#their first interaction was just flirting and now they fucking hate each other

[cryptfile]

⨳ kinktober file 02 — victims of love, a. donaldson.

summary — you will simply not tolarate losing.

warnings — 18+ mdni, rivals to lovers, fem!reader, tension, filthy mouth, praise kink, whiny&pathetic!art, choking, pet names, p in v, masturbation, mentions of spit, blood and injuries (reader falls during a match and Art takes care of it, nothing wild), dumbification (art calls reader a loser multiple times).

side notes — this takes place before Tashi’s knee accident, it’s not important to know but whatever, english is not my first language thanks to the greater power of the universe, so any mistakes, let them be, i’m not sorry, also, like my previous file, dividers by @cafekitsune! let me know if you want to be tagged in the next kinktober file! been thinking about doing a kinktober masterlist so it’s easier for you my pretty people to look up and read whatever you want. Requests are still open at the moment!

Fuck being a loser.

Even when the tournament is a friendly one. Stanford always do that shit, this thing to bring students together and forces everyone to participate, yet, when you find out who you’re compiting with, it’s pretty obvious you’re going for the throat, not caring if the word “friendly” is in name as there was a medal and 150$ on game.

Yes. You are competitive by heart, it’s part of your genetics now that you’re deep into this tennis world you never wanted to be a part of, Tashi made you sign up and suddenly, suddenly you take it very seriously.

You win the first match, the second, and when it comes down to the final one, you find out it’s none other than Art Donaldson the one who’s on the other side of the tennis court, bouncing the yellow ball until he’s confident enough make the first move.

By the end you’re sweaty. Visible drips of sweat even when you’re standing on the other side, running to match his stregth and game. You wanted to be pro, enjoy the luxury of a relaxed life whose only meaning is to win plays, and to finally be that, you need to beat everyone, man or woman alike as it’s not a matter of sex, but rather talent.

It does not matter if it’s a friendly tournament, it does not matter about the masses saying you’re good, it’s about the fact that you won, that you beat Art Donaldson out of all people. Tashi is a wild ride yes, she makes you work for it when you two are against each other, run to every side, get tired. Art is tension.

Competition.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he’s looking at you, like he’s not dripping in sweat like you are, making those filthy sounds he makes each time he uses force to hit the ball, enough effort on it to make him tired, utterly tired.

So when he won, your knee is already bleeding, shaking his hand in nothing but hatred as he gives you this confident smile he uses to flirt sometimes. You hate it, every second of it, hate the fact that you lose against Tashi’s friend (who you’re sure she must have fucked before cause how there’s so much unresolved tension there?) and how he’s looking at you like he just crushed you in every sense of the word, even enjoyed it while doing it so.

“Good match,” he says when everyone’s looking at your interaction with him, but you don’t say a word. Art chuckles cause he knows people like you, people who need to prove themselves over and over again. “You did a good job.”

You don’t need praising even when it does things to you. You remain professional as you shake his hand, a fast and tight shake before taking the second place. Second.

What you don’t expect is to be in that party later. The music’s loud and people are celebrating something you’re not much aware of, yet the third place greets you with the tequila as you arrive, a bronze medal on his chest as the strong, burning taste goes down your throat before you caught him out the corner of your eye.

Art Donaldson.

He loves praising so much he cannot help it when people stop and say something nice about him: A good little tournament he won? It’s not something he’s going to be proud of his life forever, but it’s enough to make him enjoy the comments about his talent as the day goes through, the medium-sized gold medal still on his neck as he walks like he owns the place. 150$ dollars richer.

Fucker.

Everything seems to be against you: Sororities aren’t your thing but you’re there, the tournament went to shit, Art was literally haunting you.

You think about leaving. You live in a small residence where everyone knows each other, so big spaces filled with as much students as they can possibly fit is not a exactly a plan for you in a friday night, not when you like to stay indoors— But Tashi’s there, your friends are there, and man, you just need to have a good time after the disaster of a day.

So instead, you shove down a shot or two. And when you’re invited to smoke some grass outside, you don’t doubt it, even when Tashi says something about training tomorrow before disappearing, you're sat in a small circle, not caring about your friend’s words as you forgot about the pressure and simply smoke oblivious to everything — Even to Art's gaze.

Fuck being pro. You were doing okay in physics, maybe you should stick to that.

So while you’re drowning in misery, Art just looks at you with a beer in the hand. You picked his interest right at the end of the game: Tashi's friend, new blood, and a fresh face after a whole semester of knowing the same people — It’s safe to say he's drawn to you like he has been with everything he liked during his life. So yeah, he caught himself staring, going back to his memories and the imprinted scene on his brain of the match you two shared before like it was something intimate everyone in the public saw, the dripping sweat falling off your skin as you throw yourself to the floor caughting the small ball when you don't care about your physical well-being anymore.

He can see the wounds on your knee still, the scraps of dry blood as you smoked weed. He knows you're abusing, abusing your limits, testing how far you can go after a hell of a mach, and Art's usually pinning after Tashi at that point, desperate to sabotage Patrick, yet that night specifically he finds himself in trouble until that very moment, that very moment that everything seemed to change all of a sudden.

Truth is Art don't know you very much. He knows Tashi got a female friend she happens to like, a breathe of fresh air as she would describe you, that you play tennis sometimes, but more than that? He's totally clueless even about your name.

It’s just,— God. He loves girls that can put him in his place. It happened with Tashi before driving him crazy with need, and it has happened now in a lame tennis court with you out of all sudden. He thinks about that look you gave him, the tension of the competition, about the fact that even when you saw him, you choose to ignore him, the silver medal you received before well hidden in the back pockets of your shorts instead of proudly display it on your chest like the thrid place did.

You’re no second place. It’s very clear.

He likes your ego, that cocky face you got when someone mentioned the match, dismissing your second place like it was nothing; and Art just stares, even when people notice he’s looking at you, he doesn’t care about being evident as he scans each and every one of your actions.

Shit, he’s been staring a long time. Your friends notice when they tell you about the cute strawberry blonde that’s been checking you out the whole night, but you, knowing who he is, just know that he’s only doing it for teasing, to make your blood boil like he did in the match.

No one’s breaking the nice bubble you made though, laughing, dancing until you’re dizzy and you need to tell one of your girls that you’re going to the bathroom real quick, plan that usual, goes incredibly catastrophic.

The door is locked and you stand outside knocking a couple of times, cursing at the time it took the person inside to get out. And it’s all very cliché when you think about it hours later, cause when the door opens and you’re so rushed, so high already, you don’t happen to notice who you’re running into.

Either way you crash into him when he comes out. Art, Art, Art fucking Art. You’re half way drunk as you would say, and he’s dead sober as he prevents you from falling, grabbing you by the arm as you lose balance.

“Careful,” he would say before noticing it’s you—. “Having trouble to keep on your feet, second place? you okay?”

The nickname stirs something in you. Boiling rage mostly as you quickly stand on your feet again, regaining the balance you lost.

“Thanks. Watch where you’re going,” you quickly reply, rolling your eyes to the back of your head—. “Gotta be careful. People are not kind as me.”

“Kind? You sure about that?” he laughs softly, looking down at you. Fucking rat. Is he mocking you? “Don’t think you were kind to me. You were nothing but the opposite.”

“Were you expecting a pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek?” you asked furrowing your brows in response, an attitude that only appears cause you lack of shame, driven by liquid courage.

“Well for starters, that could be nice” he admits, and you now understand how it ended like it was going at the moment, how he prevented you from getting into the bathroom as he puts his hand right in front of you, blocking the way inside. “Maybe a good job would do.”

You sober up really fast after that, impossible not to.

“How’s your knee?” he asks after the silence, and you notice how he’s leaning towards you, hand on the wall as he points out the wound you didn’t take care of before, too mad to disinfect it as you ignore the pain after the match: Nothing hurts more than a bruised ego. “Did you go to the infirmary?”

“It’s only a bruise, m’okay” you say, looking at your kneecap as well, the dried blood that’s still on your skin—. “Can I go in or what?”

He’s pretty confident in himself, it seems like it (or maybe it’s because he has a gold medal with a number #1 on it), yet he’s grabbing you by the waist, pushing you inside the bathroom as he closes the door behind him with the help of his foot, helping you sit on top of the sink as he looks out for the first aid kit in a bathroom that’s not his.

And you, weird enough, forget why you’re there in the first place. That you were feeling strangely dizzy, that you were going to the bathroom to stare at the mirror and wash your face to sober up, even drunk for a moment as he presses a clean towel dipped in alcohol, a weird silence as you leg tweak against the sudden pain, a reflex you cannot control.

“Do you always get so mad when you don’t get what you want?” he asks, distracting you from the burning sensation as he takes care of the wound in your kneecap—. “Never met someone that could get so passionate about a friendly tournament.”

“No,” you admit, looking at his hands. Even when the blood is dried it still hurts. His touch is gentle, warm against your skin as he touches only what he needs to be touched, keeping his left hand on your tight as he prevents you from moving involuntarily. “Don’t lose often.”

“That so?” he asks, tilting his head slightly backwards, giving you this smile as if he has a huge secret about you only he knew, like you two share confidence now that you’ve shared five minutes in a bath away from the noise. “How long you’ve been playing anyway? Haven’t see you around.”

“A while,” you find his curiosity annoying, yet you’ve been rude enough so you don’t say much, not when he’s helping you—. “Didn’t take it very serious until this semester.”

He hums. Art likes that. The fact that your brain works for something else rather than the competition, that you could talk about the fucking weather if you like and not another match, so he takes in the information in, standing between your parted legs, incredible close.

“And you’re winning don’t you?” he asks curiously. “Hoping to go pro.”

“Well, I think we all want that in the end, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t respond, not with words exactly, but he leans over the bathroom sink, body barely touching yours as he grabs the red thread hanging on the back pocket of your shorts, the one he knows it’s there cause he’s been looking at it the entire night, and you need help cause your breathing hitches on your throat for a moment: Art’s touch is soft, equal as it was when he was taking care of your wound, his fingers sliding in the back as he grabs the silver medal of the second place between his fingers.

How, the hell he smells so damn good? Since you heard he was participating in the tournament you were eager to beat him and reduce him to ashes, but now, you find yourself sniffing on his scent as he fills your nostrils with a sweet smell much like vanilla, clean.

“You should wear your medal,” the blonde says, placing it over your head—. “Let people know you’re good in what you’re doing.”

“I don’t want people to cheer over a second place,” you admit looking at the silver with disgust, too proud to let it slide. “That’s mediocre.”

He seems to thing about it for a second: “Mediocre huh? Would you be happy if we switched medals then, second place?” he asks, looking down at your face. He’s too comfortable now that you didn't pushed him away, caging you in the sink as he places a hand on each side of your legs, his weight now against the spacious marble counter—. “Is that what you want? I’ll tell everyone you beat me if that’s going to make you happy.”

“No,” Why are you even nervous? You scold yourself in your mind a couple of times, he’s looking at you with those fucking puppy eyes, glistening under the white lights of the bath as he looks at you almost pleading—. “Cause that’s not true. You won.”

“Don’t really care. I just want to put a smile on your face,” Art replies, and god, it’s getting damn hard to think at that point cause his fingers are tracing invisible patters on the sides of your legs, stupidly close as he scans your face, no shame, nothing but a pure act of lust. “Don’t want you to be mad a me, second place. Would not want us to start off on the wrong foot.”

Whatever he’s doing? It’s working. Cause when he’s taking the gold medal out of his neck to put it in yours, exchanging the silver one you hated so much with his gold? You’re sure you’re making it all up in your head.

“There,” the athlete smiles almost proud as his knuckles brushes against your chest—. “Looks better around your neck anyways.”

He caughts you off-guard. You’re no longer high, drunk, or whatever excess you’ve been through the night, and you simply dig it, a lot to be honest with yourself. Maybe it’s the fact that you lose the tournament, that you’re somehow vulnerable thanks to your ego being bruised so much, but you let it happen, let his fingers grab the skin of your tight again like its their original place cause you want him to do it, to experience his touch.

“Nobody’s going to believe me,” you blurt out, nervous enough to act like you’re normal about it, about his warm skin seeking yours—. “They all saw you win. You played good.”

“You really think that?” he’s dizzy on that cocky confidence, that boost your words give him as he smiles, his right hand caressing your cheek for a moment, losing itself in the strands of your hair moments after. “You really think I did a good job out there? Beating you?”

It’s the way he’s saying it. How he’s all desperate about it, so needy for you to admit he did good as he brushes your hair using his fingers.

“You know I do. That’s why you won, Art.”

“I swear i’ll keep the secret, loser” he chuckles lowly, breaking every rule as he pushes you to the edge of the counter. “I’ll tell everyone that you won, but you’ll still be the second place to me.”

Fucker.

You want to respond, say something sassy as well, a snarky remark at least, but Art’s pressing his forehead against yours, grabbing you by the jaw strong enough to remind you he has more force than you, but gentle enough to let you enjoy it, demanding you to look at him. Look at him like he’s been looking at you the whole damn night.

“I do, really want to kiss you right now, second place” he admits close to you, gaze travelling to your pumped lips as his eyes take in the details, the pink shade mixed with a transparent lip gloss that only seems to invite him, to make a mess with it, dissapear at its finest. “It’s burning me alive.”

He waits for any sign of permission, and you try to think reasons to say no. Any motive to say no to him, but instead you simply chuckle, back against the wall, trapped in this atmosphere he so easily created: There’s no human way possible to say no cause to be brutally honest, you want it too.

He’s hot. he's handsome in a way you cannot stop thinking about so when he's kissing you? You have no complains. You let him be needy, let him touch you like an anguished men, like he encountered a glass of water after a long walk in the dessert. The kiss it's all teeth and bite — It's fast, messy, demanding and wet. He's grabbing you by the medal, tugging on the gold circle just to make you lean towards him, fingers now caressing on the skin of your throat now as he deepen the kiss, not even waiting for permission as he slides his tongue in, wanting more.

"So you wear my medal and i'll wear yours" his breathing collides against your skin soon after, planting kisses on the crook of your neck, drawn by your smell of peaches, the softness of your skin. "Say it, please say you'll do it."

Each second becomes a torture, a cruel joke when you were so invested in winning, something you don't care about now, that seems to be far from your interests as he squeezes the skin of your tight, toying with the hem of your shirt, the cotton fabric of your black t-shirt that only annoys him as he touches your stomach, the sweet intimacy he's been craving since the morning.

"I'll do it," you nod for a second—. "But you have to be convincing. Don't make me look like a fool."

"How could I?" he asks, utterly curious as he stops for a second to look at you. "You're a winner, anyone can tell."

It makes your blood rush. His words seems to hit the jackpot, cause your shirt's falling the floor, the door's being closed with lock, and suddenly, the air is hot, the only sound that filled the bathroom of the sorority being his kisses, your labored breathing as you forgot about the rest of the party.

It's not something you'd usually do, the rush of something so sporadic, so inconsistent, but you love the adrenaline, the touch of his hands, the electricity being poured down your spine.

"Nobody would even dare to think you're in reality a loser" he says, praising once again in his own way as he places a soft kiss on your lips, looking down at your hands now, fingers interwined now in his jeans. More. You want more. “A really hot second place.”

Your touch is getting more eager now, and as you unbuckle his pants, he's fucking whimpering, his hips moving in need for the friction the palm of your hand can offer, taunting him for a second before he's pulling down on his own underwear himself, the blue fabric of his jeans falling halfway over his tights.

Your hand leaves his body for a second, and he's ready to beg for more until he notices what you're really doing, a large amount of spit going into your hand in what Art could swear is the most erotic act he has ever seen, traces of drool on in your chin before your fingers finally hug his already hard cock.

Soon he's fucking your fist, burying his head in your neck, moaning and pleading you to keep on going, moving his hips fast enough to create a delicious sound you thrive on, ones that mixes damn well in the air. He's slightly sweaty, not like he was in the game, but enough to create this nice smell it only makes you addicted.

"Don't cum," you ask, and it's a lot when his movements are becoming more erratic at the time passes, incoherent words of praise and need as he bites on your neck—. "Art. Don't cum on my hand."

Fuck that.

His touch becomes desperate after that. The medal of the first place still on your bare chest, your black bra slightly up as he’s been touching you, rolling your nipple between his fingers, your skin almost glowing beneath the bathroom lights: He needs you more than what's actually possible, tugging on the button of your shorts, annoyed with the piece of fabric as he takes it off, the time it took to undress you being valuable time he simply doesn't want to waste.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks, making sure for a second you're okay, nodding in response before he grabs you by the hips only to push you in the position he wanted, finally throwing the damn shorts you're wearing to the floor before spreading your legs open, positioning himself in the middle. "God, you're such a fucking sight."

His voice is rough now, and that nice look on his face, that fucking rat smile, friendly even, is far erased from his lips now as he grabs his dick, pushing it between your folds without really fucking you, and the act is enough to make you moan when he’s moving his hips in a cruel pace, the tip of his cock leaking already against you clit. He’s fucking his own fist, your already dripping cunt making it easier for Art to slide as he wants to.

He spits, and it’s a crime cause nobody looks good while doing so, the trails of saliva that leaves his mouth land on his dick, coating your cunt before slightly pushing it inside with the help of his fingers, finally offering what you trully need—. And you feel him, inch by inch. When his fingers are grabbing you by the waist to keep you in place, pushing slowly until he’s deep inside, placing sloppy kisses all over your neck as you moan in response.

Art swears he’s in heaven. Invaded by an intense bliss as he began to move. The second place medal hits his torso, colliding against yours as he moves, and his left hand moves to grab a fistful of your hair just to pull it backwards, making your head follow the motion — He’s relentless, moving in a slow pace at first before gaining rythm, but shit. You’d lie if you didn’t say he knew what he was doing when his right thumb moves in circles over your swollen clit.

It’s hard to hate Art Donaldson like that. All whiny and pathetic, mumbling words about how warm your pussy is, how tight you feel, wet for him. It’s hard giving a fuck about the competition when he’s leaving your hair alone to instead grab the thread of the medal you’re wearing, the red ribbon that was on his neck before and now is hanging on yours, angling the medal so the thread is now choking you, pulling on the gold slightly to make it harder to breathe.

“C’mon, loser” he says with a cocky smile, looking down where his cock is, stretching you out to his liking with each thrust. “D’you feel that? How good your pretty pussy is taking me? That’s first place material there, champion material.”

You nod a couple of times, too fucked-out to function. Lewd sounds fill out the room after, the moans, the grunts, the coils of pleasure that started to form in the lower part of your belly, fueled by his rough movements now, leaving that soft touch behind to replace it with force, fingers digging on your skin so hard he’s sure it’s going to leave a mark behind.

Fuck it. Fuck the game, fuck second place. Your head hits the mirror behind the sink, yet it means nothing as you can feel the orgasm being poured all over by the minutes, the insane punch as he keeps on going, hitting that nice spot in an inconsistant pace as you come undone.

“God that’s it,” he says, pulling on the medal until your skin is changing fucking colors—. “That’s it, cum,” he demands. “Taking my cock like a fucking champion.”

He cums soon after you, pulling out as it lands on your stomach, the gold medal thats now resting on your belly stained with his cum.

And he melts in top of you for a second, breathing heavily against your neck, body covered in sweat before blushing slightly embarassed about the mess he did.

Weird enough, only one thought appears on his mind after five minutes: Just wait until you meet Patrick.

previous kinktober file [ dean winchester ] // masterlist

[luveline]

HI!!! so i am obsessed with your reader x coworker james first kiss fic. can we maybe get something about what came after? like how were the interactions the day or week after, how did they behave around each other, did james tell the boys or was he too nervous?

—you and James maintain a facade that Remus sees through

James wheels his chair to be as far from you as possible. He leans back, turns his monitor. Through the gap, he has a perfect window of your face without it being obvious that he’s staring. Well, sort of. 

Stop staring. 

James reads Remus’ slack message in surprise. He glances at you, finds you still snacking on chocolate covered somethings less covertly than you mean to be, and decides to grace his friend with a message back. 

Nope 

James, Remus messages. 

I’m not really staring 

You’re staring. She can definitely tell 

James looks back to you, hoping to prove Remus wrong, but you’re staring straight at him. He has the instinct to look away and the sense not to, charmed into grinning when you squint at him, your mock suspiciousness adorable. 

“James,” Remus says, clearing his throat. 

James pulls his gaze away reluctantly. “What?” 

“Can you answer my email?” 

The email isn’t an email, but another slack message. Are you serious right now? You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried 

James flicks a pen lid at him. “Obvious about what?” he mouths. 

You get up and stretch, tactically failing to meet anyone’s eyes as you pick up your empty glass of water and leave. 

“James, what’s going on?” 

“What ever could you mean, my love?” 

Remus rolls his chair toward. “Don’t flirt with me. I’m serious, what the hell is going on with you? You’re supposed to hate the girl.” 

“Hate is such a strong word.”

“Well, you’re being a bit much no matter what.” 

James bites his cheek in a hurry to straighten up. “You think so?” 

Remus just stares at him.

James has done a fantastic job at keeping your kiss a secret. He doesn’t know how, mind you —you kissed him, you kissed him, you asked if you could and you kissed him like a sweetheart with the softest mouth he’s ever had the fortune to feel pressed against his own. 

Since your kiss, he’s been feeling weirdly poetic. He totally gets all those Carol Ann Duffy poems they made him read at school now. 

One day without telling anybody is impressive, at least to his own standards. “I know what I’m doing,” he says. 

Remus frowns. “I’d love to be informed on what exactly that is.” 

“Certain events have transpired and convinced me that I was quite wrong to have judged our girl so harshly.”

“Certain events?” 

“I’m allowed some mystery,” James says, before smiling so hard it makes him squint and his cheeks apple. He rubs at his face roughly in an attempt to move forward, but he remembers the way your kiss had melded from soft and shy to hungry. Fuck, he loved it. He needs another one. He has no idea how to get it. “Ugh, I’m gonna go get my lunch from the fridge.” 

“Sure you are. Alright, well, I’m gonna find Sirius and maybe he can convince you to start acting normal again.”

James goes to the kitchen first but abandons his charade when you aren’t there. He grabs his lunch, tucking it under his arm as he makes his way through to the break room. You’re thankfully, blissfully, sitting by the open window with a shop-bought salad. 

He nods at the chair across from you. “Can I sit?” 

“Yes.” 

“That’s all you're eating?” he asks. A little tray of salad is hardly enough to keep you going until the end of the day. “I have gyoza chilli noodle soup, it’s amazing.” 

“You’re gonna eat it cold?” you ask. 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, holding your gaze. “No, but I’m busy right now.” He needs time to look you over. Every time he realises how pretty you are is like another beat of his capering pulse. 

“Don’t harass me.” 

“I’m not harassing you.” 

“What would you call this?” You stab a few pieces of lettuce onto your fork. “I can’t have much more for dinner, I just had half a packet of chocolate covered strawberries.” 

“Don’t say that, like some snacks and a salad are more than you’re allowed. Here, I'll warm this up and you can share. You’ll really like it, the gyoza are amazing.” 

“So what, you’re gonna take care of me now?” you ask. You’re teasing, but there’s a slight edge of bitterness to it like you believe what you’re saying. James is swift to set that right, though he stays speaking in tongues with you.

“I’ve been trying to.” James can hear footsteps at the doorway, and besides, you’re right, he’s being too nice. He sucks in an unbothered breath. “Whatever, loser, stick to your sad salad.” 

Your eyes widen. “I don’t want your cold soup, you idiot.” 

Sirius and Remus filter in with one of your coworkers just behind them. “I thought you said he was being weird?” Sirius asks. “He seems pretty normal to me.” 

Remus sighs forlornly, prompting a side hug from his boyfriend as he shepherds him to the table where you and James are sitting.

“He’s always being weird,” you say. 

James kicks your foot gently. You pick through your salad with a poorly concealed smile. 

[sundrop-writes]

The Jaws of Life

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Now part of me has holes in it, and part of me is whole. 

We’ve only begun. 

I can’t decide - maybe it’s enough to get by for now.

But I’m having the time of my life - rotting in the sun.

We’re inside The Jaws of Life.

Part One: Panic Room

Summary:

You and Jason don't really hate each other - at least not anymore. Your feelings for each other are more than complicated, and before you have time to figure it all out, you have to part ways.

Jason goes back to Gotham at Bruce's behest, and you're off to visit a long lost relative that you didn't even know cared about you.

Unfortunately, while you're apart, the Joker makes things even more complicated with a phone call and a gun. And your world comes crashing down before you can even put names to all the stars in your sky.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Friends With Benefits to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut, Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 3. 

Word Count: 19,900

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

This is a sequel to Emergency Contact, so make sure that you read that fic before you start this one. This can be read as a standalone, but reading that fic first provides emotional context for the relationship between the characters, and it gives you more amazing stuff to read! Either way, I hope you enjoy it.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic has a lot of warnings, so strap in - the reader character is completely gender neutral - the main pronouns used for the bulk of the fic are you/yours and there is one scene where Jason is talking to someone else about the reader and uses they/them pronouns for the reader and there is absolutely no descriptions of what genitals the reader character has (I like all my GN fics to be interpreted so that the character could be trans, or cis, or nonbinary, and that they could have a penis or a vagina); there are implications of the reader being trans or nonbinary (something I threw in last minute cause it felt like it fit the fic well), but like with my fat reader fics - if you're cis then just ignore it, roll with it, and remember that most fics are catered specifically for you; this fic DOES use Y/N (as do all of my fics); the reader character has meta powers - the reader character can form ice crystals out of nothing and can freeze pretty much any substance; Jason calls the reader 'babe' (but as I said with the previous fic, I think this is a genderless nickname and Jason would call anyone this when flirting and being affectionate); mentions of Jason's canon kidnapping and canon interactions with Deathstroke (and the trauma those incidents likely caused for him); mentions of canon deaths; the fic starts off with a smut scene - the reader gives Jason a blowjob; mentions of Jason 'gagging' the reader with his cock (during previous incidents, not this time); Jason uses the word 'pretty' to describe the reader (he says they have a 'pretty mouth') - again, I feel like this word is fairly gender neutral, especially in the context of him being affectionate; finger sucking (the reader sucks on Jason's fingers); protected penetrative sex - Jason and the reader fuck while using a condom (and because I didn't describe the reader's genitals, it could be vaginal sex or anal sex, who knows); marking kink; some dirty talk; the reader is more submissive and Jason is more dominant, but there is no explicit BDSM roles; (very brief) cockwarming; (and I think that's it for the smut section, the rest of the warnings are non-smut related); mentions of Rose having a one-sided affection towards Jason or flirting with him to try and further her mission (in this version, Rose and Jason never get together); mentions of Jason's past and the trauma he has surrounding it - including discussions of his poverty, his parents' deaths, his abandonment and neglect by all the adults in his life, his time in foster care; Jason has a generally poor self-image in this fic and has negative internal dialogue surrounding himself when he is narrating; mentions of the reader having a backstory similar to Jason's - the reader grew up in severe poverty and neglect and was homeless for the majority of their young life, and also had a parent who had issues with substance abuse; descriptions of Jason being kidnapped by Deathstroke; semi graphic descriptions of blood and violence (and death); semi-graphic descriptions of Jason being tortured by a kidnapper; mentions of the reader going to visit a long lost relative who is dying of brain cancer (if themes around hospice and palliative care are triggering to you, then these sections might be triggering - but I haven't gone into detail about the medical aspects or mentioned any medical environments or medical equipment, the cancer is a background plot point); mentions of Jason and the reader sexting in the past (none of the messages are detailed here); mentions of Jason and the reader sharing a dark sense of humor to cope with their traumas; an enemy describes the reader character as a 'pretty one' and 'pretty thing' (again, I think this is fairly gender neutral, and the villain uses this term in a more condescending way); descriptions of gun violence; this entire fic has extreme emotional angst, and this first half is the more 'light-hearted' part, so do be warned that this fic will not make you happy and it is a big whump fest.

A/N: I am so fucking excited to post this fic, you guys have no idea omg. This is just the first half, and I think the fic as a whole is what makes it a great fic, but I think this is an amazing start/introduction and I am so excited to hear what you guys think of it!! Especially considering that this fic has been two years in the making and I am finally getting to post it omg. I am SO EXCITED !!!!!

...

“Fuck, babe.” 

Jason let out a breathy sigh as your mouth worked on his cock, sloppy and eager against the beautiful dick that you had come to know so well over these past few months. 

It was rare that you treated him to a blowjob. Since the two of you had started this ‘relationship’, you had noticed that he often got too greedy when you sucked him off - trying too hard to take control, shoving his cock into your mouth with unhinged care, rather than just sitting back to enjoy the ride. He would make jokes about ‘shutting you up’ by keeping his dick in your mouth, and you never wanted him to get too cocky about having this. 

You wanted him to know that it was a privilege to have his cock in your mouth, especially without you simply biting his (very perfect) cock off. 

But after the chaotic past few weeks that the team had - with Gar and Conner being captured by Cadmus, with Donna’s funeral still fresh in everyone’s minds - you thought that Jason deserved this to take his mind off all of it. His wounds from Deathstroke had barely healed and everyone was still mourning. 

So you had him flat on his back in his bed - similar to the position he had you in not too long ago, when he had pulled the bullet fragment out of your stomach and bandaged you up. And you were straddling his knees as you worked your mouth on his cock, your tongue flat against the underside of the thick, impressive length while you bobbed your head, letting spit flow freely from your open mouth without care. It sloppily gathered around the base, slick down over his balls in a perfect, messy way. 

Naturally, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of you gurgling on his cock and the moans that he could barely contain due to the deadly heat of you eagerly swallowing his dick. 

“Fuckin’ love your mouth.” He moaned, bringing a hand down to stroke gentle fingers across your cheek - burning, something that made you gasp quietly against his flesh. 

It was a move much more tender than he would have ever made before. 

This Jason was a Jason much sweeter than the one Doctor Light took from you on that near-fatal night. You knew that it likely had a lot to do with you laying your life on the line for him - the fact that you had dangled yourself out of a high-rise building trying to save him, vowed that you would never let him go. 

That night had changed everything for the both of you. 

This Jason was not the same sex-hungry, carnal, ‘live for the moment’ person who had left The Tower that night, half-cocked and determined to prove that he was better than the old ‘relics’ who kept leaving him out of all their plans. This Jason was humble, quiet, thoughtful. This Jason put his arm around you in a room full of people, not caring who looked on. This Jason actually took the time to think before he spoke. 

This Jason - even if he didn’t want to admit it - clearly cared about your feelings and wanted to show it. 

(And that made him a lot more deserving of a blowjob, unlike the Jason who would fuck into your mouth without asking and then laugh when you gagged on his cock.) 

“Goddammit, ‘m close.” Jason mumbled out - you could feel the muscles of his thighs straining under your palms, a concerted effort not to buck up into the warmth of your mouth to chase the finality of his high. 

You would have thanked him for it, if you didn’t have your mouth full. Instead, you bobbed your head faster and moaned around him - a wordless invitation for him to cum down your throat, for him to have a prize that he wouldn’t have been worthy of before. 

“Shit, babe-” 

Jason seethed through his teeth, and then curled his fist into the back of your shirt, tugging - surprisingly, urging you to pull away from his cock. 

“Come on, come up.” He said, gulping for breath. “I wanna fuck you.” 

You pulled off, leaving a sloppy twinge of spit trailing from your swollen lips to the pink head of his cock, glistening wet and slick sounding. His dick bobbed back toward his pelvis with a filthy, wet sound - causing him to groan as you caught your breath with a small gasp. 

“You feelin’ okay?” You chuckled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I have never known you to turn down cumming in my mouth.” 

“As tempting as it is to see my cum dripping from your pretty lips…” 

Jason said, reaching down and gently shoving his thumb past your over-worked, swollen lips. Naturally, you stuck your tongue out and tasted his skin, wrapping your lips around the digit and sucking once again, loving the absolutely lust-sick look on his face as you did this. 

You couldn’t help but to indulge in the attention - not when it was his eyes on you. 

“I definitely can’t pass up the opportunity to watch you cum while you ride my cock.” He added on, his voice rumbling quietly with lust, the idea clearly something that truly excited him. 

You popped your mouth off his thumb before you spoke. 

“Oh? You think you’re gonna make me cum before you blow your load?” You chuckled, posing it as a challenge - knowing that he fucked you better when he was riled up, when he thought of it as another thing to prove himself in. 

“Think I’m some kind of amateaur?” Jason scoffed quietly under his breath. 

He put a hand on your hip and pulled you up his body, silently agreeing to the challenge that you had posed. You shed your shirt while he grabbed a condom - you were already prepped and well lubed, seeing as Jason had made you cum with his fingers and his mouth before you had turned him over on his back, seeking to return the favor. 

He rolled the condom on and slicked up his cock with more lube for good measure, something that made a wonderfully filthy slick sound. Then, with his hands firm on your hips, he pulled you up to straddle him and had you mounting him like he was a throne that you were meant to sit upon. 

You let out a rattling moan as you sat down on his cock, feeling the full hot length stretch you open for the first time in too long. It was a smooth, steady motion - a joining of two people that came from silent, delicate knowing and trust. At this point, he didn’t have to stop and ask if you were okay - he simply knew from the blissed-out look on your face that you were enjoying every inch of it. 

It was perfect. 

With your hands balanced on his chest and his forehead pressed against yours, for once, his eyes daring to gaze into yours past the thickness of his lashes. Usually he busied himself with his head in your neck, or squeezed his eyes shut when your dirty talk got to him particularly well. And often, insisted on fucking you from behind so that he could focus more on destroying you with ‘skill’ than falling apart due to the expressions on your face and seeing every little echo of his cock flicker in your eyes. 

But this was distinctly different. Staring right into your eyes, no shying away, no backing down. As if inviting you to a more intimate part of him that you had somehow never seen, even if you had been naked together and fucked each other dozens of times by now. 

He was hot and heavy inside of you, so beautifully thick, filling you up so well. Strangely, there was that thing deep in your gut that yearned for him to pull out and peel the condom off so that you could feel every single raw inch of him - but you told yourself you were smarter than that. You should be. 

“Perfect.” Jason sighed, his breath puffing out against your chin. 

It was that single word that warmed your insides and made you clench around his cock, causing him to hum from deep within his chest. He stroked a slow, gentle hand from your hip to the fullness of your ass, up your back, holding you like you were something precious. It was so unlike every other time he had fucked you - when all of his touches were about grabbing, consuming you, holding you like you were an object to be taken and owned by him in those moments. 

You had liked it then. It was emotionally detached - but it was hot. It always made you cum hard and fast. 

But this was so different. Especially for you and Jason. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You whispered back, fishing for some of that old banter - the humor that had founded your entire ‘relationship’ with Jason. 

Jason laughed, and you bit back a moan when you felt the sound vibrating through you, when it drove his cock just a bit deeper inside of you. 

He resisted the urge to get sappy, to say ‘I meant you, you’re perfect’. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, tucked a possessive touch tight around you and planted the other arm in the middle of your back, sitting himself up slightly, bending his knees - getting good leverage for what he wanted to do next.

“I don’t need to stroke my own ego when I have you, babe.” Jason announced, his smirk appearing in its usual stance and his voice soft.

