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back2bluesidex · 1 year ago

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Monitoring Duty - JJK

Pairing: Idol!Jungkook X Managerial staff!Reader

Theme: Fluff, f2l (kinda), coworkers to lovers (kinda)

Summary: You are tasked with monitoring Jungkook's weverse live tonight, which starts with you trying to shove ramyeon down your throat and ends with Jungkook confessing that he likes you too.

Wordcount: 1.7k+

Warnings: None.

A/N: trust me, I had no plans of writing this one but couldn't really get this idea out of my head... so, please suffer with me. thank you very much. and it's really stupid so please forgive me.

Weverse: 🌟JK started a LIVE - I am tired..

Your phone dinged with the notification. You know what it can be and you are prepared but currently you are struggling to chew and swallow the last bit of cup ramyeon, so that you can finally get into your monitoring duty.

Drinking the water in a breath and debunking choking possibilities, you reach for your work laptop. Opening the application while putting down the password doesn't take you more than 10 seconds.

And finally you are in. Now all you have to do is to monitor Jungkook and take appropriate actions when there is an inappropriate situation such as, he falls asleep, or he spoils his upcoming schedule, or he gets repetitive calls from a sasaeng etc.

You melt on the hotel couch. Your limbs feel like jelly due to all the workload you have been through since 4 am in the morning. Being a managerial staff of a Kpop idol is neither fancy nor pleasant. While thousands of fans dream of being at your place, you want nothing more than a year long break. But then again, the pay is good and you are in need of money as well as a strong professional profile.

And another reason for you pursuing this gruesome job is, the man you are currently monitoring.

It has been more than two years since you joined Hybe. For the first year you worked with the entire team and for the last one year, you have been appointed as one of the managerial staff of the maknae.

You don’t know when in this last one year, you started to grow and harbor some kind of fondness towards Jungkook. Not that you don’t know the rules and regulations of the company (most of which don’t apply in terms of BTS), you can recite those better than your phone number, but still… staying immune to Jungkook’s charms, and especially the way he treats you with all the kindness of the world (which makes you wonder at times whether feelings are mutual or not), wasn’t possible for you.

You know it’s foolish, you know there will be no return to your affection but you still like to enjoy this feeling of liking him, adoring him from afar, praying for him in silence. You will move on someday, but as of now, your focus is trained on him and only on him.

“Oh the festival? The festival was crazy! You know it’s the first time I have performed in a festival all alone without the members, so it was scary and I was nervous. But seeing the other artists enjoying themselves and watching you guys cheering for me helped me a lot. Hope you guys liked it.” Jungkook giggles. You mirror his actions while watching him through your laptop screen.

If you put your ear on the wall, you could probably hear his mellow voice piercing through the thin cement of the overpriced hotel room. You are given the room beside him for handling emergencies quickly and he doesn’t even know that. He doesn’t even care, does he?

You shake off your thoughts as you try to focus on the live.

Jungkook restlessly talks and tries to interact with the fans despite being dead tired. You have been with him all day long and you know how hectic things were. He has hardly got any sleep since the day he landed in the US. Interviews, performances, event invitations, everything was lined up one after another. It all ended with the Summerfest performance today. Just this one live and after that he will get to rest for a couple of days before catching a flight back to Korea.

You roll your eyes as Jungkook starts to sing to comply with the request of a fan.

“He just performed for an hour and twelve minutes! And you people still want him to sing? Even when he is clearly tired?” you groan at the screen. Most of the time you respect fans’ love for Bangtan but sometimes their nonchalant demands really piss you off.

Jungkook finishes signing and starts coughing immediately. You follow the live stream as he leaves his chair and starts looking for water in the refrigerator.

He coughs some more and then with a very choked voice, says, “ah! Guys! I’m running out of water. Should I drink water from the faucet then?”

You grab two bottles from the nightstand as soon as possible and run towards his room.

Within a few moments of ringing the bell, Jungkook appears at the door. At first his eyes go wide seeing you standing there wearing an oversized tshirt and a pair of sweats, then his eyes fall on the bottles you have in your hold. He coughs again and you hastily open the cap of one of the bottles and thrust it towards his lips. He grabs it immediately and drinks until he is satisfied.

You try not to stare at the way his adam’s apple bobs when he chugs water down or the way he wipes his lips to get rid of the remnants of water, but fail miserably and you guess Jungkook notices that too, otherwise there is no apparent reason for him to smile sheepishly.

“Thanks” he says, closing the bottle, “so… you are on monitoring duty tonight?”

“Yeah. Are you okay though? You have been coughing since morning.” You reply, neglecting the way your skin heats up because of Jungkook’s intense stare at your smaller form.

“I am fine, Y/N. Much better now that you are here…” Jungkook pauses, your eyes widen at his statement, “with the water I mean.” both of you chuckle nervously.

“Umm.. I will wrap it up quickly okay? I don’t want to overwork you. Just give me ten more minutes.”

“Jungkook, it’s alright. Take your time. I like to watch you doing silly stuff anyway.” you smile and he giggles.

“It felt nice… hearing you say that.” Jungkook gives you one of his bunny smiles as his dark orbs find yours. You two stay there staring at each other, without giving a damn about the 10 million people that are currently staring at a chair, until reality finally seeps into your veins again.

“Bye. Good night.” you murmur as Jungkook nods.

He is already back at his seat when you come back to your room and sit on the couch.

“Jungkook-ah, I wish I had a better word than love to explain how much I love you.”

Jungkook reads a comment.

“Umm… better word than love? Is there anything like this?” He thinks for a moment, squirting his eyes, placing his index finger on his chin and pretending to think hard, “I watched a drama where the male lead confesses his love for the girl he likes saying something like ‘the moon is beautiful’ and I think that was really romantic. So, from now on if you want to say that you love me beyond explanation, use ‘the moon is beautiful’ and I will understand right away. Okay?”

You see as the comment section goes wild with “moon is beautiful” comments rapidly. Fans really love him a lot and he too, is so dedicated to his fans that sometimes you get jealous.

Within five more minutes, Jungkook is saying bye and turning the live stream off. You leave a sigh of relief, nothing went wrong under your watch and now you can finally sleep.

You hit the bed with a thud, wrap the duvet around your body and close your eyes only to be startled by the vibration of your phone that is kept on the nightstand.

You grab your phone with an annoyed huff, which vanishes when you see it’s a text from Jungkook.

“Do you wanna grab a beer? If you are not asleep yet?”

And the next moment you are bolting towards Jungkook’s room, fucking your sleep and nighttime rest.

You two settle comfortably at the balcony, talking about nothing and everything at the same time, while staring at the night sky. Gradually you forget that you are tired and you haven’t got any sleep for almost 20 hours now. But who cares. If having no sleep exchanges a bit of quality time alone with Jungkook then you would gladly stay awake night after night.

“Jimin hyung texted me earlier, saying I did a great job.” Jungkook says, sipping on his beer.

“See, you were panicking for nothing. You always do a great job.” You reply, he chuckles and then for a minute or so, you two fall into a comfortable silence. Until Jungkook decides to break it.

“The moon is beautiful.” Jungkook whispers and you hear it loud and clear. Your heart stops beating for a moment. You stare at the said moon blankly. You don’t know if it is what you think it is. Maybe you are wrong, the moon is really beautiful tonight and that pact he made, is between him and his fans, it has nothing to do with you. On the top of that there is no way he feels something for you. You are just a nobody, nothing in front of him and his grandiose life.

So you reply, “yes, it is.”

“Y/N… You have been watching the live and you know what I mean right?” Jungkook’s voice suddenly feels closer to your body. You don’t know if it’s really happening or is it just a fragment of your dream, so you stay silent.

Jungkook grabs your arms and turns your body to face him.

And then within a moment you are caged between his muscular body and the balcony railing.

“Don’t I deserve an answer?” Jungkook breathes on your lips.

“Do- do you really..?”

“Yes, I do. And I wonder why you didn't notice it when I am always giving you heart eyes, when I am trying to be as close to you as possible, when I am always looking for chances to converse with you, to spend a little bit of time with you.”

“But- Jungkook..”

“What’s your answer, Y/N?”

“Jungkook, my answer doesn’t matter. Not when I am one of your employees. It’s prohibited for me.” you try to make him understand.

“You just need to say yes, Y/N. I can manage the rest.”

“I will get fired.”

“You won’t. Don’t you trust me?”

“I do.” “Then let me take care of things okay?”

“Okay.” You smile at him, as he connects his forehead with yours. You breathe in him, his scent, his warmth and his affection for you. You don’t know about the future, you don’t have a clue about the struggles you are about to face. But you know you love him and he loves you back. So maybe things will be alright. You will let Jungkook take care of things as he wants, as for now, when he reaches down to lock his lips with yours, you taste euphoria on him.

A/N: The idea of "Moon is beautiful" instead of "I love you" is derived from the KDrama "Romance is a bonus book.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @soraviie @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch

#bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook

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emma-o-yt · 5 months ago

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Rick Riordan's problematic age gaps

Apparently reddit hates criticism because this got removed from there after a few minutes, maybe I can get it back up...anyways.

The age of consent in Texas is 17, Texas is where Rick lived (according to wikipedia) up until 2013. And yet...here we are.

Where do I even begin with this bullf*ckery? How about the most egregious of all?

Luke and Annabeth

We have two lines confirming their mutual feelings, one from The Demigod Diaries:

"Overtime, Annabeth developed a crush on Luke. As Annabeth got older, Luke developed feelings for her, too."

Mark of Athena (from her conversation with Venus):

"First there was Luke Castellan, her first crush, who had seen her only as a little sister; then he’d turned evil and decided he liked her—right before he died."

Now let me remind you, Annabeth and Luke have a seven year age difference, they knew each other at 7 and 14. By the time he died, Annabeth was just 16, while he was 23. And it's implied he begun returning her feelings a little before he asked her to run away, perhaps when she was 14. He's paralleled with Percy as Annabeth is his string in the river styx. He asks Annabeth explicitly if she loved him romantically (and she denies because Percy is there).

It's disgustingly inappropriate but at the very least they don't end up together...as for when they do...

Sadie Kane and Anubis

When it comes to immortal romance, I usually go for coded age. Anubis is thousands of years old but is mentally and physically 16, which is fine and dandy except for the fact that Sadie is 12. What do you want me to say except Rick is disgusting for promoting this.

Speaking of extreme age gaps:

Calypso and Leo

When you have a philosophy that every character must end up in a relationship, you run out of sensical options to pair up. Now, I'm a Caleo hater mainly because of how it retconned PJO and also because they are very toxic.

Now hold on, doesn't Caleo fall into coded age? Calypso is 15/16 and Leo is 15, so it's A okay! I suppose, if it wasn't for Calypso's past loves.

Odysseus, he had a wife and a son who was 20 years old in his final year on Ogygia, he is well into adult age. She also mentions the privateer Francis Drake and his wife Elizabeth, he was 45 when he married her.

If your defence is that she's actually thousands of years old, then that must also apply to Caleo. You cannot have it both ways.

Hazel and Frank

It's not that bad but it's necessary to mention for the point I will be making.

The timeline is messed up but I think they're 13 and 16 and meet at 12-15. I mean, come on.

Misogyny and Racism

What do these have in common? Well in 3/4 or 4/4, the younger one is female. In 2/4 or 3/4, the younger one is a person of colour.

Remember Nico? His crush on Percy as revealed in HoH? Well in MoA, there's a cheeky little red herring that happens a bit before Annabeth's talk with Venus (where it is revealed that Luke liked Annnabeth back). She wonders if Nico had a crush on her, but denounces him as too young. Now, Nico's age is inconsistent, I am unsure of his gap with Annabeth but I do know his gap with Percy. It's 3 years 5 months in PJO and 2 years 5 months in HoO (the series we are currently in).

So in RR's messed up mind, a white boy having a relationship with someone 2 to less than 4 years his senior is inappropriate. But a black tween girl dating someone 3 years her senior is just fine, a 12 year old biracial black girl dating a 16 year old is daijoubu, a 15 year old mestizo Latino boy dating an elderly woman is relationship goals, or the reverse a 15 year old girl dating middle aged men is a tragic romance and a 12 year old girl having mutual feelings with a 19 year old man is a "love story for the ages"!

The tv adaptation is so infuriating for this, they made Annabeth black, a lot of the changes they made came off as micro aggressions but especially her relationship with Luke. It's reduced to Luke simping for Annabeth behind her back and it's even worse because you can visibly see how large their age gap is. Heck, Charlie Bushnell and Leah Jeffries have a smaller age gap than book Luke and Annabeth.

Adultification is a huge real life issue. Children of colour and especially female children of colour are seen as less innocent than their white counterparts. Rick, who is dedicated to inclusivity should've known better than to include these illegal relationships. Stans will try and make excuses but it's there, deal with it.

As a black teenage girl who has been a fan of Rick's work for 12 years, I am disappointed.

#rick riordan critical #rick riordan criticism #anti rick riordan #anti caleo #percy jackson critical #percy jackson criticism #rr crit #anti frazel #heroes of olympus critical #hoo crit #pjo tv crit #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #rick riordan #riordanverse #rrverse #kane chronicles #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus

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eds6ngel · 4 months ago

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first of all: i absolutely love “double the pleasure” !! thank you so much for writing my silly slutty thoughts babe <3💋

i currently can’t stop thinking about robin buckley while listening to “burning desire” which got me thinking:

“have to touch myself to pretend you’re there. your hands were on my hips your name was on my lips”

or: robin accidentally walking in on her roommate (reader) touching herself, maybe even humping one of robin’s pillows (or using one of her “missing” shirts as a pillow case) while moaning her name.

-🪷

when two become one ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆₊˚⊹♡

robin buckley x fem!afab!reader

summary: you'd liked robin ever since you met her in your college class, so what happens when you hear her moaning your name from her room in your shared apartment? and what could possibly spiral from there?

warnings: SMUT!! fem!afab!reader. implied lesbian!reader. college!au. mutual masturbation. self pleasure. pillow humping. kissing. hickeys. hair pulling. boob play & sucking. fingering (r receiving.) oral (both receiving.) scissoring. dirty talk. swearing. pet names (baby, sweetheart, my love, pretty girl.) homophobia mentions. roommates to lovers/friends to lovers. fluff and comfort right at the end!! [7.5k].

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! sorry it took me so long to write this, but as you can see, it's a long one :')) regardless, i really hope that this is what you wished for!! ♡

You and Robin had become friends when you met in your communications class freshman year of college. You quickly bonded over your love for language learning and female rock artists.

However, the more time you spent with her, the more a certain kind of feeling cropped up. You tried to bury it down as much as possible, immediately doubting that she would even be into girls like you were. She was always talking about her co-worker, Steve, so the chances of her being straight were at an all time high.

Freshman year soon passed by and it was time to think about a second year living situation. Fed up with the confined living space of a dorm room, you two had decided that a shared place would be more convenient this time round, and you quickly found a two-bedroom apartment to lease for your sophomore year together.

