s chest. “This conversation isn’t over,” he mumbled, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Sure, babe. Whatever you say,” Jason replied, leaning back with Y/N still in his lap, his grip firm and unyielding. He reached for his Switch with his free hand, resuming his game like he hadn’t just completely derailed the argument and walked away victorious.

And as much as Y/N wanted to be mad, he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. Damn it. He really did love him for it. The student didn’t need to say how much he appreciated the weight of Jason’s steady presence; Jason didn’t need to hear it to know. And while Y/N would keep fighting to hold his own ground, there was a part of him—an unspoken, undeniable part—that found comfort in letting Jason hold the world at bay for him.

Their domestic life was a careful dance of their unspoken dynamic, with Jason ensuring their world was secure and steady, while Y/N kept their home—and Jason—centered and whole. Their roles played out naturally, shaped by who they were as individuals. Jason made sure the outside world couldn’t touch Y/N, taking care of the big things, the dangerous things that he’d never let his boyfriend come within a mile of. His presence was a shield, and his devotion ran so deep that sometimes it felt like he’d lay the world at Y/N’s feet if it meant seeing him happy.

Y/N swears there was one time he cracked a joke about wanting to live out his “soft boi” aesthetic—because, obviously, the ‘i’ made it edgier—and Jason, without missing a beat, ran with it without ever looking back.

But Y/N? He was the one who kept their world turning smoothly, the quiet, grounding presence that made sure Jason had a place to fall apart when life became too much. Whether it was stocking the kitchen with Jason’s favorite snacks or simply sitting with him on the couch after a rough patrol, Y/N created the kind of space Jason didn’t even realize he needed—safe, steady, and entirely his.

That balance extended to the little things too. Jason liked to cook when he had the time, his meals always hearty, protein-packed “fuel” designed to keep them going. Y/N, on the other hand, was the one who brought warmth to the table, sneaking in something sweet or comforting—even if it meant slipping vegetables into Jason’s plate, much to his dramatic protests.

“Because it’s pesto,” Y/N replied innocently, grinning as he leaned against the counter. “Don’t act like you’re too good for spinach.”

Jason grumbled something under his breath—something about how spinach was a lie—but ate every bite, proving once again that Y/N knew exactly how to play him.

And then there were the quieter moments—the ones that reminded them both why they worked so well together. Nights spent curled up on the couch, Jason sprawled out with his head resting in Y/N’s lap, his fingers absently tracing patterns along Y/N’s thigh. Y/N would run his fingers through Jason’s hair, the simple, soothing gesture melting away the tension that Jason carried like a second skin. Sometimes they’d talk—about Jason’s patrols, Y/N’s classes, or random nonsense that didn’t matter. Other times, they simply existed together, the quiet hum of their apartment a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the world outside.

But even Y/N, the softer half of their partnership, had his limits when it came to anyone crossing a line with Jason. Like the time a journalist ambushed Jason at a charity event, spouting thinly veiled accusations about his past. Jason had been moments away from snapping, his fists clenching at his sides, when Y/N calmly stepped in.

“If you don’t have something constructive to say,” Y/N said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “then I suggest you find someone else to bother.”

The journalist, thrown off by Y/N’s tone—gentle but edged like a blade—backed off almost immediately. Jason hadn’t said a word about it afterward, but later that night, when they were home, he’d kissed Y/N’s temple and murmured a quiet, “Thank you.”

Y/N was never afraid to step in for Jason when he needed him to, even if Jason wouldn’t—or couldn’t—outwardly ask for it. And the fact that Jason didn’t have to ask made it all the more meaningful for the vigilante. Y/N always seemed to know when to intervene, especially in moments when Jason couldn’t advocate for himself—particularly when it came to Bruce.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Jason had come home late that night, his steps heavy, his shoulders slumped in a way that told Y/N everything he needed to know before Jason even said a word. Gotham’s chaos could wear Jason down, but this kind of defeated air? That was Bruce’s handiwork.

Y/N didn’t push right away. He let Jason slip into the apartment, kick off his boots, and collapse onto the couch without a word. Jason sat there, his hands hanging limply between his knees, staring blankly at the floor like he was stuck in some internal tug-of-war. Y/N sat beside him, his hand lightly brushing Jason’s shoulder before resting on his thigh—a grounding touch.

“What happened?” Y/N asked softly.

Jason’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. “It’s Bruce,” he said after a long pause, his voice raw. “We were handling this case—a trafficking ring. I had it handled, Y/N. I had it. But he pulled the plug on the whole thing because it didn’t fit his goddamn code.” His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. “There were kids involved, and he still chose the ‘moral high ground’ over what needed to be done. And then—” Jason’s voice broke, and he shook his head, his frustration giving way to something more fragile. “He looked at me like I was the problem. Like I was… too much again. Like I’m always too much.”

Y/N’s heart clenched as he took in the words, the quiet ache that laced Jason’s tone. It wasn’t just the case or Bruce’s stubbornness that hurt him—it was the way Bruce always seemed to find a way to make Jason feel like he’d never be enough, no matter what he did.

Y/N leaned in, his hand sliding up to the back of Jason’s neck, fingers gently massaging the tension there. “You’re not too much, Jay,” he murmured, his voice steady. “Not for me. Not for anyone who actually knows you.”

Jason didn’t respond, but the way he leaned into Y/N’s touch, his head bowing slightly, said more than words ever could.

An hour later, when a knock came at the door, Y/N didn’t need to guess who it was. He stood, sighing as Jason stayed where he was on the couch, visibly tensing at the sound. Y/N opened the door to find Bruce standing there, in some more casual wear (if you could ever call Bruce’s “old money” aesthetic casual), his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Y/N,” Bruce greeted, his tone clipped. “I need to speak with Jason.”

Y/N didn’t move, his hand braced casually against the doorframe. “No, you don’t.”

Bruce blinked, clearly unused to being told no—and even less accustomed to hearing it so decisively. “It’s important.”

“Is someone dead or currently dying?”

The blunt, and sarcastic tone of his words, while it didn’t visually throw the billionaire off, Y/N could see Bruce was surprised by his tone. He didn’t know how, but he clocked the shift in his demeanor. Maybe he was picking up some skills from his boyfriend after all.

“No, but–”

“Then, it can wait,” Y/N said, his tone edge with a finality that left no room for question or pushback.  “He just came home, and I don’t think he needs you piling on more stress right now. Whatever you’ve got to say can wait.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This isn’t about stress. It’s about his actions tonight. He—”

“—did what he thought was right,” Y/N interrupted, his voice sharpening just slightly. “And from what he told me, he was right. You’re the one who undermined him and made him feel like he was a problem.”

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N stepped out into the hallway, lowering his voice but not his resolve. “Look, Mr. Wayne, I get that you care about him in your own… specific way. But if you want to keep him in your life, maybe stop treating him like he’s the black sheep who’ll never measure up to your perfect little code. Because right now? You’re the only one who can make him feel like this, and that’s not the kind of impact someone who ‘cares’ should have.”

Bruce’s face didn’t betray much, but Y/N caught the faint flicker of something—guilt, maybe—in his eyes. Still, he didn’t budge. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“No,” Y/N said calmly, stepping back into the apartment and beginning to close the door. “But it is for tonight. Goodnight, Mr. Wayne.”

With that, he shut the door, turning back to see Jason watching him from the couch, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief.

“Did you really just tell Bruce Wayne to go home?” Jason asked, his lips twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to smirk or shake his head.

“Damn right I did,” Y/N replied, crossing his arms with a small, satisfied huff. “And I’d do it again.”

Jason let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing through his hair as he leaned back against the couch. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?”

“Please,” Y/N shot back with a roll of his eyes. “You act like it’s a big deal. Someone had to say it, and we both know you weren’t going to.” He paused, watching Jason closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And speaking of things you aren’t doing…”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his interest visibly piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Y/N leaned forward, tapping Jason’s knee with mock seriousness. “First, you’re going to get off this couch, because moping is not a good look for you. Then, you’re going to help me put away the laundry because I’ve been doing it all day while you were out being Mr. Broody Vigilante. And after that? You’re going to make us both something to eat, because I’m starving and I’m not lifting a finger tonight. You’ve got work to do, big guy.”

Jason blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before his expression shifted into something darker, sharper. He cocked his head, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, really?” he drawled, his tone low and deliberate as he sat up straighter. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Y/N’s pulse quickened, but he held his ground, leveling Jason with his best faux-bossy glare. “That’s exactly how it’s gonna be. So, get moving, Todd.”

Jason was on his feet before Y/N could blink, towering over him with that quiet, commanding energy that always sent a thrill down his spine. He didn’t say a word at first, just leaned down slightly, his eyes locked on Y/N’s like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You think you’re in charge now?” Jason asked softly, his voice deceptively calm. His hand brushed against Y/N’s jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of his cheek with deliberate slowness. “That’s cute.”

Y/N swallowed hard, refusing to back down even as Jason’s presence enveloped him. “Not cute,” he retorted, his voice wavering just slightly. “Efficient.”

Jason’s smirk widened, and in one swift motion, he scooped Y/N up from the couch, earning a startled yelp that quickly turned into laughter. “Efficient, huh?” Jason murmured, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he carried him toward the bedroom. “Let’s see how efficient you are at following orders, then. Because we both know who calls the shots here, don’t we?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, his breath hitching as Jason pinned him with that intense, unrelenting gaze. “Jason…” he started, but his boyfriend was already laying him down on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore.

“You wanted me to focus on something else,” Jason murmured, leaning over him, his hands braced on either side of Y/N’s head. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’ve got my full attention now.”

And just like that, Y/N’s carefully constructed plan to distract Jason had backfired spectacularly—not that he was complaining. If there was one thing Jason was good at, it was reminding him exactly who was in charge.

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or Dare,” his best friend asked, a mischievous glint in his eye as the group sat around in a circle during their weekly de-stresser game night. Of course, their version of game night had taken a more explicit turn—totally par for the course with this group.

“Um… truth,” Y/N said hesitantly, already sensing trouble.

“Oh, perfect,” Seth said, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. “Alright, Mr. L/N, the time has come for you to reveal your truth. Are you a bossy power bottom or a slutty, submissive one?”

The room erupted into a mix of laughter and gasps, with a couple of dramatic “oh my God” reactions thrown in for good measure. Y/N’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to form words. Before he could even start to defend himself, someone else chimed in.

“Bro, seriously? What kind of question is that?”

Y/N immediately felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you—finally, someone gets it—”

But then came the follow-up.

“We all know there’s not a dominant bone in his body. If anything, it’s giving brat who likes to be put in his place.”

The room fell silent for half a beat before laughter exploded all around him, punctuated by a few dramatic “damn”s and someone nearly choking on their drink.

Y/N blinked, his brain short-circuiting as the betrayal sank in. “Excuse me?!” he finally managed, his voice high-pitched and offended as he pointed an accusing finger at the culprit.

“I dare you to try and tell me I’m lying,” His friend challenged him with a raised eyebrow. And when Y/N couldn’t formulate a defense for himself, his friend nodded his head knowingly, “Exactly as I thought.”

Because was he actually lying?

“I dare you to tell me I’m wrong,” his friend challenged, one eyebrow arched and a smug smirk tugging at their lips.

Y/N opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out—just the faintest stutter of indignation as his brain scrambled for a defense that simply didn’t exist.

His friend nodded knowingly, leaning back with a triumphant grin. “Exactly what I thought.”

Because, honestly… were they even wrong?

Frankly, if you looked at their relationship as a whole, was it really that surprising?

Jason, in a nutshell, was all rough edges and a protective streak that could rival Fort Knox, but with a kind of intimacy that Y/N never saw coming. It was whiplash in the best way possible. One minute, he was Gotham’s most intimidating vigilante, and the next, he was softly murmuring sweet nothings while holding Y/N like he was the most fragile, precious thing on the planet. Y/N had once joked that Jason was like a human light switch—rough and dominant one moment, soft and needy the next. Now? It was just something he accepted… and secretly loved.

Because the roughness Jason brought into their bed was never just about dominance—it was about claiming. There were nights when Jason would grip Y/N’s hips like he was staking his territory, growling low in his ear as he worked Y/N’s body to the point of trembling. If Jason was feeling particularly territorial—or, as Y/N liked to put it, “possessive alpha wolf mode”—restraints were almost a guarantee. Y/N would be left tied up, squirming and gasping as Jason moved with a kind of intensity that left no room for doubt about who was in control.

And then, like clockwork, came the switch.

Imagine this: a six-foot-something mass of pure muscle and testosterone, who’d just spent the last hour absolutely wrecking Y/N—legs shaking, throat raw from moans that could probably be heard two apartments over—suddenly curling up beside him like the world’s biggest teddy bear. Jason would go from rough, grunting dominance, a man on a mission to leave Y/N marked and molded for days, to nuzzling into Y/N’s neck with soft kisses and quietly demanding to be held like he was the one who’d been put through the wringer.

It was absurd. Completely and utterly absurd. And Y/N? He let it happen every single time. No wonder Jason was so spoiled in their relationship.

What else was he supposed to do when Jason left him in a post-fuck haze so blissed out he couldn’t even remember what year it was? By the time Jason would return from cleaning him up, soft praise slipping from his lips as he gently wiped Y/N down, the fight had already left him. And honestly? Who was Y/N kidding—he didn’t want to fight it. Not when Jason would tuck him against his broad chest like they hadn’t just committed sins the mattress might never recover from.

But here was the kicker: for all the dominance Jason brought into their dynamic, Y/N knew the man craved the quiet moments afterward just as much—if not more. Those moments when Y/N’s hands would slide up into Jason’s hair, gently massaging his scalp, or trace over the faded scars on his chest like they were the most fascinating pieces of art. Jason wouldn’t say much—he didn’t need to. The way he sighed into Y/N’s touch, letting himself completely relax, said everything.

It was a ridiculous dance of give and take: Jason would obliterate Y/N’s body with enough intensity to leave him rethinking all his life choices, only to turn into the world’s biggest cuddle bug immediately after, soaking up every ounce of affection Y/N could give him. And as much as Y/N liked to complain about the whiplash, the truth was that he wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

Because as much as Jason loved being the one in control, Y/N had him wrapped around his finger the moment his fingers slid into Jason’s hair, soothing away the world like only he could. It was a balance only they understood, and it worked in ways no one else could ever pull off.

But it wasn’t just in the bedroom where Jason’s attention shined. Y/N would often catch Jason’s gaze lingering at the most random moments, his blue-green eyes shamelessly raking over him like he was a five-course meal and Jason hadn’t eaten in weeks. Whether it was Y/N lounging around in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, running errands in shorts that rode up just a little too high, or even bundled up in the most unflattering hoodie he owned, Jason’s carnal desire never wavered. If anything, it intensified as their relationship deepened.

Jason didn’t even bother hiding it anymore. Y/N had long stopped being surprised by the firm smack on his ass whenever Jason walked by, followed by the satisfied grin his boyfriend would flash as if to say, Mine.

“Jason!” Y/N would shriek every time, a startled jump or yelp accompanying his protests. But the man never looked the least bit guilty. If anything, he’d double down, grabbing a handful and muttering something along the lines of, “Couldn’t help it,” or, “You’re teasing me.”

The truth? Jason had rules—categories, if you will—when it came to Y/N’s wardrobe. There were outfits Y/N could wear in public, outfits strictly for lounging at home, and then there were the "home only" outfits. And no, "home only" didn’t mean cute loungewear. It was a polite way of saying, for Jason’s eyes only.

“Babe, you’re not wearing that outside,” Jason had said once, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway as Y/N attempted to leave for the gym.

“It’s just a pair of shorts!” Y/N protested, gesturing down at the admittedly form-fitting gym wear that showcased his thighs just a little too well.

“Exactly,” Jason replied, his eyes narrowing. “Those are home shorts. You’re not walking into a gym full of thirsty people in that.”

“Jason, you’re being ridiculous,” Y/N huffed, crossing his arms.

“Maybe,” Jason said with a shrug, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Y/N’s waist. He leaned in, lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he added in a low voice, “But that doesn’t change anything, now go change..”

And that was that. Jason had an uncanny ability to make his tone very rigid and unyielding, leaving no room for argument which would have Y/N’s protests dying on his lips every time.

Then, there were the outfits Y/N didn’t even get to leave the house in—because they didn’t survive Jason. It had become a running joke between them, the sheer number of shirts, pants, and underwear Jason had destroyed in fits of possessive frustration. If something hugged Y/N’s figure a little too well, Jason didn’t bother holding back. Many an innocent shirt had been ripped clean down the middle, casualties of Jason giving in to his urges.

“Do you have any idea how much you cost me in clothes?” Y/N had grumbled once as Jason stood over him, shirtless and smirking like the devil himself.