Before you could muster any clever reply, he used his tight hold on you to lift you slightly off his cock and then began fucking up into you. In tandem with his rough, heavy thrusts up into you, he slammed your body down to meet the thickness of his cock, creating a rough, demanding rhythm that easily chased the air out of your lungs. 

“Jay-” You gasped, quickly becoming breathless. “Jason, fuck me!” 

You could little more than let him fuck you senseless. You were used to the feeling of his cock filling you up like this, yet it created that deadly curl in your gut each time like it was brand new. It sent harsh stinging across your nerve endings, a deadly wash across your skin as the heat crept through you. 

You knew that Jason was talented at this, but you also knew that it was something else. Something more than attraction - something you couldn’t get from anyone else that you still refused to fully acknowledge. 

“Hey, shh.” 

Jason hushed you, using that beautifully condescending coo that you knew meant he didn’t actually want you to be quiet - he always wanted to hear how loud you became when you were entranced by his cock. He bent his knees more to fuck up into you even harsher, causing you to make a wounded sound as his cock got even deeper into you. 

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, hot against your chin. “I’ve got you, babe.” 

The gentle, soothing nature of his voice juxtaposed with the venomous sting of his cock continually snapping against your pelvis was something that made you downright dizzy. All the combined sensations had your body arching against him - your muscles were tightening up, and though he felt that distinct warmth rising up in his own gut, he was proud to know that he had you there already. He was going to make you cum first, just like he had promised. He knew your body too well by now not to play you like a well tuned fiddle. 

“You gonna be good for me?” 

Jason mumbled against your neck, leaning in to gently skim his teeth along your skin. He sucked slightly, leaving marks, being entirely selfish in his claiming of you. He loved the taste of your skin on his tongue. If you refused to let him go, if you refused to leave him to let him rot in his own poisonous life, then he would let everyone know that you had taken him on and that you were owned now. It was his silent way of begging you not to double back, not to realize what a mistake you had made. 

“You gonna cum on by cock?” He added on, his throat flexing slightly as his own lust clutched at him. 

It was something that you couldn’t have refused if you tried. 

“Jason-!” 

You gasped out, unconsciously bucking your hips down to meet his thrusts as he continued fucking up into you hard, getting quite the workout in his legs and abs, spearing his cock into you from the angle below you. 

But fuck, you were so worth it. Seeing the twisting pleasure on your face as your orgasm washed over you, feeling the pleasant sting in his back as your nails dug into his shoulders. Hearing your choked off moans and panting breaths as you could do nothing but hang on for the ride, feeling the beautiful mess across his pelvis as you came, showing him just how good he was fucking you. 

“So good.” Jason moaned into your neck, latching on to suck the skin there once again. “Fuck, Y/N, so good for me.” 

He found his own skin on fire once again as you tightened around his dick, your muscles becoming a hot vice around him as you rode out your orgasm, forcing his mind blank from the pure pleasure of it all. He loved the sounds you made, the look on your face, the way you ground your hips so closely against his as you savored every second of it. 

Jason was dizzy as his own orgasm hit him, his whole body tingling and sparking with pleasure as he shot his load into the condom. He put a hand across your back, pulling you close, pressing your body flush against his and grinding up into you in tentative, almost gentle strokes as he rode it out. With his face buried in your neck, kissing you, breathing in your scent - it was almost tender. 

It was the closest to love-making that you and Jason had ever gotten. 

“Fuck, Jason.” You whined, your stomach curling with a new kind of heat, your skin on fire - this time, alight with the newly birthed feeling of his loving touch on your skin. 

To an extent, it almost frightened you. Especially because of how much you liked it, how you could see yourself growing to love it. Especially because now you felt timid. You didn’t want to scare this part of him away. 

“I’ve got you.” He said again, quietly mumbling the words into your neck like a sacred promise. 

Unable to resist the urge, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, truly holding him, leaning into his touch. You relaxed against his body, sagging into the hold, and Jason hummed with content against your skin at the feeling. 

For a few moments - a capsule against the world that felt more peaceful than you had ever known - you let yourself become lost to this feeling. 

Still speared on his slowly softening cock, you simply enjoyed the feeling of his hard, muscled frame against you, the feeling of his arms wrapped around you in such an affectionate hold - like two giant pillars keeping you safe from the world. You enjoyed the scent of his fading cologne twinged with his sweat, let one of your hands wander up into his hair and thread a couple of your fingers along his scalp, which got another pleasant moan from him. 

When you unconsciously clenched down on him again, you had a thought.

“Jason,” You whimpered out quietly. “The condom.” 

It was a cruel disturbance to your peaceful little world, but he knew that the two of you couldn’t just stay like that forever. He would have to separate from you to throw it out eventually. You would be horrified if that tricky piece of latex got lost inside of you and you had to tell someone else in the Tower why you had to go to the ER to get it out. 

“Oh shit.” He sighed in return. 

You hesitantly climbed off him and luckily, the condom easily slid out on his soft cock, and he tossed it away while you collapsed to lay on the bed beside him.

“We should just stop using condoms.” Jason chuckled, giving you a sly grin as he laid back against the pillows beside you. 

“Funny.” You griped sarcastically, moving to lay against his chest. You couldn’t resist the urge to cuddle, even if you wanted to go take a shower and get cleaned up. You could use the excuse that your legs were jelly right now and you wanted to gain back some of your energy first. 

You wanted to bring up the fact that you had been so adamant about using condoms with Jason because your ‘relationship’ with him was supposed to strictly be about sex. Sure, when the two of you started fucking, you didn’t expect that he was going to be sleeping with a different person every other week. Dick had you guys locked up in the Tower, constantly breathing down your necks - that was one of the reasons why you even turned to Jason for sex at all. He was right there. He was available. He was decent looking. 

And when you and Jason had started sleeping together, you had thought he was lying about how many people he had fucked before you. You thought he was a mouthy virgin or that he had slept with maybe one other person before he so boldly started pursuing you. But he could definitely back up all the talk, and that had you wondering how many of his claims were true. And that had you even more adamant about the condoms, because you didn’t know where he had… been. 

And then when Rose first came around, you saw the way she looked at him. You had seen her trying to flirt with him - a gentle touch on his arm, trying to pull him aside to talk after he came back from his brush with Deathstroke. You had wondered if there was something going on between her and Jason. 

You wondered if Jason proposing to drop condoms was his strange way of asking you to upgrade the status of your relationship. Friends with benefits, people who are still allowed to fuck other people - they use condoms. They have to use condoms, just in case. But people in a more serious relationship - they don’t always use condoms, because they don’t fuck other people. They don’t fuck other people because they’re in love. 

“Jason-” You said his name gently, about to ask him this, but then - his phone rang. 

A high-pitched digital tone chimed out from where he had put it on the nightstand and Jason groaned loudly in annoyance before he picked it up, looked at the Caller ID, and then promptly ignored the call. 

“Who was it?” You asked, curious who he would outright ignore like that. 

“Bruce.” He said, his tone dull, clearly feeling uncertain about the man. “The old man can leave a voicemail. Or send a text like a normal person.” 

This was strange to you. You thought that Bruce and Jason were coming to be on better terms. 

Bruce had come to Donna’s funeral, and you had seen the two of them talking quietly at one point. You had tried not to stare at the interaction unfolding, poorly reading Bruce’s lips out of the corner of your eye (but you didn’t get much out of it). Near the end of it, you had seen Bruce give Jason a fatherly pat on the shoulder before he walked away from the conversation, and Jason had looked entirely pensive about the whole thing, even if he hadn’t told you what it was about. 

You hadn’t been introduced to Bruce, then - the funeral really wasn’t the time for ‘meeting and greeting’, seeing as everyone was quietly in mourning over their lost friend. But you got the sense that he was a stoic and reserved man, and him giving that small bit of physical affection to Jason was about as good as an outright apology, telling him how much of a mistake it was to send him away in the first place. 

Apparently Jason didn’t feel the same way. 

“I didn’t know you were screening his calls.” You said, curious as to why Jason didn’t want to talk to Bruce. 

“I’m busy.” Jason said, giving you his usual stunning grin before he leaned in and began kissing up your neck again. It was a pleasant, sweet type of affection, but he was clearly deflecting from the actual point you were trying to make, trying to distract you. 

He didn’t want to talk about Bruce. And that only made you want to press the point harder. 

“Why?” You asked, trying not to fall victim to the feeling of Jason’s soft lips against your neck, lovingly sucking, moving with gentle kisses against your skin.

“‘Why’ what?” Jason replied - perhaps playing dumb, perhaps genuinely not knowing what you meant. 

“Why won’t you talk to Bruce?” You asked, clarifying. 

Jason sighed and leaned back against his pillow, collapsing with defeat. 

After a moment of tense, thoughtful silence - a moment in which you worried that you had pushed too far and he would simply tell you to get out - he finally gave in to the fact that he would have to talk about it. He gave in to the idea that talking to you about it would be easier than not talking about it at all. 

“He wants me to go back to Gotham.” Jason announced. 

He sounded oddly sullen speaking these words, which instantly confused you. You knew that Jason from a few weeks ago would have jumped at the chance to go back to Gotham, to resume his duties as Robin. He would have screamed with joy and eagerly asked Bruce when the next flight out was. 

So why was he hesitant now? Did it have to do with the incident with Deathstroke? Did he doubt his capabilities as Robin now? Did he want to quit?

“You don’t want to?” You asked, trying to sound gentle rather than accusatory. 

Jason found it all too easy to open up to you now. 

“I don’t know what I want.” Jason shrugged, entirely raw and honest in this declaration - for once, not dancing around his more serious emotions with jokes or sarcasm. “I mean, before, I would have been excited for Bruce to invite me back. But now…”

“This is probably for the best.” 

You said, trying to motivate him past his potential insecurities. Before it was something you had done with playful combatance, knowing that if you faced him with a challenge, he would always rise to prove himself, even if it was out of spite. And now it was something you did with brutal, soft honesty, but still, it was nothing new for you.

“The Tower was just supposed to be a temporary stop-over, right?” 

You posed, reaching out and gently brushing your fingers across his jaw. He stared into your eyes then, and you saw something swimming there - nerves. Longing. 

“Gotham needs Robin.” 

You repeated it because it was something you had heard Jason say before. 

One of the main reasons he took up the mantle of Robin, taking on someone else’s costume and name, rather than creating his own - was because he knew that lots of lost kids looked up to Robin. When he was a young kid, growing up in the shittest parts of Gotham, he admired Robin. He had been truly thrilled to meet Dick for the first time because, in a world where he was starving and alone and none of the adults in his life cared - Robin was his hero. Someone (seemingly) not much older than himself, who donned a cape, didn’t have any superpowers or magic, and got to stand alongside the Bat himself, fighting for justice. A voice for the voiceless. A fist for the powerless. 

Jason went to bed cold and hungry many nights thinking about Robin. Thinking about how one good person can make a difference in a cruel world. 

So when he had been given the opportunity to make up some dumb name of his own, or to become Robin - it wasn’t really a choice for him. He became Robin in order to be that symbol of hope for others, and in truth - to fulfill the hope he once needed for himself. 

“Right.” Jason sighed. He did have a duty to the people of Gotham. But something else was bothering him. “But… but what about us?” 

Us. 

He said it so fondly, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to think of you and him as a pair. 

It was the first time either of you had truly acknowledged it. Finally acknowledging the way your dynamic had changed since that night. Otherwise, it had been absolutely unspoken. 

“What about us?” You echoed back, your voice trembling quiet.

You were truly afraid to hear his answer. 

‘Say it.’ You wanted to scream at him. ‘Say the words. Stop making me think that all of this has been just big one big hallucination on my part. Say it, asshole. Say it and I’m yours for the rest of your life.’ 

“Come on.” He sighed, flickering off towards the wall and refusing to look at you now, the words grating against his throat. 

‘Are you really gonna make me say it?’ He wanted to scream. ‘How much I fucking love you? How I can’t leave here now because I can’t leave you? How I would quit being Robin if it meant getting to be with you?’ 

The air trembled with the might of all those unspoken words as Jason gathered a better, more guarded reply. 

“The Tower was supposed to be a stop-over. At first.” He shrugged, still distinctly refusing to look at you. “But then… we… happened.” 

He explained it clumsily, clearly stuck for words in that entirely emotionally constipated way, motioning vaguely between the two of you. Once again, he was refusing to acknowledge the thing going on between the two of you. He was refusing to put those exact, big, serious words on it. Afraid that the weight of it all would knock him over, swallow him whole if he wasn’t careful. 

But his lack of words bothered you so damn much. 

Was it a casual relationship? Was it sex? Was it love? Was it the two of you finding your life-long soulmates and being too traumatized and stubborn and stupid to actually acknowledge it? 

You hummed in agreement of this, nodding. 

“You shouldn’t stay just for me, though.” You told him. 

His duties as Robin were important. Mending his relationship with Bruce was important. Far more important than having sex with you and training for whatever vague threat Dick had in mind (especially when Dick couldn’t stand up and protect Jason from very real threats, like Deathstroke). 

Jason’s face cracked with a flutter of disappointment and sadness, a rattle of emotions coming through that he usually wouldn’t show around anybody else. He thought that you were breaking things off with him - whatever things were. But that wasn’t the case. 

“I might have to leave soon anyway.” You added on, trying to clarify your point. 

“You’re leaving?” He asked, sounding entirely hurt by this, the words acting as a bitter accusation coming off his lips. 

He held in the other thing he wanted to say. 

‘Where else would you have to go?’ 

He was trying to be more thoughtful with his words these days - and he knew this sounded far too much like a dig, mocking at the circumstances of your past. A past which you had divulged to him in bits and pieces while laying in bed with him after a healthy fuck, much like this. 

When he had found out how similar the two of you were, he found his soul more and more drawn to yours. Your mother had been a deadbeat, much like his. Apparently she came from some richie rich family that you had only met a few times, when you were so young that you could only piece together a few memories from it, but she left behind all of it to be with her deadbeat boyfriend - someone who may or may not have been your father. Someone who got your mother hooked on drugs and petty crime to pay for the habit when your rich grandmother cut her off from the family money, knowing the kind of life she was living. 

You grew up a lot like Jason did. 

You saw your mother faded, abused, you had been forced to mature up and take care of yourself and even take care of your own mother when you had been far too young to do so. You had lived in slums. At many points in your life, you had been homeless. 

You never had a real father to speak of, and when your mother overdosed, you were left abandoned when you were still a young teen. But you took care of yourself well enough, especially considering that you had an advantage that Jason didn’t - icy powers from a freak accident that happened around the time you were born that should have killed you. 

It was only by luck that you ran into Dick and Kory when they came into the diner that you had been waiting tables at, whispering harshly under their breath about a young girl with severe, mysterious powers that they had lost track of. And you had pointed them toward the old Caulder house on the edge of town and offered to go with them - because you knew Niles Caulder from a time when he had offered to ‘help’ you with your own powers and you had gotten a bad feeling about the man. 

Jason called it luck because it was that incident that led you on the path to meeting him. 

“I’m only going for a little while.” You told him. “My grandmother - the one I’ve only seen like? Twice? Apparently she hired a P. I. to track down my mom. Found out my mom was dead, and then eventually - she found me. She’s getting sentimental because she has brain cancer or something? I didn’t read everything in the letter.”

You shrugged, spotty on the information and unsure if the trip you had planned was even a good idea in the first place. 

Jason easily understood why you were jaded when it came to the concept of ‘family’. You had been abandoned by them and left alone in the world. You had raised yourself, essentially. Why would you need them now? 

“She wants me to come and see her - something about deathbed remorse and blah, blah. I don’t know. I wasn’t gonna go, but Dick thinks I should, because she’s like the only living family I have that I know about.” You finished the explanation with a sigh, and Jason frowned. 

Of course Dickhead was being righteous about his moral code. 

Jason wanted to convince you to stay, but - maybe Dick had a point. Maybe, if you had a shot at having a relationship with your ‘real’ family - maybe you should take it. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” Jason had no clue why it was his first instinct to offer this. But it felt right. It felt instinctive to attempt to comfort you these days, rather than combating you or coming up with some annoying, clever comeback. 

You should have said yes. 

It would have been fun at the very least; an amusing trainwreck, perhaps. You could only imagine what it would be like - bringing your mouthy situationship along with you to visit your rich, uptight, estranged grandmother. Even just explaining the nature of your relationship with Jason to her would have been a wild and fun ride. 

But instead, you let your guarded instincts get the better of you. 

“No.” You sighed. “I - I can handle it myself.” 

You sounded a lot less sure in your reply, but you made yourself sure as you continued. 

“If she gets too whiny, or too… sentimental, I’ll bail. I know that Dick or Kory would come and get me if I asked them to. And I am very good at running from situations that don’t benefit me.” You tried to laugh it off, though this did evoke some painful memories of your past, when you had to run from things that very well could have ended your life - or worse. 

“You also have a habit of running toward situations that don’t benefit you.” Jason sighed, not letting you easily forget the fact that you ran into a gun-hot hostage situation and dangled yourself off a building to rescue him. 

You lightly smacked his shoulder in response, and he quietly grunted at this, rolling his eyes. 

“I can handle myself. Dickhead.” You replied, much less bite behind the words than there would have been before. “Besides, you have to go to Gotham and deal with your own sentimental old bag.” 

“The last word I would ever use to describe Bruce is ‘sentimental’.” Jason argued gently. 

“He keeps a trophy room full of stuff from every criminal he’s ever taken down,” You reminded Jason. “It’s his own form of weird, fucked-up sentiment.” 

Jason shrugged.

You laid back down, tucking yourself into Jason’s side and laying a few simple kisses against the skin of his chest before you settled in, closing your eyes. He wrapped his arm around you, and there was only a moment of quiet before -

“What are you gonna do after you visit your grandmother?” He asked, so entirely timid. “Are you gonna come back to The Tower?” 

‘Will I ever see you again?’ He wanted to ask. ‘Is it really over between us?’ 

Jason couldn’t imagine not having you around. 

You were the tape that had held him together after everything went down with Deathstroke. When the Titans went south, ruined by Dick’s lies and the pressure of enemies from their past, you were the brick wall that had held him up. If not for you, he could have easily imagined himself drowning in booze, crashing his motorcycle off the side of a cliff in a drunken blur; or jumping off the top of this incredibly impressive building to make himself nothing but a stain on the concrete below. 

You hesitated, but worked up the courage to truly speak what was waiting on your lips, especially when you weren’t looking at his face, tracing every micro-expression for potential disappointment or glee. 

“I could come to Gotham.” You whispered, barely letting your words break into audible sound. When Jason took too long to reply, you rushed to add on something else, to make your proposal seem less serious. “I guess I could come see that stupid cave you’re always talking about.”

Jason laughed at this, and you loved the feeling of the vibrations under the side of your face. 

“Yeah.” He said. “Sounds cool. I - I think Bruce would actually like having you around.” 

You wondered if that was true, or if Jason was just amplifying his own affection for you within his mind. Either way, it was sweet. 

You ended up falling asleep for a few hours. Jason’s gentle breathing flowing through his lungs under your cheek soothed you into an easy sleep - when you woke up, you were reminded of the drying mess between your thighs and wicked soreness that had set into your muscles. You needed a hot shower, and you needed to go pack a bag. You had to tell Dick that you wanted to book the ticket to go and see your grandmother. 

Knowing him, he likely already had one booked on the principle that you would come around to his line of thinking and he would end up being right. 

You were crawling out of bed when Jason’s hand caught your wrist. 

“You sneakin’ away on me?” He mumbled out, sleepy, not yet opening his eyes. 

“I gotta go shower, dipshit.” You said, your voice gentle and chiding, no real force behind the words. 

Jason gave you a sleepy smile. 

“Come back afterwards.” He replied, clearly hoping for more cuddles - or more sex. 

“I can’t.” You told him. “I have to get ready to leave. Remember?” 

This caught his full attention, and he sat up abruptly, blinking his eyes open to catch a glimpse of you in the barely there, dim light. It was just before sunrise, the sky kissed hazy gray outside of the giant windows that lined his bedroom.

“You’re leaving so soon?” He asked, disappointment barely masked in his voice as he continued to grip your wrist. 

“Yes.” You said, knowing that you were echoing that tone right back. “So… I guess this is goodbye?” 

“Fuck you.” He replied, a harsh sigh from his lungs. He hurled the expletive at the concept of a goodbye with you. That was something he never wanted. 

He tugged on your wrist and you were reeled in like a fish, walking around the bed toward his side. You tucked your butt tightly beside one of his thighs, sitting close to him, vowing that you would get up soon as he wrapped a thick arm around your waist. 

He had the other arm across your chest, tucking his hand along your jaw and tilting your head toward him. You eased into the kiss with a small moan, enjoying the softness of his lips like a tree enjoys the sun. You soaked him up for a few long moments, and when you tried to pull back the first time, he held you there for just a bit longer. 

If you had known that was going to be the last time you kissed him, you would have savored it more. 

In a silent agreement - he finally let you go, and his eyes stayed glued to you as you got dressed enough to go down the hallway and then, you left out his bedroom door. His eyes lingered on the door for a few prolonged seconds after you did so, and then finally, he turned over again and fell back into an unpleasant sleep. One that felt fitful now that you weren’t in his bed. 

… 

Jason felt cold. 

The room he was in - some mysterious, wall-off concrete place with no light - was freezing. And it wasn’t the pleasant kind of cool like the touch of your icy skin when you crawled into bed with him late at night. Or the shocking delightful kind of cold like when you played a prank on him, running your super-powered icy fingers up his back just to get a rise out of him. 

No, this was a shocking, dead kind of cold. 

This was the kind of cold that would bring death after a short period of time. It was the kind of cold that easily made his fingers and toes numb, and made him struggle against his binds - and it was only then that Jason realized he was tied up. 

His arms were pinned behind his back and bound at the wrists - though he couldn’t tell with what. He couldn’t feel the texture of the binding through the thickness of his Robin uniform gloves in order to know how to best get out of it. Whether it was duct tape or rope, that would determine his next move, and he needed to make a move - fast. 

His legs were free. That was a good sign. That would definitely be useful. 

Before Jason could contemplate much more of this, a door that he hadn’t yet noticed off to his right burst open, creating a rush of light into the dull, dark room - a blinding moment where all he saw was shadows and movement. By the time his eyes had adjusted, a body was being thrown at his feet. Or rather, a very limp, fully alive person. 

Deathstroke towered over this person, wearing his full gear, the armor thick and imposing, his silhouette blocking out nearly all the light that had just been let into the room. 

Jason’s eyes flickered from him, to the person on the floor - purposefully stiffening his jaw in his best attempt not to show any fear. 

His throat became dry and he held back a whimper of fright when he saw that the limp body on the floor was you. 

Your hands were bound behind your back, too, and you were forced silent with a cloth gag in your mouth, tied tightly behind your head. But your eyes truly captured Jason’s attention the most. Beyond the scrapes and bruises that littered your cheeks, signs of pain that already made him ravenous with rage, more than eager to rip apart whatever was holding him back in order to tear Deathstroke to pieces just for daring to touch you - your eyes were full of pure terror. 

Jason had never seen you like this before. 

Right from the moment he had met you, you had been nothing but confident - a palace of strength, calm, cleverness that he wanted so badly to topple. It was why he flirted with you, argued with you. He wanted so badly to get under your skin, to see you rattled. It was only when the two of you had sex that he finally saw some wavering in that, finally saw you falling apart. 

And eventually, it pushed away to something deeper, something softer - something that caused him to fall in love with you. 

But he had never seen you afraid. That fear in your eyes, you silently screaming at him for help - it put his stomach in knots within seconds. 

“It’s okay,” Jason rushed to assure you. He would get you out of this. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N, I swear-” 

Deathstroke let out a chuckle - one that sounded muffled, cold, robotic behind his mask. 

“I can’t tell if you’re truly lying, following in the careless footsteps of your leader, or if you think that placating is the way to soothe someone in crisis.” He said, his tone entirely mocking. “There is no room for soothing here. Things most certainly will not be okay. Not unless you give me what I ask for,” 

“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” Jason spit back bitterly, posturing, trying his best to seem big and strong when he felt so utterly weak, so small in those moments. 

“Dick Grayson.” Deathstroke announced. “Tell me where he is, and I’ll let your little friend go.” 

Jason hesitated. 

When Deathstroke felt this, he continued. 

“And if you don’t, I won’t hesitate to dispose of this pathetic excuse for a Titan.” He added on, giving you a harsh kick in the back with his heavy boot. You cried out in pain, and Jason’s insides jolted. 

It was a move that made Jason want to scream, and make threats that he knew he couldn’t live up to. 

He deeply feared what Deathstroke meant when he said ‘dispose of’. 

“Is Grayson really that important to you?” 

Jason began to panic, his eyes flickering from Deathstroke’s imposing shadow to your terrified face once again. 

His brain felt scrambled. He searched, thought hard, concentrated, and somehow - came up empty. For some stupid reason, he had no clue where Dick was. The Tower, Gotham, Detroit - the fucking idiot could be anywhere. And something else nagged in the back of Jason’s mind - even if he did know where Dick was, why the fuck should he tell this asshole? Deathstroke only wanted to kill Dick. Why should it be Jason’s choice to trade one life for another? 

And even if he did tell Deathstroke where Dick was, there was no promise that Deathstroke wouldn’t kill you anyway as soon as he had the information. 

No - Jason could save you some other way. 

There had to be another way, some other way to get out of this, something else-

“Tick tock.” Deathstroke said, rushing Jason’s answer. 

“Fuck you!” Jason barked back instinctively, still panicked. 

And it was that panic that cost him everything. 

“Well…” Deathstroke hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose they truly didn’t teach Junior Robin anything, did they?” 

In seconds, he could sense it - Deathstroke could see right through Jason. He knew that Jason didn’t know the answers to his questions. And even if he did - he wasn’t going to give up Dick. He had a strange sense of loyalty to the person who had shit on him and failed to help him time and time again. 

Before Jason could come up with whatever magical solution he was hoping would come to him, Deathstroke reached down, fisted the shoulder of your shirt, and brought you up onto your knees with a surprising strength. You continued to look Jason in the eyes with an intense panic while the man reached for his belt, unsheathing a sword that glinted in the little bit of light. 

When you heard the sound of the metal slicing through the air, your muscles quaked with fear and you tried to get away - but you were too weak against him. 

It was too late. 

“No, no!” Jason cried out in protest, having nothing else to do but watch on in horror and hope that his pitiful cries could somehow stop this, tearing harshly against the bonds holding his wrists in place. “No, fuck you! Stop it!” 

It happened too quickly. 

The sword appeared through the front of your stomach, coated in bright red blood, and you let out a scream of anguish through the gag. Then suddenly, you were being shucked off the blade, thrown away like you were nothing, tossed back to the floor in a puddle of your own blood, limp and near lifeless. Deathstroke turned and left the room without a single care, shutting the door behind him, shutting out all of the light, leaving Jason in cold darkness once again. 

And it was only then that the ropes on his wrists somehow loosened, allowing him to break free and rush to your bleeding body - too late. 

Too fucking late. 

Jason grabbed you up in his arms, hoisting you onto his lap. He was empty with shock. He didn’t know how to feel. He hated the contrast of your cold flesh and the heat of the blood rushing out of you and quickly covering him. 

“Y/N, Y/N, baby, look at me,” 

He found himself sobbing, forcefully turning your face toward him with a gloved hand, tearing the gag out of your mouth - your lips scarily pale, more than they ever should be. 

“Fuck, fuck!” 

He couldn’t contain his screams of anguish when he pressed a cheek closer to your lips and felt the shallow nature of your breath. 

You were dying, and it was all his fault. You were dying, and it was all his fault. You were dying, and- 

Jason awoke in a cold sweat. 

He was shaking, frantically looking around in the dark, soon to realize that he wasn’t locked in a concrete room with your bloody corpse - he was in his bedroom in Gotham. He was at home in the comfortable, cushy Wayne Manor. 

He had been having far too many nightmares since returning to Gotham. He wanted to blame it on your lack of presence in his bed, or the fact that Bruce had practically banned him from training, now that he was benched from being Robin. So he wasn’t getting nearly as much physical exercise as he used to and it left him anxious and not nearly as physically exhausted when he went to bed, making his sleep uneasy. 

Bruce had suggested sleeping pills, but Jason hated the idea of the side effects. The potential of hallucinations didn’t seem like it would make his sleep any more pleasant. 

Jason sat up on the edge of his bed, and turned on the lamp, wincing as the bright light prodded at his eyes, aggravating a headache he had that wouldn’t quit for days now. He reached for his phone, and almost unconsciously, brought up your contact. 

He laughed when he saw the contact name you had given yourself - clearly something you had done as a joke right before you had left the Tower. 

Bootycall Temporarily Unavailable

The two of you often changed each other’s names in your contacts as a joke. He guessed that this one was a joke about how you would be gone for a while, unable to fuck him. But he hated that you insisted that he still thought of you only as a Bootycall. He decided to change it to ‘Robin’s Ice Machine’ - one of his favourites, and what he kept you listed as in his contacts most often. (Even though he wasn’t sure if he was actually considered Robin anymore…) 

He opened up his last text messages with you, and couldn’t help but smile when he re-read them. 

He had sent you a simple ‘u up?’ around three o’clock in the morning, being sleepless and horny, and you had replied ‘don’t come in here with that fuckboy attitude unless you’re bringing snacks’. 

And this had led to the two of you having the most amazing sex and eating junkfood afterwards. That was what he missed most about you. Simple nights. The ability to just be calm with you. Doing nothing with you and feeling so complete. 

Jason began typing out a message. 

‘I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I-’ 

Then, he realized how terribly sappy and stupid it sounded. And he thought about how much you would hate it. And even if you didn’t hate it, surely you would have no clue how to respond. The two of you weren’t like that. You weren’t those kind of people. He heaved a sigh, deleted the message, and then he got out of bed. He changed into some jogging pants and a sweatshirt and put on some running shoes. 

If Bruce was going to ban him from being Robin, the least he could do was go on a run to get his head straight. 

While he jogged through the cold night, Jason tried to convince himself that he didn’t need you. Tried to tell himself that if you decided not to come to Gotham after all, he would be just fine. 

When he was finished with his run, standing at the kitchen counter chugging some way-too-expensive vitamin water that Bruce liked to buy, he pulled out his phone again and pulled up your contact. He considered calling you, and wondered what you were doing right then. He wondered if you would answer. He looked up what time it was in San Francisco, remembered you weren’t there, and then considered texting Gar to ask where you actually were - and then he went and took a long shower so he wouldn’t be able to touch his phone at all for a while. 

… 

When Jason went back to Gotham, Bruce made him go to therapy. 

Jason thought that the entire thing was a colossal waste of time, but Bruce insisted that if he was ever going to wear the Robin mask again - he was going to get ‘cleared’ first. 

Apparently, something about being kidnapped by a murderous psychopath, dropped off a building, and going to a funeral all in the span of a month doesn’t really scream of stability. 

Jason was weary of Leslie at first. 

He genuinely thought that her only job was to dig around for his secrets - any signs of his weakness, and report them back to Bruce. He still wasn’t all too trusting when she tried to assure him that whatever she said would stay between the two of them. But he wanted to get back to being Robin. He wanted to get back to doing his job. And if getting all mushy with her was the fastest way of doing that, then he would. 

… 

They were playing the stupid word association game again. 

“Mother.” Leslie said, posing the first word. 

“Fucker.” Jason said upon instinct, doing what he did best - deflecting from being too vulnerable by using crude humor. 

Leslie gave him a deep frown, and he actually felt a pang of guilt at disappointing her. 

She was one of the only adults in his life that he had ever felt bad for disappointing. Not because she put too many expectations on him - but because she didn’t. Because she expected pretty much nothing of him, and he wanted to show her that he could be great. He wanted to defy whatever bullshit Bruce had told her about him. He wanted to show her that he was more than worthy of being Robin again. 

“Sorry.” He said timidly. “Habit.” 

“It’s okay.” She said, forgiving him too easily. Jason wasn’t used to being forgiven. 

Jason appreciated it - nobody had ever given him the chance to ‘try again’. Not even you. But he was glad about that. When you mocked him for his mistakes or called him out on his bullshit, it made him want to try harder. You were the only person in the world that he found himself actively trying for. Everyone else - he didn’t give a fuck what they thought of him. He knew that they always had preconceived notions of what he was - a screw-up, a street kid pretending while waltzing around in Robin’s costume. 

But when you looked at him, you saw an asshole trying to be clever and you tore right through that persona, looking for something real. So even though he hated it - even though it made him wiggle and gape like a fish on land - he showed you more and more real parts of himself. And he couldn’t deny how good it made him feel when he was with you. 

So, practicing the honesty that you had forced him to find within himself, Jason tried a more honest approach to Leslie’s word game. 

“We can try again.” Leslie said, taking a small breath. “Mother.” 

“Gone.” He said, announcing the first thing that truly came to mind when he thought of that word. 

“Father.” Leslie moved on to the next word. 

“Bruce.” Jason felt far too naked and vulnerable when saying this, but it was true.

Bruce was the closest thing to a father that he ever had. 

And Jason knew that he was a bad son, constantly disappointing him - constantly failing to live up to the giant shadow that Dick had left behind. 

“Robin.” She said. 

“Freedom.” He easily responded. 

“San Francisco.” 

Jason felt like she was cheating at this point - trying to get him to weep and cry and spill all of his secrets like some kind of soap opera. He felt like she was purposefully pitching hits at his weak spots and waiting for him to block or be taken down. 

“Mistake.” He said, trying his hardest not to flex back on his honesty. 

He wasn’t even sure what he meant by that. If going there had been a mistake, or if he had made too many mistakes while he was there. Either way, it felt like the truth. 

“Safe.” She announced the next word, and Jason was not at all surprised by the first thing that came to mind. 

“Y/N.” He said your name without hesitation. 

You were the only safe thing in his life. The only thing - the only person that ever truly made him feel safe. Sometimes he was terrified of losing you, or hurting you, or poisoning you as badly as he had done with so many other people. But when he was in your arms, it was so easy to forget about all of that. 

You were safe. 

Which was a fucking rare commodity in his life. 

Leslie saw the look that came across his features - the look of fond longing mixed with gut wrenching fear. Naturally, she wanted to dig more into this. She knew that someone like Jason hadn’t grown up feeling safe, and she was curious why the concept of safety came to him now as a person’s name - and why he seemed so conflicted about it, about someone he had never even mentioned before. 

“Who is Y/N?” Leslie asked. Jason didn’t immediately answer, so she prodded more. “Boyfriend? Girlfriend? … Friend?” 

Leslie didn’t presume to know Jason’s sexuality, or the gender of his special person (and she wouldn’t judge him, no matter what he said) - but beyond gender, for Jason, it was even more complicated than that.

Jason didn’t know what to call you when speaking about you to someone else. 

A friend that he sometimes fucks? Should he even call you a friend? 

You had tried to save his life, but before that, the two of you had never really been friendly. Mostly argumentative. But no matter how much the two of you argued, you had never hurt him the way that Dick had, or Bruce had. Or even the way that the other Titans had when they had accused him of all those things he hadn’t done. 