You and Robin had just finished up dinner, a late occurrence since Robin was closing up Family Video tonight. So, by the time your stomachs were full, you both called it a night.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you placed your crate of skincare items on your bed, along with your fingerprint-stained mirror, and begin your nightly routine.

You manage to get through your toner and eye cream, before you notice a certain sound creeping through the thin wall.

“Ahhh…”

You assumed at first that Robin was just getting comfy, or maybe was simply yawning, so you continued with applying your acne cream.

However, another word followed by a more identifiable sound all but confirms what Robin is actually doing.

“Oh, fuck Y/N. Just like that.”

The soft, yet strangled cry unleashing from her throat sends shock waves straight to your core. And her moans don’t let down. If anything… they increase.

“Such a perfect pussy for me.”

Were you living in some sort of fucking fantasy? Did you in fact finish your skincare fifteen minutes ago and now you were imagining some sort of wet dream in your sleep?

You had to pinch yourself to double check. Yeah, definitely real.

And with the ever increasing moans, the ever more wet your pussy got. This couldn’t be happening. You had fucked to the thought of her for the past year. Had she heard you? Is that why she was doing this?

But, screw the reasoning. The heat between your legs was just growing and growing, the resistance becoming harder to ignore.

And soon enough, you were abandoning your skincare products to the end of the bed and getting comfortable, leaning your upper back against the headboard.

Your hand slipped below your purple, cotton panties, quickly finding the normal rhythm that you would pace yourself at on your clit.

Your middle finger creating an endless circling motion around your clit, your left hand grips onto the sheet below you, Robin becoming louder and louder by the second.

“Yeah. Rub it just like that.”

You imagined your own technique being used on her, her experiencing the desire you are, the pleasure you are, the same shivers running up her spine. It took an ultimate amount of courage not to buck your hips into your palm, your lower body desperately planting itself to the linen sheets.

“Mmm… Need more. Need your fingers, please.”

It was almost instinctual, you falling directly to her command. You gather your juices on your middle finger, coating it in your warm slick, before inserting it into your hole. Your left hand leaves a section of the quilt scrunched up into a ball as it instantly slaps to your mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You couldn’t be loud. You couldn’t reveal how pervy you were. Not yet.

“Faster, please!”

Your finger speeds up to the sound of her voice, another one sneaking into your entrance. Your mind was flooded with images of Robin on the other side of the wall. Her sprawled out on her cream-coloured mattress, hand shoved underneath her blue-checkered shorts as her fingers pump in and out of her sopping wet pussy, her juices cascading down her thighs like a goddamn streaming waterfall.

Your hips could no longer handle it, and neither could the sound of Robin’s pleas and cries. The wet sound of your pussy bounced off the four walls of your bedroom, deeply surprised at how Robin hadn’t caught on to the entire situation yet. Your hips bucked up into your hand, fingers driving into your hole at an unbelievable pace as the sound of your own voice desperately tries to escape from your throat, the only thing stopping it being the intense grip your palm had over your chapped lips.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!”

And how could your body cope with that pleasurable statement? The knot in your stomach was ever increasing, tying itself tighter and tighter into a thick ball, threatening to burst at any given moment.

Robin wasn’t even attempting to keep her voice down anymore, her cries so ridiculously loud that it was basically confirmed in your mind that she wanted you in this vulnerable position. How could any woman listen to those pathetic whines and whimpers and expect not to jerk off?

“Fuck! I’m cumming!”

There were the words. The words that gave your body permission to explode into a bloody dam. Your teeth gnaw down onto your hand, eyes rolling so far back that all you can see is white as the entire orgasm washes over you in a second.

You imagine Robin right now. Hips bucking wildly, fingers furiously speeding over her clit, mouth opened wide as the sounds force themselves out of her like a demonic spirit exiting her soul. Her hair a wild mess, panties stained with her arousal, leaking through onto her pyjama shorts as her orgasm struck through her.

All of a sudden, it goes quiet. You sit there revelling in the moment for a few seconds, before you hear the sound of the toilet being flushed from Robin’s en-suite.

Did that really just happen? It took your brain a little while to catch up to reality. This wasn’t a late night thought, or a spicy dream, or any other sexual scenario your mind conjured up. This was reality. You just got off to the sound of Robin Buckley’s voice. Moaning your name.

You masturbated with Robin fucking Buckley.

Robin has another early morning shift at Family Video, her darting out the door at a whopping 8am. Way too early for you to be fully functional.

But, you would be fully functional around midday, and Robin would still not be home yet.

You knew that Robin wore a cropped, ripped Blondie t-shirt to bed along with her blue pyjama shorts. She would sometimes change into them after a long day of work or classes, making it a real struggle for you not to let your eyes wander.

Your mind had been going crazy over the fact that Robin had been jerking off to the thought of you in that shirt. The sweet smell of her skin, her hand bunched up in the fabric, most likely pinching and swirling her nipple around through the thin material, her palm squeezing the flesh of her rounded breast.

It was too much for you. You needed that shirt. And what better way than to steal it when Robin wasn’t here to potentially catch you.

You first checked the small pile in the laundry hamper, making sure she didn’t shove it in the mix of dirty clothes. It wouldn’t be a shock after all, she probably ruined the fresh, fruity smell of the laundry detergent extremely quickly.

But, once that place was scratched off your list, you instantly headed towards her white bedroom door.

Pushing it open with your palm, you are greeted with a blue-patterned wallpaper. Her walls are adorned with many more movie posters than when you last visited her bedroom, ranging from “The Breakfast Club” to “The Terminator.” Her desk is a cluttered mess, textbooks lying open on random chapters with half-finished notes decorated with random little doodles she obviously got distracted by. But, the main character was sitting ruffled on her bed.

There it was, in all its glory. Your hand cautiously lifts up the fabric, instinctively bringing it towards your nose. You take a deep breath in, letting the smell invade your senses. You knew what sex smelt like, the pheromones hitting your nostrils instantly. The distinctive smell made your throat release a small whine in pleasure. It was perfect. She was perfect.

You debated taking the shorts as well, but you didn’t want to make yourself too obvious. So, placing the shirt underneath your arm, you exited her room and closed the door behind you.

She was definitely going to notice. But, you just had to play dumb. Pretend you didn’t know a thing. Pretend as if you didn’t sneak into her bedroom on purpose just so you could get off to the smell of her sweet, floral scent gracing her clothing. To the thought of her wearing that exact t-shirt to bed every single night.

No, that was nothing like you, of course. You definitely weren’t going to wear it later. And you definitely were not going to jerk off whilst doing so. And, no, the last thing you would do is purposefully be loud about it.

That definitely was not on your list at all…

You were getting ready to head to bed, water running at a cool temperature in your bathroom as you applied your face cleanser. You could hear the distant sound of huffs and puffs, a few objects falling to the floor on the other side of the wall, Robin’s trail of voice slowly approaching your room.

“Hey!” she half-shouts, her breath coming out in jagged pants, her hair aloof from rummaging through her room. Her blue pyjama shorts were already sitting comfortably on her waist, her long legs being accentuated, making it hard for your eyes to stay fixated on her blue orbs. “Have you seen my pyjama shirt? I swear to God I left it underneath my shorts, but I just can’t find it anywhere! I mean, maybe it could be buried in my closet somewhere and I was just being a klutz this morning, but why on Earth would I even put it in there in the first place? Surely I would’ve been functional enough to leave it in the most obvious place in my room, right?”

You keep yourself composed, effortlessly trying not to swoon over her rambles. It was one of the things that made you fall in love with her in the first place. You just loved it when she would go on and on about whatever was in that pretty little head of hers, whether it be college, work, or a new random hobby she had picked up during the week. Whatever it was, you would spend eternity listening to her if you could.

“Uh, no, haven’t seen it. Sorry, Robs,” you lie through the skin of your teeth.

“Huh, that’s strange,” she questions, thinking deeply as to where she could’ve left it, having no idea it was buried right under your cream-coloured, silk pillow. Meanwhile, whilst she’s deep in thought, you wash off your face and begin to brush your teeth.

She sighs in slight annoyance, “Oh well, I guess I’ll have to find another shirt. Or I could just sleep in my bra, of course—”

You almost choke on your own toothbrush at that statement. You already had a million images in your head on what you could fantasise about tonight, but knowing what she would look like on the other side of the wall? That erupted something completely new in your brain.

And it seems as if she was blushing too, her cheeks rising in temperature, the pink hue beginning to glow on the soft fat, “Not that you need to know that, of course. It was just my brain moving faster than my mouth, or, wait… my mouth moving faster than my brain? Um…”

You spit out the leftover toothpaste collected in your mouth, washing your toothbrush and placing it neatly back in the holder. You turn to face Robin fully now, using your palms to lean against the bathroom sink. There’s a new found tension between the two of you, your gazes staring into each other’s souls, searching for the connection you both desired to have.

As Robin rubs the back of her neck, small toned muscles on show which you try your hardest not to directly stare at, she yawns, trying to break the ever growing awkward atmosphere, “Anyway, I’m tired. Are you tired? Of course you are, you’re getting ready for bed. So, I should just…” she signals behind her, “Go, right? I mean, unless you want me to sta— No! You’re going to bed! Yes! So am I!”

She yawns once more, “See? Tired. So, I’m just gonna… skedaddle out of here, I guess. So… class, tomorrow, 10:15, yes?”

You hold up thumb upright, pursing your lips and nodding your head slowly, “Yes. 10:15. Bright and early.”

“Yes, okay…” she looks you in the eye once more, before swiftly turning her back and practically running to her room, “Night!”

“Night… Robs…”

You stayed in place, impatiently waiting for her door to close. And once you heard that click, you were leaping onto your bed, getting yourself comfortable against the headboard. You leaned behind you, grabbing Robin’s ripped Blondie t-shirt and throwing it over your head roughly. You wasted no time in dragging your fingers underneath the lining of your panties. You were gonna be loud, and you were not afraid to show it.

Your middle finger collected the dripping slick that was oozing out of your pussy, the pure thought of Robin describing herself as half-naked in her room just moments ago having a physical effect on your body. Once your finger was lubed up, it came to lazily rub circles around your swollen clit.

The pure motion had your body relaxing into the sheets below you, a soft sigh escaping your throat. Your fingers danced over the bud, moving from an up and down motion, to a side to side.

From the other side of the wall, Robin could hear the faint sounds of sharp inhales. She pressed her ear to the wall, stopping her search for her t-shirt once again to be met with a cry of “Oh, Robin. That’s so good.”

The sound sent shivers up her spine, your voice becoming louder and louder by the second.

In your room, you begin to experiment, dipping your middle finger into your hole, letting out a strangled cry.

You used your spare hand to massage your left boob in your soft palm. You squeezed and massaged it, imagining how many times Robin had teased her perfect breasts in this exact t-shirt.

You knew they were perfect, you didn’t have to see them to confirm that. You remember the way they slightly bounced at the pool party you both attended last summer. Water dripping down the gap between her breasts, boobs sitting just right in her red bikini, hardened nipples ever so slightly peaking out from beneath the fabric. It took all your willpower that day not to find some mysterious way to get your hands on her.

Meanwhile, Robin was dipping her own hand underneath her panties, body splayed across her bedsheets. “Need another finger, Robs” is what she heard from you, her soaked digit circling her entrance before diving right in, her hips setting a steady rhythm so she could fuck herself on it.

She imagined you sat on her chest, the front of your pussy rubbing up against her perked nipples as she fingered you slow and steady from behind, slowly increasing the pace to make you mewl and cry for her.

“Jesus Robs, that’s so fucking good!”

Robin let out a loud whine at your words, her finger hitting a particularly sensitive spot within her hole, her velvet walls clenching on the long and slender digit. She targeted it, curling it and deliberately dragging her finger over it again and again, her other hand coming down to join her in attacking her swollen clit, swiping it back and forth in her palm, a rough pace being set. Her imagination was going too wild in chime with your phrases for her body to react in any other way.

You almost paused at the sound of Robin’s moans, but the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing from your now two fingers sliding in and out of the delicate walls of your puffy pussy made you continue to be loud and proud about the pervy attitude you had towards your roommate.

Your mind conjured up the image of Robin between your thighs. Her soft, wet tongue gliding up the centre of your folds, paying close attention to your clit, swirling around in continuous circles. Your eyes were completely closed, the sight consuming your every thought, the made-up physical sensations transferring over into reality, as if you could feel her golden blonde locks tickling the inners of your thighs as she shook her head violently on your vulva.

Your moans were almost synchronised, the sounds bouncing off each of your walls, transferring through the thin material, desperately expressing your need and want for each other.

Robin’s bangs were stuck to her forehead, hips lifted off the bed as she rode her fingers fiercely. In the other room, you visualised those same ring-covered fingers stroking the delicate inners of your pussy, making your legs begin to shake, your rhythm almost being lost at the sudden violation.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

You could feel the knot tightening in your stomach, letting out a loud, “Holy fuck, I’m gonna cum, Robs!”

And for the first time that night, you were pushed over the edge by the sweet sound of Robin’s voice replying to you.

“I’m gonna cum too, Y/N!”

The waves hit you like a vigorous ocean desperate for crash-landing, your legs struggling to stay put as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your palm was pressed flat against your vulva, fingers still buried deep inside you as you let your hips do the talking. They kept thrusting upwards, thighs shaking intensely as they tried to find some sense of calming.

Robin followed just after you, your cries of pleasure from your impending orgasm sending her over the edge also. She rubbed her clit powerfully, hand moving from side to side as her voice let out strangled moans and high-pitched whines. Maybe she was thankful for the missing shirt as sweat was dripping down her body like no tomorrow.

As you came back down to reality, you caught up with the situation. Your hand was still tightly gripped onto your boob, you having to remember to loosen your hold. You could hear Robin’s pleas of pleasure, your brain obviously knowing that she was cumming alongside you.

There was an empty silence from her side of the wall, before the sound of the water pipes working away signalled her washing her hands, a slight pang of disappointment in your mind as you thought of her sweet, lovely juices being carried away by the gliding water coming from the sink.

You stayed lying down for a moment, taking another smell of the t-shirt. You sighed in satisfaction as both of your smells deliciously blended with one another. Everything about your plan was working perfectly so far. Robin now knows that you are also into her, and the sexual tension was forever growing.

Now, there was only one more thing left to conquer in this grand plan of yours. Robin had to not only hear you jerking off… but see you as well.

You seemed to get through your 10:15 communications class with Robin without bringing up the events from the previous night. However, you would be lying if there wasn’t some unresolved romantic tension. You were desperately trying not to test the waters there and then inside the classroom, but you wanted to save that surprise for when Robin got home later.

Robin had another class after you, so it was the perfect opportunity for you to set up your little plan.

As soon as you got in the apartment, you threw your keys into the tray by the front door, taking your comfortable coat off and hanging it delicately on the hook. As soon as you entered your room, you got out of your stylish clothes and changed into something more comfortable. You decided that a long t-shirt and a pair of panties would do. After all, you were hoping by the end of today, all of those items would be on the floor in a messy, unorganised pile alongside another person’s…

You organised your pillows neatly, Robin’s Blondie t-shirt peaking out, almost teasing you for the upcoming events. One of your pillows is arched up against the headboard, whilst you stare at the other. It was covered in a pink pillowcase, dotted with white stars across the material. It was a beautiful combo, you had to admit, but sadly, that had to be abandoned. You grabbed the end of the t-shirt, before sliding it over the bare pillow.