Jason had only shrugged, pulling Y/N into his lap. “Then stop wearing stuff that teases me,” he murmured, his lips trailing along Y/N’s neck. “Or don’t. Gives me an excuse to buy you more.”

And buy he did. But let’s be real—certain clothes never lasted long in their relationship. Case in point? The time Y/N ordered a pair of shorts he’d been eyeing for weeks, fully aware that Jason would raise an eyebrow so high it’d disappear into his hairline. Still, in a moment of fuck it impulse, Y/N clicked "add to cart," setting the stage for the chaos to follow.

When the package arrived, Y/N pushed the door open with a huff, struggling to balance the various bags and boxes in his arms as he shuffled into the apartment. “Jason, can you help me?” he called, his voice slightly muffled as he tried not to drop anything.

Jason, sprawled on the couch and scrolling through his phone, glanced up. His eyebrows rose at the sight of his boyfriend buried beneath a mountain of shopping bags. “More clothes?” he asked, standing up and strolling over with a teasing smirk.

“Yes, more clothes,” Y/N shot back, setting his haul down on the kitchen counter. “You know, since someone has a habit of destroying half my wardrobe.”

Jason shrugged, entirely unbothered. “What can I say? Some of them deserved it.”

Rolling his eyes, Y/N began unpacking his bags, pulling out folded shirts, joggers, and a few items that were more… adventurous. As Jason retreated back to the couch, Y/N grabbed one of his new purchases and headed to the bathroom to try it on.

A few minutes later, Y/N emerged, ready to test the waters. He stepped into the living room, his expression smug as he strolled in wearing a pair of black shorts that barely qualified as clothing. The sheer mesh fabric, paired with slits running up the sides, left little—if anything—to the imagination.

Jason glanced up, and his relaxed posture evaporated. His gaze sharpened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darkened with a possessive glint. “Those,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “are not leaving this apartment.”

Y/N paused, glancing at Jason’s expression before looking down to examine the shorts. “What? These? Oh, come on, they’re gym shorts,” he said, smoothing the fabric over his thighs. “I can’t wait to test them out during leg day.”

Jason’s jaw ticked, his gaze locked on Y/N like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re not wearing those to the gym.”

“Jason, don’t start,” Y/N said, stepping closer to the couch—his first mistake. Paired with the loose, cropped tank he was wearing, the look was downright scandalous. He twirled around playfully, flashing a cheeky grin. “See? They’re nice. Functional.”

Jason didn’t reply. He just sat there, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing as Y/N paraded around, pushing the limits. The tension between them was palpable, thickening with every second that Jason didn’t speak. And when Y/N cocked a hip and teased, “What? Don’t like them?”—that was the final straw.

Jason moved so fast Y/N barely registered it. In one fluid motion, he reached out, grabbing the shorts by one of the side slits and yanking hard. The fabric tore with a sharp rip, leaving Y/N stumbling forward with a gasp.

“Jason!” Y/N yelped, his voice equal parts indignation and shock. But before he could gather himself, Jason leaned back on the couch, effortlessly pulling Y/N into his lap. His hands gripped Y/N’s waist, holding him firmly in place as his legs were spread across Jason’s thighs.

“These,” Jason growled, his hands sliding down to Y/N’s exposed skin, “are home-only shorts. Got it?”

Y/N squirmed, pressing his hands against Jason’s chest in a weak attempt to push away. “Jason, you can’t just—”

Another sharp rip interrupted him as Jason’s rough fingers tore at the other slit, leaving the shorts hanging on by mere threads. Y/N gasped, heat rushing to his face as Jason’s hands roamed possessively, smoothing over his bare thighs with deliberate, firm strokes.

“What did I say?” Jason questioned, his voice a dangerous whisper that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. “These are for my eyes only.”

Y/N’s protests dissolved into breathy whines as Jason’s hands tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. A sharp smack landed on Y/N’s rear, drawing a startled yelp, followed by another that left him gripping Jason’s shoulders for balance.

“Stop squirming,” Jason ordered, his tone firm and commanding as he leaned in, his face inches from Y/N’s. His dark gaze pinned Y/N in place as one hand slid to the back of his neck. “You know how this works, sweetheart. You push, I push back.”

Y/N bit his lip, his glare faltering under Jason’s intense stare. At some point, the defiance melted into submission, and their lips collided in a heated, desperate kiss. Jason’s hands never left Y/N’s body, gripping, claiming, and asserting dominance with every touch.

Before Y/N knew it, he was on his knees, Jason standing over him with his pants tugged low enough to reveal just how demanding he was. Y/N didn’t fight it—instead, he leaned into Jason’s command, eager to please the man who had thoroughly dismantled every ounce of his bravado.

By the end of it, Y/N was back on Jason’s lap, legs spread on either side as his body trembled with it being moved roughly up and down on the vigilante’s manhood, his own throbbing hardness rubbing against his boyfriend’s abs as Jason held him close. The only piece of clothing left between them were the shredded remains of the mesh shorts clinging to Y/N’s hips—barely.

Of course, Jason had to replace them with not one, but three new pairs after the fact. But he made it very clear they’d all meet the same fate if Y/N ever dared to wear them outside the apartment.

Did Y/N listen? Absolutely not. Because, let’s be real—he loved pissing Jason off. And honestly? Maybe the whole “brat who likes to be put in his place” thing wasn’t so far off after all.

And, of course, Jason wasn’t the only one who knew how to push buttons. He had his own arsenal of outfits that drove Y/N wild, and he wielded them with precision. Whether it was his compression gear that clung to his chest and arms in ways that made Y/N’s mouth go dry, or his Red Hood attire that practically screamed dominance, Jason loved to see the effect his clothing—or lack thereof—had on Y/N.

“You’re staring,” Jason had teased once, pulling his hoodie over his compression top in the middle of the gym.

Y/N, flustered and blatantly ogling, had tried to recover with a weak, “No, I wasn’t.”

Jason had chuckled, leaning in just enough to murmur, “You were. And I liked it.”

But the real chaos came in the bedroom. Jason, ever the tease, would sometimes refuse to take off his compression shirt or Red Hood pants during sex, fully aware of the primal side it brought out in Y/N.

“Stop, don’t take it off,” Y/N had panted once, his fingers gripping the slick, tight material as Jason tried to pull it over his head. “Leave it on.”

Jason had smirked, leaning down to kiss Y/N’s neck as he growled, “Anything you want, sweetheart.” He knew exactly what he was doing, letting Y/N’s hands wander over the material, the added friction driving him crazy in the best way.

Jason loved pulling that raw, uninhibited side out of Y/N. It was a side only he got to see, and he relished every second of it. Because while Jason loved being the one in control, he also loved seeing Y/N completely undone, lost in the moment with him.

It was, perhaps, a side effect of Jason’s deeply ingrained dominant nature—his unrelenting need to maintain a sense of control over his surroundings and the people within them. Did that mean he saw Y/N as something to control? Absolutely not. But Jason would be the first to admit that the urge to assert himself surfaced now and then. Fortunately, he had found a way to channel it into something far more productive, releasing it in moments of intimacy where it was not only welcomed but eagerly reciprocated.

And those moments of intimacy? They weren’t confined to the bedroom. Jason’s possessiveness bled into every aspect of their lives, a steady undercurrent to the way he loved. His need for control stemmed from a life filled with chaos, and Y/N understood that better than anyone. Whether it was the firm weight of Jason’s hand resting on the back of his neck during a particularly heated moment, or the low, growling reminders of exactly who Y/N belonged to, Jason’s message was always clear: he didn’t just love Y/N—he claimed him, body and soul.

Jason didn’t say much when Y/N walked into their apartment wearing the oversized hoodie. It was one of Jason’s, slightly frayed at the cuffs and just loose enough to drown Y/N’s smaller frame. The sight alone had Jason's lips twitching upward, his ego swelling with unspoken pride. There was something about Y/N wearing his clothes, especially in public, that hit Jason in a way he couldn’t describe. It wasn’t just the visual—it was the claim it represented, the quiet acknowledgment that Y/N was his, and he didn’t even need to say it out loud for the world to know.

“Isn’t this your hoodie?” Y/N asked casually, dropping his bag onto the floor as he walked past Jason toward the kitchen. He sounded innocent, completely unaware of the fire he’d just stoked. “I borrowed it to wear on campus today. It’s so comfy.”

Jason didn’t respond right away, his gaze trailing after Y/N like a predator tracking its prey. He could see how the fabric clung to Y/N’s shoulders and chest, the way the hem barely grazed the tops of his thighs. It was maddening. He let out a slow, measured breath, leaning back into the couch. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s mine,” Jason finally said, his voice low but even.

Y/N hummed a little as he rummaged through the fridge. “Well, don’t expect to see it for a while. I’m keeping it.”

Jason’s jaw ticked, his fingers tapping against the armrest of the couch. You’re keeping it, huh? The possessive part of his brain whispered promises of retribution, even as he outwardly played it cool. He waited, biding his time.

Later that night, Jason made his move.

Y/N barely had a chance to react before he found himself pinned beneath Jason on the mattress, the hoodie in question already shoved halfway up his torso. Jason’s massive frame hovered over him, his green-blue eyes blazing with a mix of heat and unrestrained hunger.

“You wore my hoodie,” Jason murmured, his voice husky and low, each word dripping with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

“Yeah,” Y/N managed to reply, his voice breathless as Jason’s hands slid beneath the fabric, rough palms grazing over his bare skin. “I… I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Jason smirked, leaning down until his lips brushed against Y/N’s ear. “I don’t mind, sweetheart,” he whispered. “In fact, I like it. But you should’ve known what that would do to me.”

Before Y/N could respond, Jason’s lips captured his in a searing kiss, stealing the air from his lungs. The hoodie bunched awkwardly around Y/N’s chest as Jason adjusted their positions, one hand pinning Y/N’s wrists above his head while the other roamed freely, kneading his thighs and gripping his waist.

Jason moved slowly at first, rocking his hips in a deliberate rhythm that had Y/N arching up into him. The friction of the hoodie’s fabric against their heated skin was intoxicating, Jason’s voice dropping into a growl as he murmured filthy words into Y/N’s ear.

“You wore this out in public,” Jason said, his voice dark and possessive as his hand slid up to gently grip Y/N’s throat. “Let everyone see you in my clothes. Do you know what that does to me? Huh? Knowing they all saw you like this, wearing something that smells like me?”

Y/N whimpered, his eyes glassy as he gazed up at Jason. His thighs trembled where they were pressed against Jason’s hips, every sharp thrust pulling more desperate sounds from his lips.

Jason tightened his grip slightly, just enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through Y/N without ever crossing the line. “Next time,” Jason growled, his pace rough and demanding now, “ask me first. Or better yet, let me put it on you myself. Because when you wear this, it’s not just a hoodie—it’s a mark. A reminder to everyone who you belong to.”

Y/N’s head lolled back against the pillow, his hands twisting beneath Jason’s unyielding grip. His voice was barely above a whisper as he replied, “Yours, Jason. I’m yours.”

That was all Jason needed. He buried himself deeper, his hand slipping from Y/N’s throat to cup his jaw as he captured his lips again. By the time they were both spent, the hoodie had become an even bigger mess—damp with sweat and stretched beyond repair. Jason lay beside Y/N, his chest rising and falling as he dragged a hand over the faint marks he’d left on Y/N’s neck.

“You’re not wearing this hoodie out again,” Jason murmured, his tone soft now, though no less firm.

Y/N let out a sleepy laugh, snuggling closer to Jason’s side. “Good thing you’ve got plenty more for me to borrow.”

Jason chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Y/N smirked, his eyes fluttering shut. “Not a chance.”

Jason let out a soft laugh, wrapping his arms around Y/N and pulling him closer. Because for all his possessiveness, all his need to dominate and claim, it was moments like this—holding Y/N close, feeling the steady beat of his heart—that reminded him what all of it was really for. Y/N couldn’t help but smile to, because no matter how overwhelming Jason’s love could be, it was also the safest place Y/N had ever known.

Yeah, their love really was like no other. Y/N could absolutely understand why people envied and praised their relationship—it was intense, chaotic, and tender all at once, the kind of connection that made rom-coms look bland by comparison. If he were in their shoes, he’d probably be gushing about it too. Hell, he already did, and he was living it.

But honestly? The next person who came up to him with the audacity to ask if Jason was single was about to catch hands. Y/N normally wasn’t the jealous one in their relationship as it’s been made clear—normally—but there were limits. And some people clearly didn’t know what those limits were.

Just ask that bitch, Xavion…

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[chaepink]

I have a small question! Can we get some time whenever you are up for it, Maybe some more of the Yan!sub boys? c:

pathetic sub!yandere boys ♡ pt. 2

pathetic yet adorable yandere boys that are so obsessed with you that they'll do anything you ask them to do.

wc: 1k+ words | masterlist | part one

dom!reader, previous stalking, unhealthy relationship, pet play, bondage, use of blindfold, mention of strap/cock, mention of choking, mention of marking

note: part two cause part one did so well!

Yandere subs that are so obsessed with you that they'll do anything you ask, sexual or not. Ask them for some homework answers? They'll steal the answer sheet for the week's homework for you from the teacher's desk undetected. You've been craving certain snacks and tell them that? Weird enough, you find a pile of those snacks on your bed the next day with a note that has a heart on it that lets you know exactly who it's from.

But in bed? That's a whole different story. Believe me when I say that they want to feel weak and small underneath you in bed. Choke them, spank them, edge or overstimulate them, and they'll babble out 'thank you's to whatever pleasure you're giving them. Such a good boy that just wants to be obedient for you.

Tell them to sit? They'll sit mere seconds later, looking up at you for your next command. Tell them to make you feel good? They'll make you cum as if their life depends on it. You're gonna have to yank their hair so that they don't overstimulate you, making them whimper at the pain as they look up at you with sad puppy eyes, asking you what they did wrong.

They're so desperate to please you that they'll hack into your phone to search your search/porn history for stuff that you want to do to them but haven't asked yet. It's not like you haven't caught them doing so either.

You like pet play? You find them in your room with nothing but a collar around their neck, a leash that's connected to said collar on the floor in front of you as if its beckoning you to grab it, a pair of cat/bunny/dog ears on their head that looks so real that its as if they're actually connected to his head, and- oh? whats that buzzing? Turns out that they put in a tail vibrator in themself too! what a surprise! How about you call them a good boy and fuck him until he can't think anymore as a reward? Watch as he mewls like a slut when you take out the vibrator before pushing it back in him.

What about bondage? Well you'll find them tied up oh so prettily on your bed with some red rope that compliments their skin so well. They'll already be prepped, of course, not wanting to waste time on it so that you'll fuck them quicker. Maybe they'll even have a blindfold on which will heighten his other senses. So how about you touch him all over so that he begs for you to just fuck him already. Don't listen to him though, just continue teasing him until he's soaked the blindfold with his tears and as his dick leaks out pre-cum, desperately humping the air to seek any friction. what a slut!

Turn them into such a mess that all they can think about is the way your strap/dick is hitting all the right spots in him as they lay there taking it all so well. Make him scream out in pleasure, the sounds filling the room which would surely end with an angry complaint from your neighbors complaining about the noises the following day. But he doesn't 't care, why would they when you're fucking him so well?

They're so horny that they're willing to tease you in public just so you would punish them. With some friends and he tagged along? He'll innocently grab your hand to place it on the bulge in his pants, making you widen your eyes and glare at him before he reaches forward to grab something. This makes his shirt ride up which just barely shows the pair of lace panties he's wearing underneath that are peeking out from his pants. How about you drag him to the bathroom and finger him until he cums, a hand on his mouth to silence his loud moans, hm?

About to leave the house to go somewhere with a friend? He'll say goodbye to you wearing the sluttiest outfit right when you're about to exit the door, his ass practically out and dick bulging against the fabric. You can't resist how good they look so you quickly text your friend that you have to cancel and to meet up another time before shaking off your belongings and rushing towards him with hunger in your eyes. Sure you feel bad for your friend but thats the last thing on your mind, the outfit on your yandere being the only thing that you're thinking about at the moment. The way you're looking at him makes them feel so small as if they're the prey and you're the predator but oh do they love it so much.

You know their antics are just to rile you up but you can't ignore them, not when you want to make them scream your name so bad and make them cry from pleasure. It's not your fault, really.

It's not like they're complaining either. They'll gladly get on all fours and present their lubed up ass to you the moment you tell them to. They'll turn their head back to look at you with eyes that absolutely begs you to ruin them. They're just a mere toy for you to use for your own pleasure after all.