Your arguments were playful. The two of you never said anything to each other that would actually dig deep, that was ever truly meant to hurt. Nothing like when the Titans had doubted Jason’s loyalty to the team - had accused him of truly trying to harm them. Your arguments with him always held a certain kind of passion. Every time you fired back against dumb shit that he said, even if you were blatantly disagreeing with him for sport - it meant that you cared. 

Jason shrugged. “Kind of.” 

“Can you… explain more?” Leslie asked, careful and curious. 

“Shit’s complicated.” Jason mumbled, truly unsure what to say in order to describe the situation. 

“Okay, well… whoever this special person is, whatever they mean to you… why is it that they make you feel safe?” 

Now that was a million dollar question. 

Jason had never really asked himself that before. The ‘why’. 

“Well…” 

He began trying to explain it, and found himself stuck for words. But Leslie was patient, and waited for him to find the right ones. 

“It’s like…” Jason sighed, finding the whole thing very difficult. “It’s like Y/N knows what I am.” 

“‘What you are’?” Leslie parroted back, using his own phrasing carefully. “And what would that be?” 

“An asshole. Ya know - a fuck-up.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Y/N has seen it first hand. They know me - they - they’ve seen all the worst parts of me, and… somehow, they don’t care. Y/N saw me at my worst and didn’t run.” 

It was the best way that Jason could think to describe it. Everyone else who had seen him beaten down and broken - Dick, Bruce, the other Titans - they all saw him at his worst and wanted to dump him at the first possible opportunity. But you held onto him tighter and refused to let go. Even when he struggled in your loving hold like an animal caught in a trap - you still held onto him tighter than anyone else ever had. 

And it made him feel a little less broken each time that he was with you. 

“Okay.” Leslie smiled. “So - you find safety in not being judged? In… being allowed to be messy?” 

“Yeah.” Jason nodded. 

“Well, that’s perfectly normal.” She told him. 

Jason found an odd sense of relief in this. There wasn’t a lot that was normal in his life. 

“A lot of great relationships - whether they are friendships, or something more-” 

Jason resisted the urge to speak up and say that you and him were definitely in the ‘something more’ category, but he didn’t want to jinx it. Not when it was yet to be official. 

“-are founded on the truth. Founded on two people coming together because they find safety in being allowed to be their most authentic self with the other person. Feeling that they can make mistakes without being judged.” She explained this to him gently, and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about you. “So if you have that with someone, you should embrace it. Embrace that feeling of safety.” 

Jason definitely had that with you. Or - he had the start of that with you. And he wanted so badly to embrace. To see where a life with you would go. Maybe it was something he wanted even more badly than becoming Robin again. 

Ultimately, Jason knew that he wanted to be loved, even at his worst. But he thought that even you weren’t capable of that. Nobody was. 

“Next word.” Leslie looked back down at her list. “Fear.” 

Jason didn’t take long with that one either. 

“Y/N.” 

Leslie looked utterly confused at this one. 

But - he was too raw, and he ended the session before she could prod him to explain it further. 

… 

Jason was afraid that he wasn’t good enough for you.

He was afraid that if the time ever came, if you were ever in danger - he wasn’t going to be able to save you like you had tried to do for him. Thinking back on it, he had no clue how you had so boldly stepped into the line of fire, how you had dangled yourself out of a window that many stories high, desperately holding onto him. 

You acted fearless, put yourself on the line just to save his life - ultimately, one that wasn’t worth saving. 

And if he couldn’t do the same for you, then he wasn’t worth the risks you had taken for him at all. 

It was this mindset that brought him to visiting Crane in prison. He worked hard to reverse manufacture the Fear Gas, wanting to be brave for you - not knowing that it would ultimately be his downfall. 

… 

Going to your grandmother’s house was certainly… interesting. 

She was rich. Old money rich. 

It was the type of wealth you had encountered very sparsely in your life. Initially, you had only met that type of rich person for the first time when you had met Dick - someone who drove a vintage Ashton Martin and said it was a ‘family heirloom’, yet thought nothing of trading it in for a minivan on a whim. 

When you first moved into the Tower - a million dollar condo with advanced tech that you could barely comprehend at first, you didn’t easily feel comfortable among all of the shiny, lavish, modern furniture and the fancy touchscreens just to access everyday necessities. At the time, you had still been sporting an illegally jailbroken iPhone 6 that you had pickpocketed off some random guy a few years prior, and soon as Dick found out about that fact, he insisted on buying you a new phone that you had a very difficult time accepting because you were not at all good with gifts or ‘being spoiled’. You felt awkward accepting something that you hadn’t worked for. 

It was one of the reasons that you so easily crumbled to Jason’s sexual advances. 

You felt so fucking alone when you first started living in the Tower. Your queen sized bed with a brand new mattress and brand new sheets felt too big. Being so new, it felt too cold. Sometimes you went stir-crazy, thinking about how much the silverware in the kitchen cost and the fact that the fucking television had an ipad for a remote (which apparently also controlled the curtains and the lights in the living room) - fixating on how if you had pawned those things off, if could have fed so many hungry children. 

At the time, you were desperate for a distraction. Jason became a very easy one to fall into. It was all too easy to fall asleep in his bed afterwards, because even if you hated the smell of Axe body wash and drying cum, sleeping beside someone, having a warm body at your back - it eased you so much more than sleeping in a big luxurious bed by yourself.

Your grandmother’s house was a different type of rich than the Tower was. Most definitely not modern; everything in her house was about as old as things can get - but still rich. It seemed that she was blatantly against technology, in fact. She didn’t seem to have a TV anywhere in the place, and all the phones were corded into the walls like it was the 80s, and she often mocked you for being so ‘obsessed’ with that ‘brick’ in your pocket (checking, looking for Jason’s calls or texts). 

All of the furniture was far older than you, and well taken care of. Polished, the fabric clearly patched or reupholstered by professionals in places where it had worn down over time. She was the nick-nack type. Tall china cabinets full of fancy dishes with patterns on them, and the moment she caught you looking at them, she went on long winding stories about how the pieces were rare antiques that had been owned by some Duke from some place in Europe - again, something more expensive than you could comprehend or even really care about.

Like it had said in the letter, your grandmother had brain cancer. 

She had a large tumor that was eventually going to kill her. Apparently money can buy a lot of things - but it can’t buy a miracle treatment. The tumor had invaded too much of her brain before it had been discovered, and operating on it at her age was more likely to mean death than recovery. And as she so gracefully put it, she would rather spend her last days ‘in grace and dignity’ than to be balding and ‘out of her mind’ - so she didn’t accept the only potentially helpful chemo treatment that was offered to her. 

Apparently, one of her last wishes was to meet and spend time with the grandchild that she had ‘lost’ when your mother took you away all those years ago. Your grandmother seemed nice enough - she peppered you with cheek kisses and invited you to tea the moment that you came in through the door. She had even sent a limo to pick you up at the airport, which made you feel far too important and awkward, sitting alone in the back of the expensive vehicle with a classical music station playing that you felt too intimidated to attempt to change.

And although your paranoid instincts were waiting for some horror movie reveal, waiting for someone to drug you and tell you that she was going to perform some voodoo ritual on you in order to use your young, healthy body to keep living her life and that’s all she wanted you for - you stuck around. Because the longer you waited with baited breath, the less that seemed to be the case. 

If the old woman wanted to spend her last weeks of life telling you winding stories about old dishes from Europe and drinking tea with you on her porch, then you would consider it a much needed vacation. You would simply sit down and listen. 

… 

“And you know, her granddaughter, she was a - a handmaiden for the Duchess of Yorke, and…” 

When you looked over at your grandmother, she had fallen asleep mid-sentence, holding her tea cup at an odd angle that made the small amount of tea inside almost dribble out. Though she had been talking just a moment before, telling a long, winding story about the history of the vase holding the flowers in the middle of the table - she let out a deep snore, and you worried that she was going to drop her cup or spill tea in her lap. 

Strangely, after such a short period of time being around her, you found yourself caring for the woman. 

You put down your own cup and crept over to her, trying not to wake her, and gently wriggled the cup out of her hands to place it down on the table. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. When you realized what the sudden, frightening feeling was, you took a deep breath and calmed down. Your grandmother had asked you to turn it off and leave it in your room, a luxurious guest room that she had you staying in, but you couldn’t help yourself. You missed Jason and you were eagerly waiting to talk to him. You didn’t want to miss a potential call or text from him. 

You made sure that your grandmother was sleeping peacefully (in the oddly upright position as it was) before you took out your phone and sat back in your own chair, looking to see who had texted you. 

New message from The Flightless Bird

Yes, Jason had a very strange contact name in your phone. For a while, you had kept it as Hot Guy, as it had originally entered it, before changing it to (Not) Hot Guy as a joke. Then, when the two of you started living at the Tower, it became a running gag for you to steal each other’s phones whenever possible and change the contact name to something strange and odd, usually paired with a memey photo to jokingly represent the other person. 

After the incident where he had free fallen from the building to his near death, he had changed his contact name in your phone to ‘The Flightless Bird’ - a terrible bit of dark humor. You loved it, and you had kept it since then. 

Right before you had left for your flight out, you had snuck into his room and grabbed his phone while he had been sleeping, and changed your contact name in his phone from ‘Cold Hands, Hot Ass’ to ‘Bootycall Temporarily Unavailable’. Mostly because you didn’t need him sending you dickpics at three in the morning when he got bored. As much as you loved his cock, you thought about how weird it would be trying to get off in your grandmother’s house and Jason was so damn persistent and so damn tempting. 

You did have to wonder what PG-13 texting would be like between the two of you. It had been incredibly rare. All of your text conversations before living together at the Tower were R-rated enough to send anybody who read them into a mental meltdown. 

Before you could wonder if you should send him a message, making it clear that he wasn’t to pull any of his typical fuckboy antics, you opened his latest message, and a large smile ripped across your face. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I miss you like hell.’ 

You hated that you grinned uncontrollably and your stomach flipped like a teenager with a stupid crush, but you couldn’t help it. Jason just made you feel like that these days. Even just knowing that he had been missing you too - that he had been thinking about you. That was something that had you floating as you typed out your reply, trying not to seem too desperate in your response. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Gotham must be really boring if you miss hanging out with me.’ 

You sent back the simple message and opened another app, browsing while you waited for his reply, trying not to seem too eager. 

Moments later, your phone buzzed again. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Gotham is Gotham. It’s always been a boring shithole. The only time it’s not boring is when some fucker in a mask is trying to kill everyone.’ 

So very Jason. Before you could reply, he sent another message. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Plus, it’s not just hanging out with you that I miss. ;)’ 

Leave it to him to make even a virtual wink look so incredibly sleazy. Somehow, it brought up fond feelings within you because you had missed him so much. 

You resisted the urge to tell him to cool it. Especially because your grandmother was sitting at the table with you. But you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea and start sending his cock out of nowhere. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Oh, you make it sound so appealing for me to visit.’ 

Then you quickly added on: 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Dealing with homicidal psychos in costumes and you nagging me for a dick appointment. You on the Gotham tourism board?’ 

It was only a moment before your messages were seen, and you could practically hear Jason’s dry laughter in response, even though he was so far away. You felt validated when he sent you back several laughter emojis and then quickly typed out another message. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I am, actually. First stop on the tour - my bed. Second stop - night patrol. We spend a few hours kicking ass together. Which leads into our third stop - Little Tony’s downtown for some pizza. Aka the only reason I keep coming back to this shithole.’ 

You couldn’t help but to grin at the thought of it. You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands, almost embarrassed at just how cheek-splitting your smile was - waiting for someone to call you out on it. 

Your imagination ran away with you, and you couldn’t help but to feel warm, thinking about yourself living out his ideal day in Gotham. Being warm in his arms again, feeling his touch all over your body. Getting thoroughly fucked and only leaving his bed when the call of those in need beckoned you both to action. 

You soon began picturing yourself in some spandex costume - something you didn’t yet have and made fun of Jason for wearing so often, perhaps slightly out of jealousy because he actually got the importance of a title and a suit and you didn’t yet have either. You imagined yourself in something themed around a hero name with an ice pun to suit your powers, kicking ass beside Jason while he proudly carried the mantle of Robin. The two of you taking down criminals like a perfectly paired team and topping off your night with pizza from a familiar place that Jason praised.

You began typing again. 

… Robin’s Ice Machine is typing …. 

‘You wanna make it a date, Jay?’ 

But you feared that it would sound too forward. That he was simply joking about all of it and you would seem too eager. So you deleted that message before you sent it and typed out something else instead. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘You brave the streets of downtown Gotham just for pizza?’

The Flightless Bird: ‘It’s worth it.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I guess they probably give Robin the hero discount.’ 

You typed out the message and sent it without thinking. 

You had been so absorbed in your own world over the past few weeks that you had no clue that Robin hadn’t been active on the streets of Gotham for a while. You hadn’t checked the news or hadn’t thought to check in with the biggest Robin fan you knew (Gar) to ask for updates. 

But ever since Jason had gotten back to Gotham - Robin hadn’t seen a night of patrol, his costume quarantined away in the Batcave like Bruce considered him some kind of disease. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I wouldn’t know.’ 

You found this reply to be confusing, but waited patiently while Jason typed out more. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Bruce has me benched. He said I’m not allowed to take on Robin again until I get “cleared” by a fucking shrink. Like I’m a fucking war vet or something. He’s acting like I jumped off that building on purpose or some shit.’ 

You wanted to remind him that in a sense, he did. That he had begged you to let him go because he hadn’t thought that he was worth saving. But you didn’t want to rub salt into the wounds. Instead, you felt curious about his words and hoped that he wouldn’t clam up if you went prodding. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Bruce has you seeing a shrink?’

You were more than tense with curiosity at this point. More than anything, you wondered if it was actually helping Jason, or if he was just going through the motions, trying to please Bruce. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yeah. Someone named Leslie. Wants me to talk about my feelings and be vulnerable and all that type of bullshit.’ 

For once, this was something that Bruce had done that actually gave you hope for Jason’s future. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Maybe it’s not a bad idea.’ 

… The Flightless Bird is typing … 

The typing bubbles appeared at the top of the screen a few times and then disappeared, indicating that Jason had read your message and was unsure about what to say in reply. Your stomach twisted up and you hated it. You hated to think that you might have insulted him. 

Finally, after a few long moments, he sent something back. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’ 

There it was. He was terrified that you thought he was broken. That because he had to go to therapy - it meant he was weak. That’s probably what Bruce thought. Or why he feared that he had been benched from being Robin. 

You carefully chose your words as you replied. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know.’ 

You easily sent in a single message, and he read it quickly. And then, you moved on to adding more, clarifying your words. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know if you’re crazy or not, and I don’t care.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I know that you’re kind of fucked up - but so am I. And I don’t want to spend my time around anyone else because your kind of fucked up matches my fucked up really perfectly, and nobody else understands me like you do.’ 

You sent the messages, and then thought of something important to add. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘There is no normal well adjusted person in the world who would understand me like you do. Fuck normal people.’ 

(On the other end, Jason grinned and sighed with relief when he read these messages.) 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yeah. Fuck normal people.’ 

Jason easily echoed back the sentiment, and then he said something that you weren’t entirely expecting. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘This therapy bullshit has got me thinking about a lot of things.’

You resisted the urge to make a ‘don’t hurt yourself’ joke - but you knew that he was sensitive, and you should encourage him to open up rather than make jokes. It was something that a version of yourself from a few months ago would have done without hesitation, but you absolutely knew that things between you and Jason had changed. Hopefully, for the better. 

While you were mulling that over in your head, Jason typed out another message.

The Flightless Bird: ‘I don’t think my place is with Bruce anymore.’ 

You were curious what he meant by this. Did he want to quit being Robin? Had he come to realize that everything Dick said about Bruce was actually true? 

When that argument came up, multiple times, you were never sure whose side to choose. You had never known the man personally, but you did find it strange that Jason seemed to idolize him and Dick seemed to resent him like he was some kind of cartoon villain. If anything, it made you wary and cautious of Bruce. 

Especially because you knew that Jason had been intensely dependent on Bruce when they first met - he had just aged out of foster care, and he had the ‘choice’ of being homeless or becoming Robin. And who would really make that choice when three square a day, a giant mansion, and a shining costume are staring you in the face? Especially after everything else Jason had been through - all the adults who had given up on him, told him he was nothing. Then he was being presented with the chance to truly be something, someone so damn important.

Again, before you could question him, Jason saw that you had read the message and moved to explain himself further. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘When I was at the Tower, I thought that being away from him…’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I thought that not being Robin was a punishment. But now I know that it was really good for me. And not for the reasons he thinks - not because I was benched and focusing on training.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I got to be away from Bruce. I got some distance from the way he made me think about myself - about Robin. I used to think that I was nothing without him. That I was just some bullshit street kid nobody and him picking me up and making me Robin was what MADE me something.’ 

Your heart ached reading this. 

So that was why he idolized Bruce so much. He thought that he would be nothing without the old man. He didn’t see all of his own strength and determination that he put into Robin. He didn’t see all of his own bravery and resolute stubbornness.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Now I realize that I can be something without him.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘I know it sounds like sappy bullshit, but you’re the one who helped me realize that I am something without him. That I can be great - even without Robin.’ 

You re-read the message a few times over, those words clutching at your throat, nearly bringing you to tears. For a long time, a part of you thought that you weren’t good for Jason. That you were just another nagging force in his life, another negativity. Then - you thought that you were just something he used to fill the time, to distract from the mental noise, as you did with him. And even then, as you realized that you needed him in other ways, and you might be coming to love him - you thought that he would never feel the same about you. 

You thought that you had been fighting a losing battle, trying to comfort someone who didn’t want it, or wouldn’t accept it. But reading those words, feeling the rawness of their honesty - it flowed through you and hit you with a radical force. 

You actually helped him. 

You thought he was too stubborn and hard-headed to get through to, but hearing it directly from him - that was nice. It was more than nice, it was… it shook you to your core. 

Your phone vibrated in your hand again, and you realized that you had gone too long without responding. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Too much?’ 

Clearly he thought that he had frightened you off. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Not too much.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘Good. So you won’t think it’s too much if I tell you that I’ve been looking at apartments?’ 

Wait - what? 

You had barely finished reading the message before he sent you a screenshot of an online listing - a picture of some shady, broken-down building. When you glanced at the address, you were almost sure that it was in downtown Gotham.

You wanted to believe that Jason was joking. But from the general tone of the conversation, he didn’t seem to be. He was eager to get away from Bruce, to be out on his own. 

Your stomach curled with warmth at the thought of you and Jason living together, and this time not because of some half-baked superhero team. But by choice. This time because you were… what? Friends? Lovers?

You armed yourself with humor as you replied. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Jason, that’s downtown Gotham. It’s a shithole.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Oh, living with rich grandmama has you getting used to the fancy pants lifestyle now? Shall I start looking at mansions with 500 acres and golden swimming pools?’ 

You let out a small chuckle at his joke. You could practically hear him reciting the words with a fake snooty accent to drive home his point, but you eagerly felt the need to correct him. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Hey, I grew up in shitholes too. You know a lot of the time I didn’t even have a roof, Jay.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yes, and you slept on a bed of bricks and ate dirt for dinner. Oliver Twist ass. You’re the only person I know who grew up more poor than I did.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘The correct tense is: poorer.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yet you could afford grammar lessons? Damn.’ 

You couldn’t hold back a small bit of laughter at this. One of the things he hated most was you correcting his grammar, and you still found it highly amusing.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘My point is that all this fancy shit makes me uncomfortable. I feel like I can’t even sit down on the furniture at my grandmother’s properly.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Grandmama will probably have it steam cleaned when you leave. To get the street rat smell out.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Anyway, do you like the apartment or not?’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know. It looks… sketchy.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘It is. It’s a sketchy ass neighborhood.’ 

You started typing out a reply full of protests against this, wondering why he would want the two of you to live in a place that was full of drug dealers and other crime, but he beat you to it with another message - and when you read it, your heart warmed. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘But - I thought me and you could help keep it safer.’ 

You grinned widely at this again. 

You resisted the urge to correct his grammar again, wanting to tell him the tense was ‘you and I’. He was truly onto something here and you didn’t want to ruin the moment for him. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I’ll have to see it in person first.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘When I come to Gotham.’ 

You had no clue what stupid love bug had bitten you - but you were seriously agreeing to go view an apartment with Jason Todd. And you were more excited than anything else.

You finally resigned to the idea, feeling a certain kind of joy in making plans with him. You were entirely unfamiliar with the feeling of looking forward to the future. It was delightfully strange. 

For the first time in your entire life, you felt giddy and optimistic for the future. 

On the other end, Jason pumped an arm and cheered quietly to himself, knowing that he would hold you to the promise of coming to Gotham to visit him. Knowing that once he had you in town, he would somehow talk you into getting an apartment with him. 

This was just the start of your life together. In his mind, this was just the first of many plans. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘You could be on a plane tomorrow.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I’ll pay for your ticket.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘You mean Daddy would?’ 

You knew Jason was rolling his eyes at this, and while he rushed to type out protests about Bruce being his ‘Daddy’, you corrected his initial thought. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I can’t come tomorrow, anyway. My trip isn’t supposed to end for another week, at least.’ 

You didn’t want to tell him that you were getting attached to your grandmother, and you didn’t want to leave her yet. You thought he might mock you for developing those vulnerable familial attachments too quickly. And he would have been right. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Well, don’t take too long. I miss your stupid face.’ 

In your mind, the only proper response to this was to open your camera and take a picture of yourself - one crudely sticking your tongue out and flipping him off.

You sent it to him and received back several heart emojis. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Gorgeous as always, babe.’ 

Right then, Jason made that picture into his lockscreen. 

You rolled your eyes, and bit your lip to suppress another stupid giddy smile. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘And you’re a charming asshole, as always.’

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘But I guess you’re mine.’ 

You sent the last part without much thought, feeling a twist in your gut when Jason read it and didn’t immediately reply. You stared at the screen for several long moments, waiting for something, wondering how he would react - 

But then your attention was snapped away from your conversation with Jason when your grandmother let out a loud snort and woke from her nap. 

“Playing with that brick again?” She said, sounding quite displeased. 

Though you felt anxious, wondering if you had scared Jason away with your affection, you locked the screen and put the phone back into your pocket.

“Sometimes these ‘bricks’ can be useful.” You told her. “Maybe you should get one.” 

You suggested it on the idea that you could communicate with her more easily once your trip was over, though you knew what her stance on the matter was. It didn’t hurt to try. 

“Oh deary. I’d never want to strain my eyes looking at that. You know what they say - old dogs, and such.” She let out a small yawn. “Besides, I have heard they can give you cancer.” 

You let out a snort of laughter. At least it was nice to know where your sense of dark humor came from. 

… 

Jason wasn’t sure why he did it. 

Bruce told him not to. It should have been obvious that it was a trap. If history had anything to say about it - the Joker never made himself that obvious unless he wanted to get caught. Unless he was planning something and he wanted a lot of people to get caught up in the smoke. 

Unless the Joker blatantly wanted attention, then he stayed hidden. 

Maybe it was the Anti-Fear Gas. Maybe Jason needed to prove that he was brave. That he was good enough to take up the mantle of Robin again - even if he didn’t necessarily want it. Deep down, he needed to prove to himself that he was good enough for you. That he wasn’t just some broken bird that you needed to fix.

Jason thought the drug made him brave, but it probably just made him stupid. He thought this would be a good field test for it. But it just made his senses dull and useless to everything around him. It made him less aware of his surroundings, it blurred out all his fight or flight that nature intended. 

When Bruce said that fear served him, he had no clue that this is what the old man meant. 

The Anti-Fear Gas made perfect conditions for someone to sneak up on him. 

He heard the cackling laughter - a sound coming from one of those stupid carnival machines, or from the Joker himself, he wasn’t sure - before he even realized what was going on. There was a bag over his head and some heavy, hazy drug forced under his nose. 

He was stupid. 

He thought he learned something from the incident with Doctor Light. 

But it turns out that he was just as stupid as everyone accused him of being. 

Because when he woke up, he was right back there. Tied to a chair. Confused. And when the Anti-Fear Gas started to wear off - he was scared. Utterly terrified. Just like he had been on that night. 

Bruce was at some investors’ meeting halfway around the world. When Jason didn’t pick up his calls, didn’t answer his texts - he thought that Jason was still pissed off about the fight they had before he left. Bruce tried to give him distance. Without Alfred around to keep an eye on him, nobody reported Jason missing. 

Nobody even noticed that he was gone. 

… 

When Jason stopped answering your texts, you got a horrible feeling in your gut. 

The next time you looked at your phone, he had left you on read, and you had an utterly horrible feeling about it. Your stomach twisted over on itself, you became ripe with worry. You immediately wanted to cry to Dick about it, beg him to go searching for Jason’s tracker, or at the very least, call Bruce and ask to confirm where Jason was. 

But technically - you had nothing to cry about. 

Jason wasn’t your boyfriend. He didn’t owe you anything. Especially not his time. He didn’t owe you an immediate reply to your messages. He wasn’t supposed to be at your beckoned call like a loyal dog. 

You had to guess that he got busy training. That he was angry with Bruce, so he was spending extra hours at the gym, working off that anger. Maybe he had doubled down on the apartment search and he was somewhere in downtown Gotham, looking at more shitholes where he didn’t have any service. 

At the very worst, you thought maybe you had scared him off with your affection. You thought maybe he was finally realizing that he didn’t want that big, scary thing with you, and he was getting ready to run away from it. Maybe he was debating blocking your number so that he didn’t have to break-off this non-relationship with you. 

Maybe he had met someone else. 

You went over the possibilities - made yourself sick, wondering why he wasn’t answering you. 

But you had never considered the most sickening possibility of them all. 

… 

As usual, the Joker had seemingly no aim with his chaos. 

He took Jason to some random location. Tied him up, hit him. Some of the Joker’s goons came and went. The Joker talked about potentially setting Jason out as ‘bait’ for the Bat to come and get. Jason wanted to tell him that his precious Bat was out of town, but he couldn’t risk revealing Bruce’s identity if he divulged that information. 

If that was the Joker’s plan - using Jason as bait - he waited a long time to get on with it. 

He spent the interim torturing Jason in increasingly creative ways. 

Jason watched the sun rise and fall three different times - through a tiny window in whatever place they were keeping him. When darkness fell on the fourth day, his eyes were becoming too swollen to see light anymore. 

Jason tried not to flinch when he heard footsteps approaching. 

Every single inch of Jason’s body ached - he was sure that he had fingers broken, an arm broken. Broken ribs. He had several missing teeth, and he was leaking blood freely into his mouth. If he did get out of this, he would be severely fucked up for the rest of his life. 

But he had a feeling that the Joker wasn’t going to let him out of this. 

A cold hand moved across his forehead, and instinctively, he flinched away from it. The Joker tutted his tongue, and other voices came - echoes of laughter in the room, goons he had brought along with him. 

“So shy, Little Birdie.” The Joker’s voice mocked him. “You weren’t so shy when you came looking for me… in fact, you were eager then. Eager, eager, eager. Eager to play my games. But you don’t wanna play now, do you?”

Jason was exhausted. But he knew that he couldn’t give up. If he stopped fighting, then the Joker had won. 

“Fuck you.” Jason said, fighting past blood flowing in his mouth, deflated, clearly tired. 

But he was still fighting. 

The Joker laughed. 

Cruel. Harsh. 

“Well, I’ll take that as a sign - game on!” 

The Joker clapped his hands together above Jason’s head, loudly. Jason hated that he flinched. There was another round of laughter from the goons. 

Jason expected that the ‘game’ would be something violent. Removing his fingers, having the goons take turns to hit him harder. Perhaps they would strap him to some kind of target and make up point values for his different limbs and then have a knife throwing contest around him. 

But no. 

It seemed that they were growing bored of physical violence. 

Something that Jason hadn’t even thought of - an utterly terrifying possibility. 

With his eyes out of commission, he was relying on his ears more. He heard a small click, a button being pushed - if he wasn’t mistaken, it was someone trying to wake the lockscreen of a phone. It was very close to his head. 

“My, my, that is a pretty one.” The Joker teased. 

Jason sucked in a sharp breath, causing a painful sting in his likely broken ribs as an even more painful realization hit him. 

They had taken his phone. The Joker was talking about you. 

He should never have made that picture of you into his lockscreen, you were too important, he had put you in danger - 

“Tell me, does this pretty thing have a name?” 

The Joker chuckled - Jason thought maybe the phone with your picture was being waved in front of his face, but he couldn’t quite see it. 

“Oh wait! You can’t see it, can you?” The Joker seemed amused to remember this, his voice light and jaunty as the thought crossed his mind. 

“Fuck you!” Jason spat out, much more energized now, refreshed with the might of protecting you - quite literally spitting blood, hopefully getting some on the clown. 

The Joker simply let out another cackling laugh. 

There was a ping. A text message coming in. 

Let it be Bruce. Let it be Dick. Let it be Gar, for fuck’s sake. Anybody but you. 

“You know, this friend of yours sends an awful lot of text messages.” 

The Joker chuckled, putting emphasis on that word, clearly mocking Jason’s relationship status with you. Even with his psychotic mind, he could see that Jason loved you more than he cared to admit, and he was terrified to speak it aloud. 

“‘Jason, I’m worried about you. Please text me back when you can. I know it’s stupid to be worried just cause I haven’t heard from you in a few days, but Gotham is a stupid shithole and I wanna know that you haven’t been eaten by a giant mutant crocodile or something.’” 

Jason’s skin crawled when the Joker read a text from you aloud. 

You were worried. 

Jason was beaten, dying because of the consequences of his own stupid actions, and you were worried. 

“Well, that’s almost sweet.” The Joker sniggered. “You’ve been ignoring these for days now! That’s rude!” 

Another round of laughter from the goons. 

Jason was then struck with the realization that because of his current situation - idiotically kidnapped, tied to a chair, beaten - he had been ignoring you for days. He had unintentionally caused you to worry, on top of everything else. He had hurt you. 

Had you sent someone looking for him? Would he actually somehow get out of this? Was there a chance that he might actually be rescued? 

“I think we should answer. Your sweet little friend deserves some closure - a load off the mind, you know.” 

The Joker’s voice took on a menacing dark tone as he said this. 

Jason’s insides clenched with horror. They had tortured him in almost every way imaginable - taken it as far as they could without actually killing him. They had inflicted all kinds of pain on his body. Now they were going to torture his mind. 

They were pulling you into their game as a fucked up pawn. 

“No!” Jason tried to weakly protest, but then, entirely against his will, came the sound of his phone unlocking. “Fuck you!” 

He hadn’t put a password on it yet. It was relatively new - a present Bruce had gotten him when he had come back to Gotham. A bid to buy his affection. He hadn’t gotten around to putting a password on it yet. 

Another stupid mistake. 

Jason nearly lost his breath when he heard ringing. The Joker wasn’t just going to reply to your text messages - he was calling you. 

Whatever happened to Jason next - whatever torture, whatever pain they inflicted upon him - they were going to make you listen. 

… 

One thing you had come to learn over the past week: rich people have a lot of peculiar habits. 

Your grandmother would insist that you be there for afternoon tea at three o’clock sharp, and apparently having too much sugar in your tea was considered rude, because it was a reflection of the quality of the tea that the host had presented you with. She insisted that you ‘dress for dinner’ - which meant that you weren’t allowed to wear sweatpants at her formal dining table, and even ripped jeans were frowned upon. Also, sitting with your feet curled underneath you at the dining table caused her glare at you - a lot. 

But as much as she had scolded you for your brutish, poor people ways - you had managed to bring her around to some of your ways of life. You showed her how binging reality shows could be fun, and that not all types of processed junk food were terribly beyond her taste. 

It was probably why you were putting up with this now. The garden party. 

You were surprised that she had been able to put together a party this elaborate so quickly. But she said that it was necessary because she had insisted that she wanted you to meet all of her friends. 

You thought that it would be just a few people; no more than would fill up the dozen chairs that she had at her exceedingly large fancy dining table. But you grew more anxious as cars filled the long driveway and more people filled the ‘garden’ out back, picking at tables that had been set up with expensive catered food and sipping on drinks that were being poured by a bartender that had been highered last minute. 

Of course - your grandmother insisted on picking an outfit for you. She didn’t bring herself to care where exactly on the gender spectrum you fell - she didn’t even bring up your birth gender at all, which surprised you, since she had known you as a baby. She simply took it at face value when you introduced yourself to her by name and the two of you easily rolled with things from there. It was strange for an old woman, especially one so caught up in the history of all the objects in her home. But you supposed that those deathbed regrets ran deep and she preferred to spend this time with you actually embracing you instead of arguing with you and potentially driving you away. 

She insisted on picking your clothes because she simply hated your graphic band tee shirts and your ripped jeans, and insisted that you wear something ‘light and airy’ worthy of a garden party. All she had asked before she consulted her personal shopper was if you had a preference of pants or a skirt. And you couldn’t bring yourself to protest, even when you saw the pastel colours that you normally would have utterly hated. 

You weren’t sure why you were trying so hard to impress someone that you barely knew - someone you could barely even call family. Perhaps it was because your mother had treated you so poorly - she had never cared if you were clothed or fed, so having someone buy you expensive new clothes after caring to have ‘family dinner’ with you every night, it was touching. Especially considering that she was throwing an entire party in your honor when your mother hadn’t even wished you ‘happy birthday’ most years - often forgot the day and let it pass without acknowledgment at all. 

Everything your grandmother was going for you, it made you feel like you truly mattered for the first time in your young life. 

Perhaps for the first time since Jason had insisted on stitching up your wound - after he had told you that you being hurt on his behalf in the first place was such a terrible crime. But you didn’t want to think about that too much because you missed him so terribly. 

You did find yourself picky at the itchy, slightly too tight collar as you went downstairs to join the other guests. Your grandmother paraded you around, introduced you to different people. And soon, she abandoned you near one of the snack tables when she was called over by some ‘business associate’. 

You couldn’t resist the urge to pull out your phone and check - your stomach sank when you saw that there was still nothing from Jason. 

Entirely against your own will, you began typing. 

‘Jason, I’m worried about you. Please text me back when you can. I know it’s stupid to be worried just cause I haven’t heard from you in a few days, but Gotham is a stupid shithole and I wanna know that you haven’t been eaten by a giant mutant crocodile or something.’

You hoped that he would reply soon. Even if it was telling you to fuck off. 

You hated when you got sucked into another conversation with more people you didn’t know. You quickly found yourself mentally begging to be released from the hell as more and more people asked you questions that you couldn’t even begin to form the answers to. 

“What are your top three?” One of the women asked you, looking at you with precise, dissecting eyes. 

‘Top three what?’ You wanted to shriek. 

“My Brandon is going to Dartmouth after summering in Metropolis. Doing a lot of volunteer work there - an angel, he is.” 

The other women standing around you all nodded, giving approving looks with strangely fake smiles, and all you could do was nod and smile along with them. 

‘Summering? Since when is that a verb?’ 

You wished more than anything that Jason was there with you. Not only would he pull you aside and relentlessly laugh at these plastic-y women with you, but you knew that he would be able to save you from this. He did have a bit more experience being around rich people because of Bruce, and he would actually be able to tell you what the hell they were saying. He would be able to translate all this shit to ‘Oliver Twist’ for you so that you wouldn’t feel like you were suddenly living on some alien planet. 