Perfect. Your new pillowcase.

You couldn’t wait to leak all over it, leaving a permanent stain, your scent forever being marked on Robin. Every night when she went to bed, she could feel and smell the essence of your juices, the liquid consuming her entire being.

So, now you just had to be patient and wait. Robin’s second class of the day was luckily quite short, and an even shorter walk home than the one you had returned from.

Just another fifteen minutes until it ended. Another fifteen minutes until you could hump your pillow to your delight. Your door was perched open at just the right amount, enough for Robin to be able to see you the closer she got, but also concealing enough for it to seem like a genuine mistake. And of course… for her to hear you moan her name at the loudest volume possible.

Robin sighed as she entered the apartment, running a hand through her golden locks as she closed the door behind her. She throws her backpack down on the couch, about to head to the kitchen to grab a mid-afternoon snack when a certain sound can be heard down the hall towards the two of your bedrooms.

She stops in her tracks, the noises being ever so familiar and reminiscent from the night before. She shouldn’t be doing this. This is weird. This is creepy. This is perverted.

But she came with you last night.

She’s heard your moans many times now, and you’ve basically confirmed that you get off to the thought of her, so what was the harm in seeing you pleasure yourself in person? What’s wrong with a little curiosity?

She slowly tip-toes towards the sound, heading towards your bedroom. Your door was slightly ajar, just enough for her to take a peek through if she leant back against the wall.

She could hear some sort of repeated thudding sound now, almost at the right spot to see you and…

There you were.

Robin had to refrain from letting out a light gasp as she took in the sight of you. Joan Jett t-shirt adorning your chest, the slight peek of your red, lacy panties grazing across the… pillowcase.

She found her t-shirt all right. It was being used as a pillowcase, your pussy rubbing across it. You were letting out the sweetest moans, high-pitched squeals as your clit evidently bumped against the material. Your eyes were closed, one hand gripping onto the bedsheets, the other latched onto your t-shirt as your mouth hung wide open. Your hips were doing all the work, moving you up and down, up and down the pillow.

But, when you started moaning out her name again? Robin was a goner.

“Your pussy feels so good, Robbie.”

That final bit of restraint snapped suddenly. She quietly popped open the metal button on her jeans, sliding down the zipper so she could slide her hand under the waistband of her black boxers.

Her black-painted fingernail found its way to her swollen clit, the juices already leaking from her vagina, swirling around in a deliciously perfect motion. She used her other hand to grip onto the wall, almost smacking it by the sudden pleasure she experienced.

She tried her best to keep her eyes locked on your body, watching as you kept moving and moving and moving, not daring to slow down, too consumed in the pleasure to have a care in the world.

She let out little soft gasps, her eyes fluttering shut every once in a while to just take in the sounds of your voice calling out to her. However, one gasp seems to be too loud, as an “Ah!” leaves her mouth.

She has no time to hide herself, your eyes already snapping open and taking in her position. Her right hand is sunk beneath her underwear, bangs beginning to stick to her forehead as her fingernails are digging into the cream-coloured wall, fingertips turning red from the sheer pressure she had on it.

You smile softly at her. You wanted to put on this dominant attitude, that was your entire plan, but your world shattered when you saw her in that vulnerable position. She looked so pretty, so beautiful trying her best to keep quiet. You knew that you wanted to get her into this place, this state, but you didn’t actually prepare yourself for what that would entail. Your mind conjured up some pretty gorgeous sights, but nothing compared to the real thing. Nothing compared to Robin Buckley, being caught jerking off to the sight of you, rubbing your pussy against her pyjama t-shirt. It was Heaven on Earth.

“You were touching yourself…” you let out breathlessly, completely unsure of what else to say. The girl had rendered you speechless.

“Yeah…” she whispers back, before raising her voice a little and gulping, gesturing to you and your position on the bed, “That’s really fucking hot.”

There’s a stark silence between the two of you, a tension that neither of you know how to react to. But, finally, after so goddamn long, you ask the question you’ve been meaning to ask her since last fall, “You wanna come join me?”

She nods immediately and in such a helpless manner, “God, yes please.”

You climb off the bed, practically running up to her as she rushes to you, grabbing her by the back of the head and smashing your lips into hers.

It’s messy. It’s desperate. It’s passionate. But, you also wouldn’t want anything else.

Your hands are tangled in her hair, hers cupping your face as she opens her mouth wide, slotting her tongue in yours. She tastes absolutely divine, your tongues sliding hungrily across each other as you feel her pushing you towards the edge of the bed.

You shift back onto the mattress, lips never parting as she towers over you, slowly pressing your body down into the bed. She parts from your lips to leave a trail of kisses from your cheek all the way down to your collarbone. She pays particular attention to your neck, sucking and leaving love bites, finally claiming you as her own. With every sinking of her teeth into your skin, you let out a soft moan of “Robs…” infatuated by her presence.

She stops attacking your neck to softly look up at you, stroking your cheek with her thumb, the rest of her palm resting behind your ear, “How long have you known?”

“Since last November…”

“Jesus Christ, baby,” she mumbles, heading back to your neck again, “So long I could’ve had you…”

She leaves small pecks over the red marks that were now forming, “Had a good long think last Christmas Break… Realised I did actually like you…”

“I like you too…” you reply back quietly, eyes closing from the sudden delicate turn from her.

She looks up again, “Can I show you how much I like you?”

You take a gulp before nodding frantically, “Please, Robs. It’s all I ever needed.”

She smiles sweetly before bunching up the ends of your t-shirt, your arms instinctively rising above your head so that she could remove the item of clothing.

Her eyes immediately are drawn to your breasts, leaning down to place tender kisses on each of them and in between them, anywhere she could gain access to. She swirls her tongue around your left nipple, gently sucking at the perked bud, cupping the outside fat with her palm before repeating the movement on your other breast. You close your eyes and let whatever pleasure consume you be let out into the atmosphere, various soft moans and breathy whines escaping your throat.

She continues the trail of kisses from your cleavage, down to your stomach, leaving some more love bites in her quest, and finally reaching the waistband of your panties.

“Can I take these off?” she murmurs, eyes that were once a beautiful shade of blue just like the ocean, now consumed by an eternity of blackness, the absolute extreme lust filling her orbs.

“’Course you can, baby. You can do anything to me,” you weakly smile, the newfound nickname sending shivers down Robin’s spine as she hooks her painted nails underneath your lace panties, you aiding her by lifting your legs in the air so she can glide the garments off of your long, luscious legs.

She glides a finger up your folds, your juices collecting on her digit as your hips involuntarily buckle, your mouth letting out a “Gosh, Robs—”

“Such a pretty pussy for me,” she mumbles, smiling up at you through her lashes as another finger joins her in getting lubed up. And it doesn’t take long before she’s biting her lip and slipping her two fingers deep inside your hole.

Your hand instinctively grabs at her locks, head being thrown back before you quickly regain yourself, staring at Robin as she gasps herself, “God, they take me so well.”

She shuffles closer, kicking her jeans off where they had pooled around her knees, letting them fall to the ground at the edge of the bed as she curls her fingers inside you.

A whine forces itself from the back of your throat as she begins to set a steady pace, eyes locked on the way your juices slowly spill out of your vagina.

Your hand is massaging her scalp, gently tugging on her golden locks as you make eye contact. It’s so… trusting. So safe. You knew that she was likely going to ruin the shit out of you, but there was an underlying tenderness to it all.

You had been waiting for this for so long, and your dream was finally coming true.

She shuffles forward once more, eyes remaining connected with yours as her head leans closer to your pussy. She quickly looks down, making sure she is in the right position, before staring at you as she licks a big, long stripe up your folds, holding them open with her left hand.

A much louder moan is projected out of you, head hitting the headboard as your eyes roll to the back of your head. You try to focus on the way her tongue is perfectly circling around your clit, but your body is making it increasingly hard to do so.

The way her fingers were gliding along the inside of your walls, curling as they reached your g-spot, along with the way her mouth movements switched from kitten licks on your clit, to full on sucks, had your mouth letting out the most disgustingly loud sounds to ever grace it.

Your hips started to move, Robin not stopping you as they fucked themselves on her fingers, her mouth simply following the sporadic and scattered motions they were taking.

Your hand grips tighter in her hair, making sure to keep her in place, your body never wanting her to leave your pussy.

As Robin could feel your inner walls tightening around her fingers, she began to moan around your clit, the vibrations sending more signals to the ever-growing knot developing in your core.

“Robbie, Robbie. I-I’m getting close, God—”

She simply replies through more moans, head now shaking against your clit as her fingers targeted your g-spot, doing short, curled movements against your velvet walls.

“Robbie! Robbie! I’m gonna cum!”

And before long, the dam breaks. Your legs tighten around Robin’s head, her continuing her movements as she let you ride out your orgasm. Your eyes closed firmly, mouth hung open as strings of moans and whines left it, you just letting your body react in whatever way it needed to. Your vision had turned white regardless, the sheer power of your orgasm knocking the wind out of you.

When Robin feels you calming down, she pulls her fingers gently out of you, mouth detaching from your clit with a little ‘pop.’

She licks her lips, chin dripping in your juices as she comes up to softly kiss you, you tasting the familiar liquid on her tongue.

As she parts, she asks you, “How was that, my love?”

You cup her face weakly, your hands still slightly shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. “It was perfect, baby. Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome, pretty girl.”

You take a moment to rest, not wanting the situation to be over just yet. You wanted to pleasure Robin too. You couldn’t just let her watch you get off, then make her do all of the work. She was the one standing outside your room rubbing her pretty little clit to you after all. And personally… you wanted to play with that pretty little clit yourself.

“Robbie?” you ask softly, to which she replies with a quiet hum. “Can I take this off?”

You play with the hem of her t-shirt, to which she agrees, lifting her arms up so you can discard of the item. Leaning over to your side, you reach for the abandoned pillow, taking off the Blondie t-shirt and holding it in front of Robin.

“Could you wear this for me? Ever since I heard you two nights ago, all I could imagine was you fucking yourself in that t-shirt and all I wanna do is return the favour.”

Robin nods gently, “I’d be honoured, sweetheart.”

She lifts the t-shirt over her head, getting it comfortably situated on her body. All your fantasies were coming to life and it was perfect. You cup her face once again and give her another sweet kiss to the lips, taking in her cherry-flavoured lips and slowly lowing her so she is beneath you.

Careful not to make the situation too obvious and to protect yourselves from judgemental outsiders, you refrain from giving Robin any hickeys for tonight. That could be reserved for another private and intimate moment between the two of you, your brain desperately hoping there was gonna be one.

You press your lips to slight exposed skin at the bottom of her cropped Blondie t-shirt, lifting her boxers away from her mound, gripping her thighs and squeezing the plush skin, long fingernails digging in.

For that reason, you also refrained from fingering her tonight. You were no pro in doing it to someone else, and you were not risking giving Robin any cuts or potential infections from something that could be so easily avoided.

So, your mouth was about to be the star of the show. You lowered your attention to her vulva, hairs adorning her parts as you opened it with the pads of your fingers, careful not to hurt her. You slowly dived in, experimenting by focusing on her clit with a few kitten licks.

It was seriously that easy as Robin let out a moan and her thighs came to cage you in, your hands moving back to her fleshy thighs to keep them in place.

You experimented further, changing your actions from targeting firmly her clit, to licking from her hole, all the way up. You tried everything, seeing what made her twitch, jolt and whine the loudest, focusing on the elements that caused the most extreme reactions.

Robin’s grip on your hair was causing your face to be pushed more and more into her vulva, not that you were complaining, of course. But, when you looked up to see her right hand massaging her boob, you quickly realised you were missing the stars of the show.

You specifically asked her to put that t-shirt on, and you were actively ignoring it. How shameful of you.

You softly push her hand out the way, letting go of her thighs, not caring if they trapped you in anymore, so you could squeeze and fondle with her breasts. They felt perfect underneath the shirt, your thumbs flicking over her hardened nipples, a loud whine being let out from Robin.

“Baby, that feels so good, oh my God—”

You could feel her legs beginning to shake, so you followed her technique, shaking your head back and forth whilst sucking directly on her clit. You maintained eye contact with her, thumbs flicking over her nipples continuously whilst your other fingers delicately massaged the underneath of her breasts.

And that is what sent Robin over the edge. With a loud cry and announcement of “I’m cumming!” her thighs began to cage you in drastically. But, just like she did with you, you didn’t let up on her clit until you could sense her legs calming down and her breathing slowing.

However, something within you was telling you that you still weren’t satisfied. There was nothing wrong with what Robin did to you, nor what you did to her, but your body craved something else, something deeper.

It wanted to feel Robin against you.

“Robbie, I’m so sorry, but I need more. I need to feel you. I need to feel your skin on me. Properly.”

Robin was slightly unsure of what you were referring to at first. Your bodies had been pressed together many times already, but, with your body slowly rising and your leg hooking around her own, she completely understood what you were referring to, and she was not against it one bit.

Scissoring had always been one of your fantasies. You had envy for straight couples when you were first figuring out you were into girls as they had such an easy way to connect with each other fully, skin to skin, body part to body part.

But, when you picked up a lesbian porn VHS that one of your male gay friends got for you to hide both of your sexualities, you discovered the beauty of scissoring. And you had been wanting to experience it since.

And what better time than now. You look over your shoulder at Robin, just to get her confirmation that this was okay, which was signalled by an enthusiastic nod, her impatiently waiting for you to lower your mound over hers.

And soon enough, you did. The moan that immediately left both of your mouths in sync was so incredibly beautiful and sexy.

That immediate feeling of her juices mixing with yours was something you wanted to experience day in and day out. You thought being between her thighs was something you would want to spend an eternity doing, but this had just taken the top spot for you.

Robin’s legs were firmly planted on the bed, allowing for you to grip onto her knee and just underneath to steady yourself.

Not knowing exactly what to do, you alternated between rubbing back and forth, which felt incredible as it was, swirling your hips in a circular motion to try and locate her clit, and bouncing on her to hear the gorgeous sound of your joint wetness sticking together and coming unstuck.

At first, your bouncing allowed for Robin’s clit to slightly press into your hole, you letting out a variety of moans to signify the enjoyment of her entering you.

However, it’s the moment that you slow down, your body struggling a little from the rhythm, that your clits rub together. You both knew how perfect it was by your jaws dropping open, loud cries echoing across the apartment as you locked eyes.

Robin knew this was the pleasure she needed, so gripped your hips and began moving you against her in the correct motion.

You let her do all the work. You wanted her to feel the most pleasure she had ever felt in her life. Even though this was your fantasy, most of the enjoyable elements for you were the other person having fun. That was the one thing that always got you going in the pornos.