Do whatever to them, they'll take it all like a good boy. Leave marks on him so that he can be reminded of the previous night, filthy thoughts flooding his head as he gets hard again. He'll stare at them in the mirror, heading tilting up to look at the small bruise around his neck from your choking. The red mark on his waist is obvious, reminding him of just how hard you gripped it to fuck him even deeper and faster.

Everything you do just makes them even more obsessed with you but you don't mind. After all, you're just as obsessed with them as they are with you.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[ghostedgwen]

but I knew you | j.potter [part three]

note : Thank you all so much for the love and support on the two previous parts! I am still trying to get back into writing and getting my old style back but it is still a work in progress. Really happy you lots enjoyed them and are asking to even be tagged in the next parts!

warning : more angst but some cute moment as well, Remus is an mvp on this one I love him, mentions of blood and injury, violence, there's a nasty fist fight, a brief moment of a man being a man and some misogyny.

James gets into an accident during a Quidditch game and develop amnesia - he doesn't remember the past 2 and a half years, and he currently has the mentality of fourth-year James. This doesn't bode well for you that your boyfriend of 2 years now currently thinks he's still  in love with Lily.

└——————— - [ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝚃𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 - 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚗 ]. +

It's been weird. Actually, that's an understatement. It has been absolute hell ever since that Quidditch accident, no one knew how to act around either you and James.

By now, the whole school knew and with how the school is quick to absorb gossip like greedy sponges, it was quick to be the topic of every conversation.

Girls would throw pitiful looks your way, and it grated your nerves to receive them. You didn't need their pity, not even one bit.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," you groan into your hands, pressed into your closed eyes. "This fucking sucks."

Remus gives you a tight-lipped smile that might as well be empty. "How about retracing your steps?"

You frown, taking your palms off your face and turning to Remus who began putting his book down.

"I'll talk to him, I'll convince him to practise with you."

"Practise what?"

"Remembering. You should know the core memories you two have made throughout your relationship, just recreate those moments with him," Remus shrugged. "Might work."

"It might not." You shake your head, giving up hope before it could even exist.

Remus makes a face at you. "This is so not you, you're not a quitter, ____."

A pregnant pause.

You heave a sigh. "Okay," you give in. "Bloody hell."

.

You watch as James casually approach you. Same mannerisms and all that but he feels unbelievably strange, you almost didn't recognize him with how he regarded you so casually. Curtly nodding and crossing his arms.

"Moony convinced me to humor this," he huffs. "Where are we off to?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to go through with this despite not wanting to do this. This was the only solution that made somewhat sense, and it was ultimately better than waiting it out while you try to act like the problem did not exist.

You click your tongue. "Where you first fell for me," you answered. "In your own words, of course. A bit cheesy for me, in all honesty."

He chuckles at that and you gesture him to follow you which he did. He walks beside you, not too far but also not close enough. You have to constantly remind yourself that it's not his fault. If he had met your James, he would've been pissed at himself right this very moment.

You didn't mind the distance much and continued your strides to the spot. You both pause, he looks around the empty hall with a frown.

"Sirius said he'd make sure the hall was clear for us." You tell him.

How he made it happen doesn't matter to you, but you had a few guesses. No time to dwell on that when he turned to look at you expectantly. You scan him, before speaking again.

"What do you feel when you look at me?"

"Honestly?" he licks his bottom lip with hesitation. "Nothing."

Wow, ouch. Okay.

You were about to speak again when he continued - "At first, because I really don't know you. . .but the more I look, the longer I stare at you - I have this urge to hold you."

That brought a small smile out of you. "Seems my James is still in there somewhere."

He didn't react to that, pretending he didn't feel a clutch in his heart at that. You shake your head, forcing the smile away and turned to the very spot you two stood on that day. 

"Muggles science did say that love is in the head, not exactly the heart," you tell him with a bitter chuckle. "I guess you don't abide by that law. You still feel for me, despite not knowing me. I just badly need you back."

You can only imagine how much harder this is on him. While it absolutely hurt to be forgotten by your lover, you can empathize with his situation. How confused he must be to be a 14-year-old in the body of a 16-year-old James.

"How does it feel?" You ask him.

"Weird," he answered truthfully. "I feel weird. Like every inch of my body is on fire but it doesn't hurt. Uncomfortably warm."

You cannot even begin to image what that feels like. "I'm sorry, by the way. I have been too focused on the fact you forgot about me to even realize you lost a whole lot more than that."

He blinks. Your voice was comforting, and your words were kind. He still does not know how he pulled away from Lily, but he can see the appeal of why he fell for you. Your words, how you carried yourself and that confidence that oozed out of your every action without trying hard.

"I'm sorry too." was all he said.

You cleared your throat. "This is where I slapped you, by the way." You laugh humourlessly at your own words. "You had the absolute audacity to imply that you'd buy me, what a right git you were."

You look at him and see him blink in confusion, "What's your last memory before waking up in the infirmary?"

He gives you a huff, dropping his shoulder and walking to the wall with a wide open window. He sat there, leaning against the stone wall with his head hanging low. "I remember just returning to Hogwarts, I had asked Li- Evans out again during the welcome dinner, got rejected again - and I went to bed after arm wrestling with Pads."

You followed him, sitting across him while listening attentively. "Then I woke up, and here I am."

A moment of silence passed, you just watched him. You can see the gears turning in his head, a faraway look in his eyes as he gets lost in his thoughts. "It must be extremely hard for you too."

James nod. "It is, because I can see that I'm hurting you - and the lads, but I can't force it out of me. I feel a bit unwanted."

You scoot closer, hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder. "That's not true, we're all just struggling as well. You don't know it yet, but Sirius - he could never unwant you, you two are basically soulmates and I am the thirdwheel."

"Does something happen? To him?"

You nod when he lifts his head to look at you. "Yes, but that's not until you both are 15."

"When do you come in?"

You smile bitterly. "Today. The second day during our fourth year, I enter the story."

James' jaw dropped. "I remember everything - until exactly the day I meet you?"

You laugh humourlessly, nodding to his words. "What a cruel joke."

.

"How's it been?" Remus asked, settling beside you on the couch. You had a book propped on your lap and was getting lost in the words when he pulled you out and grounded you back to reality. "You've been at it for a week. What timeline are you in now?"

"Just about finishing up fifth year," you answer him casually. "He's compliant, and behaved. Would you believe that? He's behaved, around me."

Remus laughs. "That's good at least, he's willing to try."

"He said he felt unwanted by us," you tell him, watching his jaw drop. "We got too busy minding the fact he forgot."

"Merlin - " Remus runs a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell."

"He's 14, right now and he must feel so scared to be in this familiar - yet strange environment he has ended up in. I didn't wanna tell you, he confided in me but I can see how he's been struggling throughout the week. He needs his brothers too, not just me."

Remus slowly nod along your words. "You're right. We thought to give you some space. Pads is still in shock and Peter is just depressed at this point."

You heave a sigh. "We'll get him back, no worries."

.

"____!" You turn to the voice that called you, you spy a familiar boy clad in black and yellow uniform run up to you. He had on a bright grin as he greeted you, a bookbag hanging off his shoulder. "Glad I finally caught up to you."

You frown at him. "You've been looking for me, McLaggen?" 

"Yes," he nods and gestures to you. "But you've been with Potter this whole week."

You blink in confusion. "Of course I will, he's my boyfriend." You answer him bluntly, but he only shrugged at that with a tilt of his head.

"Whole castle knows by now that he's forgotten 'bout you, I thought you two had broken up."

You felt an eye twitch at that. "Nevermind that, why were you looking for me."

"Was hoping I could ask you to be my study partner, for the upcoming Ancient Runes quiz. You are pretty much a genius at it, wouldn't hurt to be tutored by you."

You cross your arm. He's never once had the courage to approach you before ever since James took an interest in you. He introduced himself so confidently when you transferred and even offered to show you around the castle - that was until James entered the picture and everyone steered clear.

No one wants to mess with the Marauders.

"Why would I do that for you?" You ask, having nothing to gain from his proposal whatsoever. He's demanding you help him study in a subject you excel in without even offering anything in return. 

McLaggen flashes you a bright grin. "I'll treat you on a date on the next Hogsmeade trip."

You scoff at his words. "A date? You think I'd accept tutoring you for a bloody date? I'm taken, in case you forgot."

He laughs. "Your boyfriend doesn't even remember you, babe. I'm your next best bet, he's technically just a little boy right now, yeah? What age is he mentally? 12?"

"He lost two years, he's 14, you dumbass." You corrected him.

He shrugged. "Don't matter now, does it? He's just a little boy right now, you'll do well with a man."

You hold back a laugh at his words. "You think you're a man then?" You step back, providing more space between you and not once did his height intimidate you throughout the exchange as he address you while looking down. "You are a pig. Take your offer elsewhere, you disgust me."

"____-" he grabs your arm as you turn to leave but another voice also called out your name.

"____!" You turn to find James fast approaching, the rest of his gang trailing after him. "What's going on here?"

You tug at your arm and he finally released it. You fix your posture and glare at McLaggen, "We were just talking." you tell him and can see the anger bubbling in him with the expression on his face.

You turn to meet Sirius' eyes and gesture to James, he acted fast, grabbing him by the arm. "Calm down, mate. She said they were just talking."

"Didn't look like talking to me." James spat.

McLaggen stepped back, raising both hands in surrender. "My bad, mate. You don't even remember ____ anymore, the least you could do is let someone else have her."

You felt your jaw drop at his words, talking about you like you were an item to posses and freely give awya - like you had no say in the matter and you couldn't even process a reaction to his vile words when James swung for his face.

His fist colliding with McLaggen's face and he drops to the ground on the impact. He would have jumped on him as well if Sirius didn't pull him back with Remus who were desperately trying to calm him down.

"The fuck?" McLaggen hissed, clutchinng his now bruised cheek in disbelief. "Fuckin' hell!"

You turn to James, and it all happened so fast. The two boys lost grip on him and he slipped out - jumping on McLaggen to throw more punches but this time, the other boy got to react and returned the favor.

The two exchanged blows while the other three boys tried their best to pull them apart, you were only grateful that the halls are empty or this would be another spectacle for the whole castle.

You run to them, figuring that the three boys' attempts were not working - but it was too late. McLaggen pulled something out of the bookbag he carried - an ink bottle? And smacked James right across the head with it.

"Prongs?" Sirius called out to James who dropped after the hit, McLaggen appeared shocked at the result of his actions. He threw away the bottle and scrambled to get up. 

"James!" You called out and dropped to his side, Merlin - he's out. He's breathing but he is out. The hit must have gotten him good. You angrily turn to see McLaggen running away from the scene. You can deal with him later, you turned your focus to the passed out James. "Bloody fuck, not again."

to be continued . . .

part four | masterlist

[safination]

My Sweet Temptation

|Masterlist| |The Only Temptation| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor. Heats! Ruts! Alastor and Ruts! dual POV, Handjob, oral (f! receiving), fingering, scent kink, p in v, knotting, antlers, tails, dry humping, pwp, cum eating, feels, Alastor just really loves his wife not even the sweet allure of a doe in heat can stop him from being the biggest simp ever. [TLDR: It's been a month since he last saw you. With Alastor finally starting his rut, can he still keep resisting the temptation that is you?] A/N: Wowwie! This was supposed to come out for my birthday, but hey! At least it's here. Special thanks to @ladyadrasteia666. This one is for you because I wasn't able to tag you last time, but you really helped me with all the smut parts. So, thank you. Minors DNI

The doe is talking to him like they are friends. She’s a resident at the hotel Alastor currently works and lives in, nothing more. It’s that current hotel that’s keeping him from his wife.

One whole month – that’s how long it’s been since Alastor felt any trace of you.

The doe smells sweet, in the same way that powdered sugar smells sweet, but her scent prickles his nose in such a harsh way that he wonders how long he could hold his breath for. Pouring actual powdered sugar down his nostrils would be less irritating.

The waves of scent are just too much that it’s positively disgusting. Alastor would have already killed the doe had it not been for Charlie.

The mind . . . it’s a very fickle thing.

Except when it comes to you, it seems – it’s very generous when it comes to you.

As the doe babbles with utter nonsense, Alastor’s mind wanders back to you. It shows him instructions on how he should trail his lips down the skin of your stomach, feeling the heat from all the sensitive nerves on his lips. Alastor thinks about holding you closer until he can feel every inch of your skin.

This mind of his, tells him how exactly Alastor would crawl inside you, fulfilling that never-ending desire to feel you, and only you.

As if summoned by his very thoughts, Alastor’s nose twitches with the scent of you.

Alastor still cannot describe what exactly the scent of you even smells like. It just seems to be the scent of laughter as acid rain pours down the street.

It also seems to be the s cent of a smile as dinner is eaten under a candle-light. It’s all of these things and none of these things at the same time. It’s not enough to capture the full essence of you.

All Alastor knows is that it’s you. He turns behind him, ignoring the doe, just in time to spot you rounding the corner.

The smile on your lips grows the moment your eyes land on him. Alastor knows when it does, because he watches your lips inch higher and higher as your pace quickens.

You tilt your head, looking straight behind him. Now what would cause your attention to shift from him?

Alastor gets his answer because he knows the exact moment your eyes land to the doe behind him, and he has to watch as that once bright smile quickly drops into a polite one.

The closer you walk, the stronger the scent becomes. All these sudden waves of you almost leaves him dumb. The only thing flashing through his brain are the images of how shy you would look when he traces a path up your legs, only using the very tip of his finger to inch them apart.

The doe’s ears flick a little as she smiles. “Are you a new resident?”

“I wish that were the case.” You reach a hand towards the doe. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introd—”

Alastor catches your wrist, pulling your hand away before he could fully understand what he’s done. All he knows is that he cannot have this thing leave its filthy traces on you.

He slides his hand up the skin of your wrist, catching your fingers in his hold, and presses a small kiss between them. It’s not his proudest moment, but Alastor makes sure the doe sees exactly what he’s doing. “My wife.”

Deciding he’s had enough, Alastor doesn’t wait for a response, and crashes you into him, pulling you into the shadows below with a laugh.

Alastor can feel the way your fingers tighten around him, pulling him closer as you travel within the shadows. He holds you closer, reveling in the feeling of holding you until he’s popped into the bedroom, and crashing you into the mattress with tangled limbs.

The scent is even stronger now that he’s buried his face straight into your neck. It’s pulling him deeper into his mind.

You run a hand through the back of his head, scratching the scalp with the tips of your claws. Those heavenly fingers of yours trail higher until you’re tracing the outline of his antlers, and circle around the tip.

The pressure you place relieves the itching. You trail even lower this time, massaging the base of his antlers. This sends radio waves straight down, and out of his skin.

Your hand retreats when static glitches around the air.

“Don’t stop,” Alastor says . . . practically begging . . . and pushes his erection straight against the plump of your thigh. “Keep going. Cher, keep going.”

He presses his antlers closer to you, opening his neck as your tongue swipes one, long trail up the skin. “Alastor,” you say, whispering his name straight into his ear. Soft breaths tickle his ears, causing them to twitch a little. “Alastor . . . Talk to me.”

Alastor trails a finger down your cheek, tracing the outline, moving lower until his fingers swipe through your lips. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“I received a phone call today,” you tell him, closing your eyes as you nibble on his fingers a little. “Apparently, you’ve been quite . . . disagreeable this past month. Someone finally had enough.”

Alastor watches you swirl your tongue around the tip, before taking it deeper into your mouth. The outline of his erection bulges against his pants, pitching a very, very obvious tent.

Alastor should send you away before his instincts take over. He knows this. It’s the rational thing to do, but rational isn’t what he would describe himself right now. Especially, when your fingers curl around the back of his hair, cranking his neck upwards.

Rut or no rut, it’s just nice to be underneath your fingers again.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen a doe in Hell,” you say, voice a bit softer than normal. The outline of your nose traces his neck, and the soft huffs of your breath warm his neck. “If . . . If you . . . I would understand.”

This annoys him more than it should.

Alastor presses his claw a little harder on the skin of your cheek, swiping down just to scratch at the surface. “How cruel of you, cher.” His eyes twitch, smile curling a little higher. “You would be so willing to let another bed me?”

“It’s biology.” Your fingers tighten around his hair, tugging on his head to look at you. “I would understand that.”

Alastor presses his lips against yours, nibbling on the bottom until your mouth gives way for his tongue. The taste of your mouth is even sweeter than how you smell.

It’s driving him . . . insane. Pure madness that’s sinking its claws into him, and drags him deeper into its clutches. The thing is . . .  Alastor doesn’t want it to let go.

Consume him until there’s nothing left but you.

“Who do you think I am? I made a vow, cher, and I made that vow to you.” Alastor traces your jaw with his lips, and each word brushes against your skin. “All this time I’ve had to stop myself from devouring you, and here I learn you’re allowing such ridiculous ideas to run through your head.”