“Where do you usually summer? When you’re not with your grandmother, that is?” 

You felt more panic rise in you as another question was directed at you, desperately racking your brain for an answer that wouldn’t make you sound stupidly out of place to them. 

Luckily, before you had to stumble your way through the interaction, your phone began to vibrate in the pocket of the overly expensive blazer that your grandmother had made you wear. You wanted to breathe a sigh of relief at the chance for distraction - even though it was probably a spam call, or Gar, calling to complain that he was lonely because Rachel wasn’t back from her trip yet. (Without you and Jason there, and with Rachel extending her stay on Themyscira, he near constantly complained to you that he was lonely, and that he hated everyone leaving.) 

But still, you jumped at the chance to escape the many pairs of eyes, staring at you, studying your every move like you were a very fascinating bug. Looking at you like you were something that didn’t belong there. 

“I have to take this.” You grinned at them, reaching to grab your phone out of your pocket. 

You moved away from the group of clucking hens, hoping for some privacy in the conversation. Even if it was just Gar, you would use this opportunity to stall for as long as possible before being pulled back into the party. 

When you took your phone out and saw Jason’s contact photo lighting up the screen, you couldn’t hold back the smile that broke across your cheeks. It was a picture of him sticking his tongue out that you had taken using the front facing camera when he had been annoying you over your shoulder one day.

Pure, unadulterated joy. That stupid teenager crush igniting your insides yet again. 

You moved toward the refreshment table, knowing that you looked like an idiot as you stared down at your phone, smiling so widely. 

You knew that you were in too deep. That you probably felt far more deeply for him than he did for you - that you would have dared to call it that deep, ‘tied together forever’ thing, and he probably wouldn’t. 

But you were caring less and less each day. You were beginning not to care if he broke your heart. 

At this point, you were just along for the ride. 

A very small voice in the back of your head told you that maybe he was calling to break things off with you. Maybe, all this time that he had gone without speaking to you, he had been waiting, working up the courage, finding the right words to tell you that he was truly done with you. 

But no. That wouldn’t be the case. 

He had simply been busy. And now, he was calling to tell you what a hectic, shitty few days it had been, how much he had missed you - 

“Hey, asshole. I don’t know if you leeched some of Rach’s psychic powers, but you called just in time to save me.” 

You breathed into the receiver as soon as you picked up, throwing out a casual greeting, knowing that Jason wouldn’t be offended by the words. 

“I always hesitate to say that you were right, but I am beginning to regret not taking you up on that offer to come with me. You should see some of these rich, stuck-up snobs - you would be laughing your ass off if you were here right now.” 

There was a long silence. 

Your stomach dropped. 

On the other end, you had no clue that Jason felt that exact same sting of regret about not coming with you. If he had - the two of you could have been safe and happy together. 

Fear clutched at your throat. 

It was a basic instinct, but you knew that the silence wasn’t a good thing. You thought that all of your worst fears were about to come true. That Jason was about to tell you that he was truly done with you, that he never actually felt anything for you in the first place, and he was just working up the courage to speak the words aloud. 

But it was so much worse than that. It was worse than anything you could have imagined. 

A single, ragged breath. 

Air struggling to get in and out of his lungs past broken bone - pain. 

Standing in the radiance of a warm, pleasant afternoon, with people mingling happily all around you - all the life drained from you. All the happiness sucked out of the world in a matter of seconds. 

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, wanted to cry out for help. 

There was a unique cruelty in the fact that everyone else in the garden simply went on, chatting, laughing, engaging in merriment. The fact that they went about their stupid party, having no clue that a world away, in Gotham - a great tragedy was taking place. 

All of those rich assholes sipped their drinks and carried on with their day, having no clue that your world was about to end. 

“Jason?” 

You knew that your voice was so utterly wounded, small and terrified. You made no effort to hide it. 

There was a harsh sound - a collision of flesh, a groan. A hit. It was a sound that somehow made your guts twist in on themselves even more. 

“Go on, Robin.” 

That voice wasn’t Jason. It wasn’t someone you knew. It was wicked and harsh and made you want to scream. All you could do was swallow around a thick dryness that had formed in your throat - like sandpaper had been put there. 

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t do anything more than listen. 

“Go on, answer your pretty friend.” 

Jason sucked in another harsh breath, and sputtered out a cough. 

“I - I fucked up.” Jason said, his voice ragged. “I fucked up big time.” 

You felt a hot, wet tear run down your face before you realized that you were crying. Your legs were filled with concrete and you felt the world spinning on its axis. It was a miracle that you managed to stay standing upright. 

You couldn’t even comprehend how you might have looked to someone else in those moments, and truthfully it didn’t matter. No one else at the party even noticed the terrible grief that had struck you. They simply carried on, absorbed in their own little world. 

“Jason?” 

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you had given up Jason’s secret identity - the name behind the Robin mask. You were too busy quaking with fear, your chest tight as you considered: this might actually be the end of his life. 

And you couldn’t do anything about it. 

What the fuck could you do about it? 

“What happened?” You rushed to ask, your voice full of breath, full of fear. “What’s happening?” 

More tears poured down your face, and you swallowed around the tightness of your throat, forcing a clearness to be able to speak. 

“I made a mistake.” Jason said, his voice coming out in a tight wheeze as he struggled to breathe. “I - I never should have gotten you involved in this.” 

You knew what he really wanted to say. He wanted to apologize for letting you get close to him. For giving you the potential to get hurt. 

“No!” You easily argued back. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

You decided right then and there - maybe you had decided a long time ago - if he broke your heart by leaving you alone, by dying, you didn’t care. You didn’t care if he left you fucked up and broken. All of the time the two of you had spent together - it had all been worth it. 

You needed him to know that. You needed him to know. 

“Jason, I-” 

You hesitated for a moment before you said it. Before you crossed that line into the abyss. Your voice clouded with the thickness of your tears when you finally said the words. 

“I love you.” 

When he heard it, Jason let out a wounded howl. 

You thought that he had been stabbed. You let out a sob of your own, echoing his pain. 

You did not know that it was these words alone that damned him. It was something that hurt him more than any baseball bat crashing down over his knees or any brass knuckles against his jaw ever could have. 

Moments before his death, you sentenced him to the worst crime of all - breaking your heart. Now, with his own foolish choices, he had damned you to a life without the one you loved. You had sentenced him to dying with the knowledge that he was the worst piece of shit to ever touch your life. That he truly had rotted everything good about you - just like he had promised. 

You could have chosen anyone else, and you chose to love the stupid, fucked up, idiotic Jason Todd. The man who was about to die due to his own incompetence. 

“Aww, isn’t that sweet?” The stranger’s voice was there again, mocking you. 

You weren’t surprised that Jason didn’t say it back - but you hoped that your words, that you saying it brought some comfort to him. 

You were about to open your mouth again, about to promise that you would find him and rescue him in time. 

And then another pillar of hell struck you. 

“Now, it’s time for the little birdie to go bye-bye.” 

You couldn’t even muster your voice again, couldn’t scream out against this. Your throat was swollen shut, like an allergic reaction to the tragedy as it happened. 

There was a silence - a second of your life that swallowed you whole like an abyss of fifty endless years. 

And then, that silence was cut through by the worst sound you had ever been forced to hear. 

A gunshot. 

The sound was distinctive, clear as day. 

“Jason?!” 

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs - this time, undeniably drawing attention to yourself. Even the plastic party goers couldn’t ignore a tragedy of this magnitude. You couldn’t bring yourself to care as multiple of their heads snapped toward you, taking in the now utterly disheveled sight of you, crying, clutching at your phone like it was the most precious thing in the world. 

“Jason?!” You screamed again, your voice nagging into a hopelessly dead line. 

You didn’t know that they had smashed Jason’s phone, disposing of it now that they were done with their game. 

Upon instinct, you ran. Your legs were heavy and felt stupid and you stumbled into multiple people on your way into the house, causing murmurs as the crowd stared at you. You didn’t care. You were panicked, shaking, confused. You made your way up to the guest bedroom that you had been staying in and began frantically shoving your things back into your bag, half-packed when you finally realized that you had no clue where you were going. 

And you collapsed onto the floor, then. Your whole body was weak, overtaken by shock. Clueless and terrified, your chest was barely taking in breath and your own phone slipped out of your shaking hand when you tried to think of your next move. 

For a long time - what felt like endless hours, days - you could do nothing but sit there and desperately try to suck air into your lungs, playing the gunshot sound over and over again in your mind. 

They shot Jason. They shot Jason. They had shot Jason. 

Your brain could hardly process it. 

One of your grandmother’s caretakers knocked on the bedroom door and you couldn’t gather words to answer. When she asked you what had happened, you couldn’t even begin to explain. That was when you realized that you had needed concrete answers yourself. So as she left the room to make you some peppermint tea ‘for your nerves’, you forced your shaking hands to work, and you grabbed up your phone again. 

You needed to call Dick. 

He didn’t pick up. Then you called Kory. No dice. Then you called Gar - you could hear the bustle of a crime scene in the background, but he sounded okay. He was talking in his usual bright, excited voice. The Titans had likely just made a bust. He was excited to be making a difference, helping people. 

You sucked down breath and tripped over your own words trying to explain it. Jason was in trouble - a gunshot, he was hurt. He was dead. Gar barely understood, tried arguing against you because you sounded hysterical. But he passed the phone to Dick at your insistence. Dick made sense of your words, and made you wait fifteen long painful minutes until he was back in front of the computer at Titans Tower to give you some kind of answer. 

Jason’s tracker was online. It was in Gotham. It was at the Amusement Mile. 

It wasn’t picking up any heat signature from Jason’s body. That only meant one thing: his body was cold. 

“I’m - I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jason’s - he’s gone.”

...

A/N: This is part one of two, and I do have the second part ready to go in my drafts.

Based on the original, Emergency Contact, having around 400 notes, and based on the fact that Jason Todd is a popular character:

I would like to see around 50 reblogs and around 50 comments on this before I post the next part.

Which I do think is a modest ask - if the same amount of people who enjoyed the original show up to read this sequel, then I will be asking one quarter of those people to comment or reblog. And I say 'around' because if I see a good amount of people commenting and reblogging, even if we don't meet the goal, then I will post the next part more quickly.

(I just don't want another incident to happen where people stop commenting immediately as the goal is met and then I end up with 30 comments and 900 likes, clearly showing that people don't care to support a fic even if they clearly enjoyed it.)

However, if you are going to comment, please do not just comment asking for the next part or asking when the next part will be posted, please comment about the body of work that has already been written and posted. I find it inconsiderate and stressful when people only ask for updates. I much prefer to spark a discussion about the existing work that has been written.

Anyway - I am just insanely proud of this fic and I really want to hear what you guys think of it so far!! So please do comment, reblog and rant in the tags, or come to my inbox and chat with me on anon if you're shy. I always wanna hear from fellow Jason Todd lovers and fellow Titans enjoyers.

[hcsiqs]

| i love you, im sorry

• pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

• summary: inspired by gracie abram’s i love you im sorry

• warnings: angst ?? mean!paige kinda…

I like to slam doors closed

Trust me, I know it's always about me

I love you, I'm sorry

“Paige, please,” you begged as tears fell from your eyes and you tried to get the blonde girl to look at you, but she refused. “Don’t just push me away!”

“Go y/n! I don’t need you anymore, ok?” she replied, hurt evident in her voice. She jerked her arm away from you.

She had just torn her ACL and wanted nothing to do with anyone, especially you. It seemed like everything you had been doing for the past few weeks set her off. She hated the way you tried to help her and the fact that it seemed you pitted her, even though you weren’t trying to. You just wanted to help her, that’s all you ever want to do.

“I’m just trying to be there for you,” your voice dropped into a softer voice as mascara stained your cheeks.

“Well I don’t need you to be here for me or whatever the fuck,” she ran her hands down her face.

“I wanna help because I love you P,” you tried reminding her that all of this came from your love for her, but she didn’t wanna hear it.

“I don’t love you anymore,” her voice broke as she her piercing blue eyes made contact with your own and you could see that she meant every word.

You bit your lip trying to hold back your sniffles as your lips curved into a frown without you even trying. Your arms crossed over your body as you let out a hushed, “Ok,” before packing all your things from her room into a bag and leaving without saying another word. That was the last time you talked to Paige junior year.

Two summers from now

We'll have been talking, but not all

that often, we're cool now

Paige had decided to stay an extra year at UConn due to her injury that she suffered from a few years prior. And you just so happened to also be staying at UConn to get your graduates degree.

Obviously going to the same school you two had bumped into each other and exchanged a few words, but nothing much, both always seeming to be in a rush to avoid the awkwardness.

You had decided on taking a few summer classes and as you were walking with your head down you found yourself run into a taller figure. When you stepped back you immediately recognized who it was.

“Paige,” you said with a tight lipped smile.

“Y/N,” she replied with the same smile before shooing her teammates off. “How’ve you been?” she asked awkwardly pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

“Good,” you nodded, “Staying busy, you?”

“Yeah, yeah, good,” she replied nodding her head while shoving her hands into her pockets. “You—uh—you look good,” her eyes scanned you up and down, something you had gotten used to when you were together.

“Thanks. You too,” you were trying to keep the interaction short and sweet, not wanting to get into anything. “I gotta go, but see you around?”

“For sure,” she nodded before you walked off and tried erasing the entire interaction from your brain.

It wasn’t like you had talked at all in the past two years. You had your civil interactions here and there but never had them for too long. And you wanted to keep it that way. You wanted it to just stay cool between the two of you. Not wanting to bring up y’all’s past.

You were the best but you were the worst

As sick as it sounds, I loved you first

You had just finished your fall semester finals, so you and your friends decided to celebrate and get rid of all the stress by going to Ted’s and getting drunk.

It just so happened to be the same night that the UConn women’s basketball team had won a hard game against one of the best schools, and they had all decided to out to celebrate.

And that’s how you found yourself staring down a certain blonde at the bar who was obviously flirting with another girl. You kept telling yourself that it shouldn’t bother you because you had broken up almost two years ago now, but you could shake the “I loved her first” from your brain as you watched the two.

So, you took another shot to try and distract yourself. The burning sensation trickled down your throat before walking past Paige, ‘accidentally’ hitting her arm.

And once you found yourself in the comfortable muffled silence of the bathroom the door swung open to reveal the tall blonde basketball player. “What’s your problem? You’ve been staring at me all fuckin night long.”

“Have not,” you slurred, rolling your eyes and turning away from her to look in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged from all the drinks you had taken and your mascara was messy under your eyes from continually rubbing them.

Paige moved closer to you, but not too close, almost scared that if she did you would run away and she would lose her chance. “Yeah. You have.”

“No,” you shook your head, meeting her gaze through the mirror.

“Dude, just fucking talk to me!”

“No! You don’t get to act like what happened is my fucking fault,” you raised your voice turning to the side to actually look at her up close. “You pushed me away, not the other way around.”

“I know and I regret it everyday. But every time I try to talk to you, you rush off!” Paige started moving her hands to represent her frustration with the situation.

“Why would I wanna talk to someone who is just going around flirting with random girls,” you snapped back before even realizing what you were saying. But as soon as the words left your mouth you immediately slammed your lips shut, afraid of what might come from them if you didn’t.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know, okay?” your hands found their way into your hair, brushing it back with your fingers.

A moment of silence fell between the both of you. Neither really knowing what to say in the moment.

“Forget what I said,” you shook your head, wanting to disappear from the entire moment.

“I miss you,” she confessed as you tried pushing past her to get out of the small room.

You felt as if your heart was gonna beat out of your chest at those words. The words you had been wanting to hear since your fight two years ago. The words you had fought to hear that same night but never did.

“I miss you too, P,” your drunken self admitted. Your glossy eyes meeting hers. It seemed like your heart had stopped in that moment and nothing existed but the two of you.

I love you, I'm sorry

allie’s corner

this is lowkey poop im sorry

[prettyboykatsuki]

oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.

but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver

✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful

✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)

✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!

also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!

✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.

but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.

Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.

There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.

It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.

He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.

Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.

You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.

Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.

Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.

But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.

You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.

Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.

And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.

"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"

"No, you don't have too."

"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"

This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.

"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.

"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.

You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.

He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"

You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.

"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."

"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."

"You're scaring me." You joke.

"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Do you trust me?"

You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.

He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.

You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.

You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.

He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.

Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.

He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.

"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.

Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.

"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."

Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.

You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."

He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.

You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.

"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"

You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.

You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.

"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."

"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"

He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.

"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"

A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."

He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"

You giggle "Uh-huh."

"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"

It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.

You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.

But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.

"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."

"Want it a little harder?"

"Mhm,"

"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.

He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.

But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.

And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.

"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"

"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."

So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.

"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."

He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.

When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.

"Wanna stay like this for a while?"

You nod.

"Mm. Sleepy."

"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."

"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.

"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."

There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.

"Okay."

[kodamaghost00]

30 Angel Dust Headcanons

———————————————————

[Disclaimer!!]

This post will contain: NSFW,Sfw,Fluff,Smut.

It’s also Genderless for the girls,gays and theys!You’re a new resident at the Hotel in this scenario.

———————————————————

Let’s begin!

He calls you “Sugar” and “Cutie” for sure. He loves seeing you flustered. It always gets him a good laugh.

When you first arrived at the hotel he flirted with you instantly since you’re his type. He got exited when you mirrored his demeanor.

He listens to music to calm himself down. Especially after a long shoot with Valentino.

You and him immediately start off on good terms. You casually flirt together too.

He trusts you very much. He told you about his experience with Val and you comfort him when he cries.

He’s the biggest bottom you could ever find but if you are a bottom/switch he’s willing to top you.

He asks you to review his porn and give your honest opinion.

Fat nuggets is your child now. You both are proud parents.

One night Angel,Fat nuggets and you slept in one bed together after watching a horror movie as a family… how adorable…

Angel isn’t the type to wake up early. You mostly have to wake him up. “Not now Sugar, daddy needs his beauty sleep.” You just laughed and shook your head after hearing that.

You help him on set often too. You hate Val but admire Angels dedication for his job. You mostly help with the make-up application.

He takes good care of you when you guys go out. It can be a handful if cherry is going to a bar with y’all.

After a long day he just wants to rest and cuddle with you. He warps his arms around you and lightly snores.

He wakes up in the middle of the night often due to nightmares… he wakes up with sweat all over him. “Huh… just a dream… it was just a dream…”

When he looks at you he has this one specific look of “I love you but I can’t tell you directly” . And it’s adorable…

You both definitely planned to rob a bank together.

Angel often says “If I would’ve known you during my living days, I think we would’ve get together perfectly.”

He will fuck the living shit out of you. He loves to sweet talk but also to degrade you.

Valentino even suggested if you two would like to do a porn together and angel was tempted to say yes. But for your sake he declined Val’s offer.

Sometimes angel gets knocked out at the bar so you and husk have to drag him to his room.

He’s actually also a talented artist. He drew you a potrait once and it looked incredible realistic. He never rlly explored this side of him though.

Often says “pspspspspspsps” to husk just to piss him off…

He basically has no type. He’ll just fuck what he likes.

He sees Niffty like a little sister that he has to babysit often.

He would go into a poly relationship with you and Husk.

Fat nuggets sleeps next to him every single day. No exeptions.

He likes interacting with his normal fans who don’t sexualize him and actually like his talent.

He often needs reassurance and calls with Cherry a lot for it.

Him and Cherry shit talk for literal HOURS. Especially about Valentino. “He’s the last one to criticize my hair… GET YOURSELF YOUR OWN FIRST AND THEN WE CAN TALK.”

The only thing he actually is grateful for is fat nuggets… he dresses him up often.

———————————————————

MASTERLIST

Thank you so much for reading my silly headcanons once again. I know I’ve been gone for quite some time but life’s though rn… so we’ll see each other next post!!

- Your Ghost ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

[hees-mine]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Synopsis: A playful game of flirting between you and heeseung to see who’d crack first, quickly comes to an end when he sees you cheering for his teammate. It flipped a switch in him he didn’t know he even had, and after his game, he was going to make sure you never looked at his teammates ever again.

Warnings: unprotected rough sex, locker room sex, dirty talk, anal fingering, spitting, spanking, cursing, jealousy, possessiveness, fluff, implied blowjob.

Genre: 18+, smut, minors do not interact!

WC: 1.9k

“Fuck heeseung,” you moaned as he pounded into you from the back in the empty locker room. Your loud moans were bouncing off the walls cause he was making you feel so good it was impossible to keep quiet.

He had showered after the game and called you in the locker room once everyone left so he could finally have you all to himself.

This all started because you had to be naughty and cheer for his teammate today.

He was honestly so sick of your constant flirting with his teammates. He knew you did it just to get him going, and he hated that it fucking worked.

It was obvious to anyone that you two had the hots for each other. Still, you were both too prideful to act on it, so unknowingly, both of you participated in this communication less flirting dual trying to make the other crack first. Heeseung didn’t like losing, that’s for sure, but after he saw you smiling at his teammate Jake and cheering him on for some reason that pushed him past his limit, he wanted to make you jealous, make you crack first, have you crawling on your knees begging for him. But obviously, all that washed down the drain, and now he had to prove to you he was better than stupid Jake and that he was team captain for a reason.

But he couldn’t lose to you completely, so, at halftime, he made a bet with you that if he scored the game's last shot, he could take you any way he wanted to.

Since he gave in first and you won the little cat and mouse game, you supposed you could at least give him that. You were happy you did after he leaned into your ear and whispered all the filthy things he wanted to do with you before the game even ended. Your panties had already gotten damp just thinking about how good he was gonna ruin you.

“Feel good?” He smacked your ass, the loud slap echoing in the steamy confined room. “I told you I’d make the last shot, promised you I’d fill you up so good and fuck your pretty little cunt just like this,” he grunted, feeling your walls sucking him in deeper.

He collected a ball of spit in his mouth and spat it out, watching your body tremble as the wet sticky substance travels down your ass crease and pools around your puckered rim.

“Oh shit,” you moan, voice shaking when you feel him sink his right thumb in your tight rim, thrusting it in and out to match the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Mmph-fuck” he mumbled to himself as he felt both your perfect little holes taking him so well and squeezing him like you just couldn’t get enough.

Which you couldn’t. You guys had been playing hard to get for far too long and right now you needed him more than anything.

You teased heeseung by harmlessly flirting with his teammates instead of him to piss him off. He’d wink at the other cheerleaders that eyed him occasionally instead of you for payback. You’d huff angrily but continue putting on your little show cause you just loved to see that jealous side of him. He was so possessive over you, but he wasn’t even your boyfriend, and something about that just made you want him even more.

“Heeseung faster, please go faster” Loud, obscene skin-slapping noises filled up the shower room as he obeyed your request.

“Better hold on tight, baby,” he grunted while harshly gripping the flesh of your meaty waist in his palm while his other was preoccupied with fingering your tight little ass.

You held onto anything for support, your hands grasping the small bench in front of you to stabilize yourself as he mercilessly bottomed out in your juicy cunt with each stroke. “You feel it, baby. Feel me deep inside claiming both your sweet little holes?” He didn’t even know how he kept up with his quick pace and fucked you like this, but he was just determined to please you and show you that he was better than anyone else and that he could give it to you just how you wanted it.

Your head was spinning at his words. They were so filthy, but you loved every last ounce of it. “Yes, heeseung, please stuff me full” You bit your lip, moaning as your tits jiggled from him, roughly bucking his hips into you.

“So fucking naughty baby begging me to stuff your little holes” his eyes nearly rolled back from the sight, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from your jiggly ass bouncing every time his thighs met yours or the way your pussy was covering his dick in your creamy wetness. “So fucking wet. Tell me, baby, what’s got you creaming on me so hard?” he bit his lip, keeping up with his fast pace sweat beads forming all over his tired overworked body. “Is it the way I talk to you, huh?” He slapped your ass again, making you lose your balance but quickly holding you up by your waist as he pulled you against his body again. “Or the way I fuck your wet little pussy raw and make it mine?”

You were too fucked out to speak, too lost in pleasure to even think his cock was so deep, and that, mixed with his thumb fucking into your ass and the way he spoke to you, was just way too much for your poor brain to handle.

“Maybe the way I stuff your holes full of me, hmm? Which is it?” He asked cockily while he reached his hand down to roll your throbbing clit between his fingers and sticking his thumb knuckle deep in you.

“Yes!” You screamed, throwing your head back and arching, trying to feel him inside your holes as deep as possible. “A-all of it heeseung fuck I’m so close,” you slurred your words in between loud moans as your face furrowed with pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s right fuck you better than Jake, right? You think he’d know how to work your body like this?” He growled, feeling himself getting upset at the fact you cheered for Jake all game and not him even once. “Think he can fuck you nice and deep like me?”

“No-no heeseung, only you, only your cock” you managed to whimper out, reassuring him that he’s all you’d ever need as your walls squeezed around his thick base.

“Only me,” he moaned, feeling his joints starting to ache from plowing into you so roughly. “You’re only mine got that?” He wasn’t intentionally trying to spill his true feeling for you like that, but the moment was too heated for him not to. Everything just felt so fucking good how could he stop himself from professing his strong like for you when you clenched on his dick so nicely and made him feel like the luckiest man alive.

You could barely hold yourself up as your legs nearly gave out when he hit that spot so deep inside you it had you screaming and cumming violently around his long cock. “Yours yours, only yours” You gave yourself to him completely while he played with your clit rubbing it in fast circles giving you maximum pleasure.

“I’m only yours, too, from now on, okay?” He moaned, holding himself back from cumming so he could hear you say the words first. He needed to know you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you.

Suddenly, you felt a wave of possessiveness wash over you from his words. “My heeseung,” you moaned, and as the words fell from your lips, you loved the way it sounded having him all to yourself. Now all those trashy girls on the cheerleading team could leave your man alone.

“Yes, y/n,” he moaned, and it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. It was so soft yet erotic at the same time, making you clench around him even harder as he spilled his thick cum into your pulsating heat. “I’m yours,” he confesses while tiredly bucking his hips to pump his cum deep In you as he wraps his arm around your body, squishing your breast in his palm and kissing the side of your head. “All mine,” he panted into your hair, both of you completely spent and shaking with exhaustion.

He helped you stand upright and carefully pulled out of both your twitching holes watching as his cum dripped down your thighs, solidifying that you were his and only his.

He pressed you against his heaving chest, pulling you close to his body, rubbing his palm over your chest and stomach while leaving a trail of sensual wet kisses just below your ear.

You leaned your head back on his shoulder, placing your hand over his and humming lowly from the feeling of having him so close to you after all this time.

You both hit the post orgasm phase at the same time, and he sat down on one of the benches in the locker room, pulling you sideways onto his lap. “Please don’t ever cheer for him again,” he said while stroking your arm softly. “I can’t stand it,” he whispered and closed his eyes before kissing your forehead gently.

If you had of known he would have been that upset about a little teasing, then you would have never done it in the first place. “Then don’t wink at other girls either,” you pouted.

“I swear I didn’t even look at them, plus it was just a little payback for you being naughty” he smiled and rubbed your nose with his. “So we’re even now?”

“Even,” you hummed happily, pecking his lips, and you couldn’t ignore the hardness poking against your lower back. “Heeseung!” you whined.

“What?! I can’t help it,” he whined back. “Besides, I’m too tired to even do anything about it,” he chuckled as he just held you in his arms, rocking you back and forth gently.

A few minutes pass by, and he nervously breaks the silence. “So, do you maybe wanna go on a date with m-me later?” He avoided all eye contact with you, suddenly getting all nervous and shy to ask you, but it’s been on his mind for a while now, so he thought he’d just come out and say it. Hopefully, you wouldn’t say no.

You pulled him in for another kiss. “I’d like that very much” he smiles in relief, feeling like he could finally breathe after you said yes. “But first, there’s just one thing you didn’t claim,” you say with a smirk.

He just looks at you, confused. “What do you mean?”

You don’t say anything and break free from his hold, lowering yourself to your knees right before his eyes. “You’ll see,” you say as you grip his knees slightly, spreading his legs apart as his hard dick rests hard and heavy on his sweat covered abdomen.

“Oh,” he smirked at your bold move spreading his legs nice and wide to let you do what you wanted to him. “First this, then a date,” he smiles sheepishly as you take his girth into your hand, pumping him nice and slow, earning a low moan from him, and you just knew this was going to be so fun.

“Yes, captain,” you say before swallowing him down in one take as he moves your hair to the side, stroking your cheek, smiling down at you cause you called him captain.

If he was going to fuck you like this all the time, then you can’t promise that you wouldn’t flirt with his teammates again just to make him a little jealous.

No part two

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback!

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Interlude of Jealous Desires

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader x Tormund Giantsbane

Length: 16.8k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, allusions to past rape, smut, outdoor sex, exhibitionism, jealousy and possessive tendencies, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, anal, f/m/m threesome (no m/m interactions), soft dom/sub dynamics

Notes: Tormund will not become a love interest or a consistent participant in Jon and the Readers relationship, his interest is much more casually physical. Takes place during as of yet unpublished chapters, but there are no actual spoilers for any future plot. Can mostly be read as a one shot, but the story does canonically take place in Heart of the Great Wolf.

It was turning into an obsession. What started as a fleeting jealousy, turned into a strange new desire that grew inside him until it burned bright into a need. But he didn't know why at first. Jon had been jealous before. Jealous about many things but he knew a lot were about you. 

He was jealous of how much time in your previous years in Winterfell you would spend working alongside Theon, when Jons duties were further away. He was jealous how he had to spend time with you entirely alone, just to be able to even hold your hand. Jealous that Robb would always be the one to escort you to feasts or events, because it wasn't appropriate that a bastard walked you arm in arm to your seat. 

But this was new. This kind of jealousy was one he never really had before. Part of him felt it a bit, knowing you were thousands of miles away from him married to Robb, but he didn't have to stand there and watch you two so consistently. Didn't have to see the look in his brothers eyes watching you. But he did have to stand there and see that wanting look shine in a different pair of blue eyes. 

Jon knew if he could, Tormund would've taken you for himself. It was obvious early on and it never really went away. He just respected Jon enough not to do anything about it. He would watch, and wink, and flirt and pull you close with an arm around your shoulder, though it never pushed a line that was too far. 

But it made Jon seethe all the same. 

Maybe once upon a time the insecurity would've hit, but the jealousy wasn't about that anymore. Jon was confident in what you two had now. There was an intensity between he and you that was impossible to tame, and he could rest easy knowing you both wanted each other deeply. But he was jealous that being so open with you came easy. That Tormund wouldn't hesitate to joke and smirk and flirt with you, when Jon thought he was bordering on too bold just kissing you in front of other people.

What started as a jealousy of the ease you had with one of his closest friends, turned to a strange taboo of wanting to fuck you out in the open, so whoever just so happened to walk by, could see what he did to you and now it all led here. Fighting against a possessiveness in his head, he wanted this, but he also hated it. 

Part of him felt guilty, he knew how you would react but Jon also was fairly certain he could gently coax you into it. You put a lot of trust in Jons hands during sex and that wasn't about to change now, but he also knew it sometimes was easier to come at you with a plan already in place instead of simple asking. 

He knew what you had been through, and he knew he Would never overstep what he knew were your limits, especially since you yourself didn't necessarily know those limits if asked. 

You technically were more experienced then Jon now. Once at the same level together, you surpassed him in marriage, as he was well aware Robb had experience. Spent enough time around groups of girls Robb used to be involved with and Jon learned quickly his brother clearly had a healthy drive for women. Then Robb married you and Jon only got hints in visions that you knew more of sex then Jon did. 

By the time you returned to him, the only experience Jon had was..well it was forced on him, and that was the end of him wanting to think about that. 

But you didn't go from just marriage to here, no. Things happened in between and now while you still were more experienced then Jon was, it fell into his responsibility to ensure you were safe the whole time. 

It all led here, Jon approaching a certain figure as he was leaned against the landing overlooking the training yard of Winterfell. Knowing what exact details he had been going over again and again in his head to ensure no room for mistakes would be left. But, perhaps it helped, that he trusted Tormund, and maybe that's why he was the only person in existence Jon would ever go to about this.

He could at the least, trust Tormund wouldn't hurt your mind or body. So, after a week of obsessing over it in the dark of night, Jon came to Tormund's side that afternoon. 

Both men looking out to the yard as Jons eyes naturally found yours, trying to navigate what you were doing around a young one vying for your attention. But you so easily let yourself be distracted by the little one. You did so for many of the younger children of the free folk, you had always been good at that. You spent years on and off, helping raise all of Jons younger siblings, and you once had Shireen too. You were easier going and smiled more with children then adults, and Jon loved that. 

So talking about you in such a filthy way as he watched you pick the little one up into your arms with a playful shout, it made Jon feel like a bit shameful. But as he spoke, arms crossed over his front with a low roughness, the second it was out there he couldn't not follow through to the end. 

“You want her.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Tormund slowly formed almost an amused expression as he and Jon kept their eyes both on the same person. “There a question in there, Snow?” 

But Jon didn't look his way, just at you and how bright your rare smile shined, even from up where he stood. “No. The way you look at her, talk about her, I know you want her.” His jaw clenched somewhat, a bit of, not quite jealousy, but something frustrated pooled out. “Lots of men want her. Hard not to, she's beautiful, smart, knows how to take care of herself.” 

“She's also quiet and sweet which is why you're so fucking sappy about her.” Both men smirked with a bit of a chuckle. No denying such a fact there. “And you're so damn territorial, I don't know why you haven't tried throwing me out of this place. Considering if you never came back, maybe I'd be the one fucking her good at night.” 

They had reached the point Tormund could make such a joke and Jon wouldn't take offence, but he didn't laugh, nor smirk. Instead a darker tint fell into his grey eyes as his face sat more like stone as hesitated before almost hissing it out. “What if I let you?” Tormund finally turning to look more at him but Jon didn't face his way yet. “What if I let you fuck her?” 

“Why would you do that?” 

Inhaling deeply, Jon barley could take his eyes from you. As if he had to be watching you to make sure what he was saying always had your best interest in mind. “You wouldn't be alone with her, I'd be there the whole time.” 

He figured the man could live with that, but he knew he was about to have to find the words to back himself up as Tormund smirked, looking back at you. “Little crow wants to watch another man take his woman, is that it?” 

But Jon said no. Short and almost angry as he inhaled and exhaled deeply to will his heart beat down once more. “At first I was only going to make you watch me fuck her. Knew you wanted her, I'd make you sit in the room and watch me take her apart all night, but you wouldn't be happy just watching.” Jons voice lowering even more as if a true secret, “And neither would I.”

Leaning against the wood railing, Tormund appeared far more casual and aloof then what the subject between the men was about. “Would be cruel making a man just watch.”

The agitations sat deep in his chest, but Jon knew it was something he would have to live with in order to follow through with this. He wanted this only slightly more then he hated the idea of sharing you with him, or anyone. “I'd have rules.” Tormund nodded, and Jon leaned forward to rest his forearms against the railing as the other man currently did. “You break any of them, do anything she doesn't like or want, or hurt her in any way-”

Tormund smirked, “Kill me, stab me, toss me in a dungeon. Got it. Your girl, your rules. What about hers?” Nodding to you, currently blissfully unaware as you stood in the yard chatting with Maege Mormont, one hand constantly moving to entertain the child you held, who almost tried turning getting your attention into a game. 