Both of your previous orgasms made you extremely sensitive to the movements of your hips, and as you felt Robin’s legs begin to shake, little grunts came out of her mouth as she rocked you harder and faster against her vulva.

You began pressing soft kisses to her knee, encouraging her with words of endearment and praise.

“That’s it, baby. Get yourself there for me. Wanna see you fall apart for me, pretty girl.”

Robin stared at you as she cried out, you taking over as you moved your hips faster than she could control herself. She simply squeezed the flesh of your waist, her hands signalling that she was getting closer and closer to falling off the edge.

“C-Close. So fucking close—”

You smiled in between the moans that escaped your sweet lips, “I know, baby. Can feel you twitching for me down here. You gonna cum for me? You gonna cum on my pussy?”

She nods, whimpering out, “Y-Yes, ah! Yes I am! Yes I am!”

Your hips are now struggling with the way she was replying to you, the knot in your stomach tightening for the second time tonight, fingernails scratching at the skin adorning her knee.

“Then let go for me, pretty girl. You got it.”

And with a loud cry, Robin lets go for you., the feeling of her juices leaking onto your pussy sending you spiralling right alongside her.

The both of you are moaning messes, legs shaking violently against each other as you ride out your highs in unison. Both of your names, along with a few expletives, fill the atmosphere, the smell of sex lingering in the four walls of your bedroom, dissipating to the living space of the apartment from where your door was still open when Robin had entered earlier.

As your orgasm comes to an end, you move your leg to the other side of Robin’s waist so that you can simply collapse onto her chest.

You look up at her with a sense of love and adoration in your eyes, giggling in your post-orgasm haze at the event that just occurred. “I think it’s safe to say that we’re both idiots.”

Robin takes a breath before replying, “Idiots? Yeah, most likely. But, I was debating for a little while longer after you, so it probably should’ve been me. Plus, you always talk about your friend Eric all the time, so I thought that you were into him or something—”

“Robs?” you interrupt her.

“Yeah?”

“Eric is gay.”

She purses her lips, trying not to laugh at herself, “Okay, that makes a lot more sense.”

You laugh along with her for a little while, before the atmosphere turns into a comfortable silence.

“So…” you let out, “I guess that means I should take you out on a date.”

“Really?” Robin lights up.

You look at her with a little confused expression as you laugh, “Yes, dummy. You think I wasn’t gonna take you out on a date after this?”

“Sorry!” she holds her hands up in surrender, “I’m used to girls at the lesbian bars around here fucking me and then never calling me back.”

“Ouch, that’s gotta suck,” you cringe, “Well, good for you, I can hear you through the walls, so if you ever need me, you don’t even need to leave your room.”

Robin blushes at that, her cheeks turning a rosy pink colour, before you turn the conversation back around, “Anyway, about the date. Where would you like to go, baby?”

Baby. That was something she would have to get used to on the regular.

“Um… There’s a new Italian place that’s opened up about ten minutes from here, we could try that? Plus, then I can impress you with my Italian language skills,” she wiggles her eyebrows.

And even though she was joking, it did turn you on just the slightest bit, “Italian sounds good. So… it’s a date?”

Robin looks down at you, her eyes glistening with warmth and affection, her mouth turning up in a wide curve, her teeth showing as she replies, “It’s a date.”

And with that, you had a date with the girl of your dreams. She was yours, and you were hers, and you were never going to let anything change that.

taglist: @robinsno1lesbian @agxxb @agenderrat

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x afab!reader #robin buckley x fem!afab!reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley smut #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fic #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley oneshot #robin buckley one shot #roommate!robin buckley #perv!robin buckley #stranger things #eds6ngel

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zeawesomebirdie · 11 months ago

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Superbat Fake Dating + Identity Porn Rec List

Thanks to @jourquet for asking for this!! I hope you find something here to read!! (And paging @steine-druff as promised!)

These are in no particular order, but generally organised by trope. I tend to read longfic as a general rule, so these recs will reflect that :) the titles contain links to each fic.

Fake Dating

1. A Common Misconception by rotasha; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 91,114 words; 21 chapters; complete

Summary:

When Bruce Wayne comes out, he accidentally becomes the poster child of bisexuality and realizes his lifestyle of sleeping around needs to come to an end. Clark, being the supportive friend that he is, volunteers to pretend to date him for a year.

You know the rest.

This fic has everything that one could want in fake dating: idiots in love, mutual pining, one bed, fake vacations, miscommunication. It also really captures the superbat dynamic of trusting and yes and-ing each other, even when they probably didn't need to be!

(And if you like this fic, any of rotasha's other works are just as good! I've got a few more of them in this list too)

2. over this threshold by orphean; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 59,283 words; 7 chapters; complete

Summary:

'I don't understand how tax evasion relates to you going on a date with, do I need to remind you, Bruce Wayne.'

Clark bit his tongue.

'We're going to get married. It's a tax break, not tax evasion.'

'Are you kidding me.' Lois stared. 'That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.'

———

Bruce asks Clark to marry him for tax reasons. Clark, against his better judgment, agrees.

Exactly what it says on the tin. Some highlights include Bruce buying Clark ridiculously expensive suits, Clark taking forever to tell his mom what's going on, and of course the wedding itself which was just delightful, with speeches from Lois, Alfred, and Dick that had me crying.

3. A Rich Man's Game by malicegreres; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 63,942 words; 13 chapters; complete

Summary:

The editorial staff of the Daily Planet, currently owned by Bruce Wayne, is trying to organize a labor union. Clark can't explain to his coworkers why he can't participate without jeopardizing the campaign—or tell Batman why he's been so cagey around him lately. When Bruce finds out what's been going on, Clark recruits him to resolve his conflict of interest in the only way Clark can think of: by pretending to date him.

This fic is truly glorius. Of all the ways Clark could have solved this problem, he chose the most convoluted. And surprise surprise, it works!

4. mission parameters by shipyrds; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 33,394 words; 6 chapters; complete

Summary:

"Bruce." Clark turns towards him, leaning back against a bank of consoles. "We're not actually going undercover. We don't need an elaborate backstory– if anything, it'll be harder to keep straight. It doesn't have to be complicated." He spreads his hands. "Here's a story: we're members of the same elite fighting force. After years of saving each other's lives in the field, we fell in love. That's it."

Bruce swallows past the almost-truth of it. In Clark's warm smooth radio voice, it sounds plausible. It sounds like something that could happen.

—

Bruce and Clark pretend to be married for diplomatic reasons. When they return to Earth, things are a little different.

Of all the things that normally Bruce says, Clark is the one to insist on a simple coverstory. And of course, from such simple things spirals out a whole entire adventure that doesn't stop just because the mission is over! This fic features a domesticity that neither of them knew they needed until they had it

5. tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by susiecarter [@susiecarter on tumblr]; rated M; no archive warnings apply; 33,007 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

It takes a while for Batman and Superman to work things out, once Clark comes back from the dead. Pretending to date each other in order to explain why Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are in the same place so often? Doesn't help as much as you might think.

*slapping this fic like that one meme with the car* this fic can fit so much miscommunication into it, it's truly delightful to read!! Also, yet another fic where Clark fails to mention what's going on to his mother. And of course the constant worrying about each other without actually expressing it, which is truly such a golden trope when it comes to these two!

I'm adding a cut here because this is already very long and we are still only just starting, so click the read more to see the rest ^.^

6. there ain't no star that shines by amosangius [@amosanguis on tumblr]; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 11,713 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

“I'm not the same person I was back in high school,” Clark says, “and I doubt they all are, either. What would be the point?”

“Oh, Clark,” Bruce is suddenly holding Clark's face with both of his hands, “the point is that I'm going to land us in a helicopter somewhere for all your classmates to see.”

Clark sighs and closes his eyes.

“Say 'yes', Clark,” Bruce orders.

Clark doesn't open his eyes, just says, “Yes, Clark.”

If you thought Bruce buying Clark expensive suits just for their fake dates was excessive, you ain't seen nothing yet!! This fic also features casual bed sharing (and so many references to casual intimacy oh my goodness it's lovely), Bruce Wayne being Rich As Fuck, and Bruce casually being overprotective of Clark in social situations

7. my heart is an open wound by yukla [@yuebings on tumblr]; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 13,367 words; 1 chapter; complete

“—I’ll see you kneel again,” Luthor is hissing, eyes hungry, and Clark is swaying back in discomfort—and as Lois checks their surroundings again, she notices that Wayne is still standing across the room, staring uselessly, as though he believes the sheer force of his murderous gaze would be enough to laser-blast Luthor into oblivion.

Jesus Christ, Lois thinks. I have to do everything around here.

5 times a Daily Planet employee protects Clark Kent, and 1 time Clark Kent protects the Daily Planet.

Or: Clark's coworkers watch as he fake-dates his crush with limited success.

It is probably obvious by now that miscommunication and Bruce's emotions getting in the way of everything are two of my favourite things to read. All of Clark's coworkers are the best, and once again Clark is a self-sacrificing idiot (affectionate)

8. flash in the pan by shipyrds; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 15,951 words; 3 chapters; complete

Summary:

Here’s the thing. Clark does understand. Superman and Batman are fucking. Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne are not. Clark can handle this. He keeps parts of his life separate all the time.

It’s possible, Clark thinks, as he glares at a lurid tabloid cover of Bruce’s latest scandalous yacht party in the grocery store checkout aisle, that he can’t handle this.

—

At the Wayne Foundation's annual holiday party, things come to a head.

Okay there is so much I want to say about this fic and yet there are no words that could possibly express just how incredible it is. Bruce coming up with the worst case scenario for literally everything? Check. Clark agreeing to fake date even though he's majorly head over heels and this will likely end in flames? Check. Ma Kent giving the best relationship advice ever? Check. Dick yelling at Bruce when he tries to self sabotage again? Check. Truly one of the best fucking-but-still-pining fics I've ever read!

9. Operation Sponsalia by Brenda [@brendaonao3 on tumblr]; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 13,610 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

"When did you first realize you were in love with me?"

Bruce coughs up his wine.

"I mean, in this...whatever this is," Clark clarifies, blushing to the roots of his hair. "I don't think you're really — I mean, I know this isn't —"

"It's alright." Bruce's voice is raspy, but steady. "I know what you mean."

Clark's glad one of them does.

Or: Bruce and Clark have to fake an engagement for ~reasons — featuring a metric ton of very romantic dates, enough floral arrangements to start a flower shop, SO MANY puns, and Clark finally getting to know the real Bruce. :D

Clark doesn't find out that Bruce said to the press that they had been dating long enough to be teasing enagagements until after it's already been said. Was there a better way to explain why Bruce just happened to help save the Kent family farm? Absolutely. And yet they follow through on it anyway, and I love it for them

10. Sham-pagne by ChrisLeon; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 8,248 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Superman is spotted visiting Wayne Manor, prompting speculation about how exactly he knows Bruce Wayne. To protect their secret identities, they need a plausible explanation and it seems easy enough to go along with the tabloid theory that they’re sleeping together. All they have to do is pretend to be in a relationship until the speculation dies down and then they can break up move on.

Or: Superman fake-dates Bruce Wayne, we all know how this ends.

This one was fascinating to me because instead of Clark and Bruce dating, it's Superman and Bruce dating, and let me just say I'm so incredibly hinged about it!! I think there is so much potential in that particular version of their dynamic, and this fic was such a beautiful exploration of it!

11. Speaking in Code by Mithen; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 7,459 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Clark and Bruce must go undercover at a newlywed resort to try and stop an assassination attempt. Hijinks, UST, and reluctant making out ensue.

First of all, Mithen is a superbat master. Pick any fic of theirs and it will be delightful. Second of all, I could write an entire essay about how much I adore the way they go from irritable about this mission to incredibly enthuasiastic over the course of their two days at the resort, but then we'd be here all day so: if you like banter, one bed, and a case fic this is a brilliant read

12. Kind Truths by Mawiiish [@superbattrash on tumblr]; rated G; creator chose not to use archive warnings; 6,478 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Bruce needs help with an undercover mission. Clark can never say no to him even though he probably should before he does something stupid. Like tell Bruce he's in love with him.

“Why me?” Clark can’t help but ask. He tries his very best to keep his voice level, to not sound as desperate as he feels.

“Because I need someone there to watch my back,” Bruce says, a little exasperated. He really shouldn’t have to explain this to Clark of all people, it’s not like they haven’t been on missions together before.

“I get that, but what about Diana? Shayera?” Anyone who doesn’t have a big fat crush on Bruce would do.

Is it obvious I have a thing for Clark agreeing to fake dating despite his big crush on Bruce? This fic is glorious, and features delights such as Bruce metaphorically putting his foot in his mouth, Clark wanting nothing more than to defend Bruce's honor, and one of the most beautiful confession scenes I've ever had the pleasure of reading

13. where i come from by soetry [@soetrys on tumblr]; E; no archive warnings apply; 52,494 words; 11 chapters; complete

Summary:

Bruce doesn’t have a soulmark, and Clark doesn’t have a soulmark, on an Earth where everyone has a soulmark. Somewhere in there is a simple solution. Somewhere to that solution is an overcomplicated journey. Surely two of the world’s leading superheroes will not take the overcomplicated route?

Surely not?

This one is a little bit of both. The identity porn in this was really well done - Dick is a massive Superman fan, Bruce is unimpressed with both Superman and Clark Kent, and it all goes downhill from there (affectionate). Highlights also include Bruce using a dubiously legal site to crossreference soulmarks, him getting the Superman crest tattooed on his wrist using Kyrptonian tech, and Clark being a self-sacrificing idiot. This is also one of the best soulmate AUs I've ever read!!

Identity Porn

1. Get Over It by rotasha; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 32,378 words; 3 chapters; complete

Summary:

Bruce needs to get over his inconvenient feelings for Superman and he meets an attractive reporter who he thinks can help him do just that. Little does he know...

Of all the identity porn I've read, this is one of the best! Bruce dating Clark to get over Superman is one of the best things ever and this fic really does a good job of their dynamic!

2. Lost Time Without You by rotasha; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 68,792 words; 21 chapters; complete

Summary:

In a universe where your soulmate’s injuries show up on your skin, Bruce is convinced he doesn’t have a soulmate, and Clark is seriously concerned for his soulmate’s well-being.

This was my introduction to soulmate!AUs and oh my goodness it was spectacular! The build up to the reveal of their identities was brilliantly done, and the chance encounters that pepper through the lead up to that point were captivating. This fic also features Bruce being a good parent and I really love that for him

3. the cost of being a good dad by Mawiiish [@superbattrash on tumblr]; rated T; creator chose not to use archive warnings; 95,533 words; 10 chapters; complete

Summary:

Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian are all tired of watching Bruce struggle with the stress of trying to handle the newly formed Justice League. He needs an outlet, he needs to relax, he needs to get out of the house, he needs... he needs to start dating. And what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

“Excuse me, I don’t know who you think I am, but I think there’s been a mistake.”

“Bruce, right?” the guy says, albeit less confidently this time. He looks slightly concerned and if Bruce is not mistaken… a tad embarrassed. “Bruce Wayne? You look just like your pictures.”