“Me?”

It’s more than a bit offensive to hear the surprise in your voice.

Alastor captures your lips once more, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss. “Who else except you?”

The scent of your . . . everything . . . envelopes him, consuming him deeper into his mind. You tighten your arms around him, and there’s nothing Alastor can do except melt into you.

The tips of your fingers trace up his spine, and back through his hair. Just a minute – that’s all he needs. A minute to memorize the sweet taste of your mouth. A minute to memorize the warmth of your fingers. A minute to memorize the scent of your skin. 

In a minute, Alastor will send you away one more. “I want to feel you.”

“I’m right here.” You laugh against his mouth, pressing one last kiss. 

“It’s not enough,” Alastor tells you, tracing your lips with his finger. “I want to be inside you.”

“You can if you want.”

“I want to open you,” he says, sighing against your skin. “I want to crawl inside until I can feel every inch of you surrounding me until all I can feel is you, and only you.”

You push him off your chest, using your hip to flip him on his back.

Alastor’s head hits the headboard just as your legs swing around his torso, and you sink your core straight above his cock. The pressure you’re sending into his cock forces a small breath tumbling out his lips.

The base of your hips leans into his dick when you shift forward to steal a kiss from him. Alastor melts into the kiss, unraveling underneath you with a moan.

“Will you finally let me help?” You run a sharp claw down his shirt, scratching at the buttons keeping him clothed.

“You can’t —”

Ypi grip his antler, yanking him to face you. The noise that comes out of his mouth embarrasses him a little, but you’re licking your lips, and Alastor knows you like what you heard.

“Tell me to go and I will, but I want to hear it directly from your mouth.” You stare directly into his eyes with a look so intense that it’s almost . . . dangerous. It’s intoxicating. “No more dancing around, Alastor. If you want me to go, you’ll have to send me away.”

The grip on his antlers tightens, and the pressure you’re pushing into him feels so good that no words can escape his mouth.

“My buck,” you say, smiling down at him. The smile of yours . . . it causes him to buckle his hip straight up into your core. “Shall we descend together?”

There’s nothing really Alastor can do but nod.

Alastor watches as you reach for the first button of your blouse, eyes trapped as you slowly unbutton them to reveal nothing underneath. Oh . . . oh!

The friction from the cloth brushed against your nipple until it perked and hardened. He takes one end of your shirt, helping you pull your arms out. It’s all done with such agonizing slowness, but Alastor can feel your skin from the tips of his fingers.

You’re sitting on top of his erection, rocking your hips to keep it alive as you reach for his bowtie. Alastor allows you to unravel it from his neck, keeping silent when you throw it behind you. The buttons on his shirt don’t get treated with the same gentleness as your own. You rip his dress shirt apart, smiling as the buttons pop out to reveal the fluff on his chest.

Alastor decides that he’s lost.

You chase him into a kiss as all clothes melt into the shadows, leaving you bare on top of him. His erection springs free from its confines, allowing your bare cunt to press against it.

Alastor groans against your mouth as he feels your wetness from those already too sensitive nerves lining his dick.

Alastor leans away first, smiling up at you as he traces circles around your hips. He swipes his thumb across your cheek, pulling you closer to pepper your face with soft kisses. The giggle that comes out crinkles your eyes, and that . . . that is everything to him.

You press your face into his neck, collapsing straight into his arms. Alastor watches your head rise and fall with every breath he takes. You’re pulling on some of the strands of his fur, playing around with it. 

There’s a very pressing matter, like the way his dick presses against your stomach, but there’s just something so comfortable about being pressed up against you.

“I think I understand what you mean about wanting to be inside me. I could stay like this with you forever” You laugh into his neck, and blow into his ear. “I love you, always.”

Alastor presses his mouth against yours for a kiss. If he were to descend into this madness, he would rather do it with you pulling him in. Actually, Alastor can only descend with you.

“I will always lose when it comes to you,” he says. “That’s why I need you to be very, very good for me, cher. If I become too much, you need to tell me.”

You press another kiss, laughing. “When are you never too much?”

“I’m serious.”

You slide off his hips to glance at his cock. His erection is so hard that it’s pointed straight up. You press on his tip, barely touching it, but Alastor’s thigh tightens as the jolt of stimulation rushes down at him.

 You’re watching him now, looking at every reaction as you wrap your fingers around, testing him. Just a light squeeze, and Alastor pierces his claws around the bed sheets, arching his back to drive it into your tight hold. That felt good . . . more than a little good.

The pressure stays light, but you eventually tighten it around him when you pump your fist up and down and up and down until he comes right around your fist. Spurts of his seed trails down your fingers. It only took very little stimulation, but Alastor is already a moaning and cumming mess.

You keep pumping because his cock doesn’t get any softer. It’s still so painfully hard.

“That’s . . . interesting,” you say, licking your lips. “You’re still so hard, my dear. Is this because of the doe? Is her heat keeping you erect?”

“I haven’t . . . .” Alastor moans into the sheets when you quicken your pace. “Ah, mph . . . I . . . I haven’t . . . exactly stopped to check.”

Cruel! Oh, so very, cruel.

You’re torturing him, pumping your fists around his hard erection until he’s cumming from just your hand, spluttering out his seed in hot ropes.

It hits his nose all at once. A sweet scent that he’s more than familiar with. Through the blur of his tears, Alastor stares at you, traveling his eyes to see you rubbing your thighs together. The slick from your cunt spreads around its plumpness.

Alastor takes a deep inhale, memorizing the scent of your arousal.

It brings something out from deep within him. Alastor pulls you into a kiss, pushing you until your back hits the mattress. “This is your last chance.”

“Is that a threat?”

Alastor latches around your nipple, tracing the sensitive area with each lap of his tongue. His hands trace down the expanse of your stomach until he’s swirling his fingers around your folds. Alastor quickly finds your clit, rubbing circles around it until you’re moaning straight into his ears.

The sounds you’re making for him are greater than any music he could play.

You’re jolting and writhing underneath him, but you’re also pulling him closer, urging him on as you rock against his fingers. Alastor keeps going until he’s found that bundle of nerves. The more he presses on you, the more that sweet scent of your arousal fills his nose.

He wants . . . no . . . Alastor needs to know what your orgasm would smell like.

It’s the most helpful thing that doe would ever do for him. Bringing him to his rut earlier than planned meant that he would need to send you away much sooner. Her heat was heightening his senses, and that means he would be so heightened around you. Alastor wouldn’t refuse a gift such as this. It’s the least that doe could do for bothering him.

It doesn’t take long for you to unravel underneath him, and your essence flows around his fingers. It’s heaven. The scent of your orgasm is so heavenly sweet that Alastor cannot resist. If the scent is this good . . . Then . . . Then what would it taste like?

Alastor forgets to give you time to gather yourself, diving his mouth straight among your folds to stick his tongue out. He gives your cunt one, long swipe, tasting the mixture of your orgasm and your wetness. It’s sweeter than normal. Alastor keeps going, driven by the need to keep tasting you.

His fingers swirl around your entrance before pushing it straight inside. You moan when he does, tightening your legs around his legs.

Alastor laps his tongue around your clit before giving it a hard suck.  One hand trails up the expanse of your stomach until he reaches your nipple. Alastor traces around the sensitive bud, pinching it when you rock into his face.

His tongue can only go so far in this angle. It needs to go deeper. Alastor grabs your hips, lifting them higher into the air until you’re practically folded in half. You’re so close. He can taste it. Alastor doesn’t stop until you’re coming straight into his face.

It hits him like an ice-bucket. Gosh, what is he doing to you right now?

Alastor releases you, part of your orgasm dripping down his chin. Your chest heaves as you take time to breathe and calm down. Your legs are still draped around his shoulder with the muscles in your thigh twitching.

“We should stop here for today,” he says, pressing one last kiss on the inside of your thigh. “I don’t know what will happen if we go further.”

Alastor turns away from you before he could change his mind. It’s better this way. Safer.

Before he can get too far, you grab him by the tail.

The sudden jolt of pressure from the base of his back coaxes out such a pathetic whine from his throat. Alastor collapses into the bed, his ass sticking slightly up from where you’re grabbing his tail.

There’s an irritated look on your face. It takes a moment for you to find your voice. “What silly thoughts are running through your head now, cher?” you say, breast rising and falling with each breath you take. “Finish what you started.”

The pressure on his tail tightens. Alastor moans into the sheets, the hardest erection of his afterlife pressing against your thigh.

It’s an odd posture, but . . . well, Alastor loses control. His hips jerk against your thigh, and the feeling is so . . . It’s so . . . Alastor can’t stop sliding his cock against your thigh.

Pre-cum slides against your skin as Alastor humps against your thigh. That same pathetic whine tears through his throat when you massage the base of tail, running it through your fingers.

Alastor jerks his hips faster against you, chasing after his own release until he shoots cum on your thigh. He keeps rocking his cock against you, spreading his own release against your skin.

Despite all this, his cock still stands so erect.

You eventually release his tail, and you plop back into the bed, rubbing your thighs together. You spread your legs, circling a finger around your nipple before trailing down your stomach to insert a finger into your weeping cunt. Those fingers of yours try to massage your nerve, trying to find that sweet release that Alastor isn’t giving you.

“Alastor,” you mewl, frustration in your voice. “Alastor . . . Alastor.”

Alastor crawls back to you, hooking an arm around your hips to lift you enough to make room for himself underneath. Your back presses against his chest, face hidden into his neck.

Alastor spreads your legs even further, and inserts his own fingers along yours. The slow stretch of both your fingers has you gasping and moaning. He lays his hands on top of yours, and guides the motion of your fingers, massaging you in all the right ways.

Alastor takes your wrist when you cum, observing it with careful eyes before taking it into his mouth to lick it clean.

There’s an odd look on your face that tells him you’re nearing the cusps of overstimulation. That doesn’t stop him from flipping you over, and landing you to face him until you’re straddling his hips. His still very, very hard erection presses against you.

“One more. Give me one more,” he says, whispering against your lips. “I don’t know if I can stop myself. It needs to be you who sets the pace.”

You grip the base of his cock, swirling it around your folds before aligning yourself.

The arousal and cum dripping from your cunt lubricate him. Alastor’s head bangs into the headboard as you slowly sink into him. It coaxes a moan out his throat. The way your walls grip him . . . It’s so tight that he can barely think straight.

You start to rock your hips, keeping such a good rhythm. Alastor trails his hands around your hips then up your back. It’s all he can do to support your weight when you lean back, trying to reach that special bundle of nerves.

Alastor can’t keep his eyes off you. It’s all too beautiful. The way your breast bounces from the force of your rocking or the way your eyes are shut so tightly as you chase your own pleasure.

You’re consuming him . . . using him, and dragging him with you with every rock of your hip.

It’s hard to resist such a temptation. Alastor jerks his cock, meeting you halfway. The squelching of fluids fills the air. It’s such a sinful sound. Alastor can smell it – the mix of your scent combining with his. It fills his nose with such a heavenly scent that it forces him to come right then and there.

You tighten your grip on him when you feel his cum shoot straight into you, milking him for every drop. It makes him question who was actually currently in a rut.

With one last moan, you unravel above him and slow down the force of your hips.

The fog blurring his mind lifts a little now that he’s cummed inside you. Finally . . . finally. Oh, his darling wife. You were so good for him, taking everything he gave without a complaint. It brings hope into his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, he can spend his ruts with you. Alastor can finally hide you away for as long as it takes to end. It would just be him and you, and you and him.

You’re still seated inside him, breath rising and falling as you catch you—

“Alastor.” You whine straight into his chest, fingers tightening around his fur. The grip you have on him strengthens as you tremble within his arms. “Alastor . . . You tell me what is happening right now. What are you doing to me?”

Alastor places a hand on your shoulder, and . . . oh!  It’s getting tighter – you’re getting tighter.

His forehead collapses on your shoulder as he tries to breath through his nose. It’s too tight. You’re suddenly clamping down on him, walls getting tighter and tighter and tighter. It’s a little hard to think right now.

With your knees, you try to push yourself out of him. All it does is pull on his sensitive cock. Once more, you try to pull yourself out of him, but it’s simply not working. Every tug your make sends radio waves straight into him until static releases from his skin, and distorts the air around him.

Alastor pulls your flush around him, bringing his arms around you in a tight embrace. It’s all he could do to keep you still. “It’s . . . mph . . .It’s a knot. It should probably last for about an hour.”

“Probably?” you screech, and bite down on his shoulder with a moan when you shift above him. “There’s a possibility that you’ll be stuck inside me for more than an hour . . . “

“This has never happened before.”

Despite the absolute horror in your face, you swipe your tongue across your lips to lick it, and clench tighter around him. You collapse on his shoulder, face buried into his skin as you adjust to the stretching of your walls.

It takes a moment, but you eventually relax against him. Your eyes are dropping low despite being stuck and sweaty and covered with so much fluids he doesn’t even know which ones belong to who.

Alastor peppers your face with kisses, trying to keep you awake. “Don’t sleep,” he says, pressing his lips on your eyelids. “We don’t know what could happen to you if you do.”

You’re nodding off faster than he can wake you. Alastor isn’t even sure you processed what he said. “I’m tired, my sweet Al.”

“I know.” Alastor presses his lips on the tip of your nose. “But you can’t fall asleep, not yet.”

“No . . . I . . . miss you . . . and I’m tired of not being able to be with you. Tell me to stay . . . and I will do so,” you say, mumbling against the fur on his chest, giving it soft kisses. “Just . . . tell me to . . . stay.”

Alastor doesn’t have the heart to jostle you awake. So, he allows you to fall asleep, still completely buried inside him.

“How completely unfair of you, cher. How can I deny such a request when you have that look on your face.” Alastor whispers the words into your hair. “Stay here with me. I never should have allowed you to leave. You’re staying right where I can see you.”

Alastor will always lose when it comes to you – the only temptation in his world.

Tags: @crackrodent @whatswrongwithblue @n0tmentallystable @s-a-f-f-y-nation @chibistar45 @sweet-radio @s-a-f-f-y-nation

[hydrobunny]

everyone thinks that they know us

tags: confessions, getting together, friends to lovers

a/n: written from the idea made by the amazing @yangx2isawhore :3

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

it's exactly 11:34pm when the ringing of your phone wakes you up.

jolting up from your bed, you blearily glare at your phone screen. the contact name of SHIDOU‼️ burns into your eyes.

you hang up.

a second later, it rings again.

"what."

"y/n!" as always, shidou's voice is just a little too loud for it to be acceptable. "how mad would you be if i killed rin right now?"

you pause. you look at the time. you consider the probability of him telling the truth.

"pretty mad."

"great!" and you can hear the grin in shidou's voice as he recites out an address. "you can come save him then."

although you were the one that had tried so hard to befriend rin itoshi, you were pretty certain that you hadn't signed up for whatever the hell this was.

you pull up at the address at a sharp 12:02 am, annoyance already settling in underneath your eyes.

the address is a mansion (why would you ever expect anything else), and the recognizable bass of party music blasts through the windows. at least a dozen different colored sports cars (you consider how much one would sell for) are parked outside of it.

you debate turning around. unfortunately, you think shidou might actually be serious about killing your best friend.

best friend. how did you get to this point? friend. didn't matter that you might have been in love with him- rin could never see you as anything more.

you knock on the door.

a man you might be able to recognize if you cared enough answers. his dual-colored eyes flit over you with interest.

"hey there, pretty," he says, and his voice is slurring with the unmistakeable touch of alcohol. "don't think you're on the invite list, but i can make an exception."

you scowl. "no thank you. shidou called me to come?"

he cocks his head. "what could someone like you possibly have anything to do with that psycho?"

"he-"

the psycho in question slams into two-eye's side, whooping. "took you long enough!"

you sigh.

shidou ryusei grins at you, positively buzzing with energy. the smell of cheap (why cheap? genuinely, why did he buy cheap alcohol?) beer lingers around his face.

"did you kill rin yet?"

the grin immediately wipes itself from his face. "getting there."

he whirls around, a warm hand latching around your own- and then he's pulling you through the hallways of this too-big house.

the music hasn't stopped for a second since you've got here. in many of the rooms, you can spot groups of vaguely recognizable people, all of them in various states of buzzed-to-plastered.

you wonder how professional athletes weren't any better than the frat boys that threw weekend parties. (well, the age range was pretty much the same)

"where are we?" you manage to shout into shidou's ear, as he pulls you further away from the heart of the party.

"sae's house!" he yells back.

"what?"

the two of you slam into another room- shidou shuts the door with too much force - and the music fades away into background noise.

rin's head snaps up at your entrance.