But Jon knew the way you'd look at him, the way you would cling to him when it was all over and even the moments Jon would take you hard and fast in the middle of the day you always held onto him a little tighter just before returning to the world. His heart sunk more into his chest, you put so much trust in him and Jon took every bit of it more seriously then any other. The worst thing in his mind would be to hurt you in any capacity similar to what you suffered through at Ramsay Boltons hands.

“Whatever she wants. But she won't have any.” Tormund glanced to him with a curiosity but it was much clearer that time around that it wasn't just lust bringing Jon to this idea, he was trusting Tormund with something important. “She'll do whatever she thinks you want. Means I need you to listen to what I say, beacuse she won't be confident enough to say no.” 

The two men stood for a little while going back and forth, finally coming to an agreement, and Jon knew there were a few more details to iron out before they parted ways. “You can't cum inside her.” Tormund did nothing but listen, thankfully as Jon lowly muttered out some of his own hard limits. “You can anywhere on her, or down her throat. But nowhere else. I don't care how close you are, you pull out of her, or I'll kick you out then and there.” 

To his credit, Tormund only smirked. In his own mind, he had no problems with Jons rules but it was amusing to him how stern and aggressive he spat them out with while his eyes were somehow soft while watching you from afar. “Anything else?” 

Exhaling deeply, Jon lowered his tone a bit more. “There's something I need you to do. Tonight.” 

You remembered the early days of your time in Winterfell. Late afternoons turned into evenings where you wanted to be away from people in relative quiet and many times you would end up in the small sept with your back against the wall. Legs sat in front of you as you made your way through whatever book found its way into you hands that time. It was always quiet, and you knew the few who visited would come at specific days and times. Meaning you would always be left in a peaceful quiet. 

It felt a tad ironic at the time. Many of your days on Dragonstone were spent finding new and inventive ways to avoid your septa. Septa Moelle in a way fit right in with the company on the island. A wrinkled face that was sharp as an axe, face always twisted in perpetual disapproval with eyes narrowed in stern suspicion and you suspected she hated you as much as you hated her. 

It was easier at first, you spent half of your lessons with her and half with Maester Cressen, and so it didn't leave her much time to sniff out what she disapproved of. Cressen was always far more kind to you, and understood your more difficult moments. 

He hadn't been a fan of Dragonstone as a place to live but he also had lived many years in Storms End previously. He was the Maester there and helped raise the Baratheon brothers, especially after your grandfather and grandmothers passing. Stannis wasn't as charming or wild as Robert and Renly and it left your father as his favourite, making the older mans fondness for you just as natural. 

When you had returned from Winterfell the first time, he was eager to build on what you had learned there and enjoyed that you were able to open up more now. Septa Moelle, was not. She got along with you far less after that. And every time you came back from Winterfell it got worse. 

She would call you difficult, scold you every time she thought you spoke out of turn, say that the Stark boys were teaching you to act like an animal. She was not unlike your mother in such a way during your more difficult years growing up. 

You had been pressed up against a wall listening to your mother speak to your father over their late supper, about Septa Moelle's complaints that you had not shown up for your embroidery lessons again. “She's a stubborn little beast.” 

Your father was quick as he was dismissive, barley looking to his wife and saying, “She's a child.” 

Shaking her head, your mother had her own exasperated tone. “You barley know her. You think because she smiles and listens the days you have her, that makes her sweet. She's sullen, and stubborn, and sinful. We need to stop sending her North.” 

You had felt the urge in your heart to burst into the room and protest, but you also knew you would only get lectured for spying on their conversation. Your father had yet still to change his dismissive tone. “Lord Stark has been a good influence on her education. And it's the only place our daughter has been able to befriend children her age.” 

Selyse shook her head with a dismissive huff of a doubtful tone. “They are a bad influence, nothing more. She shouldn't be spending so much time around boys at this age. It should worry you as well.” Your father asking what specifically should worry him, and you recalled at the time not having a clue what they were talking about. “How old will those boys be soon? Thirteen? Fourteen? Do you really wish for our daughter to spend so much of her young years around these Northern boys verging on men? Septa Moelle already has expressed that it might be prudent to start ensuring her maidenhood is in tact when she returns-”

Your father clearly grew impatient, voice raising. Not to anything close to a yell, but on a man quiet like him, the slight raise was with enough of a tone that it may as well echoed throughout the entire island. “Do you think Eddard Stark is a man raising his sons to violate a young girl, a ward, that we have repeatedly trusted in his care?” Your mother didn't say anything, but you could imagine she was tilting her head with a flatly expressed plead for him to listen to her, which he didn't. “I will not have her septa checking to ensure she is innocent just because you two disapprove of their company. Her attitude is one thing, Selyse. But it is another to say that they've done anything to her. She's more likely to be influenced negatively just being around Allard then she is the Stark boys.” 

That almost made you laugh. Allard was once Stannis's squire, and now was part of your household guard, normally assigned to watch you. He was rash and vocal about deeds you would listen to in as much shock as entertainment. He, each time you sailed North, had been there to accompany you. Telling you of the girlfriends he had in Oldtown, Kings Landing and Bravvos. He would laugh at your shocked expression and jest that were he and his father to have remained smugglers, his father said he'd likely have one day ended up sentenced to the Wall. “Now that's a worse punishment then I could ever imagine, tiny doe.” 

You had asked why and he didn't elaborate. Later when you had brought it up to Maester Cressen, he had laughed himself as he promoted you to continue the lesson he had you writing out. “If you don't know what that means, then I think we can assure Lady Selyse that the Stark boys are nowhere near as a threat as she worries.” He had then told you men of the Nights Watch would take no wives and father no children which is what Allard was referring too, and he almost laughed more at how you almost were more confused. 

“Why would he be thinking about girls like that when at the Wall? He would have more important things to think about.” 

Cressen rose an eyebrow at you, knowing it would pass you by. “If memories of what Robert was like growing up tell me anything, girls would be the only thing that boy would be thinking about.” 

But then you were older, hiding away for quiet in a little sept. Lighting a candle before The Maiden with the thought that if you were going to be here anyways, you may as well be honest about which of the gods would have issue with your actions most. 

It was different now, though. You felt no call to the sept, nor Seven. Especially not in the snows of winter. Now you would some days find yourself in the godswood by the Weirwood. You did not have obligations to the old gods in your words, prayers, or even actions as if always to be guilty. You could stand amongst them, and know they understood you were doing your best. Wondering who could see you here, what they were trying to say as the cold winds blew through your hair. 

Only, the ones which could see you were not quite that of the gods you thought you were speaking too,  and not knowing more then one pair of eyes was watching. 

“Hiding from me are you?” Your head turning quickly to the side only to relax at the sight of Jon approaching. You couldn't help but wonder how he wasn't cold. Not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should, but somehow still managing to look cozier then yourself. Stepping back, your eyes glanced up to the red of the leaves before looking back to the snow and night. 

A small half smirk creeping it's way on to your features. “Actually, I was thinking about what a bad influence you have been on me.” Jons head tilting back in amused question as he repeats you, a smirk forcing itself off your face to remain impassive as you turn to face him. “If I recall I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.” 

His eyes narrowed a little, arms crossing over his chest. “And how did I do that, exactly? Remind me.” 

Just as he came a little too close, you sensed his ploy, and twisted and ducking under where he moved quick to grab you. Flipping around to face him with your eyebrows raised. “Such a brute, grabbing at innocent girls in the woods at night.” 

Jon only rolled his eyes trying to smother a great smirk, before this time catching your arm as you moved from his grasp. Just as he did once before, Jon took little strength to move you. Tossing your back right into the Weirwood tree behind you. Both of his own gloved hands pressing against the bark beside your head as he leaned himself in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eye almost ready to laugh more then it was lustful. “Maybe you have a point.” 

Your laugh almost caught him off guard, letting a hand slip down to run gently along your waist while the other toyed with your hair at the side of your head. Your own hands innocently finding his own waist as you leaned back a little bit more relaxed. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to Winterfell, and what does this strong, Northern boy do? Shove her against a tree because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words. I was never the same after that.” 

His voice low, more of a muttering husk as he glanced to your lips and up. “No, but you are more fun this way.” Your expression falling flat, and it became Jons turn to laugh. 

Trying not to grin nor melt at how little you felt you got to hear it, and how much his laugh and smile made him impossibly handsome. “No, I get it. The charmless, rigid, bore of a Baratheon girl had to be shown how to open up by brute force.” 

Leaning more into you, Jons breath could be felt dancing across you cheek as he moved towards your neck. “That boring Baratheon girl sure responded eagerly for someone who now says she didn't want to be kissed.” A breathy laughed shared between you as it melted away in you, feeling in place a shiver taking home up your spine as he so gently trailed his lips along your neck to up just below your ear. Pressing a tender kiss there before holding your waist tighter, free hand moving your hair from in his way. 

The exhale leaving you was shaking, Jon once more teasing you with light presses of his lips along your neck again. Both hands smoothing up and down your waist as he did so. For only a moment did your hands find their way up his chest before you tried pulling back. Glancing around with more of a flustered whisper. “Jon, you remember where we are right?” All he did was hum though, never letting his kiss do anything but tease against you right over where he knew your neck was sensitive. “You want to do this in the godswood?”

You felt the smirk, not even needing to see his face. Your hands against your better judgment drifting up and already tangling themselves in his curls. “These aren't your gods with all those rules, darling. The old gods don't care what a man and his girl do with each other out here.” 

Head tilting with a sigh, giving him more room. As his lips were gentle and soft, his facial hair scratched at your neck that he knew was the reason your breathing picked up. Another whisper as you tried to hold onto something sensible, “Anyone could come out here and see us,” 

If you thought that would do the trick, you were entirely wrong. Moving his hands to your hips, Jon all but growled into your neck, “Good.” Before shoving you roughly, your back flat against the tree as he pressed himself tight against you, teeth biting down. Keeping you flat and still as his teeth bared. Biting up and down without even giving you a light brush of his lips or tongue to sooth the pain, just marking your skin until it turned colour for him. 

His hips pushing into yours as much as he could, and you hadn't the mind to realize he was wearing far less and far easier layers to feel his cock pressing hard against you through. Doing so on purpose, knowing how easily you worked him up, could fluster you when he was bold about showing it. 

Your voice caught in your throat, trying to hold back whatever deep sound of need was brewing inside of you but your neck burned with how rough he was treating it. Everyone was going to see it come tomorrow morning you knew, but moving to your jaw, Jon gave the same rough scrape of his teeth before meeting your lips. 

Capturing the sound in his own mouth, Jon kissed you deeply. Every breathe from you now poured into his mouth as you clung tightly with your hands in his hair. The feeling of him running up and down your dress before Jon just started to pull the material. The cold hitting your legs drastically, but the whimper only made Jon grow greedy. Hand it all over to him, his demanding kiss spoke. 

Pulling only far enough from your lips did Jon raise one hand up, biting the end of his glove before roughly pulling it off. You didn't even see where it ended up, Jon using that now free hand to grasp your jaw and tilt your head up to once more capture your lips. His were always so soft but he guided you with such a command that you surrendered to him. 

Letting your lips part open the second his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and a needy moan gracing him as he slid his tongue in your mouth to brush against yours. His other hand, still gloved rose up to grasp the side of your face, holding you to him as he ground his hardening covered cock into you at how much you gave yourself over with ease. 

Your nails scratched at his scalp, something almost like a grunt vibrated deep in his chest, moving his uncovered hand back down to where he had yanked the skirt of your dress up, trying to will himself to part from your lips but always pushing you back for more the second he pulled away. Hand moving to the back of your neck, Jon barley tore from your lips, rasping deep against them as the slight trails of saliva still connected. Tempting him right back with each mutter. “You remember the first time I touched you?” 

Your head felt light, floating a bit as you nodded. One of your hands returning the gesture and scratching slightly along the back of his neck, voice hardly a whisper. “In the wolfswood..” 

Nodding, Jon bit your bottom lip, a hiss leaving him as he switched from a kiss to his teeth leaving your lip tingling as he slunk his hand over the thin fabric hiding you. “You have no idea what was running through my head, hearing you've never came before, knowing I touched you even before you did.” Another bite as he brushed his tongue against yours, fighting between a kiss and rambling deep against them. “Almost felt guilty, thought about you every night, trying to imagine what you'd feel like around my cock, knowing it wasn't even close. Only to have you tell me you've never touched yourself as if I wasn't going to lose my mind over it.” 

His fingers ran across the material, already feeling it was damp but increased the pressure anyways against you. Another sound deep in his chest as he held your forehead against his as his own breathing picked up. Voice still rambling, and you knew from how deep and almost mumbling it was, he could barley control what he was saying. “Gasping for me the second I did this,” his fingers slid under the fabric and brushed with purpose over your clit. Rubbing tightly against it, but this time unlike years ago as he recalled, Jon new exactly how to dangle you off that sweet edge right into painful and desperate  for him. “You wanna know what it was I really wanted to do? What I was thinking about while touching my beautiful, innocent girl for the first time?” 

You nodded, and Jon said nothing, skipping right to showing you.

Breath catching in your lungs, your back arched pushing your front right into Jon as he crowded you more. Two thick fingers sinking deep inside you, sliding right to the knuckle as you clenched around them already. His jaw clenched, breathing harsh through his nose as he watched your mouth drop open. As if nothing ever prepared you for when any part of him was inside you, you were tight but soaking around them. Sliding rough along a sensitive wall as he pulled them almost all the way out and sliding right back as deep as you could let him. 

The hand on the back of your neck turned you up again so Jon could watch your face, a slow but steady pace as his fingers moved inside of you. Your hands almost dropping instinctively to his shoulders but you knew he wouldn't let you hide there. It was almost humiliating how much Jon loved making you look deep into his eyes when some part of him was inside you. He didn't do it for that, but his insistent intensity over it always was too much for you. 

The coil inside your core spun and twisted as he sparked such burning pleasure inside you, your lips grasping at anything to say only to have something equally as humiliating come out instead, your hands grasping at whatever you could of him as you did so. “I never-” Your face almost twisting as the sting of a third finger joining interrupted you. But Jon ran his hand over the hair at the back of your head now gently, trying to prompt you. 

His voice was too low and sweet for how steadily his fingers fucked up into you. “You never what, darling? Be honest with me, it's alright.” 

You might have regretted saying it later, but you gasped it out in needy moans trying to follow along with it. “I never touched myself when I was with you.” His brows narrowed slightly as your hips almost grinded into his fingers with a strained gasp. “I wanted, gods, I wanted to do everything with you..wanted..wanted to give you everything..if, if I touched myself I'd be keeping all that from you and I didn't want that.” 

Fingers thick and as deep as they could to the knuckle, Jon leaned back to make you look at him with a slight almost shocked expression. “You never had an orgasm that I didn't give you?” When you nodded, Jon swore deep under his breath before roughly capturing your lips with his. 

Both of you knew that wasn't counting your time with Robb. But Jon never gave that any thought, the fact that during his most insecure years you trusted every single aspect of your pleasure only with him made his head spin. Thinking that maybe he really did ruin you, but that only made him desperate to do it even more. His thumb rubbing at your clit in right circles before giving up and letting the heel of his palm just grind roughly against you as his fingers ran along your walls. 

Jon knew he should've slowed down, but then he finally sensed it. Felt that feeling of being watched, and he knew exactly why. That growing urge to show you off, to prove how perfect you were for him with pride. Pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, he felt you clench around him only to pull out of you the second he realized you were seconds from falling over that edge. 

Lips parting from yours, you watched his eyes so dark they were of black ink as they looked over you blown wide open. Your voice was small as the sting from losing it so close had you feel strained. “Jon, please..”

Shaking his head, Jon moved both hands under the skirt of your dress. Grasping the edges of your underwear he pulled them down. Kneeling slightly to pull them off one foot at a time. Looking up at your heaving chest, his fist tight around the material before he shoved them away on his person without a single intention of giving them back as he stood up.

Your hands moved, trying to undo things to pull him out but Jons hands were faster, and rougher then yours. Looking up to your eyes, he didn't even blink as he did so. Your hands laid useless on his waist, digging into the leather as your heart raced and screamed at you. Running them up to cup both of his cheeks, Jon finally moved, all but kicking your legs apart as he ran the tip of his cock along your soaked core. 

Still one hand on himself, Jon used the other to yank up your leg to rest at his hip. His palm sliding down  to force the material of your dress to pool against you, exposing your actions to that side of the world. Pushing his tip into your clit you whined just as he sealed his eyes shut with a hiss. Holding a groan he swallowed it down to his chest before ensuring you were looking at him. 

Letting it slid back down he just barley sat at your entrance, one tiny slip and he could inch inside of you but his eyes were too soft for that yet. “Tell me you still belong to me,” Your brows narrowed in confusion, but Jons head tilted slightly almost pleading you to be honest. “I belong to you, but tell me you'll always belong to me, no matter what,”

You felt confused but nodded, “I belong to you Jon, I always will belong to you, I love you.” 

Jons face twisted, almost as if conflicted with something before deciding on a path. Sliding his cock slowly but deeply inside of you. The burn from the stretch of his cock was more then his fingers and you shook in his very touch. Sliding just as deep you gasped as you leaned this time into him and he let you for a moment. 

Only a few times did Jon steadily slide almost out of you before coming right back. Your core right back to twisting only this time it was harsh and breath stealing. Hands grasping his shoulders and part of his neck you looked up at him, his mouth parted in need before he grabbed your other leg, not letting himself leave your warmth, Jon picked you up properly. 

Shoving you back into the bark of the Weirwood did Jon barley let himself leave before thrusting hard back inside of you. His cock dragging along that same sensitive wall but now with a roughness that were there nothing in his way, would have loudly slapped and echoed in the empty, cold night. You clenched around him tightly, your heart pounding in your chest as you begged his name. 

Almost having to gasp for air, Jon captured your lips again. His cock not pounding very fast, but hard and rough. Rough enough you felt yourself cry out at particularly painful ones that Jon didn't even realize bordered on too much, but you knew you were utterly soaking his cock each time wanting exactly that pain. Since connecting your lips, Jon didn't let you leave. Leaning into you the second it felt as if you were to pull away for air. 

Fucking up into you again and again, Jon growled in his chest, almost snarling into your mouth the harder he pounded. Chasing something deep inside of you, as you clung and arched into him with nothing to support you behind the clawing inside your core to snap. A burning despite the snow and cold air around, nothing leaving you that wasn't whines in his kiss. 

You both knew it wasn't going to last. But, what you didn't know, was that Jon had other ideas for you that would more then make up for it. Pushing tightly against you, Jon sunk his cock deep as he thrusted only to slide his tongue back into your mouth just as he did so. One hand on your thigh now free to hold the back of your neck, keeping your lips fused to his. 

So close, you soaked around his cock only for Jon to groan your name against your lips. His cock so deep and so rough this time around that as your hands tangled themselves up in his hair, you were begging his name something you weren't even sure you understood. A cry that had to trust whatever he gave you, and all Jon gave you was nothing that was yours.

Pushing you more into the tree, Jon tried to push your free leg more so it widened you to him. His hips pounding rough into yours and only increased in how much it both felt good and was a painful feeling that only Jon could make you desire again and again. 

Muttering against your lips, “Don't come, don't you dare come, darling. I'll make you feel better, I promise. But right now, you need to trust me and not come.” Your head hid in his shoulder, nodding obediently as it almost made you tear up how much effort it took to hold back.

Your name groaned from his lips freely, just as you felt his cock deep inside you throbbing before as deep as he could go, finally came. His cum always was quite warm, but compared to the cold around your skin it felt almost hot in comparison. A deliciously thick never ending sea of his seed pouring deep inside of you as Jon moved you to look you in the eyes. 

A thought coming to his head almost came out of his mouth, but it wasn't the time. Not when he was being watched, not even for what this was this time. Holding it back as Jon once more bit and greedily guided your lips as he came and came deep inside. Nothing would leak out with how much was going deep in you, your whine against his lips as he shook. 

It felt like minutes passed before Jons seed had finished spilling inside of you. Panting heavily against your lips did Jon pull back to look you over, your voice needy as you leaned your forehead against his own. His hands a little less tight but you felt the bruises no doubt already there. A whisper only he could hear. “I love you so much,” 

Lust mixing with the raw feeling of your genuine innocence, Jon hadn't left your warmth yet but wrapped his arms around you. Coming up to pull your head into his neck as he did your hair, smoothing over and over again along it. His voice rasping in your ear, “And I love you, so much, so so much.” 

It took him a good few minutes to convince himself to pull out of you. Forcing himself to remember that he didn't let you cum for a reason, when he could stand there and want to let his cock pound fast until you soaked him so much there was no hiding it. But as you gently helped put his clothes back into place, Jon held both of your cheeks and let another kiss go to your lips and then forehead. 

Your hands around his waist keeping him close to you. “Why am I not allowed to cum?” 

But his answer, almost would've made you laugh were you not so overwhelmed with how much of Jons cum spilled inside, how much of it was there. How you could feel how warm and thick it was, and how he was so deep, it barley left any trace on your upper thighs as he left your core bare under your clothes. Jons answer though, was rasping and low no room for questioning despite his gentle touch. “Beacuse your King said so.” 

You let a breathy laugh escape, and as Jon started to chuckle as well, he nudged your nose with his before a gentle kiss was back on your lips. Eventually, Jon would convince himself to guide you back into the castle. But for now, as you nuzzled into his neck, Jon looked back to the watching eyes he could not see. 

Jon would take you once more in his room, spreading you bare across the fur to taste you before the fire, still refusing every orgasm for you, and yet he still wasn't satisfied. And he wouldn't be until this happened, and despite all the rules, all of the back and forth and the possessive nature inside him? Jon couldn't stop thinking about what he had planned for you the very next night. 

He knew Tormund had watched, and now Jon would ensure the only other person he'd trust with you, got their fill of you. In a very literal sense of such a word at that. 

You had been trying to figure out what had him on edge all day. Nothing seemed to stand out, and no one else acted as if anything was wrong or out of place, yet Jon spent most of the day a bit on the short side with people. Taking more time then normal to hover over you to the point you had spoken without looking, when your eyes had been on the papers in front of you for too long. “Can I help you with something, your grace?” 

Only then did you glance up, something sat on the edge of Jon's tongue but he just shook his head. A hand pulling you somewhat close to press a kiss to your forehead as he passed you by and left. Almost huffing out a laugh, you had returned to the task in front of you and thought little more of it for the time being. Theon had given him a glance as he left, turning to you somewhat amused, “What's wrong with him?”

You had returned to looking over your task at hand, but that time you did smirk with a chuckle. “Rest assured, there is always something wrong going on inside Jon Snow's head. Best not worry too much about it, or you'll drive yourself up the wall.” Tossing him the stack in front of you suddenly you nodded to them. “Now help me sort through all of this before it drives me up the wall, myself.” 

When you had come upon him yourself, it was growing late into the day as the sun had long since set far enough the sky was mostly dim save for the horizon. Almost amused how the tides had turned, him sat in his study with his elbow propped on the table so he could rest his forehead in his hand. You could see a deep, twisting in his expression even from where you stood behind him. Maybe you'd have surprised him were Ghost not to perk up with bright eyes the moment you gently slunk into the room. 

Turning to see what caught the direwolf's attention, Jon had a much softer smile fall over his face then he had any right directing towards you. Reaching one hand out, you returned the gesture. Letting Jon guide you to rest on his lap, you sitting to the side now with your hands gently along his chest and collarbones, his keeping you steady by your waist. “You've been in a strange mood all day.” 

Jon hummed low in his throat, grey eyes soft as he let them trail what appeared to be in an innocent manner along what he could see of you. “Have I?” 

A small nod of your head, you leaned forward with a hand cupping his cheek. Meeting him half way to gently press your lips to his only for a moment, before muttering against them. “I know you have a lot on your shoulders, I just want to know what I can do to help.” You knew Jon had been keeping some of the more difficult parts of ruling from you, trying to give you easier things to focus on, or tasks that he knew you would enjoy rather then feel frustrated with. But now it meant you were watching his shoulders tense, and his mood struggle. 

Running his hand up to rake through your hair, he barley shook his head. “You are helping. You take care of the little things so I have the time to deal with the difficult ones.” 

A smile forming on his face as you sighed flatly. “We can share both of those burdens equally, you know.  Otherwise, I'm just going to assume that you like being somewhat miserable all the time.” Your face twisted, trying to keep a playful smile from it as Jon let his other hand at your waist pinch you. Giving hardly anything of a small shove to his chest before he left your hair to trap your hand against him. 

His eyes too easy to melt into as was his voice rasping and alluring. “And you worry too much about everything. I prefer you like this, relaxed at the end of the night instead of worked up.” Your shoulders dropped a bit as you let your other hand toy with the curls loose and long. Finding his eyes, yours were narrowed only slightly as they shined with a small ask to listen, but he didn't. “You've done enough, I want you to let other people do things for you sometimes.” 

Sighing out, you shook your head with a tired disapproval that you both knew wasn't serious. “And what about you?” His head tilted somewhat to the side, and yet the tenderness in his eyes grew as the frown growing on yours was much more genuine as you looked at him. “Doesn't feel right, letting you do all the heavy lifting. If those people out there are going to insist on still calling me Queen, then I need to be doing more then just stand beside you. I need to help you. I want to help you, Jon.” 

Jon watched you carefully, his face soft but fallen a bit into something harsher as he looked over the seriousness in which you spoke. “You fought and died for these people. That's enough. Spent your whole life doing things for other people, but I don't want that. I'm happy doing all this, long as I know your relaxed.” 

It was barley a smirk or even a lightness but you were close enough Jon caught both. “Not doing a very good job then, are you?” Rolling his eyes, Jon sighed and grabbed your hips to lift you up off of him, onto your own two feet. 

Pulling you into his side with an arm around your waist, Jon guided you out into the halls of the evening castle. “You're difficult, I'll give you that.” Your face twisting as you commented that you weren't sure if he was insulting you or not, the look on Jons face only added to the playful offence. “I'd never insult you. Only tease you.” 

Muttering under your breath with a shake of your head, “Relentless teasing, you mean.” 

Just as Jon had reached the outside of his chambers, he suddenly turned to you. Moving you by the hips against his closed door with a small thud, crowding you with a playful raise on an eyebrow to accompany the bemused smirk. “We both know this is nothing compared to what I could be doing to you. And maybe,” One hand moved to tilt your chin up gently to meet his eyes as he leaned in. “I have far better ways of making you nice and relaxed for me then I've led on.” 

Your hands trailed along his chest resting down more across the leathers on his stomach. “And what does that include precisely, Snow? Going to take a miracle to accomplish that with me of all people.” 

Reaching behind you, Jon opened the door before wrapping an arm behind your back to keep you steady. Yourself not realizing, he also did it, so you would not be able to turn around and see what his plan was before he could properly guide you into it. Slowly stepping inside, Jon only leaned his arm back to slam the door shut with a loud bang. Not wasting time after to run his hands along your shoulders before slipping your cloak off, tossing it off to the side of nowhere. 

Your hands now keeping steady on his waist as he looked down at you with a darkness creeping up and fast that matched the deep rasp of his voice as he held you tight to him by your hips. “Won't take a miracle, just doubling the amount of work it already takes to make you beg for me.” 

Lungs hitching the air flowing through you as Jon eyed you up and down, his grip feeling more like need then it did entirely intentional. But Jon wanted you just the right amount of worked up before he let this night happen. The other pair of eyes was willing at the very least for Jon to do so first. 

Not given much of a chance to respond, Jon trailed his hands up to the middle of your dress, hands hovering right at the small string of clasps that kept it together. Normally he would wait for you to nod before undoing them, but this time Jon only stood silent with his eyes never leaving yours as he unclasped them. Leaving your front open as only the thin, dark shift underneath would remain were he to shove the rest of it all on the ground. 

For now though, he seemed to have left it. Looking down at you, one hand now running along your neck gently, down the middle of your throat as he exhaled deeply through his nose at how you almost nervously swallowed at the sensation. “There's something you should know,” Your eyes flashing in an innocent concern, making Jon feel all the more like a lecher. “Last night, you were worried someone might see us out in the godswood?” 

You nodded, but the tensing in his arms was soothed as Jon traced a hand along your still covered breast while the other tilted your chin to look at him. His fingers tracing around the small bud before he could feel your nipple through the fabric. Not slipping his hand in to touch you, but never quite letting his thumb leave it as he watched your breathing pick up again, your eyes fluttering as you tried to focus. 

“Did someone..” Jon only nodded, stepping a big closer turning your head up better to look at him as he did so, running his other thumb in tandem over what he could reach of your throat. “Who?” You felt the nerves in your blood rising as it conflicted with the sparks of pleasure lighting a fire between your veins. 

For a split second, Jon glanced behind you with a sharper narrowed look and just as you thought you saw him nod he grasped your breast more roughly and pulling a light gasp from you. But one that was far surpassed by the feeling which followed. The loose fabric of the remainder of your dress was pulled from your body and tossed behind you as a low voice rumbled close to your ear. “Fucking cruel not letting a woman cum twice in a row.” 

Jon clearly expected the reaction, as soon as your heart raced in your chest you gasped loudly, turning around only to have Jon pull your back tight against his chest, one hand on your hip the other draped across your stomach to keep you against him as your hands grasped his forearm almost in defence. 

Many blue eyes haunted you now. Deep bright ones which were nothing but memories of sorrow, pale ones that some days you still felt as if right in front of you, and shining unnatural glowing ones like crystal that were coming for you all. But these ones, never were in the realm of intimidating until right now. 

Tormund was said to have the name of Giantsbane and whatever came about to give him that, could've easily come from his stature alone. He was as tall as he was broad and the aura which followed him was that of a man larger then life, but never before did you feel so small in comparison. His eyes ran down you as freely as they ever had, and he spared no care in hiding it in front of Jon. 

His chuckle was deep in tone as he nodded up to Jon behind you, “That why you're always so on edge, pretty crow? Whats the longest he's not let you cum?” 

The fact that Jon hadn't said a word made you feel even more nervous, but as your mouth stammered for any answer and finding none, Jon squeezed your hip. His voice was low, quite low and felt much more rough and controlled then before. “You can tell him.” 

Breathing it out as if one word, it only made Tormund smirk a he stepped closer. “A week..” 

Glancing behind you, he raised an eyebrow with a deep, knowing accusation. “You keep her like this for a week, Snow? Don't know how she hasn't come running to me already, woman like her should be getting more then she can handle.” 

The arm across your stomach pulled you a tad closer, the feeling of Jons hardening, covered cock suddenly pressing into your ass with no shame as Jon grasped the edge of you dark shift, raising it up just slightly too indecent in other company, so Tormunds greedy eyes could look all he wanted. His voice though, wasn't directed at you. “You saw her last night, the way she clung to me when I filled her, imagine how good that feels when she cums around you after a week of denying her.” 

It was the way they spoke to the other about you, Jons hands so greedily all over you and Tormunds eyes seeking the rest, but then they stood there speaking about you as if you weren't even there that made you feel dizzy, but in that moment of quiet did Jon lean his mouth to your ear. “Do you want him too?” 

Something inside you was a mixture of difficult to ascertain feelings. Part of you felt utterly humiliated, nothing was even showing but in just a shift you felt completely exposed in front of Tormund, but you also felt nervous and intimidated the ease in which he was standing in the room getting whatever eyeful he was enjoying. But then again, that rushing of blood between your legs hadn't left even though you thought it should have. 

You didn't answer though, eyes wide and mouth agape as your chest clearly heaved along your heavy breaths, and Jon pulled you back to press your ass into his cock more. “It's alright, we're not trying to force you into anything. Just want you to be honest.” Your voice breathlessly asked about what, and Jon kept you in place as Tormund now stood close enough you could feel his own degree of warmth as he stood tall over you. “Do you remember what I told you about him? That thing you thought I was lying about?” 

Mouth moving to answer, Tormunds large hand tilted you to look up at him. His light blue eyes deep and so blatantly wanting as he rumbled low, “Speak up now.” 

Swallowing nervously, you felt still confused, not quite sure what was going on even though both men were so obviously on the same page. “He, he said if you had the chance..you'd-” Jon squeezed your hip and Tormund leaned down just the slightest as his touch had let to leave. “That you'd take the opportunity to be inside me if you could.” That certainly was a bit more formally stated then what came rambling out of Jons mouth that night, but it was the broad strokes at the least. “But he wasn't..it was only a..”

Knowing you were trying to grasp at your words to claim it to be a joke or an exaggeration, Jon stood firm behind you, letting Tormund run his hand along your jaw and neck with an almost smug shine in his eyes. “Your crow's telling the truth, been wondering how good you'd feel around my cock a long time. Would've taken you for myself all the way back in Castle Black, if he didn't come back first.” 

Just as Tormund moved to reach for the thin straps of your shift, did Jon from behind you glare something mighty, making the man stop mid movement. Almost challenging the other to keep going before Jon rasped out, “She hasn't said yes.” 

Tilting his head down to look over you, Tormund had a knowing in his eyes that you felt as if could see right through the little covering you had left and could see how conflicted the wetness forming between your legs left you, and he knew it wasn't Jons touch alone doing it. “I know want when I see it, Snow.”

But Jon this time, didn't do it to tease. Instead his hands moved to your waist and tugged you back almost half a foot as Jon did. His voice bordering on something dark. “I don't care what you think you see, she says yes or it all stops here.” 

As you quietly muttered, “Jon?” His head turned to look at you more over your shoulder as he realized with a bit of guilt, that you weren't grasping what was going on as well as he thought you would. He could tell you felt embarrassed and turned on to a degree but his heart fell heavy as Jon looked at your innocent confusion meeting the others eyes. “I don't..I don't understand..you want him to...” 

Sighing deeply to himself, on glanced up at Tormund a silent ask to give him a moment. Turning you in his arms to face him, he held you one hand on your upper arm, as it reached up to rest against his stomach, his other cupping your cheek as he spoke much more tender then before. “I just want you to feel good, darling. And I really think letting me and Tormund be with you tonight will feel good, he wants you, and tonight I want you to want him.” 

There were the nerves Jon suspected, flickering eyes to nothing before landing on his chest as you tried to not fumble through your words. “But I love-” 

Running his thumb along the skin of your cheek, Jon leaned down so your eyes met at the same level. “I love you, and you love me, I know you do. But it's okay to want things you don't expect. You're not doing anything wrong by wanting this. I'll be here this whole time, I'm not leaving you alone. I'm here to make you feel good just as much as he is.” 

Your head dropped in thought, Jon gently turning you again to face Tormund who at least looked a little less intimidating as he stepped close to you. He was warned you would be incredibly nervous before you said yes to it, but instead of being off putting as he thought, Tormund found himself rather enjoying seeing you so out of your element, between the two men. “Snow's trusting me with you, and that don't come easy, pretty crow. He's fucking possessive, but he trusts that I'll treat you right. You just have to let me.” 

Looking up at Tormund, you felt his large hand trailing up your thigh and hip and back. Toying with the edge of your shift as you glanced back to Jon. “Are you sure-” Letting a hand grasp at your jaw, Jon leaned over your shoulder as he tilted your head enough to capture your lips with his. 