“My pictures?” Something finally clicks in Bruce’s mind, and he takes a small step back and plasters a smile on his face as to not rouse suspicion. Stalker. “Ah, of course, I’m sorry but I’m late for an appointment.”

This fic features the batkids catfishing Clark on Bruce's behalf, Bruce being a good parent, and the utter chaos of miscommunication that can only come from these two being idiots! It was a delightful read, and of course the batfam in action is always a joy!

4. ship-to-ship combat by pomeloquat; rated M; no archive warnings apply; 62,737 words; 12/13 chapters; incomplete

Summary:

"Clark. What the hell is this," Lois asks, staring at Clark's Bruceman WIP folder. Clark's first instinct is to fly away, but that would still leave his fic on display for her to see. His second instinct is to blast a hole straight through his laptop screen with his heat vision, which isn't much better.

Clark, in an attempt to make some spare cash, unintentionally stumbles into the world of superhero fanfiction, becomes a prolific writer for Gotham's OTP, and tries his best to fend off rival fans who want him to convert to superbat instead.

Oh my goodness okay. Where to start with this fic. First of all, Clark writing Batman/Bruce Wayne fanfiction is such a brilliant concept. Then add to that the fact that Clark is secretly crushing on Batman at the same time, and the entire comedy of a trainwreck is a delight to witness!

5. I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am by Mardiaz173; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 12,920 words; 3 chapters; complete

It was like living in the Twilight Zone. Everyone else believed fervently in Bruce Wayne’s reputation. He was a flirty, stupid, and entitled drunk whose only redeeming quality was his bleeding heart. And yet every time Clark spoke with Wayne, the man was clever, mischievous, and sober with an indecipherable ulterior motive.

And no one believed Clark. Not Lois, not his parents, not even Batman.

Clark insisting upon defending Bruce to everyone much to everyone's dismay is one of my favourite superbat tropes ever, and this fic really does it well! And of course, this fic also features Batman shit talking Bruce, which is always a joy to see!

6. Don't Quote Me by metropolisjournal [@metropolisjournal on tumblr]; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 77,131 words; 20/21 chapters; incomplete

Summary:

Bruce Wayne has weathered scandal before, and Wayne Enterprises can handle another publicity crisis. What Bruce can’t handle is one crashing up against his plans to infiltrate Lex’s estate. Set during Batman v. Superman.

This was the fix-it for Batman vs Superman that I didn't know I needed until I read it. The identity reveal was so incredibly well written, and the whole fic was stupendous from the very first chapter!

And that's all for now! I hope you find something in here to read, may you enjoy!!

#superbat #rec list #thanks for your patience too!!#this was fun to put together!!

440 notes · View notes

bbyquokka · 8 months ago

Text

1:30 pm (lmh)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | lee minho x gender-neutral reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | lovers to friends, timestamp, suggestive – 18+ is strongly advised!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | lots of kissing, grinding, love bites, reader and minho are desperate (aka horny) for one another

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 0.9k ~ (923)

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 | song inspiration for this lil piece below ! i hope u all enjoy ‹3 tysm for reading !! ‹3‹3

♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

bodies pressing against each other. hands tangling in each other's hair. your fingers rake along his scalp whilst he tangles the strands of your hair around his fingers.

heavy pants and moans swallowed by one another. the desperation for more kicking in slowly but surely. you both pull apart for a brief second to allow oxygen to enter your lungs.

minho’s kiss bitten lips attaching themselves to yours once again giving you little to no time to gather your thoughts. the small space of the closet makes you both feel small and claustrophobic. the heavy bass of the music outside ringing in your ears.

all you care about is him. the man that is currently taking your breath away. his hands slide down your sides to hold your waist where he soothes and strokes you from over your clothing.

his body is pressing against you. his chest against yours, one leg between yours to keep your legs parted as you hover over his strong thigh. you grip onto his shirt, hot breath mixing together with saliva.

skin hot and sticky. the air is humid and suffocating from the small space. your heart thumping so heavy and hard, it rings in your ears and drowns out the background noise.

minho's hands dip under your clothing. his hot yet soothing and gentle fingers caress the skin of your sides causing goose bumps to rise to the skin.

it makes him chuckle. it makes him love that he still has that effect on you. his head tilts to the side to allow himself to deepen the kiss even more. his tongue gliding along your swollen bottom lip. as you part your lips to allow entrance for him, he pulls away slightly to speak

“missed you.” he mumbles against your lips. you whimper softly, unable to speak because he doesn't give you a chance. he takes advantage of your parted lips to slip his tongue past them to meet your own wet and hot muscle. they both collide and tangle, a battle for dominance which you loose. minho swallows every breath moan, every drop of saliva that spills from your lips.

to him, its like honey. you taste and sound so sweet to him. it makes him tingle with excitement and adrenaline to pump through his veins. his shaky hands move from your waist to the small of your back where he pulls you even closer to him.

you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss him. since the break up (which was on healthy terms), you've missed him more than ever.

right person, wrong time. the stars were just not quite aligned back then. both of you have different aspirations and goals. the beginning of the relationship was good but once the honeymoon period was over, you both found yourselves fighting over anything and everything due to stress and the pressure to maintain the healthy relationship, so when it turned unhealthy, you both mutually agreed to break up.

you'd rather have him as a friend and still in your life than not at all. the same applies to minho.

“minho..” you gasp as you feel his lips peppering soft and gentle kisses on your neck. he sucks and gently bites the skin, leaving small love bites. his crotch now pressing against you which allows you to feel how excited he is for you.

and if that was enough of a tell-tale sign, he slowly starts to rub himself against you.

“‘m sorry yn. it's been a while and i’ve missed you so much.” his hot breath fans against your hot skin, making you feel shivers.

he vowed to never get attached to you. he promised himself but one touch, one kiss was all it took for him to fall deep in love with you. you're all he ever thinks about. after the break up, he thought he'd be able to spend more time focusing on his dreams and goals but instead, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of you causing him to become severely distracted and desperate for you.

he slowly grinds and rubs against you. his head dipping and forehead resting on your shoulder as he pants heavily and desperately. like an animal in heat, he grips onto your waist with a small amount of force and his moans soon turn deep, long and frequent as he fluidly lets them slip past his lips.

you grip onto his clothing, desperation kicking in for the both of you as you grind and rub against one another. you match one another's tempo, moans mixing together and becoming one. minho kicks his head back a little, exposing his neck to you as his eyes flutter shut and lips part, hair sticking to his forehead and back of his neck.

“yn.. fuck, yn.” he moans softly. you close your eyes slowly, lips parting as you allow the pleasure to rush through your veins like adrenaline.

his touch, his sounds. it's all making you feel tingles. his nimble fingers that's caressing your skin is setting your skin on fire. his moans ring in your ears. the butterflies fluttering in your stomach make you feel giddy but also nauseous. everything about minho right now is making you feel dizzy. but strangely, you've missed these feeling.

as you open your mouth to speak, to beg and ask for more, to take this elsewhere due to the intense amount of lust and desire you both have, you're rudely interrupted by a knock on the closet door.

“five minutes is over!”

278 notes · View notes

meli-writes · 4 days ago

Text

Long Time, No Shear - Ch. 01

A sheepish Fae-girl is desperate for someone to shear her for the summer, and to not be weird about it.

There’s a human on Dolly’s doorstep — and she’s naked.

Okay. No, not literally. Per human customs this is all completely appropriate, if a little avant-butch, for the current weather. Black boots and denim short-shorts; enough chains to lose count; loose, side-slit tank that makes her toned, tanned arms part of the outfit; no attempt to hide the lace bra underneath — citrine yellow, to match the sun beating down on her.

And Dolly, snout pressed on the window, feels like she can see all of her.

But— she’s here because Dolly invited her and Dolly can sympathise, because it has been three weeks since she was supposed to have been sheared and she is melting.

(It is though 100% the humans’ fault this is the 8th ‘hottest summer’ — on record, in a row.)

And so there she is, pressing forward through the curtains, trying not to be noticed while she works up the courage, when all of a sudden the human looks at her.

And waves.

---

sheep-goat Fae needs EMERGENCY help w/ summer shear. Can be reg if not weird

Last posted 18 hours ago on Fluffr, the dating-slash-bulletin app for Fae and panel-vetted humans. Yes, humans named it.

It still takes a weird person to apply to the panel, unless they got Fae-referred but that’s got pitfalls too; it also went public after the grants dried up, and has gotten worse because of that particular human-neoliberal urge to overdevelop everything into ruins; and it’s where she met her Wolf-Fae ex — the one who dumped her four weeks ago. But:

It’s still better than the human apps.

Because Dolly doesn’t need this to become a weird sex thing because it’s already super intimate and freaky — and it’s what every human she meets on their apps tries anyway.

Y’know, before she shuts them down and they false-report her till she’s banned.

None of this is the Dolly-in-distress’ preference. Not by the length of a thousand leylines.

---

“Hey. Sorry about that,” Dolly says, sheepishly.

“You’re all good,” the human replies, a smile perched beneath her silver-rimmed aviators. “I’m looking for someone in need of a bit of help, roommate maybe?”

“Dolly! Yeah. That’s me,” Dolly cuts in.

She points to the thin, white line traced on the interior doorframe, “You see the chalk? It’s a shadowskin enchantment, here and on the windows. Makes me look human from the outside, your side, so no one stares.”

“Ace! Makes total sense. Fiona, by the way,” Fiona says, as she steps past the threshold.

Behind the aviators her eyes glimmer, and Dolly has to remind herself it’s just the dispelled illusion and not— “You are a beaut, but I see yer problem.”

She’s glad Fiona can see the smooth, mottled-white velvet on her face now, because even from across the street anyone looking in would be seeing her cheeks swell up with a redcap-crimson blush.

“Girlfriend broke up on ya, didn’t she?” Fiona asks, a little idly.

“Mutual! It… was… mutual,” Dolly bleats, biting down on a full-blown shriek. “Okay. No. But she did it at the worst time and—” She breathes in the infodump, stops herself, curls in an outstretched finger and restarts, “Remember what I said on Fluffr about privacy?”

Fiona winces, hard, and Dolly has to smother her mirror of it, cursing at herself in her own head for not sucking it up. It’s nothing I didn’t tell her, justifying the post and shit. She was just—

“Yeah nah, totally,” Fiona says to her relief. “Just out to help a fellow gal in need.”

(Fellow. Yeah. Dolly also had to tell her in those DMs that Dolly was trans — up the freak-show sentiment even further — because there was no way around Fiona seeing it.

Humans could never tell otherwise, even though her horns were still buck-sized.

She was half-goat anyway, which explains away most irritating questions she gets from them — even if they still didn’t stop staring at the black thigh-high wool pattern on her legs.)

Dolly tries to move on, before Fiona stepping back over boundaries also means out the door, “Thanks. You’ve got uhh— experience. Right?”

Fiona’s nerves are swallowed in a moment. “Reckon!” she says, bouncing on her feet. “I was a kid when there was still livestock on the big, industrial farms. Went to the sheep-stations each year to help out; docking lambs in the spring and the like.”

(When Fiona had mentioned her ‘experience’ in DMs Dolly convinced herself it was practical. Human ethics have been catching up since Fae unveiled themselves a few decades back, after the Vampires, but it was still… weird.)

Did she have to specify docking? Dolly thinks as her tail twitches, and thinks Fiona can see her trying to hide it, and that Dolly can see that Fiona can see that, and that—

“That’s… okay? You’re okay?”

“Ahh! Yep. It’s helpful, not weird,” Dolly answers desperately. “Well, it’s a little weird, but it always is. Just remember that I’m very much sapient and talkative.”

She steps into the next room without looking, hoping Fiona is still with her.

---

“Alright girl, are ya ready?” Fiona asks, observing Dolly scurrying over the plastic mat that covers the floor, making sure it’s tightly held at each corner by a chair or spare textbooks.

“Uhh, one minute. Could you— look away?” asks Dolly, bringing a long-clawed paw to the neck of her shirt. “I know you’re gonna look back but—”

Fiona turns. She’s not giving you a striptease, she thinks to herself, pottering over to the sideboard to distract herself, “This is the stuff here?”

Dolly watches as Fiona inspects her life-long assembled kit — explains, “Yeah. I had to figure out what was best for me. Was not cheap.” Fiona whistles in agreement, as she slides a slim pair of double-bow metal shears out of the sunlight.

“I know this girl who can roo, so lucky,” Dolly adds, jerking about as her pencil-skirt stretches over her fluff-plumpened ass and— “Okay, ready.”

She sees Fiona tee-up herself, nabbing the electric handpiece. “No wide combs, I like it. Grandpa used to say we lost the union to those things,” she says, before turning back around and instinctively sizing Dolly up.

“Huh… like a whether,” she mutters under her breath.

Dolly has tried desperately to never learn the terminology; doesn’t think when she idly asks Fiona, “Excuse me?”

“Comb on the handpiece: anything bigger than 2.5 inches is a ‘wide’ comb,” Fiona answers obliviously. “So you can go faster, and get paid less. I suppose it makes sense to go smaller, and you’re not looking to sell the fleece are ya?”

(She had — once. When she still had rent to pay, and was needily short, so went and sold it on a Fae-fetish site for a shameful and incredible amount. And still thinks about it sometimes.)

Right now, her hooves grind anxiously into the floor. “No, Fiona. The other thing?”

The human’s round eyes tumble back into the abyss of their sockets, as Fiona’s brow rises in concert with realising what she’s said; something Dolly hasn’t the expertise to know, only the foolishness to ask. She doesn’t answer. Dolly feels the plastic fibres beginning to snag under her circling hoof.

“Say it, or go and don’t help me,” she demands at last.

“It’s a… castrated male,” Fiona says, biting her cheeks. “Sorry. Maybe I should go anyway? It was a bit of a heinous thing to say—”

“Nope. No, you’re doing it now,” Dolly tells her, making it obvious she’s guilting her. “Or, maybe I pull out Fluffr and report you?”

Tormenting her too — all while utterly in the fluff, Fae-adapted phone stylus in hand.

Fiona twists at her shirt, briefly exposing a rippling mid-riff, “You wouldn’t… really?”

Dolly makes a show of walking up, tucking the stylus into a stationary-drowned mug, and looks at her. “Fiona, I’m fucking with you. You apologised, and I’m desperate here.”

“It really is that bad?” Fiona mutters, as much about the overcoat as realising her pitiful remorse is far better than Dolly must usually get.

“You know what crutching is?” Dolly asks.

Fiona nods.

“Eugh. And, it’s a fifth of my body weight. Roughly. And fuck it’s so hot these days.”

“Yeah nah, lost my hometown to a wildfire,” Fiona says, a little dissonantly chipper about it. “Why I moved here to be honest with ya.”

“Shit. Sorry I’m—”

“Our fault,” Fiona reassures. Meaning humans. “Not yours. Just tryna help.”

“You really are, y’know.”

She sinks to her knees, leaning forward and pressing her thighs together to hide herself a little, and coaxes Fiona to join her. “My girlfriend— my ex— she promised to help me after the breakup ‘cos I was due but well… ghosted me, then blocked me after I called.”