"rinrin!" shidou crows. "brought you another babysitter!"

rin stares at you with genuine confusion. his eyes are hazed over, his cheeks a light red. "what? y/n?" a red solo cup, ominously empty, sits by his hand.

"yes, yes," shidou replies, pushing you forward. "the only person who can somehow tolerate your presence is here!"

you slip out of shidou's grip. "what the hell is happening?"

he rolls his obnoxiously bright eyes at your question. "little itoshi's weirdly drunk and incoherent. which means big itoshi has to pretend like he cares. which means i can't force big itoshi to drink an enormous amount of alcohol! so now you have to watch this idiot!"

"i am not drunk," rin snarls towards shidou. "and i don't need a babysitter."

he attempts to get up from the counter he's perched on, and immediately wobbles. you debate whether it would be worth laughing.

before you can make a decision, another side door opens.

and sae itoshi meets your gaze with bored indifference.

"what- you!"

he raises an eyebrow. you're not sure how you got into this situation.

you wonder how you're supposed to react to meeting the one and only brother you've heard rin talk so much about.

some inner part of you immediately doesn't like him. the other part immediately notices how similar they look, and curse their sheer attractiveness.

either way, sae loses the little interest he had in you immediately, turning towards shidou. "is this-" he waves a hand towards you. "her?

shidou nods furiously. "junior is perfectly cared for now. now let's get out of here!"

rin glares at all three of you.

sae sighs. for someone who's supposed to be the host, he doesn't look thrilled at the prospect of socializing.

the elder itoshi turns his attention onto the younger. "you're fine with her?"

rin's eyes narrow further. he doesn't respond.

shidou takes that as his cue. his hands place themselves on sae's shoulders. "good talk, everyone!"

and with another slammed door, you are left alone with rin. it's more than a little awkward.

you open your mouth- he shoots you a glare. you can take a hint. (even if it breaks your heart.)

out of a bored curiosity, and maybe a little spite, you start opening cabinets. they're mostly empty (you wonder what kind of life sae lives).

rin's gaze follows you the entire way. it's intense enough to give you goosebumps.

eventually, you come across a pot of gold- a wine bottle, its cork untapped. there's a ribbon attached to its neck; you spy the JFU logo placed on top.

"he won't mind, right?" you ask.

silence follows.

you open the bottle. if you're going to be stuck here anyways, why let it go to waste?

surprisingly, it's rin that talks first. "why'd you come?" he mumbles out, stumbling over a syllable.

you shrug, taking another mouthful of the wine. (it's good. too good. damn rich people.) "shidou said he was gonna kill you."

“shidou has your number? you responded? why'd you care?" he blurts out in a tsunami of words. immediately after, he looks away with reddening ears.

you eye him with slowly growing amusement. there's a buzzing in your stomach that's slowly stripping your self control away. "yes. and yes. and because we're friends."

rin tch's, still refusing to meet your eyes. you think he'll keep talking, but he doesn't.

so you take another swig of the wine bottle. maybe rin can be the one to reach out for once.

but- like always- you're the first to crack. after a possible fifteen minutes of brooding silence, you sigh.

"what's going on with sae?"

rin's gaze snaps to your face. "what about him?"

you raise your brows. (you think you meant to raise only one. you can't really tell.) "i thought he didn't fuck with you."

rin's face scrunches at your words. "what?"

you groan, sliding down from your perch onto the floor. "you know? i thought- well, he looks like he cares."

he stands up. "he doesn't."

"sure."

he stares at you with a complicated expression, and then makes his way over to you. you blink up at him.

"i don't like you talking to him," rin says, seemingly more lucid than before.

"wasn't really my choice." you shoot him a smile, raising a hand. he lifts you up to standing with it.

from how close you now are, the two of you are almost touching. if you weren't as delirious on wine as you are now, this would be much more distressing.

even now, it takes all of your will to maintain eye contact with him.

"you don't like me talking to him?" you mumble out.

rin tilts his head. "no."

"can i ask why you came here then? or why you got plastered off cheap booze?"

he opens his mouth, then stops. and then- "you're not doing much better."

you clear your throat. more than the wine, it's rin who's clouding your thoughts. his faint cologne- so much more evident at this distance- intoxicates you.

"that didn't answer my question."

his eyes narrow. "i felt like it."

you frown. "what situation are you in that made you want to get drunk with shidou?"

and his eyes flicker down. to your lips.

"what do you think?"

you stumble; rin's hand places itself in the small of your back. signature itoshi teal burns.

you're both drunk. you're in his brother's house. and yet-

and yet, you're both here, and rin itoshi is leaning down into you.

his lips meet yours desperately, his breath catching over and over again. your hands tangle into his hair- he groans wordlessly.

you separate with a gasp.

"are you- what?" you manage, face ablaze.

rin looks just as disheveled. "y/n."

"rin."

he steps back, eyes roving from wall to wall. "fuck. fuck, im sorry. i thought-"

that's not the right words you wanted to hear. you step forward, the wine bottle long forgotten behind.

"you thought right," you blurt.

rin stares at you. a flush sits over his face.

"i thought you wanted to just be friends. that- that you didn't want me." you say.

surprise, and horror, flicks in his eyes. "what?"

you cough out a laugh. "not very smart off the field, are you?"

rin's mouth opens and closes, much like a fish. you think he's going to speak-

he closes the gap between you two, and his lips meet yours again.

between gasps, he mumbles a "i could never not want you." into your form.

and you sigh out your own declaration of love

somewhere in the house, a door slams. someone whoops in exhilaration.

but in this room, it's just you and rin. alcohol tinges both of your breaths. you're both drunk on something bigger.

[paceprompting]

on vacation

written for ‘vacation’ and ‘sweater’ | wc: 959 # | steddie | rated: g | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: no upside down au, alternate meeting, vacationing steve, coat boy eddie, meet cute

@steddieholidaydrabbles & @steddiemas

Eddie despised skiing.

More specifically, the skiers.

Rich kids whose parents paid thousands for lessons and equipment. For the spots at Paoli Peaks Resort that cost more than Eddie and Wayne could make in a year, combined. And for the puffy jackets they tossed lazily in Eddie’s direction for him to keep track of until they’d drunk enough from the bar to replace their chilled blood with alcohol.

He was just the invisible coat check boy to them. Scrounging up enough extra from their rarely-given tips to make the slightly less shitty paycheck worth the six weeks in winter stuck at the resort.

Well, and one other thing.

One other boy.

Eddie had worked three straight winters since he was seventeen at Paoli Peaks, and he knew of the Harringtons. Richard and Dianna. They weren’t particularly rude—they’d have to give more than a few seconds attention for that—but they traveled primarily as a pair except when Richard went on the slopes and Dianna sipped martinis with the other socialite wives.

He’d had no idea they had a son.

Either it was the first time they’d brought him along, or Eddie had zoned out a lot harder than he thought over the years.

And maybe he was just starving for attention when everyone else ignored him.

Maybe he was just particularly annoyed and bitter when the younger Harrington’s group of friends trampled into the lodge and piled their coats into his waiting arms. One of the regulars, Tommy Hagan, made sure to push down on the weight and put Eddie off-kilter.

Eddie swore at his back as the asshole sauntered off, turning to offload the coats onto a waiting bench beside the coat closet before sorting them. He sighed and turned back.

To find the newcomer Harrington standing there, still wearing his coat.

“Uh,” Eddie stalled, any of the begrudgingly ingrained spiel vacating his brain with prejudice.

The guy was unfairly pretty.

He had this kind of swoopy hair, speckled with melting snow since he apparently refused to wear a hat. It looked shiny and soft to the touch, as if Eddie would ever dare. Eddie had long hair himself, but he knew shit about haircare, so for all he knew, the guy’s hair could defy gravity like that without hairspray.

His fingers reached up toward the zipper of his navy blue winter coat, sliding it down. As he slid his arms out, Eddie realized the guy wasn’t just standing there because he was bored.

Eddie was supposed to be doing his job.

“Sorry. Let me take your coat,” he mumbled, reaching his arms out for the coat. Few people actually wanted Eddie to touch them, so he’d long ago learned to wait on the resort-goers.

The Harrington guy was pleasant as he handed over the coat. Even folded it so it laid nicely across Eddie’s arms.

He was wearing a white, knit sweater underneath the coat. Fitted nicely enough to his body that Eddie could tell he was probably athletic. Especially when he pushed up the heavy sleeves of the sweater and showed off the toned muscles of his forearms.

And he had these…moles on his throat that peeked out over the collar of the sweater. One on his cheek, too.

Eddie was developing a problem. Fast.

“Steve!” a voice shouted, and Eddie flinched. But Harrington had turned toward Tommy calling for him, and hopefully hadn’t seen it.

He raised his brows at his friends waiting by the bar.

“What are you doin’!”

Steve gave no answer other than a hard roll of his eyes. It was enough to shut Tommy up for the moment.

“Thanks,” the guy—Steve, apparently—said. His voice wasn’t as deep as Eddie expected.

He hovered still, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a sleek brown leather wallet. He stared down at it, rubbing his thumb along the seam.

 “Uh, how much do people usually tip?” he asked, biting at his lower lip.

Eddie thought about lying. But Steve being a decent human being unlike most everyone else had thrown him for a loop, and he found himself telling the truth before he could think twice.

“Five. Maybe ten.”

Eddie was still holding this Steve’s coat. He deserved anything but a tip.

It didn’t seem to bother Steve much. He flipped open his wallet and pulled out several bills, which Eddie though was going to be a cruel trick to show him exactly what he wasn’t going to get.

Then, Steve counted out five bills—five dollars each—and handed them over.

Eddie stared at them, eyes wide. “That’s too much.”

Steve shrugged, sliding his wallet back into his pocket. Silently advertising that he was not going to be putting the money back in.

“Well, my…friends definitely didn’t give you anything. And I’d be bored out of my skull having to stand here all day, every day.”

Eddie glanced down at the bills. Steve urged Eddie to take them, slightly pushing the bills toward Eddie.

He grabbed them before Steve could change his mind.

“Don’t even think about giving me that much every time I take your jacket,” he said, stuffing the bills into his uniform vest pocket. “I’m not a charity case.”

“Didn’t think you were,” Steve said, slowly starting to make his way toward the correct people he should be associating with. “But I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then?”

“I—”

Eddie realized he’d been caught in his own words. For as long as Steve’s family vacationed at Paoli Peaks, Eddie would probably be the one to take his coat.

“Maybe,” he admitted, but Steve would get nothing more out of him.

No matter how charmingly he smiled at Eddie as he walked away.

Or how nicely his shoulders filled out that sweater.

[mlm-writer]

Aftertaste (Eddie & Venom x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Eddie Brock & Venom x Gender Neutral Bottom Reader Rating: Mature for discussion of sex Words: 918 POV: Second Summary: After some kinky sex (<- click for the prequel), Eddie and Venom take care of you. Oh and Eddie experiences some mild dom drop. Note: Guess who's back? Back again? Gayden's back! Tell a friend! Tags: aftercare, dom drop, hurt & comfort, cuddling, could be read as romantic, could be read as you're fwb and reader's physical appearance is not described

A trail of cum connected the corner of your mouth with the puddle of cum on the tiles below your cheek. At the start of the evening, those tiles had been cold, but underneath you they have been warmed by your spent body. With the post-orgasm bliss fading into the background, you started noticing the soreness settling in your muscles. A warm hand gentle pushed your hair to the side and out of your eyes. In the dim light, you could see warm, concerned eyes staring down at you. “Are you with me?” Eddie spoke between laboured breaths. You licked his cum off the corner of your lips and smiled at him. “Good,” he added when he understood your non-verbal signal. He seemed relieved, smiling down at you with awe and surprise. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, a towel appeared next to Eddie. However you could still spot the black tendril holding it up by a corner. Eddie took it and folded it up. He lifted your head and wiped your face with one side, before placing it under your face with the other side up. You could feel wet tendrils squeezing between your skin and all the duct tape restricting your movement. The sticky tape came off easily with Venom’s gentle wriggling, leaving no redness on your skin nor taking any hairs from your flesh. Once freed, you stretched your legs out, ending up face down on the floor. “That can’t be comfortable,” Eddie commented. 

“Let us carry you to the couch,” Venom softly mused in your ear. You hummed in reply, bracing yourself. Eddie and Venom merged into one and Eddie’s warm hands wormed their way under your body. He rolled you over and then carried you bridal style to the couch, where a blanket was already waiting for you. Venom’s tendrils wrapped the old fleece blanket around your bodies, protecting you from the chill in the apartment. “You must drink,” the symbiote commanded. He materialised another appendage to somehow make grabbing a glass of water a very perilous and loud endeavour. You thanked him when he eventually got the glass to you. You meant to sip on it, but in just a few seconds, the glass was empty. Venom put the empty glass on the coffee table for you. “Are you feeling satisfied now?” 

You chuckled at Venom’s word choice. “Very much so, Venom. Thank you.” You rested your head on Eddie’s shoulder. “What about the two of you?” Your question was met with a long pause. “Eddie?” You twisted your neck to look at his face. He was clearly thinking of something, but whatever that brain was cooking up, he was not sharing it with you at the moment. 

“Eddie, why are we feeling… guilty?” Venom’s voice was unusually small. It must be bad to affect Venom this much. You reached back, scratching gently at his scalp. Now you were paying attention, you could feel how tense Eddie’s muscles were under you. 

“Talk to me, Eddie,” you whispered as you moved underneath the blanket to straddle his lap. He avoided your eyes at first, but your hand resting at the back of his neck got him comfortable enough to really look at you. It felt like he was staring into your soul for the answers to questions he didn’t dare ask. He took a deep breath, before finally speaking up. 

“You really liked…” He waved his hand in the air as he tried to formulate words that were family-friendly enough that he could get them out of his mouth. That man fucking you within an inch of your life was nowhere to be found. “You liked us going back and forth, right? Like actually, for real?” He looked at you through his lashes. You huffed out a relieved augh and nodded eagerly. “Okay… okay good,” he huskily spoke between weighted breaths. 

You cupped his face and made him look at you. “Hey, Eddie, look at me.” You exaggerated your breathing, showing him slow, deep breaths. Eddie followed suit, following your breathing pattern. “Good boy,” you teased him once he no longer seemed like he was going to crawl out of his own skin and hide in the corner. You kissed his nose and caressed his face. “If I think too much about it, yeah the going back and forth was fucking filthy, but that kind of made it hot? And there is nothing wrong with that.” Eddie seemed to agree with you. A few deep breaths and he could nod more confidently. You leaned against his body, resting your head on his shoulder. You stayed like that for a while, until you thought too much about the wild sex you just had. “Ok, I am ready to brush my teeth now and gargle some mouthwash.”��

Eddie chuckled and helped free you from the fleece blanket. “Need any help?” He offered as he watched you stand up. There was dried cum on your body, your skin still glistening with sweat and your hair a wild mess. He wanted to burn that image in his mind. 

You looked at him over your shoulder and cocked up an eyebrow. “Why? Think I don’t know how a toothbrush works?” When you saw how your words pulled Eddie from his trance, you chuckled. He opened his mouth to probably tell you that was not what he meant, but your smile told him you knew. You shook your head in amusement and left Eddie on the couch. “See you space cowboy.” 

—————

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You're stiff and sore. Every part of you is cramped. You open your eyes, lids as heavy as the rest of you. You groan and shift as a weight rests against you. Bucky's arm is hooked around you as he holds you close. 

"Doll," he rolls his pelvis against you. Again. 

You shield your face from the slat of sunlight leaking in around the curtains. You brush his arm and sigh, "I gotta go, Bucky." 

"Where?" He nuzzles the back of your head, rocking against you. 

"Stop!" You smack him and giggle. "I mean it. I have to work." 

"I'll put you to work," he grits. 

"No more," you reach to shove his hip. "Bucky, I can't go anymore." 

"You can't?" He tickles down to your pelvis. "Didn't you beg me for this?" 

"I did, but... " 

"You got what you want, huh?" He snickers. 

"More than," you assure him and clutch his thick fingers. "I'm sorry, but I can't miss work." 

"Baby," he drawls as you sit up, pushing past his resistance. You grip your head as dizziness swells inside. "When are you done?" 

"Oh, gosh," you stand and shake your head. "Haven't you had enough? Don't you have stuff to do?" 

"Only you," he growls. 

You stop and look at him, hands on your hips. He shamelessly scales your body with his eyes. You wave him off and gather up your clothes. You don't say anything as you dress. How do you break it to him that he's right? You did get what you want but now you have to go back to real life. You have a trip to plan for! And an Angelique to brag to. 

"You're so sweet," you grab your phone from the table and your purse. "And... that was amazing. Mind blown, back blown," you keep your thighs apart as you waddle. 