Cupping the side of your cheek firmly, Jon coaxed you to follow his lips until you relaxed in his touch, him pressing one more kiss before nudging your nose with his. “I was the one who asked him for this. I wanted him to be here, Tormunds the only one I trust to touch you, even just for tonight. But you have to say yes, or it ends here. Either he stays, or he leaves, and I'll take care of you myself.” 

Turning you then to look up at the much more wild man, Tormund was allowed the space finally to grasp at your hip. Leaving only Jons other hand at your waist on the other side, being what kept him to you. “Believe me, pretty crow. I have plenty of ways to take care of you.” 

It was maybe out of nerves, but you knew him leaving this room now felt like the wrong option, so you nodded. Jon mumbling in your ear that he needs you to say it out loud, so you looked more confidently up to Tormund. “Okay, I want this..I..” Turning to partially see Jon in the side of your vision, “What am I allowed or not allowed to do?” 

Jons chuckle was dark, and so was Tormunds as both men now moved to keep you in the middle of them. Jon tilted your head by your jaw back to face the taller one with a whisper in your ear. “Do whatever feels right, he knows what he's not allowed to do.” A hesitant expression still looking up at the taller man, Jon finally gave you an easy prompt. “How about you start with a kiss. Show Tormund how sweet tasting your lips are. I'll be right here.” 

But right here, meant in the room. As Jon gave you a tiny push, you realize he had you leave his touch entirely, only to be grabbed by the hips by Tormund and pulled into his front. Initially your hands found their way on the wrists grabbing you, but slowly you looked up to his face. Willing yourself to calm down enough, and that maybe if you just followed Jons first instruction it would get easier. 

Which was exactly what Jon wanted. He knew part of him would hate this, and already he did, but another part of him desperately wanted you to enjoy Tormund tonight, needed you to feel good when both of them were touching you. Sharing you made him feel angry and possessive, but there was little that didn't make Jon feel that way towards you anymore. This was a step. He needed to work through this angry possessiveness before it frightened you away. 

Slowly, you let your hands drift up to Tormunds chest. The moment you even slightly leaned up, Tormund happily took the reins from you. One hand moving up to your jaw as he pulled you up as he met your lips halfway. 

Your nerves running ragged, his kiss was rough and aggressive. Keeping you dangling off an edge of out of control but never letting you fall. Kissing Tormund was entirely different from the only other three people who ever had to you. Something wild and overpowering as he kept you by your jaw and neck right up against him, distracting long enough to run his hands along your shoulders and shove the thin straps of your shift partially down your arms. 

Pulling away, Tormunds own breathing picked up as did the darker glint in his eye as he nodded to your hands on him. Pulling them away for a moment, Tormund let them free the fabric as he yanked the rest of the material off of you. Left in no clothes did he very freely stand back to look much easier all over you with something that you couldn't decide made you excited or nervous. 

It was a strange feeling actually, realizing that none of what was under mattered to him. Tormund knew about the scar, and the rest of the marks along you, most from Ramsay didn't even phase him as he pulled you right back to him. One hand rough as it grasped at one of your ass cheeks, digging his finger tips into it as he kissed you, only to move with the same ferocity down your neck to match the bruises and teeth marks Jon left the night before on the other side. 

Grasping at his shoulders, you unknowingly arched into the touch, a stuttering gasp leaving you as he pulled you closer, your hips to his with the hand still grasping your ass. The foreign feeling of who was doing it, the scratching of his beard and overbearing size you felt as if you'd be powerless against him. 

From where you were kept, you couldn't see where Jon was or even hear and it made your heart race nervously. You weren't sure what fear made you more uncomfortable. If he really had just left you with Tormund all alone, or if just didn't want to touch you while someone else was. You didn't want that to be the night.

It was like he could sense you though, realizing in an instant Jon had yanked you from Tormunds greedy hold. A soothing feeling as you felt his chest bare as you were. Turning you in his arms, he grasped both of your cheeks as he muttered angrily, “I'm not leaving you,” His lips biting and harsh as he kissed you, the much more familiar sensation easing the tension in your chest as he coaxed you to let him control the kiss. Hardly pulling from you as he mumbled, “We're both going to be inside you, don't you worry,” 

You were trying to interject, wanting to ask what he meant but Jon did not allow you the air. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck into his curls while one of his own wrapped around your waist and back, pulling you into him. His lips stealing your breathe and leaving you lightheaded as he didn't stop. 

Trailing down the side of you neck he left marks on the night before, you gasped and jumped as he followed the exact same trajectory that left your neck so marked in the first place. The sting and burn mixing deeply with how much you arched into his touch. Nails scratching along his scalp and running the other down his chest. For once, his scars felt comforting. They were something you knew. 

Moving up to your ear, his voice was a strained husk, “Let him touch you, darling. He's always wanted to.” Moving so you turned around to where the bed was, that time you almost didn't contain the whine before it left your mouth. Pressing a kiss just below your ear, Jon ran his hands up and down your waist. 

“Maybe she's just impressed for once, Snow.” 

Jons hands tightened in something you sensed was much more possessive then he wanted to lead on, but he nudged you over to the now much more bare Tormund. By bare, you meant completely. Tall and large, giant was the right word for it and you felt yourself purposely trying not to stare but it only made the man laugh. 

Tormund closed the gap, grasping you by the front of your neck and pulling you up for another kiss as he in what felt like what would be much of the night, yanking you from Jon. “If you say sorry for staring, that's going to hurt a mans ego.” This time Tormund felt much more ready to continue, turning you to the bed and effortlessly picking you up by the hips to prompt you onto it. Half chucking you into the middle as he climbed over top you, eyes looking between your legs as they parted naturally. 

Without sparing any time, Tormund kneeled between your legs and spread them wider without a seconds thought before leaning a bit more over you as his hand cupped all of you. Shaking his head as he glanced to the side, “Wonder who all this is for more, your little crow?” Shifting his touch so that Tormund could sink a finger knuckle deep into your cunt, a gasp clawing from your mouth as your head leaned back against the soft fur, already clenching around at the suddenness of him. “Or the one actually touching you?” 

Voice failing you, one of your hands grasped at the fur beside you, as Tormund started steadily moving inside you before letting a second slip beside the first and sinking deep once more. Your other hand reached up as if needing something to hold onto more, only to have your lungs work again as a familiar hand grasped it. Interlocking your fingers with his, Jon had sat down on the bed now leaning across so he could keep a hand on you. 

His other tilting your head to the side where his lips hovered over yours as you stuttered out quiet sounds of need as the twisting inside you spun. “This is about her, Tormund. Not your pride.” Uncaring as to what his response was to be, Jon pressed his lips to yours. Keeping the hand on your jaw so you couldn't get pulled from his lips. A bite to your bottom lip, you instantly parted letting Jon slide his tongue into your mouth to brush against your own. 

Your whines into his mouth only made him kiss you harsher, but your insides twisted as Tormunds other hand grasped at your breast, twisting your nipple until you gasped out a cry into Jons mouth. Your free hand raising up to hopelessly grasp at Tormunds wrist but he twisted the small bud just as he picked up how fast his fingers slid inside of you. 

Ever so slowly, Jon left your lips not without returning for multiple smaller kisses before he helped you up, sitting more upright on the bed, Jon, just as bare, knelt behind you, one hand at your waist while the other grasped at the breast Tormund didn't occupy. Both men working in tandem to grope greedily at your chest. 

Working together now, Tormund moved from your breast to more pull your hips up so his fingers could sink deeper at more of an angle. The coil twisted and suddenly it twisted too fast as a hand belonging to Jon that wasn't at your breast, moved to rub rough and tight circles at your clit. 

One hand holding onto Tormunds forearm as the other reached behind you and threaded through Jons curls as he buried his head leaving presses of his lips along your neck. Both men fast and rough, their hands large and calloused but they sent you hurling towards the end of a desire that had you clench around Tormunds fingers. One more sliding to make three and you whined out with a breathy cry to follow. Your thighs tensed as they spread wide for him, and Jons touch to your clit rubbed at the same pace Tormunds fingers slid in and out of you. 

Propped up with a hand still at your waist, you were forced to sit upright as your head fell back as the coil snapped. Tormunds fingers now sounding much more soaked each time he slid them inside of you that you felt a flush work up your chest to your cheeks. Leaning forward as your orgasm gave you aftershocks as he refused to pull them out. Only slowing his thrusts instead, this time you leaned up to meet his lips as he picked the pace up again. 

Knelt behind you still, Jon seemed to shift as you felt his cock, hard as he could be pressed right into your ass and grinding as he rubbed your clit still. Not having the ability to trail down to your wetness as he liked, you started to almost try and flinch from his touch as it felt like a stinging rawness and yet you pulled from Tormunds lips, to let your head fall onto Jons shoulder at the pain that had you begging for more. 

You didn't even know if words existed for you anymore, your core so stinging and yet the sounds between your legs were so humiliatingly wet. Trapped on the bed between two large, warm bodies before between them they plunged you right into a second orgasm that had you writhing into their touch between your legs desperately. 

Slowly, Tormund begun to pull his fingers out of you enjoying your wide eyes as he moved them into his mouth to taste what you left on him. A nervous swallow heavy in your throat as you reached back more to Jon. His own hands now both moving to your chest, grasping tightly at them and pulling at the small buds just rough enough to have you gasp for him. His rasp low in your ear, “You going to let me taste you?” 

Not anything leading, just a gentle prompt that had you inhale deeply. Your eyes fluttering shut only as you did so, before nodding. Jon gesturing for Tormund, the larger man then grabbed you, moving you right to the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off the sides as you kept a noise inside your chest at your heart racing. 

Kneeling on the ground, Jon without any time wasted, gently draped your legs over his shoulders, as his hands on your hips tugged you to lay in the perfect place for him. Easy gentle presses of his lips along the inside of your thighs. Before he reached your soaked core, he moved back to the other thigh. 

Inching close to your heat, Jon once more moved your hips in his touch to just slightly raise up off the fur as he ran his tongue flat against you, running from your soaked entrance to your clit. Stopping to make small motions along it before sucking it into his mouth that had you arch against the bed with a moan, and Jon only repeated himself. Keeping you on edge as he never stayed for the same amount of time on either, always switching between his lips and tongue each time he heard your stuttering cries grow more consistent, he'd change it up. 

All you could see if you sat up slightly, was Jons dark curls between your legs and you would drop back to the bed with a high pitched sigh, sweat covering your body and dampening your hair. 

Tormund tilted your face to look up at him as he pressed his lips to your, now so eager. Covering your breathless sounds and muffled them in his own kiss, Jons hands on your hips grew tighter, the harder it became for him to hear your cries. Tongue slipping into your mouth, Tormund let one hand drift down to rest gently at your neck. No pressure put down but you felt it as his kiss grew deeper. 

Licking down to your entrance, Jon himself groaned between you at how wet you were, licking all he could reach with such fervour that he wished he could lay spread on the bed to at least let his cock grind into the fur, instead his cock sat leaking and painful at how deep his tongue had to run along inside you. Only making you even more wet as your hips arched to his touch and Jon would yank you closer to his mouth with a grunt. 

Your insides twisted, as your cries kept muffled, your hands reaching up to grasp at Tormunds shoulders as he half hovered over your top. Moving though to once more make a striking series of marks along now his side of your neck, rumbling low. “Those fuckers out there have no idea what they're missing, taste like heaven. Look at Snow, turned him into a starving fucking wolf between your legs, bet if he could chose where he dies again it'd be right where he is now.” 

Jons eyes almost black glared up at him without ever letting his mouth stop drinking from your cunt, a growl leaving him as he reached up to grasp at your breast. His eyes slipping back closed as he lost himself with how much you were soaking his mouth, how much of you was coating his tongue, and how little he ever wanted to do anything else. 

You grasped the hand on your chest, Jon not hesitating to let you interlock your fingers as you cried his name. Tormund wouldn't have been able to hear the deep growls into your cunt as Jons tongue licked deep inside you, only vibrating against you and making both his grip in your hand and on your hip tight. 

In only seconds did you have to realize your orgasm was about to wash over you, begging Jons name only to have Tormund put the slightest bit of pressure on your throat to grab your attention and bite into your lips with a kiss. Which only spurred Jon to move, yanking your hips up off the bed so he could more hold you and hear your voice instead, letting him lean down into you deeper then before. Forcing Tormund to have to follow and capture your lips in a demanding contest between them.

Your body burned as it flooded through you, something tight snapping that was white hot and too bright to even comprehend as you came, Jon drinking every bit you gifted to him with an eagerness that would've had you whine were Tormund not there to distract you and keep you tethered to the earth with his lips. 

Slowly, Jon ease up, tongue making smaller and less wide licks before pressing a kiss to your clit that had you almost jump. His own mouth soaked, Jon rested his forehead against your mound for a second as his breathing heaved almost painfully in his chest. Barley controlling himself, Jon suddenly moved back to kiss and suck at your clit, now just spreading your legs as wide as he could manage before moving his hands under to grip the cheeks of your ass tight, one in each hand. 

Part of you wondered if he almost forgot Tormund was even there, swearing low under his breath as he send you into falling tears as you snapped, another orgasm almost growing painful as was his greed attached to your lips, your cries in the open air the only thing having Jon finally come up for air. 

But using his strength to push you further up onto the bed before flipping you over. Your stomach against the furs as Jon knelt behind you, prompting you to sit up on your hands and knees, “Come on, up for me, there we go.” 

His hands grasped greedily at your ass, groping before pulling them wide in a stinging feeling. His own jaw set clenched tight as he looked at you. Tormund suddenly watching the utter dark greed in Jons eyes as they met the others gaze, Jons voice rasping low. “Here's what we're going to do, you're going to get her ready while I fuck her, then when I take her? Her cunt is yours.”  

Tormund nodded as you looked up at him and he smirked down at you, running a hand along your jaw with almost a condescending tone. “Your crow wants to fuck you a way no proper southern girl like you should want.”

Your chest lurched as Jons hands groped the skin there before a thumb trailing just over your ass, almost collapsing you into the bed at the feeling. “Jon?” 

But he didn't answer, not you. “You have it?” Whatever they spoke about, you watched Tormund nod as Jon continued. “Good, turn her around.”

As they both handled you like a rag doll, Jon pulled you up into his lap to straddle. His cock sat heavy and red between you, but he cupped your cheeks with his mouth slightly agape. “Look at you, haven't even been inside you and you're already a mess.” All you did was nod, wanting nothing more then for him to do whatever he wanted, both of them and Jon leaned in to kiss you again. 

Your arms wrapped around him, finding his hair to cling to as Jon wrapped his own arms around your waist and back pulling you to him. His kiss was purposely messy, tongue licking into your mouth to make you taste yourself from him, and rough bites of his teeth to your bottom lip that he hoped was going to leave a mark. Not once did he let you part from it, and as soon as he knew you felt it, one hand cupped the back of your head and kept you firmly against his mouth still. 

Tormund having spread some kind of warm oil along his fingers did he grope your ass just as Jon did before, only the second you felt him pressing a finger to your ass did Jon keep you with a hand at the back of your head to his lips. Tormund sinking a finger slowly inside your tight ass, a cry desperate to leave but Jon kept you right against him and his lips. 

You felt strange, the feeling of Tormund slowly moving in and out, you thought it should be awful, and yet? You clung tighter to Jons front at the feeling, strange moans leaving you that were as pleasured as they were confused. His other hand now, Jon guided your hips without breaking the kiss to hover over his cock and in one rough go, he had you sink down as deep as he could go. 

Barley able to groan your name into his kiss, Jon moved to let go to grab at your hips. Holding you in place for a moment, Jon pulled from your lips, soaked and saliva trailed between you as his eyes so grey they looked black bore intensely into yours. “Tormund?” 

Moving to kiss and bite at your neck, Tormund begun to slide his finger in and out of your ass at a steadily increasing pace. Jon tense as he held you on his cock, watching your face but the second you felt Tormund test letting a second join, Jon waited only until he was about to slide in before moving you on his cock again. 

The slap of your hips against his, only matched by how desperately you cried out. No ability to hide the watering in your eyes as you burned from how much he stretched you, but how much Tormund was as well. Your hands grasping at Jons shoulders as he bounced you up and down on his cock refusing to let you look anywhere but right at his tense expression. The sound already, the slap of skin almost felt filthy in front of someone else. But, Tormund kissed and bit at your neck almost making you tilt your head to give him more space, but his free hand moved you back to keep on Jon as his other started thrusting two fingers in and out of your ass at a faster rate. 

Taking over where Tormund held, Jon cupped your cheek as he pulled your forehead against his, raking his hand through your hair to the back of your head. Your cries nothing but music to his ears, eyes sealing shut as he hissed at the pressure around his cock. You knew you were clenching tight around him, Jon barley able to move but a few short inches as you were sat deep on him. 

Your hands draped down over his chest, pressing against the scars as you muttered out so softly all you could find words, “Oh fuck..Jon..fuck, I can't-”

Voice rough he nodded against you as he helped set your pace even rougher to push back how tight you kept getting around him. “I know, darling, I know, but you can take it I know you can.” Just as you felt Tormund creep a third finger to slip in, you cried out with a jolt a the feeling. Jon pulling you to hide in his neck as you all but collapsed into him with a shake. His voice rough, eyes peeling up from where he held you close to glare at the other. “Go easy, she's never done this before.” 

Tormund reached a hand around placing it against your lower stomach and pushing down making you dig your nails where you held onto Jon even more just as he pushed forward. “Your the one who wants this, Snow. I get my cock in her pretty, slick cunt and I'm a happy man, you're the one making demands of her.” 

You didn't have the right mind set to figure out what was going on with them, but both Jon and Tormund were well aware of what the problem was. Jons need was fighting with how possessive he was getting. How much he really did want this, but it was clashing aggressively with how much he hated anyone else even having eyes for you, let alone getting as much of you as Jon did. 

Tormund knew this was going to be a struggle the second he came to him with this idea, but in his mind, if the crow wanted this he was going to have to shut up and let Tormund take care of you. You weren't some quick fuck out in the North you were someone the man cared about and he knew Jon had to get over it. 

You peeled your head up, finding Jons eyes as he looked almost concerned at you but you smothered that with a kiss. Much more gentle and innocent then the situation called for. Your hands on his cheeks as his returned to your hips, moving you steady but at a slower pace as your heart calmed down. “Do you want to stop?” 

Jon almost didn't move for a second, something slamming him in the gut at the image. You were a wreck, grasping onto him, too overwhelmed by both mens aggresssive ways of taking you but you still found it in you to look so gently at him asking if you were the one pushing things too far. Worried his aggression meant he wanted to stop, himself. 

He didn't expect that to be the thing that brought him down to earth again, but it just made his heart grow heavy. Shaking his head, he pulled you back in for a kiss before muttering against your lips. “What I want is for you to cum for me. Cum on my cock, and if you're alright with it, Tormund's going to have his chance at feeling what a beautiful, perfect cunt you have. Do you want that?” 

Nodding, Jon finally shared a look with Tormund. His fingers thrusting deep caused you to gasp loud, leaning forward himself to somewhat drape your back against his chest with his free arm around you as Jon fucked up into you. Muttering in your ear, “Making him lose his mind over there, getting pissed at me just beacuse he wants his cock deep in your pretty ass.” 

One hand of Jons held gently at the side of your neck as he leaned forward to where Tormund held, kissing more lightly down his side of your neck as the other groped at your breast. One hand of yours raking through his damp curls while the other reached back to rake through Tormunds. Nodding, you could barley keep your eyes open at the fullness of both men in you. 

Jon muttered deeply into your neck as he moved down to run his fingers tight at your clit, “Let me fill you, cum on my cock and I'll fill you just the way you like.” Once more only able to nod your head as your core tightened and your orgasm waved over your nerves, in an instant you knew whatever sound came from you must have been loud, as Jons head flew up to cover it up with a kiss. 

Barley managing any more thrusts, you felt Jons thick, warm cum spill inside you as he kept you sat deep on his cock. Both of you shaking from the intensity. Kissing you until you felt the last of him fill you, Jon moved from your lips to your neck then up to your ear. “Can you take both of us at the same time?” 

Nodding, “Please, I promise, I can take it..” 

Jon pulled back, heaving breaths of his own as he ran his hand over your cheek before nodding. “Turn around for me.” 

Almost nervously exhaling, you felt both men pull from you at the same time, your hand grasping tightly at Jons shoulder at the feeling with a wince. You could see him leaning in to check on you, but you raised your other hand out, indicating you were fine. Slowly, Jon let you turn so you faced Tormund. 

The larger man wasting no time grabbing you and pulling you up onto his lap. One hand at your waist, the other grasping your chin to look down between you with his own smirk. “Your hands going to look that small around my cock, then they do normally?” 

One hand raking up into his hair, the other you reached down letting your thumb run over his cocks tip already with enough for you to run along him leaking. He kept his composure better but his haw clenched tight as his breathing heavied, watching with keen eyes as you slowly wrapped your hand more around him, letting what cum already there smear more down his cock. A chuckle left him, though. “She always this gentle when she's with you, Snow?” 

Finally feeling Jon press against your back, his own hand covering his cock with whatever warm oils Tormund had prepared you with earlier, as his other hand draped across your stomach over your scar, voice deep but a bit more collected now. “Makes me crazy, just makes me want to ruin her more.”

Your lips parted slightly, Tormund sat up to pull your hand away and guide you right over his cock. “Come on, pretty crow. Show me what makes your wolf so fucking obsessed with you.” Tormunds hands were on your waist but you felt Jons on your hips. 

About to find something to say, Jon shocked you by taking charge for your nerves, and pulling you right down onto Tormunds cock, a crying moan leaving you instantly as the man before you let his head drop back with a deep groan. Your own mouth agape, and you knew the strange lurch in your heart was how you truly never expected to be with the man this way and certainly not so suddenly. 

Not sparing any time, Tormund begun fucking up into you as he purposely sat forward catching your eyes as he did so. The slap of his hips against yours had you clenching tight around him and the degree of sensitive you already were from Jon, had you weak. Hands finding his shoulders your head dropped as you moved with him, getting used to who it was inside you as easily as it felt so good.

But then you felt him, you felt Jons hand on your hip  as he urged Tormund to stop. Pressing the tip of his cock right at your ass, Jon draped you with a hand by your neck back against him to mutter in your ear. “You sure you want this?” But you just nodded, and he kept you pressed back against him as the only one who moved was Jon.

Whatever Tormund prepared you for, you almost weren't ready at all for Jon, a flinch a the slightest press. The hand on your neck curling up to turn and rest your face partially against his, he shushed you gently. “Hey, hey, relax for me.  I need you to be calm, okay? I want you to feel good, darling.” You swallowed and nodded, taking deep breaths as Jon slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you. 

Tormund sat forward reaching for the space between the pair of you and holding firmly at the back of your neck as he ran his fingers down over your clit in tight patterns. Allowing Jon to slip just a little further in before you winced again, but strangely even to you following up with a moan. 

They went slow, Jon easing inside of you as Tormund was there to distract you anytime you tensed up from how overwhelmed it felt. And yet, as soon as Jon was deep inside of your ass, he groaned deeply. Resting his forehead against the back of your head, looking down to where he was sunk so deeply before pulling out. 

The feeling was so strange, it hurt, it felt odd and yet as Jon sunk back inside your mouth fell open in a silent cry. Grasping onto Tormund as Jon started a slow pace, not pulling out very much when you found the the mans eyes. Instead of asking though, you had a feeling Tormund would rather appreciate you moving on his cock on your own accord.

And judging by the groan he let out as you were slow moving up and down his cock, you were right. Just as much as you didn't want to stop with him either. Jon slowly made you shake and clench as he started to test out a faster pace. Your insides felt as if you were burning up, something overwhelmingly hot and twisting inside you, and as you picked up the pace on Tormunds cock, Jon thrusted harder into you. 

The closer you got to another orgasm, the closer Tormund got as he met your hips with his own thrusts, the more you enjoyed Jons cock in your ass. A whine leaving your lips as you clenched tightly around both of them before you felt the shocks slam into your blood. Sparking everywhere the burning hot star burst inside you and you collapsed into Tormund. His arms coming around you as he fucked up into you fast, his own end being sped towards and you didn't even have the awareness to understand what was happening outside their touch, your mind was a fog of only the two of them. 

But Jon knew, his voice rough while his cock was in a vice as he fucked your ass. Eyes dark and angry as he hissed out, “Pull out of her.” Tormund swearing under his breath as he pounded harder, but in a split second Jons voice rose to something so close to a growling yell, “Tormund-” 

It all happened too suddenly right as you were still too high in the sky from your orgasm, Tormund pulled out of you quickly, stroking roughly at his own cock before you felt him cum all over your stomach. But as soon as he was the only one inside you, Jon suddenly lost his patience. His thrusts turned to pounding, your head falling back against his shoulder he turned you with his free hand to lean back even more as he pressed his lips roughly to yours. Hand on the back of your hair keeping you there, Jon groaned much more freely as you ended up pushing back against him. 

Fisting your hair tightly, Jons voice murmured together roughly. “Gods, you like this, you like my cock deep in your ass.” Almost in awe Jon kept you tilted so he could look down at you while his cock fucked into you as you moved back against him the force of it was felt across your ass cheeks. “Fuck, my beautiful girl, look at you. Taking Tormunds cock, taking mine like this? I don't deserve you, you're perfect, my perfect girl,” Rambling he kissed you again and groaned. 

Burying his head now in your neck, Jon neared his end, and he knew he wanted to cum as deep as he could. Shifting, Jon moved so that as he pressed your front down, your palms having to brace against the furs, he realize how close to Tormunds cock you were again. 

Looking at the other, Jon with a hand on your spine trailed up to your hair again. “You want her mouth?” You couldn't even tell what the two were saying as Jon guided your head to Tormunds cock as he continued to pound into your ass with his teeth gritting at the warm tightness. “Suck his cock, darling.” 

His hand moved you down to take him. Your wetness still on him and now covered partially in his own cum, Jon moved you up and down the mans cock without letting you stop to breathe. His other hand holding tight as he grew rough. Pushing you to take Tormunds whole cock, Jon beckoned the man to take over with a rough, “Keep her right there.” Your heart racing at the overwhelming pressure in your throat from keeping him so deep. 

But Tormund kept you brushing against the wild, orange coarse hair around his cock as you gagged against him. “Gonna swallow every drop, pretty crow. Don't you waste anything I feed you.” 

Moaning against him, you felt him throb inside your mouth just as Jon growled your name, pounding five, six, seven more times all the while Tormund came deep in your mouth. Flooding you with his cum, dutifully making you swallow every drop with a needy moan. Only to have that increased as Jon pounded one last time before pressing himself against your back, head resting in between your shoulder blades as he came deep inside you. 

Filled in both ends, sweat and cum it felt like stuck to your skin as both men thrusted into whatever hole they saw fit to spill into. As Jons hips slowed, you felt gentle presses of his lips to your shoulder blades. Jons hand reaching around to run gently down the length of your throat, the sensation easing the tension and making Tormunds cum a little easier to swallow so deep.

The sounds of you trying to drink every last drop of cum had both men hold tightly. Tormund in your hair and Jon at your waist. 

If you were being honest, you barley were aware of anything after that for a while. You felt the pain and over stimulation as Jons cock slowly left your ass. How you gasped for air as Tormunds cock finally left your mouth, but you didn't really register anything around you. 

Catching your breathe on your hands and knees, it wasn't until Jon noticed the third time you didn't even seem to realize he was calling to you did he move quickly. Pulling you up into his arms, he turned you onto your back, keeping one wrapped around you as the other ran down your hair, murmuring gentle soothing words as you nuzzled into him. 

Glancing up at Tormund with almost a worry at how far you had dropped, the larger man sat down on the bed. Running a hand over your hip gently. Voice low as to not startle you so close but looking with affection at you all the same. “Just keep talking to her, she'll come back to you.” 

Burying his face in your neck, Jon spoke soothingly as he glanced up to the wildling man now grabbing at his own clothes. “I didn't sign up for your neediness, Snow. You're her problem, not mine.” 

Before he could leave, Jon called his name. A genuine look of thanks as he ran his hand down your hair, “I'm not kicking you out.” 

But the man smirked, “Fucking your girl? I'll be here. Staying to watch you act all cute and sappy after? Fuck no.” They both chuckled, and both had a feeling a discussion about boundaries was coming Tormunds way at some point, but for now, Jon let it go. 

The door closing, leaving just the two of you he turned you better to face him as he just ran a hand through your hair with gentle words until you came back to him. 

Finding his eyes, you reached up to cup his cheek and pull him into a gentle kiss as your bare bodies stayed tangled together. “Jon..”

Nudging your nose with his, Jon smiled. “Rest, darling.  You did so well, I'm proud of you.” 

Nodding as you easily let the sleep take over, you curled into his chest with your hands draped by his collar bones. Your voice quiet and mumbling, “I love you..” 

Mumbling it back, Jon kissed your hair, but for now, that was all he could give while you were drifting to sleep. And until you calmly fell asleep, Jon watched you the entire time, only snuggling down into the bed against you did he allow himself to close his eyes. 

He was glad you enjoyed it, beacuse as much as he did too, a bigger part of Jon hated every single second he was sharing you and the likelihood of doing it any more, was slim to none. 

Jon Snow was far too in love with you to open this relationship up to other people ever again.

[lyfeofbilly]

Tyrant

warnings: smut, smut, smut! (minors do not interact!)

summary: infidelity had snaked its way into your crumbling marriage. another night with your favorite mistake couldn’t hurt…..right?

author's note: my first time writing smut, so pleaseee bare with me. this is soooo fucking trifling i know, lmao. to them anons, this for yall.

taglist:@koffeesfancy @bubbleblowinggirl @pvnks0ul @solanaszn @onyxstones-world @blacksapphhicmaddonna

Rianna smirked at her phone as she read your text.

You up?

It had been weeks since you last seen her. The clock read 3:15 AM and you were craving her. Your body aching just to feel her touch again, the mere thought of it making your skin grow hot. Ever since you first got a taste of her you’ve been hooked. Her kisses were laced with a drug that you could not get enough of.

You never wanted it to go this far, to be in so deep. You loved your family- well your children. You and your wife have been on a rocky road for years now, "We're just in it for the kids." y'all would say. The both of you knew that excuse was bullshit. It caused more harm than good and your kids noticed. The resentful arguments, passive aggressiveness, and cursing matches were something that you wished your children would not have had to witness.

Your wife sent the kids to her mother's house while she disappeared to Lord knows where. You stayed home under the guise of having to work early mornings for the rest of the week. It was all just an excuse to have her. Your need for intimacy overtook the guilt you would normally feel in this situation.

You were sprawled across the bed, awaiting a response from Rianna. An hour had flown by since you sent your initial message. She wouldn't deny you and you knew that, she just loved playing the cat and mouse game. The excitement and sneakiness of it all ignited a fire deep within her. The three dots eventually turned into a text, causing your phone to ding.

The Mrs gone tonight?

Your eyes rolled at her text. The pettiness that woman possessed was something that needed to be studied. Her slick remarks and snide comments were something you hated yet loved about her. Another text came across your screen shortly after.

Leave the door open for me baby, I'll be there soon ;)

That sentence alone caused an ache between your legs. The power that she had on you was something else.

A sly smirk was plastered across Rianna's face as she tiptoed through the front door, softly shutting it behind her. Pictures of you and your family were displayed all around the living room. The image of you and your wife engulfed in a kiss is what caught her eye the most. The two of you looked young, happy, so in love. The frame had your anniversary date engraved on the bottom. It made Rianna sick, she wondered when exactly did your marriage turn sour. What was the straw that broke the camels back?

Rianna sighed and shrugged her shoulders as she placed the picture face down, "Fun while it lasted."

You nor Rianna would have ever thought things would get as deep as they were. Your relationship was innocent, at least that's what you thought, at first. You tried to play the flirting off as being friendly for your conscience's sake. The seductive stares, unnecessary touching of each other, playing footsy under the table, the list goes on. Cheating had never crossed your mind, no matter how bad things had got, but when you found yourself face down in the back of Rianna's car after a night of drinks all of that flew out of the window.

Truth is, Rianna wanted more. More from you, to be more than a late night endeavour, to be more than the other woman. She was more jealous than she would like to admit. The thought of you even laying next to your wife made her seethe with anger.

She continued throughout the house, strutting down the hallway, and finally through your bedroom door. When she entered, there sat you on the edge of the bed, body bare and exposed, anticipating her arrival. One thing that Rianna loved about you was your obedience. Your habit of doing anything that she asked and melt at her words boosted her ego by a thousand percent.

Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, chest heaving up and down, eyes glued to her. A sight that Rianna loved to see, you so eager and ready for her. She slowly made her way over to you, taking your chin into her palm, her grip was anything but gentle, forcing your face up towards her.

"Three weeks and I don't hear from you?" She growled as her eyes burned holes into you. You would be lying if you said it didn't turn you on tremendously, "What kinda shit is that?"

A whimper left your throat as her hand travelled down to your neck, squeezing the sides of it. Your hips rolled against the comforter underneath you, your clit was throbbing, begging for the tiniest bit of friction.

Her head dipped to your neck, breath hot against your skin, "Missed my touch that much, baby?"

You so desperately wanted it, you needed it. Having her was the only thing that would calm the excitement between your thighs. Her touch alone pushed you more and more over the edge. The spot where you sat became drenched in your arousal.

Her lips began to attack your neck hungrily, and they felt amazing. She nibbled and sucked, sure to leave marks by the next day. Her free hand roamed your body before it grazed the inside of your leg. She drew circles agonizingly slow. Her fingers wandered up, running between your soaked folds. She strategically avoided your clit, wanting to push you to the edge, and boy was she succeeding, "You so damn needy, I ain't even fucked you yet."

With that she suck two fingers into you, causing you to let out a cry, "i nee-fuck!" You threw your head back into the pillows behind you, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Your slick made it easy for her to open you up. She scissored her digits into you with precision, a loud sloshing sound filled the room, your juices drenching her hand. Her eyes met your half closed ones, "Hm? what you needed baby?"

She watched you struggle underneath her, your legs shaking and face contorted into one of pure ecstasy. She knew you were close, "Tell me what you need mama." You were at your peak, your walls clenched around her digits. A strained cry leaving your throat with every thrust she did.

A wave of dissatisfaction hit you when she snatched her fingers from your center. "P-Please baby i was so close." You whined.

Rianna took her silky fingers and ran them across your lips before sticking them in your mouth. Drool ran down the valley of your breasts as you sucked your juices off of them. She grinned before pushing them farther down your throat, causing you to gag, "Imma give you what you need baby, I promise."

She removed herself from you and stripped, revealing a scarlet red lingerie set that hugged her toned body. The arousal between her thighs dampened the middle of the thong she wore, strings of wetness connected it to her aching pussy as she dropped them to her ankles. She lay her self on the bed legs wide open so you could see all of her, and God was it a sigh to see. Your eyes were her stuck to her, mesmerized by the sight that lay before you.