(Six voicemails. The first few reminders; the last few begging.)

“The other options are like pay three hundred pounds to get nude at a hairdressers, and/or livestream the thing on a fetish site to break-even,” Dolly continues, knowing exactly what that site is called. “Yeah… nah.”

Fiona listens, but doesn’t look, focused on setting a few implements down before taking an offered arm to follow her down. “Wow, you’re soft.”

“Uhh, yeah? Unlike the sheep you’re used to, I don’t like live in a field,” Dolly says sardonically. “I get a bath in this place.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve got an entrance hall, lounge, staircase. It’s heaps better than ninety-percent of the places in this city. Certainly better than the box I’m allowed to rent,” Fiona retorts, flipping the handpiece on.

Dolly lets out a small, nervous titter. The way humans tangled up their housing with markets seemed remarkably silly. “Adjustment funds, the Greater London—”

Fiona swipes, a whole ream of Dolly-fluff falling off of her.

“Hey-hey-hey! Wait!” Dolly squeals, Fiona blinking as she rushes to pause and Dolly collects herself. “You uh— need to go slower than that.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Was just thinking you’d want me to be… efficient.”

She smiles plaintively, “I mean, I do. It’s just I wanna make sure it’s not scruffy, or messy, or obvious. ‘Cos that would take weeks to grow out. It’s best to sort of—” She holds her breath, and looks at Fiona who’ll never be more ready for this.

“Go slow and hold me down.”

Fiona swallows, wishing it was light beer and not the sheep-girl’s dignity going down.

“And that’s… where people get really weird, right?” she asks.

“Yep.”

If they somehow got this far.

“Like, seriously — how do I explain on an ad: hiya, I need a girl to pin my nude body down and spend four-to-five hours groping me and not somehow make it a weird sex thing.

And, y’know, not make it too much of a regular weird thing either.”

She sighs; rearranges herself to lean back into Fiona, bumping horn into chest.

“Throat’s best to start,” she says, after a moment.

Fiona’s hand reaches slowly, constantly darting her eyes back-and-forth for consent and, not seeing any complaint, takes Dolly at the horn and pulls her low till she’s able to line the handpiece up against the notch at the base of her neck. She closes her eyes, a little unemboldened. The lambs never talked back to her or looked this cute.

“Come on,” Dolly interrupts. “I’d like to wear clothes again today.”

Fiona fumbles, and blinks open, and the lamb in her arms just laughs. It’s difficult not to, there isn’t a way this isn’t absurd and Fiona thinks she gets that now.

Her gaze focuses, a little less nervous this time. A smile creeps to the corner of her mouth, “No worries. I’ll get ‘er right, sweetheart.”

---

Three hours in, and Fiona’s just now reached Dolly’s hips. The arms were simple, if a bit too close to being nipped once or twice; the back came off clean, and Dolly doesn’t admit she thinks about that site again; the tits weren’t bad — mostly covered in the same velvet that’s on her face, all the way down to her— y’know.

(Dolly also absolutely does not mention the three times she came this morning. Not for any sort of pleasure, spirits no. But to make sure there’s as little chance as possible that she gets hard from the super-hot, basically-nude butch handling her like— well, like a sheep.)

The ass was mild torture; Fiona tearing her facial muscles to shreds in the sternest wince of her life, as she held up Dolly’s fat, soft cheeks to clean up the folds where her ass met her thighs. Dolly, at least, holding herself in a grim but merciful silence of solidarity, till at last both rushed to kick back into listing off more of their shared, fascinating, and agonising spars with each of the respective departments of the Home Office that exists to make their lives a bureaucratic nightmare.

It made it all too easy for Fiona to forget Dolly was even supposed to wear clothes, until she was looking at her bend down to a cupboard to fetch mugs for a strongly needed tea-break, even in the present heat.

But, it’s smooth now, and so she runs a hand serenely down the small of Dolly’s back, not thinking of anything more than just making sure the girl’s cut is clean and consistent — till her hand reaches that newly-shorn ass and—

Bleat!

It’s the tiniest sound Fiona has ever heard, and it sounds hot.

What comes after is worse than the ass-silence. Fiona tries not to panic, hopes that Dolly didn’t feel the still in Fiona’s slide, but before she can click on the handpiece to continue—

“Oh— God. I am so sorry,” Dolly squeals.

“No, no. It’s okay,” Fiona protests but Dolly is wrestling out of her lap and she doesn’t dare stop her, as the self-excoriated sheep covers her mouth in shock.

Fiona tries to raise her hands in surrender, “I-I wasn’t thinking. Or rather thinking of you like a— I just wanted to check it was all the right length.”

“Fiona, you heard that right. I sounded like I was—” Dolly buries her face into the unshaven fluff of her thighs, butting the tip of her snout through to sniffle at the air. “You know what I said earlier…. weird sex thing. Like I’d never mean to, it’s just you’re hot and I can feel all of you. And I know how dumb that sounds coming out of me and with what the weather’s like but I’m used to people wearing like— more than that when they’re shearing me.”

She parts herself like Moses, and looks at Fiona clenching herself in awkward horror.

It really doesn’t help how it makes all her muscles flex.

“I-I’ve made it weird, not you,” Dolly whines; crucifies herself on the plastic sheet, “You can stop there, and I can wear shorts or a skirt so you don’t need to shave my legs.”

No one’ll notice the bulge. Shadowskin can take care of it. Right?

“Are you sure?” Fiona asks, tentatively placing her on Dolly’s knee and sinking it down a bit into her coat. Forcefully enough to both reach her wayward lamb, and to demonstrate the problem still there. “It’s really okay, that was totally me. I just sort of—

forgot the artwork for the canvas it was on.”

Dolly looks up, jerks a horrifically undecided croak out of her throat, and asks, “Did you prepare that one? You don’t… you don’t think this is a date, do you?”

There’s no velvet to hide the crimson shame that courses across Fiona’s cheeks, nor the same cushioned thighs to tuck them behind. “No, no, definitely not. Sorry,” she cries. “I know what you said too, and I don’t wanna be another weird human that you’re suffering for… basic care! It was just that you seemed… cute? And I don’t know, it feels nice to rescue a gal in need. I-I didn’t expect anything, I just… didn’t want to say no if you liked me too.”

The sheep stares at her, tilted head and pursed lips. Dolly can’t tell what reaction she’s having, which bloody well means Fiona won’t be able to.

Instead she slides back across the plastic and lies on her back, pulling her legs up till each forms a triangle. It does the trick.

“Should do the legs, shouldn’t I,” Fiona says — and Dolly is glad she didn’t have to ask.

---

The door is open, and Fiona hovers at not-quite the threshold unsure if she should be on the inside or the outside of it. Of the chalk line, Dolly’s rather literal boundary.

Dolly at least is— Fiona can’t admit it, not now, but she’s beautiful. To see the whole of her not in shittily-taken photo-form — her stylus is there for a reason it seems — but all in motion, as she stretched and shook and wiggled her tail and shorn-at-last self.

It’s hard not to feel proud too, of a job done well, of a girl saved.

The magic — the metaphorical, right now — worn off though leaves Dolly hovering too. She looks about as stressed as when Fiona showed up, but she hopes it’s only in a way that’s her fault — and that it’ll be quickly settled when she’s been booted out the door never to see her again.

“Uhh. Hey,” Dolly says, sheepishly, like Fiona was just coming in again. “You really helped me out a lot today.”

“No drama, sweetheart,” Fiona replies, the points of boots tip-tapping as she looks down at herself. “But, I should’ve dressed up better, didn’t think at all it’d be such a bother for you. Or— not a bother but— not your fault.”

“No I— It’s cool. You look good.”

“Oh… Thanks.”

She takes a step back, pulls out her aviators and tries to flip them on but Dolly just reaches out and takes her at the wrist. They stare at each other for a moment, but Dolly doesn’t let go, and Fiona doesn’t shake her off.

“Would you wanna help me next time?” Dolly asks, in more of a squeak than a sensible, unheated whisper. “It’s in a few months time… a lighter cut, for autumn.”

She drops Fiona, watches nervously as Fiona’s own nerves creep across her face, “Oh, I mean, sure! Would you wanna meet up before then, maybe? I don’t know, just to help things be more… normal.”

Dolly laughs, sweet on the afternoon breeze that’s sweeping in. “Now it’s a date?”

Fiona’s tongue wants instinctively to slither down her throat, but she thinks she can spot one of the girl’s teases by now — and she probably does have all the right to be a little mean.

“If you’d like it to be,” Fiona teases back. “But — for real — I’m still happy to help.”

Dolly huffs, and smiles in eminent satisfaction, “Then yeah, we can call it a date.”

It’s when Dolly’s peering through the curtains a few minutes later that she sees Fiona, thinking she can’t be seen, stop at short distance down the street and dance with glee for just a precious, delightful moment, before she looks back with a dumb, fond smile on her face and it just cracks when she realises Dolly can still see her.

And Dolly waves.

And Fiona can see her blush.

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

#melinoë writes #f/f #butch4femme #lesbian writers #sheep furry #please don't hate me furries i love you #for all the freaks who correctly bully me for being a sheep girl #i think i'm legally obligated to get my sheep fursona now #this sat in my drafts for 10 months dear god

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beannoss · 2 months ago

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So, as I'm writing more than I anticipated when I first dipped a toe into SxF fandom (!) I thought I'd collect the meta & fic links in one place! 💕 (not spoiler-free :)

META

Endo describes Twilight as 'matter of fact' rather than 'kind': there's a profound philosophy embedded in that sentiment.

… that matter-of-factness manifests in ways that are, almost unerringly, kind. Twilight values consent, he values empowerment for those around him (with some limits, if they impinge on his mission), he privately espouses and practices other values that align with progressive ideologies, like feminism and the rights of the child. Obviously he's 100% antifa and anti-war. One could argue (and perhaps this is what Endo means) that Twilight makes those decisions because they often result in the path of least resistance, making his job easier. And okay, maybe. Except...

Anya isn’t needed for Strix. Twilight decides to adopt her anyway.

Twilight decides it — “I’m going to rework the mission so it doesn’t involve a child because that’s too dangerous” and he’s 100% right! Donovan Desmond is canonically a far right warmonger with fascistic authoritarian aims... Also it turns out Anya’s a person which is frankly unacceptable — Twilight had needed and anticipated an automaton, ideally of himself in miniature form... So having entertained this change, why go back when his reasoning is indisputable?

Let's get deep into analysing the meaning behind the choice of the word Forger for our family's last name

[Create (a relationship or new conditions)] can be taken as a whole within the Forger household, after all Twilight did create the Forgers. But more importantly to me, this meaning applies particularly by way of what Anya and Yor are doing within the family, their choices and aims, and how they’re influencing and shaping the Forgers. And then, of course, Twilight’s choices in return, both under the explicit guise of for the mission and those times when the mission is curiously (ahem) absent from or delayed in his thought process.

What moment(s) cinched it for Twilight to start developing feelings for Yor?

It's entirely in keeping with Yor's character, and it's an entirely revealing moment of who she is. And I think this is the moment for Twilight. He's already been trusting her bit by bit, as he says above, intuitively. I'd suggest that maybe even more than that though, Yor taps into something Twilight deeply wants: backup. Someone and somewhere safe. Maybe we could describe a person fulfilling that role in an adult relationship as a partner...?

What about a Twilight x Yor romance, pre-reveal, in canon? (Ask response)

... because I think it would undermine character arcs and dominant themes. Twilight’s arc involves finding and forging a new pack, a new family. Somewhere safe and loving... A big part of this safety and love for Twilight is about being accepted, warts and all... Yor’s arc is also around finding love and security, but centred less around acceptance (although that obviously also explicitly features!) and more around self-worth and understanding her value.

FIC

Let's start living dangerously (T, Complete)

The real reason Twilight was in the park drilling Bond unnecessarily and covertly training Franky very necessarily, was that Twilight was enacting what he'd called The Avoidance Protocol. And was consequently avoiding his wife. In which Twilight kisses Yor and absolutely does not panic about it.

Twilight x Yor. Post-reveal, humour, fluff, mutual pining, romance, and lots of thinking and lots of feelings. Also flirts with 'idiots in love', I'll have to add that tag...!

It's only me, what have you got to lose? (M, WIP, current primary focus)

Loid asked, “Are you willing to follow my lead?” Why — why did that question make her so angry? It was a practical question in the circumstances. It wasn’t one Yor was typically asked but it wasn’t so far outside the norm. And, a part of her which felt very small added, she had happily followed Loid's lead on many things over the months, without question, trusting his kind eyes, his calming practicality, his seeming abiding normality — But. What did any of that mean any longer? In which the Forger house of cards collapses, and with everything that matters in the balance, the value of normal becomes an open negotiation.

Began with me wanting to explore Yor finding out about Twilight, and has, um, expanded. Yor x Twilight. Identity reveals, angst and fluff, hurt/comfort (emotional and physical), touch starvation, lots of feelings, intimacy, some humour (ah, eventually), and the building of something real.

heartlines (T, one-shot complete)

Hello? Appeared on the soft part of the back of his hand, between his thumb and forefinger. He shouldn't have seen it except that something scorching had torn, had burnt, his glove away and he only just noticed that, the way the fabric had curled and crisped and as he stared, as his heart rate went higher and higher — What did that? Could I have lost my hand?! — more words appeared. I could really — this was crossed out— if — crossed out, but then again — if you're — this was then crossed out as well, but the scribbles didn't disappear, just words on his hand with frantic, messy lines through them until one remained unsullied — can we talk?

Soulmark: Anything you write or draw on your own skin appears in the same place on your soulmate.

Twilight x Yor. Based on a prompt from this list of soulmate prompts, canon divergence if there existed soulmarks in the SxF world. Pre-relationship, sort of epistolary until it very suddenly isn't 😊

our melodies overlapped (T, WIP, currently backburnered)

Twilight prided himself on accepting situational changes swiftly and with equanimity. Said swiftness was presently three minutes overdue, and equanimity hadn’t reported for duty. Four times it was for the mission + one time it was for The Mission + one time it was for —

Twilight character study basically! Family-orientated, some Twilight x Yor. Backburnered in part because it's actually led me to disagreeing with myself 😂 and I'll probably need to rework it.

Twilight journaling short fic (T, complete)

After Strix, when the Forgers are well established, no secrets between them, Twilight starts journaling. Obviously this is a security risk, so he creates an elaborate cipher. He tests it on Franky. He tests it on the cipher-breakers at WISE. He even feeds some to the SSS. None break it. Satisfied, he starts to journal. Twilight's journaling time is something he starts to jealously protect; given how much it means to him and helps him process things, Yor starts to protect it jealously, too.

#spy x family #spy x family meta #spy x family fic #spy family #twiyor #agent twilight #yor forger #here fandom take this!#sxf manga spoilers

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ayyy-pee · 1 year ago

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Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader

WC: 6.7k

Summary: You’d never met anyone like Suguru Geto before. It seems strange that just a few hours ago, you’d never seen or heard of this man in your life. But it feels like you're drawn to each other in ways neither of you can explain. There's a pull you couldn’t resist if you tried.