"Mm," he hums and sits up. "So you're off?" 

"I gotta shower." 

"Could do it here." 

"My clothes are at home," you argue as you cross the room, your pelvis scraped and hollow. "Oof." 

"Grab 'em and come back." 

"I don't have long," you check your cell. "I'm sorry but I need all the money I can get right now." 

"I can spot you," he insists. 

You stop with your hand on the doorknob. "No, no, I couldn't. That's... I don't want your money, Bucky. I'll see ya around." 

You smile and quickly unlock the door. You flit out and snap it shut behind you. You stumble across the porch and whimper. It's going to be a long day sitting behind the desk. Maybe you should get one of those special cushions. 

👙

"No way," Angelique sneers. "You actually did it?" 

"At least six times. I lost count," you say proudly as you suck pudding off your spoon. 

"Holy shit. You're fucking lying. Six? I'm surprised he got it up the first time," she cackles. 

"He did. I can't walk straight," you hiss and shift on your chair. 

"You have to be lying. Half the guys I'm with fall asleep the minute they blow." 

"I don't know, Ang, maybe try an old man," you sigh. "And he wouldn't keep his mouth off of me--" 

Theresa looks over her shoulder as she waits for her coffee to brew. You grin and turn away. 

"He ate you out?" 

"Mhmm," you giggle again. 

"Wow," she drones. "Maybe you should introduce us..." 

"Ew, sloppy seconds?" 

"Maybe he has a friend?" She suggests. 

"Now who's lame," you chirp. 

"Shut up." 

"And coming to the beach..." 

"Yeah, whatever," the sniffs. "You know, you were always invited. You didn't have to go fuck a geezer." 

"Jealous." 

"No," she snips. 

"It was your idea." 

"I didn't think you had the balls to do it," she retorts. "I mean, sure, your tits are huge but--" 

"Oh, fuck off, Angie," you roll your eyes. 

She laughs again, "I'll see you soon, bitch. You earned your vacation, but remember, you already spent enough time on your back." 

You make a face and hang up. God, she's such a bitch. Still, you can't wait. You just need to get through today and tomorrow, you'll be off into the sunset. What timing.  

👙

You meet up with Angie after work. You need a new bikini and she's always ready to spend money. It also gives you buffer between you and your neighbour. While your night with Bucky was everything you dreamed an more, you really can't take the awkward aftermath right now. You're too excited for your vacation. The weekend is one more work day away and you're out of here. 

You go to the mall and scowl at the hordes of fellow shoppers. You have no right to despise them but you do. Why do they need things? Can't they come at a different time? 

Angelique chooses her typical fare; strings and not much else. You find a cute red gingham tankini that isn't entirely too modest. According to your outspoken companion though, you could show a bit more skin. You roll your eyes and pay as she continues to pile purchases on at the counter. 

"You wanna come hang out?" You ask as you stop to get a soft pretzel in the food course.  

She snorts, "oh really? You're not too busy banging the old man next door?" 

"Whatever, Ang. It's a one night kinda thing. Really. There's a bit too much time between us." You shrug and thank the guy behind the counter as he hands over your pretzel. 

"I mean that sort of gap is kinda in now," she snickers as you turn down the tile. 

"Yeah, well, I don't know if I should be hanging around him. Apparently he just got out." 

"Got out? Of a dead-end marriage? Divorced men are hot. Probably why he took the time to kiss your kitty," she slithers. 

"No, prison," you lower your voice. "I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I was in the moment when he told me and..." you shrug. "Now I think about it, I'm just... I wonder what he did." 

"Probably drugs or some shit. They give you twenty for a joint in some cases," she slurps on her milkshake and hums. "Bad boy. Oof, sexy daddy." 

"Really? You said his dick wouldn't work?" 

"I've been with older guys and they are just..." she makes and O with her index and thumb. 

"They are what? Trent wasn't old. He was twenty-eight." 

"Well, how old is that criminal, then?" She snaps. 

"I don't know," you pick a piece of the pretzel away. "It's got me thinking. I don't know much about him, do I?" 

"And yet you fucked him. I pass my slut crown to you, your majesty." 

"Shut up. Okay? It's... whatever. It was good. I'm glad it's done with, I just..." you eye your sugary pretzel, "I need this vacation. Give him time to cool down. And me." 

👙

Angelique ditches you. She says she needs to pack but you saw the message from Kev on her phone. She needs something to brag about at the beach so she can drown out your own boasting. 

You yawn as you get to the duplex. It's dark. the streetlights are on. It's past nine and you're going to regret this when you have to get up for work. 

You jingle your keys lazily as your shopping bags rustle together. You pull open the screen door, shrouded in shadows, and search out the right key. Why do you have so many? 

A thump behind you makes you jump. Your keys fall to your feet. You turn to the silhouette watching you from the bottom step.  

"You're home late," Bucky says. 

You bend to get your keys and blow out a breath, "you scared me." 

"Did I? Probably shouldn't be creeping in after dark," he grits. 

You stand and narrow your eyes. You can't see him through the dark. "Right, well, I needed to grab some stuff." 

"Sure," he clucks. 

You frown. What's his problem? You turn and shove the keys in the lock. You quickly reach inside to flip on the porch light. You drop your bags inside and face him. You gasp as he's right behind you. You grip the door frame as you step back into it. 

"Bucky, hi, uh, I need to get ready for bed." 

He's quiet. The yellow bulb shines over him and pools in his eyes. You gulp. His expression is rigid. 

"Can I join you?" He speaks at last. 

"Oh, uh," you smile, "that'd be great but I had a long day," you pat his chest. "Maybe another time." 

He huffs, "sure... guess we did stay up pretty late." 

"Right. Besides, I'm sure you have lots of stuff to do." 

He tilts his head, "nothing important," he puts his hand on the frame, just above yours. "I had a really nice time with you, doll." 

"It was great," you chime. "Really, it was... super." 

"Your first time," he tuts. "Wish you'd said something." 

"I didn't want to ruin the moment," you brush his fingers. "Well, Bucky, you have a good night." 

"Hmm," he inhales, "sure you don't want me to come in and check for bugs?" 

"All good," you cover your mouth and force a yawn. "See ya around." 

His face falls again. You hold back a shiver as his pupils grow and you gulp. You gently reach for the screen door. 

He moves away and watches you. He just stands there until you snap shut the outer door. You slowly push the inner one into place and twist the lock. You hold your breath and listen. You don't hear him go. 

You shake it off and back away. You grab you bags and turn on the hallway light. You make your way down to your room. That pretzel upset your stomach. Too much sugar. 

You unpack your things from the bag, sorting it into what to take and what you might return. Angelique always talks you into the worst things. 

You fall asleep easily. You really are worn out. You drift into a slog of roiling shadows and silence. You roll over as your arm tingles from being trapped beneath you and you grumble as your head spins. You blink at your room and shift in your bed. The moonlight streams in and casts across your messy blankets. 

You open your eyes and nearly scream. There's the outline of a man right outside. You blink and sit up, heaving in horror. No, it's gone. Was it even there? You're tired. Seeing things. 

You lay back down and shudder. You brush your hands over your face and sigh. Just one more day and you can forget about it all. 

👙

Your last day of work drags. You nearly fall asleep at your desk. The hours are dull and so are you. You go through it all like riding a bike. It's all muscle memory. 

It isn't until you leave that the uneasiness stirs. You have to sneak past your neighbour who always tends to be outside. Before, you looked forward to the encounters, now you're playing hide and seek. Maybe he was right... You should have listened. 

Yet, you don't regret any of it. Just thinking of it makes you tingle. You smile just before you cross the street but quickly wipe it away. You keep your head on straight and rush down your walk. You dare a peek to his side of the property as you get to the steps. 

His bike is gone. He's not there. Or at least not that you can tell. 

You run up the stairs and quickly skirt inside. You need to get everything ready. You put a pizza in the oven and get to work. 

You pack a single duffel and your beach bag. Angelique will have at least triple that even if she won't use it all. You spend the night double-checking and re-checking as you eat nearly half the frozen thin-crust on your own. 

You fall asleep watching Golden Girls and wake as your phone buzzes beside your pillow. The morning dances between your curtains, drawn almost shut since the night before. It's not paranoia. Not at all. 

Angelique's message slowly unblurs in your groggy visions; 'up and at em, bitch'.  

The only thing she ever wakes up early for is the beach or shopping. You roll out of bed and nearly fall on your ass. Your bags are at the door. You just need to get yourself together. 

You rush around and get into your new tankini, covering it with shorts and a crochet sweater. You pop on a sunhat and step into your sandals. You check the battery on your phone and nearly forget to snatch up your solar charger. You're just about ready, Angelique just needs to step on the gas. 

You grab your tumbler full of iced coffee as the knock comes at the door. You skip to it and swing it open with a smile and a hop. You stop short as the screen door is propped open against Bucky's shoulder. You shrink down as his eyes slowly descend your figure. His brows draw together. 

"Morning, doll," his hand is on his hip. 

"Um, hi, Bucky, how's it going? Oh, did my pool blow away again?" 

He shakes his head, "you headed out?" 

You look down at yourself then at him. "The beach! Going to go get some sun." 

"The beach," he echoes. "Right." 

"I would invite you but it's Angelique's thing and... yeah," you wiggle your shoulders and look past him.  

As if she hears her name, your friend pulls up in her Barbie pink convertible and toots the horn, "come on, whore!" 

You cringe and glance at Bucky again. You clear your throat. You turn and grab your bags. 

"Sorry, I gotta get going." You manage to balance it all on your shoulders as you grip your keys and cup. "Needa be early to get a good spot." 

You step out and he backs up, still close, crowding you as you lock the door. 

"Hm, I'll... keep an eye on things then." He growls. 

"Oh thank you, Bucky," you preen and face him. "You're the sweetest." 

You twirl away and hurry across the porch. You nearly sprint down the walk and toss your bags in the back of the open top car. You get in and pop your cup into the holder near the console. Angelique giggles. 

"Aren't you in a hurry?" She cackles. 

"Shut up," you send her a cringe. "Just drive." 

[balteredsworld]

cha cha chase, gregory house

🥼🩺 | house finds out you're a dancer.

masterlist: greg house n all

tags! house being house, fluff of sorts? house x reader def

"aww that's cute," house tilted his head in amusement, eyes twinkling with signature mischief. you were going to hate this. in fact, you were already dreading it. "we can all give foreman a lap dance."

you rolled your eyes, prepping your dearest ex-friend's arm for a transfusion. "did you have to say all that?"

"what? people should know you were a dancer, especially with a boss like that," she sweetly and very innocently shrugged, before looking at house with pride. "she's got killer mo—"

"—alright!" you jammed the needle roughly, shutting her up. "you'll fall asleep in right about... now."

she dozed off, but not before catching you with a triumphant frown about your lips. oh you were pissed, at least she didn't need to deal with it until after the treatment.

you would've cooled down by then. but you were also in trouble. why? because of that stupid grin house had on his stupid face.

"so you used to dance."

"and you used to walk."

"ouch. low blow!"

"i can blow even lower."

you cringed. the words left your mouth sooner than you could think.

"you definitely have the knees for it," house chuckled, practically looking up into heaven with an extremely exaggerated grateful look.

"shut up. and don't ask."

his brows shot up, face contorting a theatrical face of an innocent. "how could you assume the worst in me!"

"my bad," you deadpanned. "i think it's just your track record with insanely inappropriate jokes."

you slipped swiftly out of the room, keen to get house off of your hair. but for a cripple, he was insanely fast. this man could do more than he let out, but that was only to make people like yourself, his victim-of-the-day fellow, miserable.

house was a smart man, but his aptitude was used for the worst. nothing was a viable escape, he was going to hold this over you until the day you die.

"i ask first," he snarked, making a gesture with his finger. "uhm, i have something inappropriate to say. can i say it?"

you glared at him over your shoulder. he was hot on your trail. if only you could get to the flight of stairs quicker.

he blinked all cutesy, innocently batting his lashes as you two turned the corner. "were you a stripper?"

you threw your head back, eyes rolling back to the point it felt like someone was gauging them out. house looked excited at the prospect. even if you weren't, close enough.

finally, you turn to him with an unimpressed purse about your lips and an angry furrow to your brows. house towered over you, all but amused at your well invited and justified anger. he thought it was cute.

"so?" he cocked a brow, still twinkling in mischief.

"answer's no," you half-calmly answered, titling your head, formulating a wicked idea.

you grabbed house's wrinkled collar, standing on your tip toes, snaking your hand on his shoulders.

"but i am a dancer," you whispered, mustering a sickeningly sweet voice. you trailed your fingers along his neck, letting your breath fan his ear as you crooned your head slightly, just as how you would with your dance partner.

some part of you had a daring inkling to knock his cane over, still unnerved over his shenanigans that last christmas he duped you into getting him a pricey gift.

fortunately for house, you weren't him.

but you maintained your hold on him, before letting out a hum at the same time you descended back to the soles of your foot. an innocent smile creeping on your lips, lashes batting the same way he'd done seconds ago.

"that's right, dancer..." house trailed, with a gaping mouth, still in a childish drawl.

"doctor, actually. the id says m.d., but thanks," you remarked nonchalantly, whipping away in a spin to dash into your escape. "you hired me remember?"

"because you had nice legs!" house shouted in a last ditch effort to win, seemingly paralyzed on the spot. "and even nicer knees!"

you had outrun him for now, although you knew it wasn't long before he revived into an ever meaner bloom. and you were right to dread it, because hours later, house was sitting with a triumphant smirk about his face. he somehow found a video of you dancing embarrassingly online, no doubt with the help of lucas, and forwarded it to any and all.

that only strengthened your resolve for revenge. house was fucked, but he welcomed your challenge.

who knows? maybe he could just get a lap dance out of it.

[spooky-scary-scarecrow]

"You have beautiful eyes."

(So, I've been skimming Tumblr and haven't found any goddamn Cooper Howard fics that involve how pretty his damn eyes are. Only a handful of people actually mentioned it - babyghoul still has his luscious eyelashes. So since nobody has written a fic of it, I put it in my hands >:] Enjoy!)

Warnings: Mild nudity, mentions of after-sex, cuddling, complimenting, tooth-rotting fluff, a teeny of lore-building in the first few paragraphs

It was a quiet evening, the both of you laying on an old mattress you had found that was surprisingly intact enough to not have a spring digging into your back. The night was elongated from the actions that happened merely moments ago, labored breath between the both of you still filling your ears.

Turning to face Cooper, your eyes roamed his scarred body. A lean frame with muscle, not too much yet not too little. Just enough to show off how strong he can be. You both met only months ago. It was supposed to be just him killing a bounty for you and you'd pay him in caps and viles. Though after the next few bounties, you grew on him and decided to tag along with his journeys. It was like the longer you were both exposed to each other, the more you fell. Ending up in this situation many times before. Quick, easy, just to relieve stress.

Until now. You took the time to observe him. Observe his scars and muscles and callouses as he laid on his back, arms behind his head as his eyes were closed for the moment. You let your gaze drift up to his face - the normally hardened expression softening.

"I can feel you starin'," he spoke after a moment, making your cheeks flush red as you look away.

"Sorry, I just never seen you so... relaxed," you mumbled sheepishly with a chuckle.

A soft hum left him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you in without warning. This was rare, the physical touch. Affectionate. Slowly, you rest your head on his chest, hearing the faint beat of his rotten heart and the rasp of his lungs as he breathed.

A moment passed before you looked back up at him, capturing his gaze with your own. Suddenly, you noticed something you never noticed.

His eyes. You never studied them because of how much movement he made - or there just wasn't any time. You would have thought that his lashes would have been gone along with his other body hair but no. They were still there. Rather thick and long. Framing the hazel orbs of his. Making them stand out.

They seemed almost a rich, deep gold and green at the moment because of the lighting - only the dim flame of the oil lamp on the ground beside the mattress lighting the area.

They were beautiful.

"I never noticed your eyes," you blurted, your gaze lingering on his. You could just see the shift of emotion in them - they were so expressive. More expressive than you expected. It showed he was still a man - still human - even if he did turn into the being he is now.

"Is that a compliment, darlin'?" he mused, raising a hairless brow.

You pondered. Maybe it was. Maybe you should say the things about them that were stuffed in the back of your brain.

"Yes," you answered after a beat. "I'd say more about them if I could put it into words."

He was the one to break the eye-contact, leaning his head back. You didn't speak again, afraid you might have hit a soft spot in the man. But you could see the corners of his lips twitch, his roughened fingertips tracing imaginary shapes on your bicep as he gazed up at the ceiling, through the holes in the roof.

"I never paid attention," you continued with little hesitancy. "Of your eyes, I mean. I always thought all Ghouls had fully black eyes."