You crawled towards her, hair falling and framing your face. In this moment you would do anything she told you, entranced in a spell of hers. You dipped your head into her sex, tongue swirling around her clit ever so slowly. her taste possessed you, you would stay down there all day if you could. you moaned as you sucked her throbbing bud, the vibration sending Rianna into a frenzy. She took your locs in a fistful and stuffed your face deeper into her, rocked her hips into you.

"You mm- you like this shit dont you?" her breasts bounced up and down, a layer of sweat starting to form on her skin. Her bottom lip was trapped in between her teeth, eyes locked onto you. Rianna loved watching you underneath her, seeing you please her drove her crazy, "You l-love getting your face fucked d-don't you?"

The grip on your hair got tighter as you continued to coax out her orgasm, "Eating it so g-good f'me baby. "The rocking of her hips became spasmodic as her thighs began to clench around your head, "Shi-shit, oh fuck!"

Her body stilled and her legs shook as she stopped to catch her breath. She pushed your head away and walked over to the bag that she brought. A few moments later she came back with her strap attached to her waist.

"You know how i want you."

You happily obliged as you got on all fours, arching your back so she could have access to all of you. Arousal dripped from your aching pussy down to the sheets. Your body shuddered in anticipation, waiting for her to fuck you silly. She rubbed the tip against your bundle of nerves, resulting in a gasp. Rianna was such a tease. She wanted to make you squirm and whine before she fucked you, needing to see how your body reacted to her.

"S-shit! ri p-please!"

A low chuckle left her, "please what? tell me what you want baby."

She was being mean and she knew it. A smack came down hard on your ass, and another right after. When it came to sex Rianna got off on hearing you beg, she wanted you to tell her everything you desired from her. Silence was never an option when it came to being intimate with her.

“Wa-want you to- ah fuck!”

Rianna teased your entrance with the tip of the dildo, slamming it in seconds after. You could’ve swore you saw stars. She was stretching you immensely, and you loved every second of it. A low chuckle left Rianna's lips, one of satisfaction. She began to push deeper inside you, massaging your gooey walls, hitting your spot just right.

“S-shit ri!” The covers underneath you began to tangle in between your fingers, “J-just like that!”

She gripped both of your forearms, pulling you back up towards her. Your head rested in the crook of her neck as she pecked wet kisses along your jawline.

“Doing so good f’me baby." she rasped in your ear.

Rianna's speed was killing you. She made your pelvises kissed with every thrust that she did.

"F-fuck ri baby please!" Your pleads held no weight with her. She had you right where she wanted.

"You look so fucking pretty when you beg."

the coil in your stomach was threatening to snap. The speed nor force of her drilling never let up.

Your orgasm was creeping up on you and Rianna could tell. Your breath hitched as you clenched around her, "Im about to f-fucking come!"

"Let that shit out," The sound of your bodies slapping against one another filled the room. "Tell me, that bitch fuck you this good?"

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of your chest. Between the pounding you were receiving and that question, you forgot how to breathe. Dirty talk wasn't new to you and Rianna, you fucking loved it. She knew exactly what to say to make your fountain run over. You and your wife's sex life wasn't an exciting one to say the least. It felt like a monotonous chore.

You shuddered against her, "Mmph- fuck!"

"I asked you a question." One hand snaked down your front and swirled your swollen bud in between her fingers, "She fuck you like this baby? She make that pussy feel good like i do?"

You hated to admit it, but your wife had nothing on RIanna, nothing at all. "Fuck n-no! She don't m-make me feel like you do baby!"

Tears ran down your cheeks as your orgasm washed over you, the coil in your stomach finally snapping. After a few more thrusts she pulled out of you, caressing your back as you came down from your high.

Steam filled the bedroom as the bathroom door swung open, out came you in a towel that clung to your dripping body. Rianna lay sprawled out on the bed, typing on her phone. You two knew the drill, she had to be out by noon.

"Alright Ri.....you already know how this go."

She cut her eyes at you and sighed, irritation beginning to rise. She pretended like she didn't hear you, initially ignoring you. The typing on her phone becoming more aggressive.

11:15 came and she still made no attempt to get dressed and out of your home. She did this every time, wanting to get you back in bed again and not worry about the responsibilities you had to face after your rendezvous.

"Rianna, seriously get dressed."

A groan left her mouth as she tossed her phone on the side of her, "This shit again? When you gone leave her? Ain't like y'all a couple anyway."

"Excuse me?"

She stepped toward you, her being short in stature didn't affect the intimidation that you felt in the moment.

"Don't give me that shit. Y'all don't even sleep in the same bed, and you want me to be gone before she get here? What type of shit is that!"

She was right. You and your wife haven't shared the same bed in months, let alone even touched each other.

"That's my wife rianna!"

She scoffed, "Yea a lousy one. That bitch can't do half the shit I do for you, yet you still fucking stay."

You threw her shirt and pants at her, "Get fucking dressed. You were supposed to been gon-"

The bedroom door swung open, a loud slam following behind it as it hit the wall. There stood your wife, arms crossed and face red with anger.

"Fuck!"

[sh4wty18]

or what?

pairing: jake x reader.

summary: you and jake have never liked each other. the thought of even being near him pisses you off. your entire dynamic shifts one night while attending his halloween party and accidentally wearing the same costume.

cw: 18+ MDNI, NSFW, sex, teasing/banter, mean!jake & mean!reader, language, drinking/being tipsy

word count: 2.7k + proofread

a/n: i wrote this around halloween and it’s been in my notes app ever since. lowercase is intentional. first smut fic, kinda nervy 🫣

TW: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME ONLINE. THIS STORY IS 100% FICTIONAL FOR FUN ONLY. NOTHING HERE IS ACCURATE TO REAL LIFE, NOR AM I CLAIMING IT TO BE. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

you walked into jake, johnnie, and carrington’s halloween party dressed as jigsaw. you’d worked hard on this costume and had been waiting to wear it out all week. your best friend, carrington, had been excited to see it too. when you got into the kitchen and hugged carrington hello, he couldn’t stop himself from giving you a cheeky grin. “you look awesome!”

“what is it?” you ask, immediately catching on to his suspicious smile.

he giggled, “nothing… just, who wore it best?” he points across the room to where jake stands, also wearing a jigsaw costume. what the fuck. you think.

“car, did you know he was also wearing this?” you ask, slightly annoyed.

“no! y/n, i swear, he didn’t tell me what he was wearing until today. i didn’t wanna tell you because i knew you were super excited to wear it and it was so last minute.” he smiles again, “but hey, maybe you can get more pointless flirting and banter in?”

you elbow him roughly and he cries out dramatically in faux-pain. “ooowwwww!”

“carrington, that wasn’t funny,” you roll your eyes, but cant hide the small smile creeping onto your lips. you’d never liked jake. for some reason, ever since carrington had moved in with jake and johnnie, you’d gotten on really well with johnnie, but never jake. youd just never gotten along. you always found him to be loud and obnoxious. carrington was too, but he was your best friend and you were used to it. jake was just annoying. but… he was also super hot. you were attracted to him, of course you were. he was fucking sexy. you didn’t like him, but you did want him. carrington could tell of course.

and you supposed he was right, partially. sometimes it did feel like you two were flirting every time you had a stupid argument over something one of you said, eager to prove the other wrong. you were constantly bickering. even their fans could tell you two didn’t get along. it was no secret. you were friends with tara, and she’d tried to get both of you to talk it out, insisting that you’d actually quite like each other once you got to know one another, but you both refused. too stubborn and petty to make amends. he was immature, and dramatic, and rude. it was impossible for you to be around him for more than five minutes without getting pissed off. yet at the same time, when you were in a room with him, he’d always catch your eye. you’d catch yourself stealing glances at him from across the kitchen table or couch, and oftentimes you’d catch him looking at you as well. he was just so pretty. you could look at him all day. and you’d be lying if you said your arguments didn’t turn you on. maybe tbat was part of the reason why you did it. you really had no reason to hate him. he wasn’t a bad person. he was actually quite a nice person. to everyone but you. oh well. it was too late to make up now, you both had your hearts set on constant vague annoyance and mild hatred for one another.

you stomp over to wear jake stands, sipping a drink and talking with a few people you don’t recognize. “what the hell, jake?!”

he looks you up and down and a shit-eating grin forms on his face. “well well well. look who’s here. and decided to copy me, too? not surprised.”

“oh i am NOT copying you-“

“you sure about that? because i’m pretty sure you’re the one wearing the same costume as me at a party i’m hosting, not the other way around,” he smirks.

“and you think i’d waste my time purposely copying your costume? real mature, jake.” you roll your eyes. the people he was talking to have slowly made their way go the other side of the room, watching from a distance.

“i mean, you want me so bad, i bet you would. don’t be embarrassed sweetheart, i’d wanna fuck me too.” he placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you one last once over before walking away. you could’ve sworn he bit his lip as he did.

fuck, he looked so good. shit. it was undeniable, you wanted him. so. fucking. badly.

the rest of the party was pretty fun. you mostly stuck with carrington and his friend group, and stayed as far from jake as possible. you kept shooting each other glances from across the living room, and it was obvious he had something to say to you, but wasn’t approaching.

you got pretty drunk, singing and dancing with your friends until the early hours of the morning. you tiredly made your way upstairs to one of the guest rooms where carrington had assigned you to stay for the night. you walked into the bathroom to wash the jigsaw makeup off your face and heard a knock at the bedroom door.

assuming it was carrington, you dried your face quickly and went to open the door. a slightly tipsy looking jake stood on the other side of the threshold.

you scoff, “what do you want?”

he walks into your room without asking, and closes the door behind him. he’s still in his costume, although now his makeup is washed off and he’s no longer wearing his suit jacket. his button down is disheveled and unbuttoned, and the bowtie hangs around his neck. your eyes trail down his chest and back up to his eyes, in which he still wears the red contacts. even in this state, he looks fucking incredible.

he gives you a quick laugh, “like what you see, baby?”

hearing him call you baby makes your stomach flip.

“i-“ you stutter, “no, i just- what are you doing in here?”

he laughs again, “you cant even deny it!”

“deny what?” you ask with annoyance, even though you know exactly why he’s saying that.

“don’t play dumb with me, y/n. you’re a smart girl. i know you are.”

“okay, i want you. is that what you want to hear? you’re so fucking annoying and obnoxious and insufferable to be around, but every time we’re together i want to fuck you. is that what you wanted to hear?” you step closer to him until your face is only a few inches from his. but you don’t dare touch him.

“fuck,” jake whispers. “you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting to hear that.”

he throws himself at you, wrapping one arm tightly around the back of your neck and the other around your waist, pushing you up against the wall behind you. he pulls you into the messiest make out you’ve ever had. it was as if he was trying to consume you. all of you. and nothing was enough. his lips engulfed yours for what felt like hours, but what was really only a few minutes. and when he got bored of that he moved on to your neck, kissing and biting and sucking wherever his mouth landed as you groaned into his ear.

“you looked so fucking hot tonight,” he whispers low in your ear before returning to work on your neck, marking as much of you as he could.

“so did you,” you mumble.

jake stops, “what was that?” he asks.

“you heard me,” you say with a tinge of annoyance.

“say it again.” jake tells you.

you raise your eyebrow, “no.”

he backs away from you in surprise at your refusal, and you walk away from the wall and over to your overnight bag. slowly, you pull the costume off your body. piece by piece. inch by inch. taunting him. you can feel his eyes burning into you. the hunger emanating from him.

“what, a girl’s never said no to your games before?” you ask, still not facing him. you’re naked now though, and you can still feel his eyes on you.

“it-its not a game. i just wanted to hear you say it again. never had you compliment me before. it’s a halloween miracle.” he says, trying his best to keep his cool and not ravage you right now.

you turn around and slowly walk back over to him. he stares at you, eyeing every curve of your soft skin. when you reach him, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling his face to yours until your lips graze together. “i said you looked hot too. now are you gonna fuck me or what?”

you connect your lips again and he takes you back just as desperately as before. one of his hands grips your ass cheek and the other slides between your legs. “this okay?” he asks quickly.

“yes,” you let out, your voice barely above a whisper.

you shudder at his touch, clenching around nothing, needing him. he massages your clit, his other hand moving from your ass to your thigh to pull your leg up, allowing your skin to spread for him.

“fuck,” you whisper.

“am i makin’ you feel good, baby?” he asks with a smug grin.

you roll your eyes through the blinding pleasure, “fuck you,” you spit out.

he laughs, stopping his motion on your clit and sliding two fingers inside of you with no warning. “fuck, you’re so ready for me. barely even had to try to get these in. think you can take my cock yet?”

you feel yourself clench around his fingers as he pumps them in and out roughly.

“just shut up and take your clothes off, webber.” you mumble breathlessly, and he removes his fingers, sucking any remnants of you off of them before ripping his costume off, leaving him with only the red contacts. you cant lie, he looks even hotter like this. fuck, you couldn’t believe how good he looked. and you were finally getting to fuck him. yeah, maybe it was only because you were both still a little tipsy, but you weren’t that tipsy. you were still well aware of what you were doing. so maybe it was really just because the tension was finally too much. the rubber band had finally snapped.

you place two hands on his chest and push him backwards until he falls back onto the bed. then you climb on top of him, straddling his thighs. you spit into your hand and use it to lubricate his cock. he was already hard, and you gawk at how big he is. you watch as he leans forward on his elbows to get a better view of you jerking him off. your strokes are long and slow, and you make sure to brush the pad of your thumb over his tip with each one. his head rolls back and he moans, and you could’ve came just from watching him.

he sits up and grabs your hips with both hands, pulling you forwards so you’re on your knees. you adjust his cock below you and sink down onto him, bottoming out nearly immediately. it hurts a little at first, you weren’t used to fucking someone of this size, but you loved it. you could feel yourself getting addicted to him with each passing second. he laid back again, but kept his hands gripping your ass cheeks. he rolls your hips forward, guiding you through the motion. “c’mon, baby, you can do it. you can take it, i know you can,” he says sweetly.

“i think this is the nicest you’ve ever been to me,” you joke, trying to keep your voice level, but it’s hard when all you want to do is moan in pleasure.

“yeah… well… don’t get too used to it. you’re still a bitch. just because we’re finally fucking doesn’t change that,” he says, half jokingly, but he’s also struggling to speak through his pants.

“finally fucking? so you’re saying you’ve always wanted me too?” you ask with a smirk, continuing to grind yourself into him. he lifts your hips a little now, yanking you down harder onto his cock each time. you press his chest further into the bed, leaning down to kiss his neck and jaw.

“fuck off,” he whispers in response to your questions.

“you’re such an asshole,” you scoff. he takes one hand off your ass and grabs your chin, pulling your face down to sloppily kiss your lips again.

“i wanna hit from the back? that okay, baby?” he whispers against your mouth.

of course it was okay. you wanted him in every way possible. you nod and climb off his lap, the feeling of emptiness taking over. you needed him back inside of you immediately. he flips you over as if you weigh nothing, positioning you on your knees in front of him. your head is buried in the pillows, and he yanks your ass up with one hand. you can hear him stroking himself a few times, before sliding his cock back inside of you effortlessly. you’re honestly shocked at how well you can take him, like your body was meant for him. his thrusts are rough and deep. all that can be heard in the room are the sounds of skin on skin, his husky groans, and your higher pitched moans as he works your body.

“c’mere,” jake grunts, grabbing you by the neck with one hand and wrapping the other hand around your stomach, pulling you upwards until you’re sitting up on your knees. his thrusts don’t let up, and you’re amazed by his strength. “wanna see your face when i make you come.”

you cant manage to get a word out, all you can do is ramble. “fuck, jake, fuck.”

“come for me,” he whispers against your shoulder, kissing it as you come undone on top of him.

“fucking christ, you’re so hot. where d’you want me?” he asks, his thrusts growing sloppier by the second.

“inside,” you say, feeling another orgasm rapidly approaching.

“you sure?” jake asks, clearly struggling to hold back.

“yes, fuck, jake i’m on the pill just come inside me,” you moan.

he lets out a loud groan, and you feel his dick twitch. the thought of his come inside of you pushed you to the edge again and you screamed in pleasure. his thrusts quickened as he realized you were coming for the second time, and only when you’d ridden out your high did he pull out of you.

you both collapse onto the bed, and stare up at the ceiling breathlessly.

“holy fucking shit, that was so good,” jake said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “if i’d have known you’d be that good, i would’ve fucked you sooner.”

you scoff, “shut up,” you say with an eye roll. “you’re still insufferable.”

“we can never let them know this happened,” jake says.

“agreed,” you turn and outstretch your hand for him to shake on it.

he laughs and shakes his head, “fucking nerd. only you would want to shake on a deal after i made you come twice.”

you feel your face flush with embarrassment, “shut the fuck up,” you groan.

“never. you’re never gonna live this down. you love my cock so much you came twice! yeah, y/n, good luck acting like you hate me now.” he turns and smiles at you, a real smile. but he still takes your hand, shaking it aggressively. “there. you happy?”

“yes,” you smile sheepishly at him. “i don’t hate you, you know,”you whisper.

“i know,” he says. “i don’t hate you, either. but pretending i did was so fucking hot.”

“we can keep up the bickering. i still think you’re annoying as fuck.” you say with a laugh. “but maybe now instead of perpetually arguing, we can just fuck when it gets bad… or when it’s not bad. whenever we want.”

he smiles and presses a quick kiss to your lips, “i could live with that.” he stands and puts his boxers back on, before making his way to the bedroom door. “night,” he says.

“g’night.”

hope u enjoyed lmk what u think😣 tags for @liseytopia & @audr3yyyyy bc they convinced me to post it :3

pics from pinterest, divider from @/saradika-graphics

[persephonewritessometimes]

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Where after months ( cuz shes new n young working there)they cant také anymore their attraction to each other.

Key sentences: Hotch: I’m old enough to be your father. R: Should I call you Daddy then?

Smut n fluff

Please

Author's Note: oooo thank you for this request anon!! thinking many thoughts, head very full

Summary: It's no secret that you have a thing for your boss - a man 25 years your senior. What happens when he reveals he has feelings for you too?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x (AFAB) Reader

Word Count: 5108 (i got carried away hehe)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! UNDER 18? PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING! SMUT; DADDY KINK; SIR KINK; OVERSTIMULATION; MULTIPLE ORGASMS; UNPROTECTED P IN V (don't be like them y'all, stay safe); DOM!HOTCH, SUB!READER; READER IS HORNY; FINGERING; ORAL (F RECEIVING) reader gets distracted by Hotch's hands, pining, confession of feelings, reader blacks out from cumming really hard; Hotch calls reader "good girl, princess, baby"; Morgan is a cheeky bastard (as per usual)

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

“Y/N, you're staring, again," Morgan says with a chuckle and I quickly find somewhere else to look that isn't our section chief. Which I was definitely not having rated-R thoughts about.

"Shut up, Morgan," I mutter.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" I turn and stare at him now, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Sure, why don't I just tell a much older man that every time I look at him, I feel weak in the knees and sweaty? That would really go over well." I say, sarcastically.

"We're getting tired of watching you eye-fuck him, Y/N." Emily sighs, jumping into the conversation.

"It's getting kind of pathetic at this point," Morgan adds and I smack him on the shoulder.

"You guys are being mean. Let me pine in peace."

"Y/N, none of us are at peace when you start acting like a dog in heat every time Hotch walks in the room. It's genuinely hard to watch." Morgan shoots back, grinning at me. I feel my cheeks grow hot at his brazen comment. "Just put us out of our misery and get laid for once, damn." I feel my cheeks growing even hotter.

"He - he doesn't like me like that." I'm tripping over my words, embarrassed that everyone can see what's clearly written by my body language when Hotch is around.

"Y/N, sweetie, you're smart, but sometimes you're an idiot," Emily says kindly. "He likes you."

"Trust us, we know," Morgan adds.

"How?" I say and cross my arms over my chest.

"Really? Okay. Whenever he's giving a briefing and you're standing next to him, his body gravitates towards yours, you're the first person he looks for in every room, Y/N, two weeks ago on that case in Charleston he almost throttled the officer that merely tried to flirt with you."

"Wait, that officer was flirting with me?" I've only been here a few months, so I haven't learned how to read people as well as him yet.

"Oh my god, she actually is an idiot." Morgan groans. "Yes! He always got you coffee refills without asking, offered you the first pick of the donuts, and gave you, and only you, a very thorough tour of the precinct. He was trying to impress you." He looks at me closely. "How the fuck did you get this job?" I shrug.

"Impeccable academic record?" I suggest timidly, and he snorts.

"Just pay attention to Hotch. More than you are already. You'll see."

"He's old enough to be my dad," I say.

"Why do I have the feeling that only fuels your fantasies?" Morgan mutters. "I'm done with this conversation. Either you tell him, Y/N, or I will."

"MORGAN!" He just throws his hands up in the air giving me an exasperated look. "Em? A little back up here?"

"As much as I hate to agree with Morgan, he has a point. It’s kind of hard to focus on work when we all know what’s going on except for you two. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but just say something, for the sake of everyone who has to be in a room with you guys. I could cut the tension between you two like a knife.” She gives me a small smile.

“I- I’m just nervous. What if you guys are wrong?” She places her hand over mine.

“We’re not wrong, Y/N. We even asked Reid to weigh in and he agrees with us. Just say something.” I frown and head back to my desk, needing to be alone with my thoughts for a while. I’m deep in a stack of paperwork when Hotch calls the team into a meeting. I sigh, set my pen aside, and make my way into the boardroom. I’m on high alert, due to Morgan’s comment, and as I step into the room, I glance at Hotch to find him already looking at me. He looks away quickly and I watch as the tips of his ears turn pink. Oh my god, they were right.

I’m hyper-aware of him the whole meeting, so much so that I barely heard a word he was saying.

“Y/N? Are you paying attention?” Hotch asks, looking at me.

“Uh, yes, sir.” I blurt out in a panic. I wasn’t expecting him to directly address me.

“YES SIR?” Morgan hollers. “That’s a new one.” Even Em is hiding a smile behind her hand. Hotch glares at him.

“Don’t tease her, Morgan. Y/N, please pay attention.”

“I will, sorry Hotch.” He just nods and goes back to what he was saying. I tried to pay attention I really did but I found myself watching his hands as he talked. He gestures at the screen, then to something in the paper he had given us, then puts his hand on his hip. His fingers are so thick I wonder if two would even fit inside of me. I’m thinking about him fingering me on his desk, pussy splayed and dripping for him, and I shift in my seat, feeling the wetness in my panties. Dammit, Y/N, don’t get carried away.

“Y/N, seriously,” Hotch sighs a few minutes later and I’m dragged from my dirty daydream. “I need you to pay attention or leave. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Morgan whispers with a grin. I glare at him.

“I’m trying to pay attention, I swear.”

“Are you sick? You look a bit warm, why don’t you step out for a few minutes.” I just nod, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. “And I want to see you in my office when we’re done with this meeting.” I nod again and feel my stomach drop to my ass in nervousness. I quickly walk out of the room and am pacing when the door opens up and Morgan walks out, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What the hell were you thinking about in there?” He whispers, then pauses, “Actually, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Just leave me alone, Morgan. I’m embarrassed enough already.” I say quietly.

“Oh, baby girl, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you too much. You’re just an easy target. If it helps any, Hotch was downright flushed after you left. He stumbled over his words. Twice. I’ve never seen him that flustered. It’s like he knew what you were thinking about.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, okay?”

“You’re not the one who has to face him in his office,” I grumble.

“Well, just make sure you guys close the blinds.”

“MORGAN! Shut up!” He’s laughing as he walks away. JJ and Em shoot me sympathetic smiles as they walk by and Reid pats me on the shoulder. Hotch doesn’t say a word as he walks out of the boardroom, and I diligently follow him to his office.

“Take a seat.” He says, gesturing at the chair and my eyes follow his hand again. Y/N! Stop! That’s what got you in trouble in the first place! I quickly take a seat, clasping my hands in my lap. “Now do you want to tell me why you were so distracted today?” He asks, looking at me. I feel the heat creep up my chest and onto my cheeks.

“I-um-no. No, I don’t.” He raises an eyebrow at that.

“Really? Because Morgan seems to have an idea. Maybe I should go ask him what he thinks.”

“No!” I blurt out. “Sorry. It’s just…embarrassing.” He just looks at me and I sigh before whispering, “Your hands. I was distracted by your hands.”

“My…hands?” He says slowly.

“Yes, sir, I mean Hotch, sorry. I know it’s not appropriate and I apologize.”

“What is it about my hands?” He asks, his voice low and in a tone that makes my heartbeat travel down to my pussy. I shift in my seat, a movement that most likely does not go unnoticed by him. “Y/N. Look at me.” I take a shaky breath and look up at him, all rational thoughts leaving my head when I see that his cheeks are pink, and his pupils are so blown I can barely see the brown. “What is it. About my hands.” He enunciates every word.

“They’re big,” I whisper.

“And what does that make you think about?”

“Please don’t make me say it.”

“No, no I want to hear you say it.”

In the smallest voice possible I say, “I was wondering if your fingers would even fit in me.” I hear him take in a sharp breath. “What it would feel like to be spread out on your desk with - with your fingers inside of me.”

“Careful, Y/N, you’re walking a thin line.” He murmurs.

“Haven’t I crossed it already, sir?”

“I’m old enough to be your father.” He says, words clipped. I get a sudden burst of confidence and stare him down.

“Should I call you Daddy, then?” I ask sweetly. I watch as he tightens his jaw.

“Watch your mouth, little girl. You don’t want to see how mean Daddy can get.”

“And what if I want to find out, Daddy?” I watch as his nostrils flare and he takes a deep breath.

“That’s enough, Y/N.” He spits out and I still, and fear that I’m about to lose my job to ill-timed arousal. My breath hitches as he leans back in his chair, eyes carefully watching me. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Whatever you’d like to, sir,” I say simply and I watch his jaw tick again.

“Listen to me very carefully. We are going to go downstairs, you are going to gather your things, and you are not going to say a single word. I’m going to tell everyone that you’re not feeling well enough to drive, so I’m taking you home.” I swallow hard, not believing that this is actually happening right now. “Do you understand?” I nod quickly. “I need to hear you say you understand. Or else this stops now, and we don’t speak of it again.”

“I understand completely, sir.”

“Good girl.” He says in a low voice and a whimper escapes me before I can shove it down. He stiffens. “Do you like that? Hearing that you’re a good girl?” My pussy clenches around nothing, begging to be filled.

“Yes, Daddy.” He hums, getting up quickly and my mouth goes dry when I see the tented fabric of his pants. He shrugs off his suit jacket and slings it over his forearm and in front of his body, effectively hiding his raging boner. He walks over to me, and I hastily get up from the chair, and he grabs my arm, gripping it just hard enough to keep me grounded and lucid despite the lust-filled thoughts in my head. He yanks open his office door and we make our way down the stairs. I keep my head down as we approach my desk, the bullpen so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Y/N isn’t feeling well. I’m driving her home.” Hotch says, letting go of my arm so I can grab my jacket and purse. I glance at him, nodding that I have everything, and he grabs my arm again, and we hastily walk towards the elevator.

“GO EASY ON HER, HOTCH!” Morgan shouts, and I hear Em laugh.

“Shut up, Morgan.” Hotch growls over his shoulder, and I glance back at Morgan, who mouths ‘Good luck’ at me. “Don’t look at him. The only person you should be looking at is me, princess.” We get in the elevator, and he pushes the button so hard I think that he’s going to break the damn thing.

“Jesus, what’s got you so riled up?” I say sweetly, not caring that I’d probably pay for that question later. I just want to see him snap, lose that carefully cultivated control and unleash himself on me. He turns on me in a second, caging my body between the wall of the elevator and the hard planes of his body. He grabs my chin, tilting my face up to look at him.

“Watch yourself. I’d hate for you to get into something you can’t handle.”

“I can take whatever you throw at me, sir.” He laughs.

“Yeah, right, princess. Keep talking a big game – we’ll see how far that gets you.”

“Well, it got me here, didn’t it?”

“Right where you wanted, I presume?” He asks, tilting his head and there’s nothing friendly in his eyes. I just nod, sucking in a breath when he pushes his body closer to mine and his hard-on is pressing into my thigh. “Before this goes further: green for go, yellow for slow down, red for hard stop, no questions asked. Do you understand?” I nod, and he raises his eyebrows.

“I understand!” I blurt out.

“Good.” He suddenly dips his head down, nose bumping into mine as we share the same breaths for a few seconds. “I’m going to ruin you.” He whispers onto my lips, not quite kissing me.

“Please. Ruin me, Daddy,” I whisper and he’s kissing me as soon as the last word is out of my mouth. It’s overwhelming, the way he kisses, stealing all the air from my lungs in a millisecond. I gasp when the hand from my chin drops to my chest, reaching into my dress shirt and under my tank top to tweak my right nipple. He takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, tasting me. The elevator dings and his hand disappears from my shirt and his lips retreat. I whine at the sudden loss of contact, as we had just gone from 100 miles an hour to 0 miles an hour.

“I know, princess, I’m sorry. You don’t want Daddy to get caught, do you?” I shake my head vigorously and he chuckles, escorting me to his car, and opens the passenger door for me, ever the gentleman. He gets in and starts the car as I buckle my seatbelt. He backs out of the parking spot, placing one hand on the back of my headrest and I suck in a sharp breath. He glances at me. “Really? You’re turned on by my driving?”

“I can’t help it. I’m sorry.” I breathe out, not daring to look at him. My cheeks are warm, and I feel frazzled. I jump when his hand comes to rest on my thigh, dangerously close to where I want him. I shift my hips, trying to get him closer to where I need him. He smacks my thigh abruptly.

“Don’t do that. You can wait.” He says gruffly.

“I can’t. I can’t wait.” I gasp out. “Please. Please touch me. I need you. Please, sir, I’ll do anything.”

“I’ll oblige you, but only because you begged so prettily. I like it when you sound desperate. One rule though: no cumming without my permission.” His hand slips under my skirt and I thank god that this was one of the rare days I decided to wear one. His fingers ghost over my cunt, the lightest touch and my breathing is already starting to labor. When his fingers press my clit from outside my panties my hips buck into the air. “Someone’s responsive.” He says, more to himself than me. His fingers trail lower, and he groans when he feels the wet spot. “Already this wet for me, princess?”

“Only for you, Daddy.” I whimper when he pushes my panties to the side, hand now free to touch as he pleases. His fingers come up to tease my clit again before one deftly slips inside of me. I let out a choked sound, tight around him. Just one finger feels thick, and when he slips in another finger I keen, tightening again.

“Jesus, you’re tight.” He curls his fingers and hits that spot inside of me that I struggle to hit by myself. I gasp, hand closing around his wrist, and I don’t know if I’m trying to stop him or egg him on. He continues to work his fingers in me as he drives and I’m not sure how he’s managing to stay on the road. I know I should reciprocate but the feeling of his fingers plunging in and out of me has made every thought I’ve ever had flee my brain. After a few minutes, my thighs start to shake and I’m panting, so close to a mind-blowing orgasm that I forget he told me I can’t cum without his permission. His fingers slip out of me seconds before I hit my peak.

“NO!” I shout, shaking in the passenger seat, sitting in a small puddle of my own arousal. I hope it stains his impeccable leather seats.

“Only good girls get to cum, and you haven’t been a good girl today, baby,” He says, “Open.” I open my mouth and he slips the fingers he just had inside of me into my awaiting mouth. I suck his fingers off earnestly, just like I would to his cock if he gave me the chance. He pulls his fingers out with a pop and I realize he’s parked the car in his garage. Is this really happening? I think to myself. “Color?” He asks me, turning my face so I can look into his eyes. I could get lost in his eyes.

“Green,” I say quickly.

“Good girl,” He whispers and meets my mouth in a messy kiss full of tongue, need, and teeth.

I don’t know how we made it inside, but as soon as I cross through the doorway, Hotch throws me over his shoulder, and I shriek. He carries me to the bedroom, dropping me on the bed. I’m paralyzed as I watch him rip his tie off, dress shirt following soon after. He’s beautiful, and I want to run my hands all over him and feel every scar. My eyes are tracing his chest and ever the profiler, he notices.

“You can touch. It’s okay.” He walks over to me, planting himself between my legs. I timidly touch his stomach, trailing my hands up his abdomen, running my fingers along his scars in quiet admiration. He suddenly takes my hand, kissing it, a break in the dominant façade. I give him a soft smile, one that has always been reserved for him, and his breath hitches in his chest. His hands cup my face, looking into my eyes, and I’ve never felt safer than I have at this moment. I close my eyes, leaning into his touch, my hands resting on his wrists. It feels like we’re the only people in the world, two souls destined to collide. His next kiss is gentle as if he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, but he tosses his resolve out the window when I bite his bottom lip. He growls, pushing me onto my back and stepping out of his pants and boxers. I push myself up on my elbows to watch him and gasp when he’s revealed to me completely. He’s big. Bigger than I’ve had before. I knew it would be big because of his damn hands. “You’re far too dressed for my liking.” He mutters, and the next moment he actually rips my shirt off of me, buttons flying everywhere.

“HOTCH!” He stops, looking at me.

“Try again, sweetheart.”

“Sorry. Daddy.”

“Much better. And Daddy will buy you a new one, okay?” I nod, suddenly unable to think as he slides off my tank top and unclasps my bra. My nipples are aching to be touched and as if he can read my mind, his head dips down to take my left nipple in his mouth. I suck in a breath, my hand coming to rest on the back of his head. His tongue laves over my nipple, and I swear I see God for a moment. He moves to the other side and my cunt is begging for attention. He slides my skirt and panties off without once leaving my chest. And when I’m naked before him, he kisses his way up my throat, leaving hickeys that will definitely be hard to hide.

“Daddy, people will see.”

“And? They should know whom you belong to.” He says plainly, he leans back, admiring my form and my hips jump up on their own accord, grazing his weeping tip in the process.

“Fuck, princess, don’t do that.”

“Please, please, please, Daddy, I need you so bad.”

“Daddy has to make sure you’re ready for him. I don’t know if my fat cock will fit in your tight little pussy.” I whimper at his words, more turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life. He slides down my body, pressing kisses into my skin as he goes until he gets on his knees, dragging me towards the edge of the bed. He slings both of my legs over his shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss into my thigh. “Your pussy is dripping for me, princess. Can I taste it?”

“Please,” I manage to whisper, and I watch as his head dips down and he licks up my pussy. He groans against my clit when he tastes me, and I shout in surprise at the added stimulation. He chuckles against me and goes to work, tongue thrusting shallowly in me before coming up to tease my clit. He’s getting me closer to the edge and when I feel two of his fingers slide into me easily, I sigh contentedly. He finds the spongy spot inside of me with ease, hitting it every time he thrusts his fingers into me. I’m hurtling towards my peak when I gasp out, “Daddy, please, I’m close, can I cum? Please? I’ll be a good girl, I promise. Your good girl.” His eyes flick up and he watches me, never stopping, and watches as my abdomen tenses and I start to clench around his fingers, panting. He pulls his mouth away from me just long enough to whisper,

“You can let go, princess.” And resumes his torturous pace on me. My hand shoots down to grip his hair and a few seconds later my orgasm rips through me. I shout loudly, hips moving with abandon against his face, and he doesn’t let up, continuing to lick and finger me through it until I’m twitching with overstimulation.