Rockstar AU

Story Warning: Smut, Blowjob, Mutual Masturbation, Female Masturbation, Profanity because come on..., Sprung Suguru, Cumshots, Facials, Cumplay (a lil bit), Fingersucking, A sprinkle of power dynamic, Oral Sex, First Day Hookups

Suguru art by: @affectbitter

AN: There's some OCs in this one bc this was just a funny idea between me and some friends LMAO. Imagine them however you will!

The roar of the crowd is almost painful in your ear as you enter the venue. You’ve made it just in time, with minutes to spare.

“Excuse me. Sorry! Just gonna squeeze past you here…I’m sorry…”

The apologies fall from your lips as you navigate through the crowd of people in the arena. You’re trying to find your way backstage before the concert begins for this band… Demon Parade?

An up and coming group, quickly rising in stardom who you never would have heard of had you not been scouring the job boards for an easy and quick way to make money. Imagine your surprise when you found a job posting for them stating the band was in need of an efficient, organized assistant. A go-getter who would be willing to do anything to aid in their success and ride along with them.

You’d had some assistant jobs in the past, nothing too crazy, but you knew what the basic expectation of an assistant was. So you applied for the job, not thinking there was a chance in hell you’d get it, but you needed something and anything was better than nothing. Besides, the job came with all the perks: benefits, free travel, a food allowance. Sounded like a steal.

You got the call less than a week later, saying that you were a great fit and exactly what the band was in search of! It didn’t seem real at the time, even after you’d hung up, filled out your onboarding paperwork and were sent all of your information for your first day – the concert you were currently pushing your way through. It felt even less real when you received your all access badge at the arena doors.

You’d made sure to listen to a few of Demon Parade’s songs and you had to admit, you liked what you heard, but you wouldn’t exactly call yourself a superfan. Not like the crowd of people swarming around you as you hurried through to backstage. God, it was fucking packed.

Is this band that good?

The moment you enter backstage, you feel like you can breathe again. It’s less crammed, so you feel like you can relax a bit. But that feeling only lasts for a second before someone practically materializes out of thin air before you. They call your name, one hand coming up to tap the small earpiece in their ear, the other coming up to indicate for you to stop.

“Yep, she just got here,” They mumble into the earpiece. “I’ll bring her back.” They tap the earpiece again, waving to you to follow them. “I trust you didn’t have any trouble getting back here?”

“Nope, fairly easy,” you answer, quickening your pace to catch up with them.

“Good,” they make a sharp turn around a corner, speeding up and you feel like an idiot essentially running behind them. “I’m Jaz, the band’s manager. We don’t have too much time. I’ll give you a brief overview of the band and each member and then I’ll introduce you to them.”

“Oh, so just…immediately starting? Is there like…a formal training I should be going through first? Or a new hire orientation?”

“No,” they state. “Do what the band asks and if you do it well enough and the band likes you, you’ll be able to keep your job by the end of the night.”

Your eyes wide as you rush to walk next to Jaz. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. If you make a good impression on the band, we’ll keep you. We’re about to start a national tour in a few days and we need someone who will be able to get the job done. If not, we move on.”

“Okay, so just…do what they ask me to and…that’s it?”

“That’s it,” Jaz confirms. “It’s that simple.”

So this whole first day is a test…given with no actual instructions…Fucking weird, but who are you to argue?

You’ll just have to use your prior assistant knowledge to make it work. If you’ve done one assistant job, you’ve done them all. You think so, at least.

You hurry through the halls alongside Jaz, the hallways snaking around to the back of the venue where there are many different dressing rooms – one for each band member and one for the group. Jaz reaches a door with a sign taped to it with the name Demon Parade on it. Scribbled in the corner of the sign is what looks like a very poorly drawn penis.

Jaz sighs when they see the doodle and whips around to face you.

“First things first, a brief rundown of the band.” They fish out their phone to pull up a group photo of the members on stage at one of their concerts. They point to a beautiful brunette woman in the photo before their finger glides over to a tattooed man with his hair piled high atop his head in a loose bun. “This is Shoko Ieiri – our bassist – and this is Suguru Geto – our lead guitarist. Both very low maintenance, very easy to get along with because they most likely will take very little interest in you.”

They then point to a blonde man who looks about ready to clock out at any moment and then to a white haired guy with freakishly blue eyes. “Kento Nanami is our drummer and this annoying beanpole here is Satoru Gojo – our lead singer,” Jaz finishes, rolling their eyes when they point to Gojo. But you can see a clear fondness there with the way their eyes linger on the screen.

You nod, eyes locked on the heavily tattooed raven haired man on the phone. He looks a little bored, almost like he’d rather be anywhere but where he was at that moment. Even so, his gaze is intense. You know it’s impossible, but you feel as though he’s looking at you through the phone. It’s literally a picture taken at some random venue that you’d never seen in your life. But, it feels like he’s staring right at you. Those feline eyes of his look so deeply into the camera, peer so powerfully into your eyes through the screen, it makes you look away. There’s something about that guy, something that’s almost familiar…it makes a tingle race up your spine.

You’re not sure if the feeling is good or bad, but you don’t have time to think too much about it because Jaz is knocking on the dressing room door. A massive, burly man donning sunglasses is opening it, peering at you from over his shades. Jaz is moving past him, beckoning you to follow when you don’t move, cemented to your spot.

Because you’re still thinking about that fucking picture.

“Hey,” The goateed man says when you’ve finally entered the room. You notice then that he’s wearing a black windbreaker with Security on one side and his name on the other. Your eyes quickly drift down to his nametag.

Yaga…With a little panda sticker next to his name. This old guy loves cute things apparently. It’s sweet, makes you smile.

Yaga quickly introduces himself. “Nice to meet you,” He grunts, no smile returned. “I’m head of security for the band. My name’s Yaga.” He doesn’t await a response from you, turning to speak with Jaz instead and you take that time to have a look around in the interim.

The dressing room is incredibly spacious. In a corner across the room, there’s a snack table full of an assortment of candies and bags of chips with the members' faces on them as well as an array of drinks. Large couches are arranged throughout the room, enough space between them to give each member their own little area to lounge in. There are also vanity areas along the back wall with brightly lit mirrors and chairs for each member.

You’re assuming it’s Shoko who sits in one of the vanity chairs getting her makeup done. She is the only female member after all. She’s as beautiful in person as she appears in pictures, though her hair is a lot longer than in the picture Jaz showed you earlier. She’s on her phone scrolling boredly, but when the door clicks shut, your eyes meet in the mirror and she waves quickly as the makeup artist applies her lipstick.

“Hey,” is all she says.

On the far side of the room is a blonde man reading a newspaper, he glances up for all of two seconds when you enter the room and then he’s back to reading. Next to him is a girl who can’t yet be in her 30s, leaning her head against his shoulder. They look cozy together. Maybe they’re dating? You make a mental note to ask Jaz about this later.

Just a few steps away from you, seemingly appearing out of thin air by the snack table, is Satoru Gojo, lead singer of Demon Parade.

His eerily blue eyes glance up when you enter the room, and then he shoots you a beaming smile as he leaves his spot by the snacks and strolls over. He grins at Jaz who has now made their way back to you, rolling their eyes again as Satoru gets closer.

“Jaz,” he purrs. “What do we have here? A meet and greet?” Gojo asks, eyes locked on his manager. His gaze wanders over their clothes as if he can see straight through them. “You look good. Missed you last ni–”

Jaz holds up a hand, cutting him off and getting straight to the point. They introduce you to Satoru, Shoko, Nanami and the woman sitting next to him who you’ve learned is Nicole – their vocal coach, though she doesn’t appear to be doing much vocal coaching while she makes googly eyes at Nanami.

Yaga sighs as he goes back towards the dressing room door and Jaz follows behind him, pulling their phone out and typing away. You don’t miss that the moment Jaz is putting their phone back in their pocket, Satoru is pulling his out to quickly glance at his screen, smirking before he slides it back into his pocket.

Okay, there’s clearly something going on there.

“Call me if you need anything,” Yaga utters to Satoru, but Satoru isn’t even listening anymore. He’s back at the snack table rummaging through the available items. Yaga pulls the door open to let Jaz exit first. Behind you, you hear him briefly grunting an “excuse me” as someone else enters the room before he’s also gone.

And you can’t really explain it, but the moment this other person enters, the air in the room shifts.

At least for you.

They move past you, their bare arm just barely brushing against your own and you startle at the charge of pure electricity that jolts through you at the near contact. They seem to feel it too, because they pause, whipping around to look at you and you’re met with those sharp, cat-like eyes you’d just seen peering through a screen now staring into your own. That familiar tingle you’d felt outside of this very room zips back up your spine.

Suguru Geto stands before you, his beautiful face framed by his signature raven locks that now cascade around his shoulders. He’s somehow even more striking with his hair down, beautiful. He says nothing as you stare each other down, the air between you thick with something you can’t quite describe. The room around you blurs as your vision seems to hone in on Suguru and Suguru only.

It’s after a few moments of tense silence that Suguru breaks eye contact first, eyes trailing down your form. And suddenly you feel as though you’re under a microscope, being so closely examined by him. You can’t help but feel exposed. He tilts his head to the side, his hair falling with the motion. He cards his fingers through his strands, pushing them back, eyes narrowing when they meet your gaze again. His brows knit together for a moment and then he speaks.

“Have we met before?”

Your pathetic body reacts immediately, melting the second his voice reaches your ears. Goosebumps race across your skin, even as your body feels like it’s being engulfed in heat. Your heart feels like it’s crawling up your chest and into your throat, your pulse is beating behind your ears so hard it’s making you dizzy.

What is this?

You don’t understand this sudden racing of your heart, the way your hands feel clammy, the explosive reactions your body is having to him simply looking at you.

Suguru leans his head to the other side and the movement brings you back to reality, helps you to remember that you’re just standing there like a fucking idiot when he had asked you a question. You shake your head quickly, suddenly unable to find your voice.

Suguru looks you over once more, almost like he doesn’t believe your answer, until Satoru interrupts.

“You’ve never met her. She’s our new assistant. Starting today,” he announces, mouth full, from what seems to be his permanent spot by the snack table. He tells Suguru your name. Suguru quickly glances back at Satoru before his eyes drift back to you again.

“Yeah?” Suguru asks, eyes still on you. You can see Satoru turn back to the snack table from your peripheral, picking at different candies. “Nice to meet you. I’m Suguru,” he states.

For some reason, it dawns on you then that Jaz is no longer there to speak for you. You’re on your own. Jaz’s earlier words ring through your ears. Whether or not you get to keep this job depends on how well you do tonight.

So you clear your throat, finding your confidence again. You know what you’re doing and Suguru is essentially your boss. Just like the other members, so you needed to build a relationship with him all the same. “Yes, I’m your new assistant and I’m very excited to be able to work with you all. Please let me know what you need and I’ll do my best to make sure you’re all happy.”

A small smile graces Suguru’s features and the tiny motion has your heart picking up speed again.

Fucking relax.

“Yeah, I got a couple things you can do for me,” he voices.

“Okay,” you glance back towards Shoko who is eyeing you through the reflection of the mirror. “Anyone else need anything before the show?” She shakes her head indicating your assistance isn’t necessary. You look to Nanami who couldn’t look less interested in what’s happening right now. Next to him, Nicole shakes her head as well.

“All good here,” Satoru says, waving you off. “Suguru, be nice.”

“When am I not?” Suguru chuckles, closing the distance between you and slinging his arm around your shoulder. The contact makes your skin erupt with goosebumps once again.

Only this time, you feel a little less crazy about your body's seemingly random reaction to Suguru’s touch because as you glance down at the arm wrapped around you, see the telltale sign of goosebumps along his skin, too.

- - - - - -

Suguru doesn’t have shit for you to do. The concert is happening soon so there’s not much else left to do that the other staff hasn’t already taken care of. He’s not sure why he lied to you, but the moment he saw you, there was something familiar about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’s certain you’ve never met, he would’ve definitely remembered your face; lovely, beautiful, stunning, all the words that could describe how nice you were to look at. Looks aside, there’s just something about you that has his mind reeling.

He’d heard from Jaz that the band would be getting a new assistant today. Didn’t make a difference to him, staff was staff. He was sure the new assistant would be fired by the end of the night, if not the end of the week. They could never keep an assistant too long, most of them deeming Satoru too needy, Shoko too cold, Suguru too mean. The list went on and on. The simple truth of the matter was Suguru had a goal, a plan for his success and if an assistant wasn’t able to hang in there for the ride, then they weren’t worth his time. Suguru stopped caring about who their assistant of the week was a long time ago.

So what was it about you that had him hiding you in his dressing room until the show started; showing you his favorite guitars, asking you about how you got this job, wondering how you liked it so far, if you’d heard their music? Any other assistant he’d have running to get him a coffee, doing menial tasks just for laughs. But for you, he’d grabbed a coffee with you and spent that time practically bombarding you with questions the moment he had you alone. Suguru knew more about you in 20 minutes than girls he’d dated for months. And he had no idea why he cared so much.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” You ask. Leaning against the wall of his dressing room, Suguru watches as you sit on his dressing room couch, strumming the strings on his guitars.

“I mean, it shouldn’t matter.”

“Jaz made it clear I need to keep you all happy or else…” you make a dramatic slicing motion across your neck, pulling a laugh from Suguru.

After finding out Suguru did not actually have anything for you to help him with, he spent a few minutes trying to calm your mini panic attack where you told him about how nervous you were. How badly you needed this job. So he’d brought you back to his dressing room to hang out where no one would see you aimlessly wandering.

“The guys said they’re good, so no need to worry about them. They’re happy right now,” Suguru reassures you.

“And you?” You ask, eyes meeting his from across the room. It makes him inhale sharply, trying to calm the swift pounding of his heart. “Are you happy?”

He nods. “I’m happy.” You pluck a string on his guitar, the offkey note cutting through the tension Suguru was beginning to feel. “Despite your horrible guitar playing skills, I’m happy.”

You laugh. “Rude.” You pluck again, this time the note is more bearable. “If I make it past today, I’ll be on the road to continue on tour with you guys,” you told him.

“Oh yeah?” His eyes look on as your fingers dance along the strings of his guitar awkwardly. He could show you how to hold a guitar, how to hit a note that’s not offkey, but he’s enjoying watching you struggle a little too much. It’s cute, though his body’s reaction to watching the way you hold the neck of the guitar is…less appropriate than what the situation calls for. “Has anyone ever told you you have really nice hands?”

Because he wouldn’t mind having your really nice hands wrapped around his cock.

The question comes out before he can stop it. For any other groupie he’d brought back to his room, the answer to the question wouldn’t have mattered. He’d just be making small talk, he wouldn’t have even meant the compliment. But for you…he was mesmerized by the way you held his instrument, the sight filling his head with lewd thoughts.

You freeze at his question, glancing back at Suguru. “No…thank you?”

Suguru chuckles, moving from his spot on the wall to take a seat next to you. The air immediately thickens, this close proximity to you making it hard for him to breathe. “You are…really bad at guitar.”