A grunt in response. You can take that. The silence fell between the both of you once more. With a heavy exhale, he pulled you closer until your body pressed firmly into his side. A subtle gesture. A silent thank you.

Maybe you should pay attention to him more often.

Thank you for reading! Give me a message if you want to request any prompts for our cowboy ghoul here :D

[l0v3tast3]

the pervy older bf konig was amazing, pleaseee can we get one for price!! on my knees begging cos damn the konig one hit the spot mammm

god i love john price so fucking much. he makes my daddy issues go off the damn charts and his voice?!?!?! good god (*♡∀♡) also uwu tysm ily anon i hope you like this!!! <33

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, f!reader, age gap (r is 18, john is late 30's), body worship, semi-public s3x, car s3x, mirror s3x, he fucks you while you're on the phone with your mom, dirty talk, abuse of pet names, edging, overstimulation, tiny bit of dacryphilia, some fluff, john is basically your sugar daddy

✎ word count: 1.6k (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!john who wouldn't take his hands off of you even if there was a gun to his head. you're just so soft and full of youth, it makes him feel a little bit younger too. he's obsessed with smoothing his hands and his lips over every inch of your skin, always taking his sweet time with you, always making sure to worship every bit of you before he presses your thighs to your chest.

✧ ˖ ° he doesn't take for granted what you give him; he makes sure to thank you in the best way he knows how. it's after a lavish dinner and a stroll along a beautiful river that involves him buying you flowers and chocolate from vendors open late. john always means to end the night with just a kiss, opening your door for you and leaning against the car to watch you walk down the street back to your house (you make him park a few houses down so your parents don't see him). somehow the drive always ends with the car parked in some inconspicuous spot so he can fuck you in the backseat, because you insisted that you couldn't stay at his house overnight without your parents asking too many questions.

✧ ˖ ° despite your disapproving whines and squirms, john still takes it slow while he has you laying in the back of his car. he does it mostly because he loves how your legs shake when he builds your orgasm slow, but also because he knows that your parents will call you to check in soon. sure enough, while he's got two fingers buried knuckle deep in you and his mouth latched around one your nipples, the buzzing tune of your ringtone sounds from your bag on the floor. you barely notice it until his mouth pops off your breast and his fingers nearly slow to a halt, and he's holding up your phone for it. "answer it, love. don't want to make them worry, right?"

✧ ˖ ° when you have the phone in your weak grasp he presses the answer button and sinks back down, grinning while he hears you stutter out your greeting. he picks up the pace again, curling his fingers into the spot that makes your hips jerk. your hand is pressed into your mouth as you try to listen to what your mom is saying. her bleating practically becomes white noise when john's tongue licks a stripe from your hole to your clit and starts laving across it. you manage to spout out that you'll be home soon, you and your friends lost track of time, and john makes sure the call is actually ended when you throw it onto the floor again before he finally makes you cum.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!john who absolutely loves fucking you in front of literally any reflective surface. bedroom mirror, bathroom mirror, entryway mirror, windows, the tv, anything will suffice if he can see your pretty tits bouncing while he fucks into you from behind. it's high on his (long) list of his favorite ways to have you.

✧ ˖ ° if you're standing up, he'll use one hand to keep your hips lifted high enough to line up with his, the other wrapped around your neck and partially holding your jaw to keep you looking at yourself. "look at how pretty you are, darling, don't y'see how beautiful you are? say it, love, tell me how pretty y'are. c'mon, know you can do it." when you try to avert your eyes in embarrassment he'll use the hand on your throat to press you into his chest, slowing his hips until he's dragging his thick cock back and forth across all the spots that make your brain go haywire. "you know the rules, darling, won't let you cum until y'say it. well? don't start being a brat now. we both know how that goes, don't we?"

✧ ˖ ° it's also a semi-regular occurrence for john to bring you shopping at higher-end stores and fuck you in the secluded dressing rooms. he sits and tells you how gorgeous you look in each pretty dress and outfit you try on, always doing a little spin for him that makes his dick twitch in his too-tight pants. after a particularly short sundress or skirt he follows you into your fitting room, feeling you up before you even get the chance to squeak about how he's not supposed to be in here with you. john loves watching you scratch at his arms as he holds you up to fuck you, one hand shoving his middle and ring fingers to keep you quiet. it's addicting how quickly he can make you forget that you could be caught by someone at any moment.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!john who might as well shine an actual spotlight on you when he brings you with to formal military events that he's "required" to attend (you always overhear about people skipping out when you're there). he tells you not to worry about buying a dress for it, and when you show up to his home you find he spent probably hundreds on a dress, heels, and all-matching jewelry, all matching your favorite style and colors. and he does it every time you go to an event, always buying you new things; not to mention the matching set of lingerie he gets you for each outfit.

✧ ˖ ° john makes sure to always wear a coat long enough to cover his straining cock when you squeeze his hand or press yourself closer to him when he brings you with. he knows you're nervous, never straying from his side and always glancing to make sure he was still next to you, but of course he wouldn't let you go even if you wanted to. there was always a hand on your back or waist or holding yours, kissing yours knuckles in between brief chats with other officials and soldiers.

✧ ˖ ° the way you cling to him while he introduces you to everyone he makes small talk with for a few minutes makes him so eager to leave already, to finally get home and rip off your dress (you've learned by now that he doesn't care how much he spent on it just to destroy it). just you being dependent on him made both john's heart and cock swell; you were so adorable with your puppy eyes looking up to him for what to do next.

✧ ˖ ° john wants nothing more than for you to rely on him and to trust him enough to take the reins for you. that especially applied to your sex life, of course. "there y'go, sweetheart, that's my girl. just let me handle it all. all you have to do is lay here all pretty and take my cock. i'll go slow, sweetheart, don't worry. i know you're still sensitive, but you can cum for me one more time, can't you? oh, don't whine, love, i know you can do it, just one more for me. you feel so good around me when you cum, don't you want to feel good too?"

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!john who is obsessed with making you cum. he only uses the threat of edging you as a way to get you to say or do whatever dirty thing he wants; the rest of the time, he prefers you to be a blabbering, overstimulated mess. he's known (by you) to spend hours going down on you, switching between his mouth and fingers when either gets tired. when you tug at his hair and try to push him away, you always get "jus' one more f'me, darling, know y'can," and a quick kiss to your thigh before he's right back at it.

✧ ˖ ° the sight of you trembling and twitching from the overload of pleasure he gives your little body is just the most satisfying sight in the world to john. after sating his near-constant hunger for your sweet cunt, he'll crawl up to hover over you and press kisses across your face, gently wiping away the trails of tears that escaped during his mouth's endless assault. "y'with me again, love?" he asks softly, pressing little kisses to your swollen lips until you start returning them. the moment is sweet and slow before he's pressing his cock into your tight hole, pushing deeper and deeper until his fat tip is kissing your cervix.

✧ ˖ ° john doesn't give you enough time for your nerves to calm down before he's thrusting into you; the gasps and whines and tiny pleas that stumble out about needing a break. "but i already gave you one darling, just now, remember? shit- so fuckin' tight, even after i spent so long workin' y'open- hah, don't try to squirm away, princess, just take it- fuuuck-" he groans. john's calloused hands collect your smaller ones to intertwine his fingers with yours and hold them above your head, nose-to-nose with you as he coos down at you about how well you're doing for him.

✧ ˖ ° every time he gets you into his bed (or yours, or any bed, really) you know you're in for a long night. john will fuck you until you're about to pass out. he lives for pushing your limits, finding new tricks to get you to cum faster or harder for him, molding you to his cock and drilling it into your head that he's ruined you for any other man.

[owlstro]

Thank you for the great stuff you been posting so far.

2. tw astro x gn reader? We couldn't escape in time and now we gotta deal with the guy, fluff or angst I am alr with either :b.

3. I think you forgot to tag the shrimpo one?

TWISTED ASTRO X GN READER , fluff

note: 1. UR WELCOME!! im glad thst people have been enjoying my works!! havent seen alot of dw x reader soo i decided to take matters into my own hands!

2. i decided fluff since im better at writing it!! Altho the entire thing isn't very long so my bad lolsies..

3. OOPS!! i was pretty tired when i made that one, ill be sure to fix it, thank you for letting me know!

art: @ samwichtheunforgettable on Pinterest

Well this is a doozy, despite all the adrenaline you felt you couldn't get close enough to make it into the elevator. You were understandably freaking out and panicking.

Once you sorta calm down to actually think logically, you decide to hide. You don't know what to do, all you can do is just hide and hope no Twisted finds you.

Well, technically those hopes DID work, all of the Twisteds wandered the area like zombies, except one. Of course, you were gonna die eventually.

Although after some chasing and hiding, the Twisted kept following you, even almost slowing down when you ran out of stamina.

You were quite confused about why they didn't hurt you when you slipped and fell over.

Till you noticed who was chasing you, or well.. more accurately, following you. It was Astro, Twisted Astro.

You didn't know what he wanted, but it definitely wasn't something malicious. He looked lonely, sad even.

You stared at him, he stared at you. It was awkward for the two of you to say the least.

You suppose, if you're gonna find out how to communicate with him.. It would preferably be somewhere safe than a random hallway.

You lead him to the hiding spot he first found you in. Still feeling uneasy about a literal Twisted following you and the fact you haven't died yet is a miracle.

Astro looked at you curiously, wondering what you'll do next. You were just observing his body language. His arms and legs twitched quite often, most likely due to an absurd amount of Ichor he had to.. consume?

You tried communicating with him with words, while he could vaguely understand, it wasn't all too helpful.

You tried conveying your thoughts and MANY questions, on why he isn't attacking you like the others are, through body language but it seemed it confused him more. Man, being a Twisted sucks.

You tried all sorts of things, all of them ending up him confused or the both of you confused by what you were doing.

You just sighed and sat down, never-mind all of this.. How are you gonna return to the group? This is a mess.

Your eyes hovered over every small or big object you could see in your sight, not really making a single coherent thought.

You knew Astro was still there with you, probably staring but you didn't pay too much attention. You DID appreciate his presence, because Astro always gave off that calming aura of his.

But you didn't know how to feel about his corrupted.. or well, 'Twisted' version of him.

You could hear him shuffle a little closer to you as your thoughts spiraled into madness.

Then, his nightcap (that weirdly acted like it had a mind of its own.) wrapped around your torso.

Oh, well this brought you out of... whatever your brain was on.

You heard him mutter something or at least you saw him try to say something, due to all of the Ichor he consumes.

"It's fine, you don't need to speak." You eventually say, not wanting to make his throat hoarse. Seriously it must hurt drinking the Ichor.

Twisted Astro weakly nods, seemingly figuring out whether or not to lean on you or wait for you to lean on him.

You answer his thoughts by leaning on Astro. Your head on his shoulders.

"These circumstances aren't ideal, no far from it, but at least you're here." You say, almost feeling sleepy but your anxiety about the other Twisteds forced you to wake up.

final note: SORRY IF THIS IS MESSY. i couldnt think of many headcanons for him MY BAD GANGG. i might edit this but yea.. sorry this took so long! school had me swamped, HOPE U STILL ENNJOYED UR REQUEST!!!!!!

[yuyu1024]

Fake Dating

Pairings: Mingyu x Y/N

Genre/tags: non idol au, university couple

Warning: 🔞 fluff, suggestive but not purely smut, cursing, pet names, jealousy, mention of bullying but not extreme

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.4k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: written this while drinking my 3rd cup of coffee. Thats why it must be all over the place and does not make sense and feels a bit rushed... but yeah. 💀 im fine lol.

Anyways... busy days ahead.

Stay safe.

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

"Hold my hand..." he utters the second you jump out of his SUV's front passenger seat.

"What?" You grunt as you put your backpack on you.

"Just.... hold... my... hand..." he hiss through his teeth whilst smiling.

You roll your eyes, "Fine." And then intertwined your fingers with his.

"Next time... when I tell you to do something... just do it okay?" He says trying to sound sweet.

You got it now. His ex is probably within the perimeter of the parking lot that's why he asked you to hold his hand.

"Okay... I will listen next time..." you force a sweet smile and then tip toe to pinch him on his cheek as a gesture of trying to act like you find him cute but not really.

"Thank you."

You two are over acting everything but you know from outside perspective, it is believable. Coz you even got your friends fooled. None of them know that between you and Mingyu, everything is just fake. You are not actually dating. He just asked for your help.

Why you? You have no fucking idea.

"How long are we going to do this?" You ask as you two walk along the sidewalk.

"Until I get the reaction I need from her..."

"And what reaction is that?"

He snorts a proud and yet annoyingly laugh. "Beg."

"Beg?" You stop walking. "This thing will end when she begs for you to take her back?"

"Yeah."

You roll your eyes again and let go of his hand. "That is silly..."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well... I know Selena." You sigh, "She was my schoolmate since highschool... and she never begs men. It's always the other way around."

"Wow. Don't look down at me like that! Am I not attractive enough to make her beg and regret she broke up with me?"

You scan him from head to toe. "You are not bad... I must say... you are the very first good looking guy I actually approve by looks....that Selena dated."

"Really?" He arches a brow.

"However.... given her history." You pull out your phone from your pocket. "Goodluck." You mumble as you go on and scroll over texts on your phone. "Plus... you using me... is a wrong move... I am not a competition or whatsoever for her."

"If that's what you think... why did you agree with me? Doing this?"

"I was... desperate... like you. I needed saving that day too... so..." you trail off, your eyes busy with your phone still.

Yeah. That day when Mingyu pulled you from the bleachers, you needed that save. You were getting bullied by the mean girls from your class. Well, just because you caught their eyes that day.

Anyways, that afternoon during Mingyu's practice, you were there being tormented by those girls. They were acting like they were your friends but they were pinching and pulling your hair just to make you feel uncomfortable. And then suddenly, Mingyu spots you from the distance.

He called you by your name, asks you about something about going home with him and then chatted about random stuff. You were so fucking confuse but you went with his acting. At first you thought he saw you getting bullied so he helped you. But them after the whole quick kdrama acting, he explained everything to you.

That's it.

"Hey..." Mingyu steals your phone from your hand. "Stop using your phone when we're talking... you know its rude if you are talking to someone and you are not even paying attention."

You try to take it back but you fail. He is taller than you. "I am listening... and answering.."

"No..." he locks your phone and puts it in his bag. "Why are you so addicted with your phone?"

"I'm not! I was just replying to someone..."

"Who?"

"None of your business... babe..." you stick your tongue out and dig your phone out of his gym bag. "Anyways... goodluck with practice... just message me if we need to do something or your giving me a ride home or not."

He frowns. "Of course, I will drive you home."

You smile. "Okay then... thank you. See you!" You wink and left

****

Days had passed. Nights had gone by so quick. It has been an hectic few weeks for you. With all of the reviewing you have been doing preparing for the exams, on top of trying to survive each classes. You are dead inside now basically.

"I'm so tired." You sigh as you lay your head on your book and unplug your phone from charging. "It has been four months already?" You mumble as you scroll over you calendar for your schedules and see the monthsary reminder that Mingyu had set for every 26th of the month. "We lasted this long...?"

You thought that this fake dating will be over after 3 weeks. 2 months tops if Mingyu wanted to be serious with the 'making selena jealous and beg' agenda. But four months? That's a record breaker. Well atleast to your judgement of him.

It's not that you are getting tired of this fake dating shit. It's just... emotionally draining you in somewhat way.

He makes your heart confuse every now and then. And you can't do anything about it. That big giant puppy is a good-looking, athletic and charming dude. His attitude in life and personality is not bad either. He is funny and smart too. So... he is a good dream boyfriend material.

It's not a shocker that Selena liked him. Nor the rest of his fanclub. Mingyu is....hot. And you are not blind nor heartless.

However since you know your place in this modern world, your level in the who's hot and who's not. You are NOT a good match for him. You are just existing now in his world because he have a mission. His ex. So.. catching feelings is not in your to do list.

Yeah you can always ask him to end the deal. He said it himself; that you have the freedom too. BUT, besides being the hot guy in your life. Mingyu had been a friend too...(which you lack in your life sadly) so you are not sure if you are willing to let go a decent friend if you end whatever relationship you have with him.

*buzz*

🐶: where are you?

💖: why?

🐶: wdym why? Don't tell me you forgot?

💖: forgot what?

💖: just tell me

💖: im busy.

It took three minutes before he replies again

🐶: my mother's party is tonight.

"Fuck!" You hiss as you scramble to get all your things in your bag

You got a few sshh and be quiet from the other students studying in the library.

"Sorry..." you mouth as you hurry your way out

🐶: just tell me where the fuck are you and im going to pick you up.

You were trying to reply as you run out of the building but then the sound of the pouring rain made you gasp.

"Shit!"