“Daddy, please, too much.”

“You wanted to cum, princess, so you’re going to cum until I’m done.” He growls and goes back to eating me out. I had no time to come down from my first orgasm and my body is already sprinting full speed ahead toward my second. My thighs clench around his face but it doesn’t stop him. He stills his fingers inside me and simply presses them into my G-spot, never letting up, just putting constant pressure on it.

I’m babbling at this point, nothing coherent coming from my lips except for ‘daddy’ and ‘please’. My orgasm blindsides me and I clench hard around his fingers and scream, not caring if anyone can hear me. My vision goes spotty as I continue to cum until he finally slips his fingers out and I feel like I can breathe again. I’m gasping for air as his touch trails along my hips.

“Still with me, pretty girl?” I nod still gasping. “Color?”

“Green, green, green.” I pant out quickly and he chuckles. He gives me a few more seconds to come down, tracing gentle patterns into my sides and he kisses me once my breathing slows. I pull away to bite my way down his neck, leaving my own marks on him. “Daddy, need you inside me, please.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for me, princess?”

“Yes! Yes! So ready! Please just fuck me!”

“Okay, let me grab a condom.”

“No!” I shout, grabbing his shoulders. “I’m clean. Please, I want to feel you. Just you.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” He says, kissing the tip of my nose. I watch as he pumps himself a few times and lines up with my entrance. He pushes in, just barely, and stays there until I’m begging him to push the rest of the way in.

“Please, Daddy, I want to feel full. I feel so empty.” He sheathes himself in me in one quick motion and I gasp. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper onto his lips.

“Fucking hell, Y/N, you’re so goddamn tight.” He’s still above me, and I can see his shoulders shaking in restraint. “You feel like heaven.”

“Please move, please. Let go, I can take it.” I whisper, peering into his eyes and he pulls out a little bit to thrust shallowly. He swallows my moan with his lips, kissing me with the fervor of a man starved. He starts off at a slow pace and despite being sensitive from my previous two orgasms, I need more. I dig my nails into his shoulder. “Please, for the love of God, fuck me. Hard. Please. I can take it. All of it.” He looks at me hard, searching for any hesitation, but his dick is literally inside of me, so there’s no hesitation on my part. I nod up at him and he leans down to kiss me as he starts to set a brutal pace. His hips are slamming against mine and when I shift my hips up to meet his thrusts he hits my G-spot with every thrust. “SHIT!” I shout, the words quickly turning into a loud moan as his thumb comes down to flick at my clit. I’m shaking with arousal, and I can feel his balls slap against my ass with how hard he’s fucking me.

“Come on, pretty girl, I know you’ve got one more in you. Give it to Daddy. I want to feel you cum around my cock.” There are no thoughts in my head anymore, everything in me has zeroed in on the feeling of him literally fucking me into the mattress. “You look so pretty fucked out like this, bet you can’t think of anything but my cock inside of you, huh?” I nod and he laughs, kissing me hard. He leans back just enough to change the angle by shifting my calf onto his shoulder. He thrusts, hard, and I whimper. “You make such pretty sounds when I’m fucking you.” He picks up the pace again, moving his thumb on my clit in tight circles. I let out a broken moan as he hits just the right spot inside of me, and he takes note of it, hitting the same spot repeatedly, thumb keeping its pace on my clit. It’s overwhelming and I know that this orgasm is going to ruin other men for me. No one can do it like him. “Y/N,” his voice is low, “Look at me, baby, I want to watch you fall apart.” I drag my eyes open and look at him with dazed eyes. One particularly hard thrust and a drag of his thumb over my clit and I’m cumming violently, thrashing against him and gripping the bed sheets, my body spasming and I feel him fuck me through it and spill inside of me with a shouted curse before I black out.

I come to and can feel a warm washcloth being dragged between my legs gingerly. I hiss at the contact.

“Oh, thank god, are you okay?” I nod, throat raspy from screaming. “Can I get you anything?” I shake my head no, and the warm washcloth returns, I jump at the sensation. “I know, I have to clean you up though, okay?” He finishes in the next couple of moments and throws the washcloth into the hamper.

“How long was I out?” I say softly.

“Five minutes? Maybe six.” I nod.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry? Y/N, that was the biggest ego boost I’ve had in years.” He chuckles and I let out a weak laugh.

“Help me up?” I whisper, holding my hands out toward him. He obliges, gently grabbing my hands and pulling me into a sitting position. My vision starts to go spotty again. “Oh, Jesus,” I say, starting to slump forwards. His arms wrap around me quickly, holding me against his chest until my vision starts to return to normal. His thumbs are rubbing my back and I wish I could stay in this moment forever. “I’m okay, I think,” I whisper after a minute and try to pull away but he only lets me get a few inches away, eyes worriedly searching my face. “Hotch, I’m fine. I swear. Now let me go so I can go pee.” He lets go of me slowly and when I stand up to walk toward the bathroom, my legs buckle underneath me. “Oh, come on!” I exclaim, but Hotch is right there to catch me. He scoops me up despite my protests and carries me bridal style to the bathroom, setting me down on the toilet. “Thank you,” I whisper, suddenly embarrassed.

“No, don’t do that. I can see you trying to hide, getting embarrassed.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yeah, when your guard is down, you’re easy to read.”

“So, uh, do we just pretend this never happened? Go back to the way things were. I assume that’s what you want?” I bury my face in my hands, unable to look at him.

“Go back to the way things were? Y/N, baby, no. I can’t go back. This was not a one-time thing. I’m yours if you’ll have me.” I peek at him from between my fingers.

“Wait, you’re being serious right now?”

“Dead serious.” He gets on his knees in front of me. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment you walked into my office. I just didn’t think you’d reciprocate, until Morgan made a comment two months ago about your body language, and that’s when I had the hunch you felt the same way.”

“So, you’ve known I’ve been pining over you for months and didn’t think to say anything?” My pitch gets higher as the sentence goes on.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Yes, I’m clearly uncomfortable with you as I’m sitting in front of you, naked,” I say drily and he laughs again.

“Yeah, I know, I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are,” I say, smiling, before adding, “But you’re my idiot.” His eyes brighten at that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. As you said, I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“Good. Because I’m never letting go of you.” I feel my cheeks grow warm.

“Good, because I don’t want you to.”

[selfloverrrrrr]

Enemies doesn't do that!

Warning: smut, heavy smut, unprotected sex, teasing, nipple play....

Summary: from the first day y/n and Megumi hated each other.... But then something happened...

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Megumi Fushiguro. My biggest enemy. He's always getting on my nerves. Like more I hate him that isn't enough....he makes me hate him more. There's not a single day he haven't got on my nerves!

For example a day.... I run towards Yuji and nobara. "Hey nobara??? Where's Megumi????" I asked agressively. "He didn't came yet...coming here soon.... but why are you asking like that?" He asked. "I just can't take that bitch anymore!!!" I said. "Yeah...but what happened now?" Yuji asked and at that moment Megumi entered. He walked towards us. That annoying smirk still on his face. He knew I was talking about him!

Me: what the fuck do you think you are doing???!!!

Megumi: what?

Me: stop acting innocent!!! Yuji,Nobara, do you know what he did???? He said Gojo sensei that I go to the boys room at night!

Yuji & Nobara: wtf, Megumi?

Megumi: come on!!! That was just a prank...

Maki and Yuta was giving a party . I got ready and went to there. I was wearing a black tight bodycon dress.

When I entered there first I saw Yuji and Maki. Maki hugged me and took me inside. Then I saw Yuta. " Thank you to you two for giving the party " I said with a smile. " Your welcome" he replied me. Then I turned to Yuji again. " You're looking hot... tonight" Yuji said. " Oh... thank you for the compliment" I replied with a small smirk. "You gotta nice butt tho" Yuji. "So you're flirting with me rn?" I replied. And we both started laughing. Someone was watching us laughing and talking. And was getting jealous. That's none other than. One and only Megumi Fushiguro.

Time passed. We all sit in a round. Nobara and Maki decided to play a game. It's a game with paper. One person will take a paper in there mouth and the one beside him/her will torn the page from that person's mouth with their own mouth. We all agreed to play it. But I don't noticed that I was sitting between Yuji and Megumi.

The game started. Yuta took the page in his mouth. Maki was beside him. She torn the page with her mouth. Then Nobara was beside her so she torn the page with her mouth. Then Yuji was beside her so he torn the page with his mouth. The page was already so small. I smiled and torn the page with my mouth. Our lips almost touched. We almost kissed. Almost. But that also was enough to make Megumi's blood boil. Now the page was too small. With a smile I turned around to see who was next. And my smile dropped when I saw it was Megumi.

Megumi was glaring at me. He grabbed my chin and pulled my face towards his. Then crashed his lips on mine. He was acting as if he's trying to torn the page but actually he was biting my lips. A small choked moan escaped my lips which only he heard. Then he pulled away away from me. He smirked at. A small blush was on my cheeks. I looked away.

The party ends and We arrived at the jujutsu high's droom. Me and Yuji was laughing all the way to our droom. I said bye to Yuji and unlocked my door. When I turned around to lock the door I saw Megumi standing there. He went inside and locked the door. "Tf are you doing here?" I asked. "Tf do you think you are doing?" He said with grinded teeth. "What are you saying?" I asked. "Why were you fucking flirting with my best friend???" He asked. Then I could feel he was jealous and angry. "I can do whatever I want.... what are you gonna do?" I asked. "Oh.. you're trying to be a fucking slut I see" he replied. I was about to protest but he pinned me against the wall and pressed his lips on mine. My eyes widened. He kissed me. I don't know why.... I kissed him back.

He picked me up in bridal style and rushed into my bedroom and threw me on my bed. Megumi started crawling towards me. He was now on top of me. He crashed his lips on mine once again. Kissing me roughly. Making me breathless.

He started undressing me. He was undressing me like a wild animal. He almost took off my clothes. I was just left in my panties. Megumi started licking my nipple. He was being such a tease. I moaned. He continued his teasing licking and sucking on my nipple. With his one hand he grabbed my other boob and squeezed it roughly. I moaned so loudly.

When he was done playing with my nipples and boobs he got up and started taking off my panties. "You're dripping, sweetheart~" he said with his smirk. He bring his face close to my pussy and licked it. "Umm..... fuck !~" he whispered to himself and I moaned .

He now took off his clothes. His huge length was out now. My eyes widened at his length. It was too long and too thick. He grabbed his dick stroked it two or three times then line it with my entrence. I was panicking a bit at the size. Megumi pushed his whole length in one slide and I scremed with pain and pleasure. "Weren't you saying I'm so annoying...huh? And now moaning for my dick?" He asked with a smirk. My face become so red at his words. He smirked at my reaction and started thursting in and out roughly. I was screming loudly. His huge dick was giving me too much pleasure. He started giving me hickeys on my neck and chest. His thursting getting faster and harder. "Now tell me can that fucking Yuji make you feel like this???" He said while thrusting harder. "N-no...." I moaned loudly. "Don't hide those marks tomorrow.... I want Yuji to see these " he whispered and I just nooded eagerly. My whole body was shaking. He was moaning too. The way his dick was touching my g-spot make my back arch. It didn't take much time and I came. As I came that smirk again played on his lips.

I felt his dick started throbbing inside me. I didn't have the power to speak. It was too much for me. When my warm walls clenched around him he moaned loudly. In a few minutes he came inside me. He slowly pull out and threw him beside me. I was already fainted. He bring his face closer to mine and whispered with a smirk....

"want me to buy you pills tomorrow or wanna carry my baby?"

Give me your requests...

I love when you give me your requests 💕

Tagging: @1hot-mess-express1 @liciaforlife @candy69gurl

[pandorxxx]

Never existed…

Neteyam (20) x omatikaya fem reader (19)

Tags: @neytirishottie requested a “jealous Neteyam” story so I decided to make the most toe curling, eye rolling smut that anyone has ever read. You’re welcome😎

🔞Minors do not interact🔞

Warnings: SMUT, p in v, pinning, rough sex, oral, and cursing.

For the best reading experience, I recommend listening to I never existed by Chase Altantic. (That’s what I wrote this smut to😌.)

Neteyam watched through gritted teeth as you laughed at his younger brothers stupid jokes from afar. He was somewhat jealous that you were best friends with lo’ak considering that he had a huge crush on you. Neteyam couldn’t help but think that you had a thing for lo’ak. That maybe you secretly liked him, and that you secretly wanted to be mated with him. That you touch yourself to him at night, or that you daydream about him. He hated that lo’ak was living out his dream, but all of that was going to end today.

“What the hell is so damn funny? He can’t be that fucking funny?” He asked through a clenched jaw as he glared at the the two of you in the distance.

“Why do you care anyway? You look like a creep just staring at them.” Kiri explains as she eats her food. She glared at Neteyam with a confused look.

“No way you like y/n? Wether you like it or not, it’s just a matter of time before they mate with each other. Everyone knows.” She says as she takes another bite of her food, side eyeing Neteyam to see his reaction. He quickly snaps his head at his sister with pursed lips.

“You want to bet? All I need is 10 minutes, and I’ll have her hooked.” He explains with an eerie chuckle as he looks back at you, still gawking over lo’ak in the distance.

“First off, eww. Second, I would actually like to

see that. Lo’ak and y/n are obsessed with each other. There is no way you could get in the middle of that.” Kiri explains as she points in you and lo’aks direction.

Neteyam slowly stands to his feet, and looks down at kiri with a dark grin.

“Watch me…” he says as he walks towards the two of you. As he walked closer, he got angrier. Seeing your legs draped over lo’aks as he draws circles along your back. You two laughing as he pushed your hair behind your ear. How close you two were to each other. It made his blood boil. He was now standing infront of you two, going unnoticed. You and lo’ak were too busy in your own world. Neteyams face curled up as he watched you two completely ignore him. He clears his throat loudly, finally earning your attention.

“What do you want, bro?” Lo’ak asks his brother playfully as he looked back at you, earning a laugh.

“Tuk wanted to know if y/n could help her finish this bracelet she was working on?” Neteyam shifts his eyes to you as he scratches his head pointing back at his families hut. You look at lo’ak for confirmation to go, and he nods.

“O-ofcourse, she’s in the hut?” You ask, as you look up at Neteyam with doughy eyes. He almost melted right then and there, but he kept his composure.

“Yeah, come on!” He chuckles as he pulls you up by your arm. You laugh alittle as you didn’t realize that this was his attempt to flirt.

“Hey! chill out, big bro! You know she’s mine.” Lo’ak says jokingly as he shoots a glare at his brother. You bend down to hit lo’ak as you laugh.

Even if it was a joke, those words were like daggers to neteyams heart.

“She’s all yours, bro. But if you would excuse us, we gotta go.” Neteyam winks at his brother before wrapping his arm around you, and walking off.

“SHES MINE, BRO!” Lo’ak shouts as he watches you two walk off. Neteyam fans lo’ak off as he keeps walking towards the hut with you. You walk into the hut first to see no one there. You turn around to see Neteyam closing the makeshift door behind him.

“Where is Tuk?” You ask nicely as you let out a small chuckle. Neteyam turned around to face you with his arms crossed. He tilted his head and looked you up and down as he licks his lips. Your heart immediately sunk to your feet as you finally realized what was happening.

He slowly walks closer to you, as you back up.

“Neteyam, wait.” you plead with him as you put your hand up, still backing away slowly.

“Wait for what?” He says as he walks closer to you, glaring at your curvy body. Your back suddenly hit the wall of the hut, making you jump at the impact. You start to hyperventilate as you notice him getting closer to you. You immediately pull your knife out of your thigh band, and hold it up to him. He surrenders with his hands up as he lets out a low chuckle, still looking at you as if he was starving.

“What is so funny?” You shout shaking the knife with every syllable. He laughs again with his hands still up as he takes one step closer.

“I could ask you the same question. Lo’ak is not that fucking funny, my love.” He says through gritted teeth, as he looks to the ground and then back up at you.

“What’s it to you? what we laugh about is none of your damn business!” You shout as you take a step closer to him.

He growls loudly causing you to jump and drop the knife. You both look at the knife and then back at each other. You both run for it, but Neteyam was faster, and stronger. He picked up the knife and threw it to the side. He starts walking towards you again, as you back up. You back into that familiar wall again as he finally makes his way to you, placing his hand over your head, as he glared at you angrily. He grabs your neck with his free hand, and you shutter under his touch, as you turn your head away from him.

“What If I told you that I could make you feel better than lo’ak ever could, huh? What would you say to that?” He asks as he slides his hand down from your neck to your breasts, and down your slim waist pulling you closer. You would be lying if you said that his touch didn’t make you melt, but it felt wrong. You and lo’ak were going to be mated one day, so why was he doing this?

“Id say you’re crazy! You know that lo’ak and

I are to be mated. I thought we were friends, Neteyam?” You look up at him with tears threatening to fall from your eyes, as you struggle to get out of his hold on.

“You know that we’re way past that, y/n. You and lo’ak are not right for each other. I could do so much more for you.” He says as he wipes the tears from your cheek, softening his grip on your neck. He bends down to your ear, and kisses it causing you to gasp in pleasure.

“If you give me 10 minutes of your time, It be like lo’ak never existed.” He whispers in your ear as he parts your legs with his knee. He slowly squats down infront of you while keeping eye contact. He gently unties your loincloth and throws it to the side. He immediately attaches his mouth to your glossy cunt causing you to throw your head back in pure bliss. He gently lifts your leg over his shoulder to get better access as he starts to attack your clit. You grab his braids and push him into you more. At this point you were a moaning mess. Trying to keep you quite, he reaches up to your mouth to cover it as he’s still devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your legs start to shake, and you loose balance. He notices and lifts you up into the air by your thighs as his mouth is still attached to your cunt.

“Don’t worry, i got you, baby.” he looks up at you with a smirk before devouring you again.

“Fuck, Neteyam!!! Please-“ you scream as you try to get out of his pit bull lock to no avail.

“Please what, y/n? What’s wrong baby?” He groans into your heat triggering your orgasm. You start to shake uncontrollably in his arms, as he sucks on your clit one last time.

“Shhh, you’re okay babe.” He pats your thigh as you are still shaking with your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Shitttt, put me downnnn!” you moan as you try to get out of his arms once more. He chuckles and let’s you down slowly. You immediately fall to the ground once he lets you go due to your shaky legs.

“Ouchhh, neteyammm!” You whine as you reach for him to pick you up. He chuckles, but obliges. He picks you up and pins you to the wall again. He grabs you by the neck and crashes his lips into yours. You run your hands through his braids as you kiss him back. He taps your thigh signaling for you to jump, and you quickly do so.

You moan in his mouth once you feel his hard cock poking at your pelvis. He pulls away from the kiss, and lifts you up alittle with one hand as he unties his loincloth with the other.

“Be a good girl, and help me out? It hurts so bad, y/n.” He pleads with you as he throws his loincloth to the side. He pulls his cock up to meet your dripping cunt, as he pulls you in more. You immediately moan at the feeling of his cock sliding up and down your slit. He lifts you up one more time, and gently slides you down onto him. You shut your eyes and whimper at the new found fullness. He bites his lip at your reaction as he starts to thrust into you slowly. You look everywhere but into his eyes, afraid that you might fall in love. He catches on and kisses you passionately before pulling away to scan your face.

“Look at me, y/n.” he says as he sends you slow, deep strokes causing you to throw your head back as tears well in your eyes from the pleasure.

“Fuck Neteyam!!! I can’t, please-“ you plead as you look down at his cock sliding in and out of you. That image alone made you loose it. Your jaw dropped as your eyes shut tightly.

“Yeah, look at what I’m doing to you. You feel me, baby?” He groans in your ear as he speeds up the pace. You were squirming in his arms as you felt your high coming for the second time. You grab his arms as you let out a high pitched scream before you start shaking again.

“Yes, let that shit go! Give it to me!” He says watched you come undone for the second time. He feeds you a couple more strokes to help

You ride out your high until he finally pulls out and puts you down. You could barely stand up once he put you down causing him to laugh at you. He turns you around towards the wall, and grabs your arms, holding them behind your back. He slides into you slowly, as he leans into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, great mother!” You moan as he starts thrusting into you again. He bites your neck drawing blood, as he licks it up. You whimper at the mix of pleasure and pain. It was almost overwhelming, causing you to attempt pulling your arms out of his strong grasp, to no avail.

“When I’m done with you, you won’t even remember lo’ak, I promise you that.” He moans before sending you one hard stroke, causing you to scream out. He starts to speed up again as his high is slowly approaching.

“Say my name.” He whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he fucks you dumb. You were so delirious that you couldn’t even form words.

“Say my FUCKING NAME, y/n.” He shouts while still holding your arms behind your back.

“NETEYAM, FUCKK I CANT TAKE IT.” You scream as tears form in your eyes, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach.

“Yeah, just like that! Scream my name again! You belong to me!” He says as he licks the tip of your ear.

“neteyaammm!!!! I’m cumming!!!!” You whine as you start to shake, and clench around him. This sends him into a frenzy as he sends you a few more deep strokes before painting your walls white.

“Fuck!” He groans as he rides out his high, throwing his head back. He keeps his cock in you for a few more seconds, before pulling out of you, watching his cum drip onto the ground beneath you.

He kisses you on the back of your neck before Turning you around, and pinning you on the wall again.

“Lo’ak could never make you feel this good.” He says as he kisses your neck lightly. You look up at his huge figure with puffy eyes.

“Lo’ak who?”

Nah hold on cuhhhh!!! This story is low key good I’m ngl. Anywaysss, send more requests yall, I’m bored 🙄!!!

Outtie ❤️🤘🏾,

Pandorxx

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

~John Bender x Reader (in the form of "headcanons")~

Relationship type: Mostly Platonic (breifly romantic), Strangers to Friends to Lovers

Content Warnings: Fem Y/N, Swearing, John being a lil bit of a douche.

(I took some inspiration from the outtakes of the movie... and if you've never watched them? You should. They're HILARIOUS.)

Y'all definitely met in detention. You were brought in for some stupid reason, like accidentally back-sassing a substitute teacher or something like that.

He first got your attention in detention (hehe I rhymed) by blabbering nonsense in a ridiculous tone, to the point of screaming "AHH" over and over. You end up slowly turning to tell him to shut up. His response?

"Take a photo, it'll last longer, sweets."

If you think he made fun of you.... You're 100% right. He RELENTLESSLY made fun of you. Like... that shit brought you to tears at one point.

He felt like an asshole afterwards though. After you're done crying and you ignore him for an hour or so, he did apologize... in the most John Bender like fashion: punching your shoulder lightly and mumbling a "sorry".

Near the end of detention, you two look at each other and pretty much tell one another that y'all would never be friends out of that library. It was pretty much a mutual agreement that you two would NEVER interact again, even if you had mutual friends.

Months later, you're invited to a party by Claire. She's been a friend of yours for a few years now, and she, and I quote, told you: "You need to get your ass out of the house and actually talk to people."

You didn't WANT to... but you did.

She gave you the location and the time, pretty much making it so you hs no choice but TO go to this stupid party. But eh, you'd probably chill for a few, then bounce.

You didn't get 20 steps in when- what do you know? Guess who was leaning against the wall, cigarette resting in his mouth as he fished around in his pocket for a lighter?

John-Fucking-Bender.

You try your best to stay out of his gaze. Staying at least 20 feet away from where he was. Pretty much hoping and praying to whatever God was out there that Bender didn't see you.

Yeah he saw you.

He surprisingly talked to you, mostly small talk. But then y'all talk more and more and more and suddenly you both are so deep in conversation that you hardly notice the lack of people around you two.

So maybe you two were able to be friends :)

When the next school day hit, a lot of people were shocked to see you two in the hallways together, laughing about a joke that he'd made.

A lot of people thought y'all were dating.

When I say "thought", I mean "they pretty much assumed and spread it around the whole school."

You had to fight dating allegations for MONTHS on end. It was always "No, we're not dating." "No, I don't have feelings for Bender."

Chat, you're a LIAR.

You were starting to have feelings, but you weren't gonna talk about it of course. Talking about FEELINGS? Fuckin weird, man.

The same was on his end. He wasn't gonna say NUTHIN. He literally was head over heels for you, but the day he admits that is the day he regurgitates a shoe and bakes it in the oven.

He confessed first... in an argument.

He started to distance himself a little bit from you. I mean, come on, John Bender? In a RELATIONSHIP? Get fuckin' real.

This goes on for about a month until you finally confront him about it. Like the premise of the whole argument was a span of:

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"Cuz."

"Cuz why? Do you hate me or something?"

"Cuz."

Then y'all squabble more and more until he finally cracks and says he's avoiding you cuz he wants this stupid feeling to go away.

You have a heart-to-heart chat with one another and end up getting into a relationship.

You two agree to start slow, not really telling anyone and just staying friends to the public eye. Nothing too fast.

Yeah, that lasted like 2 hours.

It wasn't nessicarily John's fault. The dude trying to flirt with you just happened to have his face in the way of where John's fist wanted to be.

Take a wild guess who ended up in detention that Saturday?

Yep, he did.

A/N: I haven't actually written fanfiction in YEARS. The sad lack of John fanfiction made me finally come back XDDDDD It's dogwater and I wrote it in an Applebee's. Have this ig

~Squeed

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Both question and request :)

First off, I wonder where you’re from? You always update when it’s either super late or super early where I’m from and it makes me curious

Now for the request. I wondered if you could write about Tom and another guitarist having a real enemies to lovers kind of thing. Like for some reason they despise each other but eventually they end up being forced to interact more and more. Both of them would deny the other is not that bad ofc ;)

(Hello! Thank you for asking and I post a lot just when I have time lmao but I am from California! Nothing special and here ya go! Enjoy!)

Enemies to Lovers with Tom Kaulitz

There literally was no explanation

You just hated each other for no goddamn reason

From what you could remember at least

Your groups met up, and maybe he gave you a look, maybe you didn't like his attitude or you or him made a comment

You guys were very competitive over who was better at their craft so that was probably it

You guys just despised each other

Which was pretty bad since you guys had to be close together almost all the time

Why?

Your bands were friends with each other and your producers had the great idea to do some sort of Collab since both bands were similar

You and Tom were at each other's throats the entire time you had to be close together

And what was worse?

Fans seemed to not care, seemingly putting you guys together as a ship they thought was cute

It seemed like they wanted to torture you

They seemed to love the "tension" between you two, as the tabloids put it

And worse, you were scheduled to do photoshoots and interviews with Tom with just you two

Maybe it was the work of everyone together

Hint, it was

Mainly Bill and the lead singer in your band, they got annoyed with how much you guys would throw insults

So they forced you guys to be in shoots, interviews, videos, anything to make it get better

They didn't think it would work, but they indeed did try

At first it was rough, the worst it ever seemed to be with you and Tom

You thought he was an asshole and he thought you were stuck up and boring for thinking he was an asshole

But somehow and someway, you both seemed to dwindle together

It took so long, but the more and more time you spent together, you actually forgot why you hated each other

Instead of both of you being miserable, you forced yourselves to talk to one another to try and at least not annoy your band mates

And it actually worked

You found out you both had shit in common, liked certain hang out spots, had almost similar hobbies and obviously, you both loved being the electric guitar and guitarist for your bands

Somehow that was a even ground for you two

But it didn't stop there, Tom thought it would be funny to flirt and mess with you

And that's how you both ended up "playfully" throwing both flirty and actual insults to one another

One day you could be at each other's throats, one day you could be cool and be fine as hell

Nobody knew what to expect but it was certainly better than before

Everybody was just glad that you two seemed to finally get along, but were even annoyed more at how you both still kept up the act of thinking the other one was a bitch

Thinking the other is "not that great"

Or in your words

"sucks fucking ass"

You both refused to actually admit the other wasn't all that bad

Until you both were caught making out backstage of a set

Kinda hard to deny when your friends have video footage and photos

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

Currently Watching - May

aka The Masterlist

Because I love a good little list - in alphabetical order! 😊

Regularly updated during the month, latest update 31.05.2024

A little link to my favorite bl-tropes-collection 💙

I am happy about gif-requests 🌼

Here you can find all of my gifs.

At the end you can have a look at what we can expect in April with a MDL link and a link for a trailer (if avaible).

This is guaranteed to contain spoilers!

1. 25 Ju, Akasaka de 🇯🇵 (7/10)

I really enjoyed this episode. It didn't feel like a filler. I loved to see some of Hayama's thoughts and emotions. He liked Shirasaki since forever and I really hope they can find their way back together. The pain is so bittersweet. They like each other, but because of walls and misunderstandings they can't live their feelings. Really good episode this week!

2. Cityboy_Log 🇰🇷 (16/?)

I am so confused right now. Sometimes these time jumps are confusing. But okay. Those two made up. And only Jihan apologised? I hate jealousy, extreme jealousy, but I think he didn't need to apologise... I think Jaejun should apologise too, at least for his flirty behavior and this fucking kiss. I still need time to love this again and I hope this story is not going to be more fucked up with cheating and stuff...

3. My Stand-In 🇹🇭 (6/12)

The only thing I can say about the last episode is: I am obsessed with this kiss... There is nothing more in my head. Brain empty. This series is becoming more and more interesting. I am emotional invested now!

4. Only Boo 🇹🇭 (8/12)

I love these two. They are adorable and a blessing on my sundays! We got our first kiss this week and it was a first kiss. It was a little bit awkward and hesitant and cautious and it fit their character really good. I love their energy and the fact that they love each other like they are. It is such a healthy relationship.

5. Wandee Goodday 🇹🇭 (4/12)

From One-nicht-stand to friends with benefits to fake boyfriends... And Kao is right, they have crossed the line with only being fake boyfriends a while ago. Jealousy is beginning to blossom. The wish to kiss each other is groing stronger day to day and I love it here! And is it not normal that you need time to come clean with your own feelings and getting over a year long crush? I totally understand both of them for not letting go of their crushes of years that easy.

6. Word of Honor 🇨🇳 (20/36)

Those two flirt a lot and are a married couple. Everyone knows that. And I love and enjoy that! Overall this is such a fun watch and the different sects and intrigues are sometimes a little bit confusing, but interesting. I love this world of martial arts and I love how protective Wen Kexing is over Zhou Zishu.

Finished in May

Series

Unknown 🇹🇼

The story about found family, childhood trauma and struggling topped with a lovestory between "brothers". They aren't brothers by blood so I really didn't care and just enjoyed this forbidden and hurtful lovestory to the fullest. This was exactly what I hoped for! The longing, tension and hurting is so good! The love between them is real and strong, but Qian is afraid and can't just let his heart decide over the head, yet. He loves Yuan, but is afraid what that means for them and especially for Yuan's future. I love this series so much! I didn't expect too much when I started it and got hooked really fast and in the end my entire week pointed to the saturdays and te new episode and the interaction here with the fandom. The last two epsiodes lost a little bit track and were to cramped with things that didn't need to be there, but I still loved this whole experience! So fucking beautiful! One of my all time favorites. A clear and big 10 out of 10!

Love Is Like A Cat 🇰🇷

The last two epsiodes were so bad I didn't want to gif any scene for this post... I cringed through this whole series... well at least through those parts I didn't skip. I mean, I could not even watch the kiss-scene, because all I could see were the few beard stubbles around Mew's mouth like he didn't get all of them while shaving. And they were so visible against the lightning. And all of their relationship felt so rushed and don't get me started with the thai/korean translator thingy. The concept of this was interesting, but bad executed. It really hurt my feelings to rate a korean bl this low, but everything, the plot, the acting, the dialogue, the script... everything was bad. When I close one eye really tight and think about this cutie Dae Byeol I can give it a 3 out of 10, but really not more.

You Are Mine Special 🇹🇼

This was not on my list this month, but here we are. And what can I say? They kissed a lot! So many kisses! If someone likes kiss, here ya go! It was sweet and a good ending to their story, but a little bit to sugary for me. But that is a personal preference. Those two get engaged and Shun Yu's mother approves of their relationship. It was kinda sweet seeing our CEO as "just" the boyfriend. I guess it is what you wish for as a special episode. I am not mad about it. I give it a solid 7 out of 10.

Blue Boys 🇰🇷

What was this ending? I am speechless and so damn angry! They overcame every misscommunication trope and ended like this? The bad-bitch-wanna-be-girlfriend? The If-I-can't-have-him-no-one-can-bitch? Really? It was a solid web series with great acting and incredible chemistry and they ended up breaking up, because a jealous bitch would destroy Jaemin's life if he continued dating Namyi? And Namyi is now thinking it is his own fault, because his family is rich and because he fell in love? I don't like it here. That ending was stupid. Sorry. Overall a 7 out of 10.

Memory in the letter 🇹🇭

I enjoyed this cute series so much, until the final episode... What was that? It was sweet and kinda wholesome, a little bit tacky, but that was alright and I really liked how they fell in love over the mirror. But that ending? The dad's best friend is now your boyfriend? And he looks so fucking different! Like a total different person. I know, love should be blindm but lets me real, if that was me, I would be: Stop. Who the fuck are you? Why is a 40 year old man hitting on me 20 year old? This felt so bad... I have no problem with the whole time travel, but 20 years is too much! And he is his father's best friend. He delivered his future boyfriend. That felt so wrong! I was a fan until ep 5 and with 6 everything went down... I still give it a 7 out of 10.

Boys Be Brave! 🇰🇷

Okay, it ended.... like that... where is the special epsiode? I want to know how the last date goes between Balgeum and Inho. I am happy for our main couple and they are cute as fuck, but what is with our unlucky side couple? Balgeum wants to become a better person for Inho and that is quite cute, unnecessary, but still kind of understandable. He needs to feel like he can offer Inho something more, while Inho is happy what he already has to offer. But with social backgrounds, I kind of understand him. But where is this special epsiode or spin-off?! I need it! Now! But I am really happy with the ending for our main couple. They are adorable! But the time skips with the hair-extansions confused me a little bit. But for me a strong 8 out of 10.

Kare no Iru Seikatsu 🇯🇵

They got their happy ending and I am happy with that. We got an I love you and some cozy snuggle time. What more do I need? Nothing... A coffee perhaps, but that's okay. I like this series. It was a cute watch with some heartache, but overall it was sweet and cute and positive. And I love Haruna for telling Natsukawa that wanting the best and happiest life for someone you love and at the same time refusing to give that person the thing that would make them the happiest is stupid. They are happy, I am happy. A happy 8 out of 10 for me.

Short Film

Movie

Dropped in May

Looking forward to in May

Upside Down aka Inverse Identity 🇨🇳 - Trailer (May 3rd)

Wandee Goodday 🇹🇭 - Trailer (May 4th)

My Marvellous Dream Is You 🇹🇭 - Trailer (May 8th)

Blossom Campus - Trailer 🇰🇷 (May 16th)

OMG! Vampire 🇹🇭 - Trailer (May 19th)

No international release dates:

A Balloon's Landing 🇹🇼 - Trailer (Coming to cinemas on May 10th)

The Time Of Fever 🇰🇷 - Trailer (Coming to cinemas on May 15th)

Manji Reverse 🇯🇵 (Coming to cinemas on May 24th)

The Time Of Huannan 🇹🇼 - Trailer (Coming to cinemas on May 31st)