“Oh my god, were you this mean to your past assistants?” The question comes out with a giggle, as you set Suguru’s guitar down next to you, turning to face him.

He smirks, turning his body to face you as well. “Only the ones who are shit at guitar.”

“Oh, so you let all your assistants hang out in your dressing room and show them your instruments then?”

“Nope.”

If anything Suguru was way fucking meaner to his past assistants. In less than two hours, you already had him cleaning up his act.

You make a face, scrunching your nose up in Suguru’s direction and he decides he likes you already. Yeah, it’s only been a few hours, but he wants to see that face more often. The choice wasn’t up to him, though. You had to impress the other members, too. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t help you along the way.

A light knock at the door interrupts Suguru’s thoughts.

“Yeah?” He calls and Jaz peers their head in, brows furrowing when they see you on Suguru’s couch.

“She was cleaning my guitar for me,” Suguru lies easily, motioning towards the instrument next to you. Jaz either believes him or doesn’t care because they don’t even acknowledge it any further.

“Showtime, let’s go.”

- - - - - -

Suguru had been nice enough to give you some tips on how to ensure the band was happy after the show.

“Nanami loves a good coffee and a book set up in his dressing room after a show,” he’d noted. “Satoru is easy. Leave him some of those little mochi candies with the red bean paste inside? He’ll eat like fourteen of them and pass out. Shoko literally just wants to be left alone after dealing with Satoru all day. Put a cigarette and a bottle of liquor – any kind – in her room and she’s set.”

“And you?” You asked, nervously fidgeting in the hall outside of Suguru’s dressing room. Suguru had kept your mind off of panicking and inadvertently pissing someone off on your very first day. With no delegated tasks, no orientation or training and no clue in hell about each member’s preferences, you were truly grateful to Suguru for all he'd done for you on your first day. He was your lifeboat today.

“Me?” It seemed he’d forgotten he was also a part of the band, which was even more endearing to you. He’d been more concerned with making sure you were successful today than his own needs.

“Yeah, you. I want to make sure everyone is satisfied.”

Suguru hummed a look flashing behind his eyes and disappearing as quickly as it came, it still sent a shiver up your spine all the same. He placed a hand on your arm, inhaling slowly. His eyes locked onto where his hand lay on your arm, like he could feel the way your stomach twisted, the way your breathing increased, how your pupils dilated just from his touch.

And Suguru could feel it. Because his body was reacting the exact same way.

“I’ll be fine,” he breathed, letting go of your arm. “Hopefully at the end of the night, Jaz will have good news for you.”

He turned to leave, but not before calling back, “I’ll see you after the show.”

Now you stand on the side of the stage, unable to stop staring at Suguru as his hands fly along the strings of his guitar with ease, beautiful notes carrying out of the instrument and dancing around the stadium for the audience to hear. You can’t get over the duality of this man.

Backstage he’s chill, if not a little intimidating. But in the short time you’d spent together, you found it easy to talk to Suguru and open up to him. He was funny, smart, insanely talented. You did not expect a rockstar as big as he was to be so down to earth.

Now as you watch Demon Parade perform their last song of the night, you can’t help but think Suguru is the sexiest man on earth. The way his hair whips across his face when he shakes his head to the music, how his large hands control every note that drives the song, how his rich voice blends smoothly with Satoru’s to really push the message of the songs across. And when Suguru’s really feeling it, the way he lets the world see the tiny metal ball sitting atop his tongue.

He is so insanely sexy.

It seems every little move he makes has the crowd losing their minds, men and women alike screaming his name. And you can’t blame them, occasionally rubbing your own thighs together to stoke the heat pooling between your own legs whenever Suguru would peer over to the side and grin at you mid song.

Fuck, working with him may end up being harder than you anticipate. If you are able to keep this job, you’ll likely have to maintain a friendly distance. You don’t trust yourself not to do something stupid with the way your body seems to respond to him any time you’re near each other.

When the show is over, Satoru thanking the crowd for coming out, the band members all go their separate ways to their dressing rooms. You wait in the hall, standing with Jaz who again is on their phone. They seem to always be working, but this time you watch their fingers fly across their phone screen, a tiny smirk on their lips. You bite down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling.

You’re pretty sure Jaz and Satoru are sleeping together.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Jaz clears their throat, their eyes boring into your own. Did they hear…your…thoughts?

And then they smile. “Just got the green light from the band. You’re in.”

Eyes wide, you stand there gaping like a fish until you finally find your words. “Just like that? I mean…there’s not a formal meeting or anything?”

Jaz shoots you a deadpan look, like you’re wasting their time with your stupid fucking question. “Look around you. Nothing about today was formal. Get used to it. Go home, pack your bags. I’ll email the details of where to meet us in the next couple days before we get on the road. Be on time please. Don’t miss the tour bus leaving.”

They turn on their heels before you can thank them, making their way down the hall (in the direction of Satoru’s dressing room, you can’t help but notice).

The clean up staff moves hurriedly around backstage, rushing off and on the stage. And you just stand there, the giddiness of the news bubbling in your chest. You want to scream about how happy you are, but you contain it, instead opting to go tell the person who helped you to lock in your spot today.

After a short trip down the winding halls of the arena, you knock softly on Suguru’s dressing room door. It doesn’t take him long to answer, the door swinging open and revealing him in a loose fitting tee and some sweats. His hair is damp from a shower, strands clinging to his face, cheeks flushed. You can practically feel the heat of his bath radiating off of him.

He’s as captivating off stage, like this, as he is on stage. You can’t help but stare.

“Hey,” he breathes, voice rough.

“Hey,” you practically sigh, cheeks heating furiously.

It’s just you two, standing there, staring at each other. The world continues to move, it all becoming a blur as you refuse to look away from the other. You, watching as the flush on Suguru’s cheeks slowly creeps from his face, down his neck and to the exposed part of his chest the ‘V’ in his shirt allows you to see. Him, watching as your chest rises and falls, breathes picking up rapidly as he gazes at you.

You’d never met anyone like Suguru Geto before. It seems so insane that just a few hours ago, you’d never seen or heard of this man in your life. Now in this moment, standing before him in front of his dressing room, it feels like he has a pull on you that you couldn’t resist if you tried.

“Just heard from Jaz. Looks like I’ll be going on the road with you,” you tell him, voice coming out smaller than you’d intended.

“Yeah?” His low voice is nothing but a whisper, eyes darting down to your lips quickly before they shoot back up to your eyes.

“Yeah.”

Then his tattooed hand is cupping your face, your arms are looping around his neck, his mouth is colliding with yours as he pulls you into his dressing room, slamming the door behind him. It’s dizzying, the heat rolling off is his body, his scent invading your senses. The hand touching your face slips to the back of your neck, making you sigh into his mouth. It’s so fucking unfair how a move so simple had the power to make you melt into a puddle for him.

Suguru’s body molds against yours as he pushes you against the door of his dressing room, pressing his own arousal against your thigh. And you gasp, the thick feel of him making you moan.

“Fuck,” Suguru presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek, rolling his hips into you. “I don’t know what it is about you,” he groans, kissing along your cheek again, rolling his hips into yours once more.

You feel the same, like there’s something about him that keeps drawing you to him. The stars only seem to continue aligning in your favor. First getting this job, this trial run day, meeting Suguru, Suguru helping to make sure you got to keep your job and you actually getting the confirmation you needed. It’s like you were meant to meet one day. You’re eternally grateful.

You press a kiss to Suguru’s lips, your hands finding their way into his hair and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. He slips his tongue into your mouth, further deepening the kiss, trying to taste everything you have to offer. You’re panting into his mouth as he rolls his hips into yours roughly.

“I want you,” Suguru breathes against your lips. “I want you so fucking bad, I’m losing my mind.”

His mouth is back on yours, hands grasping at your waist, pulling you as close as he can. You want him too, you probably want him just as badly as he wants you. But there’s time for that. You’ll be on the road together for months. That’s surely enough time to have each other every which way you want. But tonight, you want to show Suguru how grateful you are to him.

“Let me thank you for today,” you offer Suguru breathlessly when you break the kiss. His brows knit together for a brief second before they rise at the same time you fall to your knees before him.

“Are you sure? You don’t have t–”

“I want to,” you assure him. Suguru gulps, nodding as he watches you wet your lips.

Hooking your fingers into the elastic of his sweats and briefs, you tug down, freeing Suguru’s erection and wasting no time wrapping your hands around his length. It’s just the way Suguru imagined when he watched you strumming his guitar. Better than he imagined, actually. He shivers when your hands grip him, your mouth watering with the thought of tasting him as you watch a drop of precum form on his tip.

He’s big. Bigger than you had pictured. You swallow, thinking about how in the hell you were going to be able to possibly fit all of him in your mouth.

“Take it slow, baby,” Suguru tells you, as though he can tell what you’re thinking. He brings a hand down to gently caress your cheek.

Peering up, your tongue peeks out of your mouth, tentatively flicking against the head and Suguru sighs shakily, staring intently. He watches you closely, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek as your lips fall open and you wrap them around his cock. You take him into your mouth, slowly sinking down as far as you can go before you pull off and sink down again.

Eyes locked, you watch with hardly concealed elation as Suguru’s pupils blow out, dilating so much you can no longer make out the color of his eyes.

“Fuck,” Suguru’s hips buck forward like a reflex, head falling back as a deep groan falls from his lips. Your mouth is so warm, so fucking wet. He wants to revel in the feel of it. Doesn’t want you to suck him so good he blows his load down your throat yet. He looks back down at you, at the way your mouth is stuffed full of him and you’re not even halfway down. Suguru utters a curse under his breath.

“Stay right there,” he tells you, rougher than he intended, he knows it. But it’s so fucking important that you don’t move right now or he’s done for. “Just hold it - ahhh, yeah just like that, angel.”

You place your hands against his thighs, holding yourself still with Suguru’s cock in your mouth. The weight of him on your tongue, the sound of his harsh breathing, his hands gently holding your chin, it all makes a delicious heat pool in your core.

Suguru takes a deep breath, pushes his hair back with his hands as he exhales. He’s trying to catch his breath, trying to keep his composure right now, but fuck. It’s so hard to hold it together with the way your mouth is stretched around him, with how he’s just barely halfway in and he can already see the tears brimming in the corners of your eyes as you try to take all of him.

Suguru’s had his fair share of flings come back to his dressing room with him, sure. But you… there’s something about you that has his heart thundering in his chest, has his cock throbbing within the wet confines of your mouth, has him reaching down to caress your cheek and wipe the pooling tears away as you try to take him deeper. Your eyes close with the action.

“Look at me,” he pants. And you do, your beautiful gaze finding his again. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” he purrs, loving the way you haven’t moved since he told you to stay. You’re already such a good girl for him. “Think you can take more?”

You mutter a muffled agreement against his cock, still not moving. Just the vibration makes Suguru’s balls tighten, a threat that he’s not going to last very long with you.

He hopes it won’t be like this the next time.

He also hopes there is a next time.

Because he’s beginning to realize something. It hasn’t been that long since he met you. Hell, it’s been less than a day. But, he’s so fucking into you it’s insane.

You peer up at him from beneath your lashes again and Suguru hisses the moment your eyes connect. He runs both hands through his hair, his thick black locks cascading around his face as he looks down at you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. You know that?”

You nod your head, tongue pressing against the underside of Suguru’s cock as you slide more of his length down your throat. You’re not going to be able to take all of him. He knows it.

You shift on the floor, thighs rubbing together to give you some sort of relief from the aching arousal between your legs. Suguru doesn’t miss this. You’ve worked hard. You deserve to enjoy yourself, too. It’s not like you got to keep your job only because of him after all.

“Touch yourself,” Suguru commands. “Play with that pretty pussy while you suck my co–” His voice cuts off, a harsh groan ripping from his throat when you move forward, one hand squeezing his cock as you try to take even more of him, the other slipping into the waistband of your pants. “So fucking good...” he whimpers, and you can’t help but moan when your fingers finally meet the onslaught of wetness that’s been rushing between your legs, absolutely soaking through your panties.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, petting your hair before gently fisting the strands between his tattooed fingers so that you’re forced to look up at him. “Ah…I love how hard you’re trying, baby. Think you can take it all the way for me, angel? Can you take it all the way into that tight fucking throat for me?”

You nod enthusiastically, eager to please with a mouth full of Suguru’s cock and your fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. The vision has Suguru’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he sighs. Suguru pulls you forward, and you let him, going as far as you can until you’re gagging on his dick, the drool pooled in your mouth dripping from the corners of your mouth.

Even still, that doesn’t stop the moans escaping, the little mewls that let Suguru know you were fucking loving this as much as he was.

“Ah – fuck, fuck–” Suguru breathes, pulling you off of his cock with a loud pop. “I can’t,” he pants. “I can’t. If you do that again, I’ll cum –”

You didn’t wait for him to finish, taking Suguru in your mouth again, taking him as deep as you can go before pulling back and taking him in again. The lewd squelching noises of your slick fingers playing with your sweet little pussy and the mixture of your spit and Suguru’s precum hitting the floor of his dressing room fill the air. You take him to the hilt, your nose buried deep in his thick raven curls.

And Suguru’s hips began to move, fucking into your mouth as he held your head in place. This was what you wanted, right? Suguru warned you. He’d warned you what would happen if you swallowed his dick like that again, if you choked on his cock like you just did one more time. He warned you and you kept going, pushing him closer and closer. So he couldn’t help it when his body tensed, when his cock stiffened, when his thighs shook and his cock twitched in your mouth.

He couldn’t help it when he pulled out of you as quickly as he could, pumping his cock with a quick “fuck I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, baby–” muttered before his cum shot out of his swollen tip, covering your cheeks, your throat, your tongue and your chin.

And you couldn’t help it when you pushed two fingers into your tight hole, pressing your thumb to your clit the moment Suguru’s cum covers your face. And you see stars, clenching hard around your fingers as waves of your orgasm crashing over you until your vision nearly blurs.

“Shit,” Suguru murmurs with a sigh, the aftershocks of his orgasm sending shivers up his spine. He takes your arm, pulling your hand from your drenched panties, closely looking over the sheen of your release covering your fingers. He parts his lips, taking the digits into his mouth and sucking, licking your hand clean of your orgasm before he kisses you hard, shoving his tongue into your mouth immediately and groaning when he tastes the mixture of both your releases. He doesn’t even seem to care that his own cum now covers his face. The sexy grunts and moans tell you he loves it.

When he breaks the kiss, he looks you over, licking his lips of the mess he made between you. “Let me get a towel to clean us up.”

He stands, pulling his pants back up to his waist before he lifts you from your spot on the floor. You hear him shuffling around in the bathroom area as you take a seat on his couch. He returns shortly, sitting next to you. You close your eyes as he gently wipes the warm, damp towel over your face. “God, you almost killed me.” Suguru huffs quietly.

You chuckle, opening one eye to peer up at him. “Damn, am I that good?”

Suguru smiles, chuckling. “Let's just say, I’m not ever letting them fire you.”

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