You are dumbfounded. You don't know what to do now. You have no umbrella and you need to get home and get dress for his mom's birthday party.

*phone buzzes*

"Where are you?" He says as soon as you answered the call

"Library building. Outside..." you exhale your frustration. You scan the whole empty space in front of you. No one is running. No human is in sight. "How can I go? I don't have any change of clothes with me... maybe... I can just--"

"Found you."

You look straight up and see his pick up truck.

He rolls down the window of the passenger seat. "Get in!" He yells

"Crap!" You put your phone in your leather bag and then raise your jacket on top of your head before running like crazy down the steps.

The moment you got in, he sees your legs, part of your skirt and shirt are wet, "I've been calling you..."

"Sorry... my phone died and I just charged it."

His forehead is wrinkled. He does not look like he is in the mood.

"Figured." He then opens the zip of your bag and takes your phone so he can plug it to his car. "Let's hurry home so we can both change..."

"But I don't have--" you pause as you see how drenched he is. "Why are you so soaked?" You take off your jacket and put it around him.

He chuckles. "Thanks?" He finds it funny that you give him your small as jacket to a big guy like him.

"Just take it... you're cold."

"So are you..." he says

"I'm fine." Then you scan the back seat of his car, checking if he have a spare shirt somewhere.

"What are you looking for?" He glances at you when he sees you reaching for something while he's driving. "Hey!" He holds on to you when you almost slipped.

"Got it!" You grunt. "I found you a--"

Your cheeks suddenly burns like hell. No, you did not randomly got sick or what. You're just caught off guard when you straighten up your position and felt... and saw that his hand is on your thigh.

Mingyu is fucking holding your thigh!

"Is that a shirt of mine?" He asks, his eyes is on the road.

"Uhmm..." you answer, "uhuh."

"How did you know I have clean a shirt back there?" He's still not moving his hand off you.

"Well..." you look outside the window to your side, pretending to not notice it. "I remembered you said you always bring extra... especially during practice."

He hums his answer. "You do listen when I talk..."

"Whatever."

You became silent and stiff. Even though eventually he removed his hand because he is driving. He needs his hands.

But the warmth that his hand left on your skin lingers. It burns. And it felt like your skin misses the touch.

*phone buzzes*

You bend over to unplug your phone and see who texted you. But then suddenly, Mingyu swerves his car to park giving you a whiplash and dropping your phone on the floor.

"What the fuck? Why are you so aggressive parking your--"

It was a blurr. You don't know what caused it nor what happened but Mingyu just parked his car, unbuckle his seatbelt and lunges at you. He, out of the blue, just started kissing you.

"Mingyu!" Your voice is small and weak. You're panting. "W-what the hell...?"

His eyes are just on you, scanning your face. Most particularly your bruised lips.

"I don't want you to reply to him anymore..." he says

"W-what?"

"I know your still texting your ex..." he cups your face with his one hand. "And I don't like it." He leans close again and kisses you more. Sucking your lower lip and tongue.

This is so fucking wrong but you can't get a grip of yourself to stop kissing back. It feels so fucking good. Your body was cold earlier but now, it's not.

"You are kissing me... because of that? You hate my ex?" You ask as your lips separates

"Don't be dumb. Of course that's not the only reason..." His hand slides back to your thights and it earned him a sensual reaction that made him smile in pure joy. "You know... I like it when you blush..." he says before going in for another kiss.

Everything that's happening is out og the blue. How did you both got in this situation? No clue. Does he like you? Is he just horny? What?

"W-wait..." your back is already leaning on the door whilst you still have your seatbelt on. "I don't think... this is right."

"Hmmm..."

"I think we should--"

Before finishing your sentence, Mingyu unbuckles your seatbelt and pushed your seat back so it lowers. You yelp as it goes down, flat.

"Move to the back." He orders

"What?" You look at him and the backseat.

"Crawl..."

"W-why?"

"Y/N... you know what I mean... go... please?"

You heart is beating fast. Its a mixed of excitement and fear of what if you guys get caught. Yes his car is tinted but...

He totally stops the car engine (to be safe) and then starts pulling his shirt off

"What are you doing?" You gasp

He smiles, "why are you asking questions that's already obvious?" He is big but he moved from the driver's seat to the backseat beside you.

"Well..." you hug your legs as you watch him move

"Don't tell me... you're a shy type person when it comes to fucking?" He is smirking.

"I'm... not....it's just..."

"Just what?" He ask while removing his bracelet and wrist watch

"Why are we doing this?" You question

He shrugs. "Because... I like you."

"You like me?" You are taken aback. "Seriously?" And then laugh. "You're funny..."

"Who said I'm joking?" He grabs both your ankles, spread your legs and place them on his side. He is hovering you now.

"But... selena..." you are breatheless as you see him basically on top of you now.

"The deal was only for a month...right?"

You nod

"It didn't worked. So... I moved on..."

"The fuck? So why do we still do this dating shit?"

"Because... I like you."

"What? I'm confused."

"Selena broke up with me... coz I started liking someone else..."

"What?! Who?"

Mingyu lowers down his face and starts kissing you on your neck, just below your ear. "Obviously... its you..."

He continues to nibble your neck until he felt your hips react with his touches.

"Your...y-your making this shit up... just to... just to fuck me..." you are moaning the words out now.

"If I just want to fuck you... I could just ask you right there and then in the field..." he explains "I'm sorry I made this fake dating shit up... but... I know you'll not try to date me if I didn't do it... I know you don't like me before... so..."

You just stare at him and try to absorb whatever he's saying

"Why.... why do you like me?"

"I don't know.. I just did..." he pushes the hair off your face. "I think you don't remember... but we've been to same classes a few times before... you were so quiet and always isolated that you don't notice me when I try to reach out..." he snorts a small smile. "I can explain the whole story in detail later if you want but..."

"But what?"

"I'm fucking horny right now... and I don't think I can wait anymore..."

Your eyes widens before laughing out loud. Mingyu is so real and does not deny what he needs.

"Okay then....." you try to stop laughing. "Let's do it quick before anyone sees us plus your mom is waiting..."

"Fuck yeah."

[chuuyasheaven]

♤ Touch me like I'm yours, baby. ♤

Tags: Chuuya N. / afab! Reader, passionate sex, pet names (sweetheart, doll, baby, "baby" for Chuuya), praising, fingering, slight teasing, overstimulation?, slight degrading (being called "slutty/slut"), ooc! Chuuya?, handsy! Chuuya?, smudged makeup, car sex, pw/op, might contain grammar errors, rushed?, etc.

Notes: I RECENTLY STARTED JJK !! (currently on s1 ep2 ) ^_^

You got all pretty for him, just putting on some lipstick to seem cuter. Why? Because you both went out that night, just the both of you, driving around during night. All plans made by Chuuya, what really wasn't planed was you on his lap smudging some of your lipstick and staining his lips slightly. So yes, the both of you were making out in his car, which the neither of you complained about actually.

With your eyes closed, you felt his hands roaming around your waist, kinda pulling you closer. Your back slightly arched, just a little, you opened your eyes to see that Chuuya's lips now had a slight red tint now. The sight made you giggle to yourself quietly as you lowered your kisses down to his neck. "What's so funny, baby?", Chuuya asked pointing out your slient giggles. "Nothing, but red lipstick would suit you.", he just exposed his neck slightly further for better access while scoffing to himself. "Thanks, I guess,", he said before his breathing slowly got heavier, mainly because he was quite sensitive on some parts of his neck.

Now that his neck was covered in faint lipstick you lifted your head again. "What now?", you asked curiously, Chuuya let his hand wander to your thigh. His other free hand made it's way to the car's radio to let music play, which was connected to his playlist. Music started to play, Streets by Doja Cat to be exact, his fingers sneaked themselves to your inner thighs. He smirked at you, Chuuya's smirk and fingers got you feeling something only he could make you feel. "How about I make you feel good, doll?", without giving you time to answer, his fingers were suddenly resting on your lips, you knew what he wanted you to do.

Your lips parted a little, he shoved his finger in a little, until your teeth bit down gentle but firm enough for him to pull his glove off. "Good girl.", Chuuya's ungloved hand made it's way back down to your inner thighs, now his fingers pushed your panties to the side and entered your cunt. You whimpered quietly to yourself, his fingers never disappointed you. Since there was music playing in the background, he just made use of that by hitting your best spots by each beat. Oh God, this was the most dangerous combo known to mankind, two minutes into the song and he already had you see stars. By this time your chest was against his while Chuuya took his time making you feel good. "Ngh— Chuuya. .", he looked you into your eyes. "Feels good, sweetheart?", you nodded, your cheeks flushed.

Another five minutes after a different song started playing, you came around his fingers. Chuuya pulled them out and licked them clean, making you wet again. "I. . I want more, baby, p–please.", you asked rather pathetically, but you're his princess, why should he deny you? "More? Does my slutty little girl want more?", he teasingly asked. "You want me to fuck you, doll?", he repeatedly asked while unbuckling his belt, looking you in the eye while doing so. "Why don't you fuck yourself on it, hm? Make us both feel good, just like the good girl you are,", Chuuya held his dick in his hand, while he made you his suggestion he was obviously rubbing himself. ". . F–fine.", you agreed, as if you didn't do this multiple times before!

You gently grabbed his dick, Chuuya pushed your panties to the side again to make it easier for you. When you slowly sunk down on him, it took a lot of self-restraint to not moan out loud. He waited for you to adjust, that's when Chuuya noticed the song currently playing, Naughty Girl by Beyoncé. Without really noticing, he felt you moving, finally. Yes, he did let a surprise moan slip but that was it! You didn't pay attention to it anyway, all what mattered to you was to make you both feel good. Moans and whimpers left your mouth, skin clapping filling the car and the windows now slowly starting to fog up. Could it not get any better? "Keep being such a good slut for me, baby, fuck. .", Chuuya cursed to himself, his head now thrown back. "S–sensitive. . ah!", you moaned, of course you were, with the way he handled you earlier?! But anyway, to at least be a little helpful, Chuuya grabbed your hips to guide you riding.

It was getting close, both of your orgasms now nearing. "So pretty,", Chuuya said, another song which was playing in the background was recognized by him again, Do I wanna know? by Artic Monkeys, making everything better. God, he really should let music play more often. "You sound even better than the song, sweetheart. Keep making this noise for me,", the pleasure got more intense by each bounce, the sweet release not far away. Chuuya let one low grunt out, he was twitching lightly inside you which made you feel even better. Then there it was, before you knew it, your back arched and you gushed around him meanwhile he busted his load inside you.

"Oh shit, let's hope the seats don't get stained. ."

Yeah I finished this at 1am bro..

@heluvaku (don't mind this I js wanted to get a second opinion lol)

[httpiastri]

first of all CONGRATS ON 3K!! 💗😫 I've loved your Pepe work and I'm so checking out your other works 😭💗

saw the 3k celly and I couldn't resist myself 👉👈

how do we feel about a small Pepe blurb with the touch starved prompt: "one just casually sitting down on the other's lap and they start internally freaking the hell out" ??

furthermore,, could it be the reader being the one that is touch starved and Pepe just casually grabs em and sits them on his lap and is the reader the one freaking out?? 🤭

🍈 – send me a driver and a prompt from this list of hugging prompts, these touch starved prompts, or these kiss prompts, and i will write a short blurb for you!!

author's note: thank you so much!! and im glad you like them aaa 🥺 i loved this idea !!!! but lol i thought a blurb was 500 words, not 100-200. still doesnt explain why this is 1.2k. 😶 i had time over on my flight so this (and the paul "blurb" ive got scheduled for later) was the result. hope u enjoy :)

3k celly !!

(college!)pepe marti x reader

there are a lot of fun ways to spend a free saturday evening.

but being squeezed into a room with a bunch of drunk students, with music so loud you can barely think? not one of them.

you had been about to refuse your friend's suggestion to tag along, as you always do, before she had uttered the magic words. pepe will be there.

you were already planning outfits in your mind when the words left her mouth, suddenly feeling like no piece of clothing you own is enough to impress him. how could any piece of clothing ever be good enough for someone like him?

disappointment, though no surprise, fills you when your friend leaves you the second you enter the apartment of some guy in her physics class, to search for that other guy she's been crushing on for weeks now. so, here you are, in the living room belonging to some student you don't know, being pushed around by students you also don't know, with some song that you've never heard blasting from the speakers.

thankfully, even in a crowded apartment like this one, it isn't hard to find pepe. the sound of his sweet, intoxicating laughter can be heard from miles away.

he's sitting on a couch in the corner of the room, red solo cup in one hand and phone in the other. he's showing something on his phone to his best friend christian who's sitting next to him, his giggles sending a wave of relief through your body.

pepe's eyes light up when they meet yours, a sliver of surprise in his smile as you make your way over to him. he says your name like it's what he was made to do, like no other words have ever fallen from his lips. "i almost didn't believe your friend when she told me you'd join her tonight," he tells you. "i'm surprised."

"i'm full of surprises," you answer, tilting your head to the side slightly.

"of course you are. like that dress, very surprising." that statement isn't very surprising in itself; your friend, ever the fashionista, noticed your stress over your choice of outfit for the night instantly, lending you one of her favorite dresses with the words you'll look adorable, he won't be able to stay away. but the fact that pepe has noticed you enough to at least in some way collect an idea of the types of clothes you would and wouldn't wear is surprising to send a shiver down your spine. "you look great."

you can't control the redness that threatens to spread across your cheeks at that, but your gaze shifts to the ground to at least lessen some of your flusteredness. pepe doesn't miss the gentle smile that makes its way onto your lips, though. christian understands this as his cue to leave, jumping out of his seat and bolting away in just a second. pepe taps the now free spot on the couch, and you slip down next to him without another thought.

"did you get to the kitchen already?" he asks, gaze burning into the side of your face as you pretend like fixing the hem of your dress is something you actually need to do and not just a way to occupy yourself. "or do you want me to go get you something to drink?"

you shake your head, eyes flickering over to him again. "i'm alright for now, but thank you."

he nods over his cup, bringing it up to his lips to take a sip. the action has the muscles of his arm contracting and… has he always been this muscular, or is it just the light of the apartment? either way, he makes it look so casual – he probably doesn't know he's the object of your current mental assessment – as if the feeling of his jeans against your bare knee isn't distracting enough. "i'm glad you came," he says after he's lowered the cup. "the party was bound to be boring without you."

there it is again; that relief you felt earlier. a sliver of a confirmation that this thing that's been going on between you two these last few weeks isn't just one-sided. unless he's just toying with you, as you've heard certain men like to do, which doesn't exactly help soothe your worries.

but pepe isn't like that, you have to remind yourself. that's one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place; he's gentle in a way you can't credit a lot of men to being, like a mild breeze instead of a full-blown storm.

someone turns the music up even more, something you would've assumed was impossible a minute ago, as if to say you're thinking too much. fewer thoughts, please.

you take a deep breath, eyes meeting his. "i'm glad you're here, too."

"what?"

you let out a short laugh at the way his face contorts as he tries to hear what you're saying over the loud music. "i said," you start, voice growing louder. "i'm glad you're here, too."

pepe nods, though you're not sure if he actually understood or if he's just faking it, before saying something you have no chance of catching. you raise your eyebrows, tilting your head slightly and jokingly bringing a hand up to the back of your ear to hear him better. you did not expect him to lean forward, nor the warm huff of air that meets your ear when he speaks into it. "it's a little too loud, isn't it?"

you nod when he leans back to look at you, the corners of your lips tugging upward at the sight of his own smile. you shrug, trying to figure out a way to solve the issue; you came here to talk to him, not to just sit next to him all quietly because you can't hear each other. you gaze around the apartment, only to find a pair of speakers placed in about every corner of it, which brings back that disappointing feeling from when your friend left you just minutes ago.

but pepe has other plans. before you can interject, his hands find your hips and lift you up to straddle his thighs sideways. it's a swift motion, and he makes it seem like you weigh about five grams, leaving you pretty completely speechless. "i figured we'd hear each other better like this," he says, one hand reaching over to grab his cup again from where he must've placed it on a table nearby just moments ago, while his other hand stays planted on your hip. when you don't say anything, his eyes rake over your face, a hint of guilt in his expression. "sorry, is this okay?"

you take a deep breath, pushing the butterflies in your stomach away for just a moment and gathering the courage to nod. "yeah," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "i just… wasn't expecting that."

the chuckle he lets out vibrates through your body, too. "well, get used to it." that damn smile of his appears again, the one you just can't stop yourself from mimicking. "i like having you close."

as his hand slips past your hip and around your waist, you allow yourself to lean into him a little, impressed by the way you find yourself enjoying your new seat very much.

impressed by the way it feels like this seat was made just for you.