#this is great I can just let my brain shut down and click click click for an hour

[episodeoftv]

lmao I’ve been working on moving all week so I finally have a moment to queue up some polls

[baby-yongbok]

OnlyFans

Best Friend!Yang Jeongin x Afab!Reader

✦ Genre: Friends to Lovers - non-idol - [18+ Only]

✦ Content Description: 6.6k + 11 screenshots

✦ Summary: Your best friend finds out about your OnlyFans account which leads to you discovering how you really feel about him.

✦ CW: Unintentional exhibitionism(?), Unprotected sex [wrap it up party people] ✦ A/N: This is my FIRST Jeongin fic and I am hella excited! (and nervous) I really hope that you enjoy it! This is a hybrid of fake texts and story so make sure to open it all the way to see it all! AHH I'm so nervous.+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ ✧ Masterlist ✧

Sleep abandoned you after you and Jeongin spoke, your thoughts were everywhere and nowhere and your body was working against you. Why does the fact that your best friend thinks that you’re hot turn you on? Why are you imagining him touching himself to the sounds of you moaning while you fuck yourself?

 Is he big? 

How would he feel? 

Wait - how did he not recognize your voice? 

You never show your face, only the shoulders down, but you’ve uploaded voice notes. You’ve done tons of horny rambles that he had to have listened to. Okay, wait wait wait, does he only get off to you? He said that you’re the only girl that he follows on the site… Okay, stop, brain shut the fuck up. 

The next day you tried to operate how you normally would. You went to the gym, you got your morning coffee, you thought about Jeongin moaning at the sight of you, you screamed in your car and you went back home. Honestly, this is working out great. 

You did everything that you could to distract yourself from the unending thoughts. You did laundry, watched TV, skipped rope on your balcony, you even started color organizing your closet. That’s when your phones started ringing with that tone that you know all too well.

 You stared at it for what felt like a second, you tried to calm yourself down and cursed yourself out in your head for making this such a big deal. He said that he doesn’t care. He won’t mention it, he’ll just get off to your videos and that’s that. Jeongin is your best friend who finds you hot and touches himself to your videos, that’s so normal. You’re so normal about this. 

By the time you finally hyped yourself up to answer his call the phone stopped ringing and you let out a huff of heavy air that you weren’t even aware you were holding. You’ll call him back…later.

Not even three minutes later there’s knocking at your front door and you rush to open it. You’re expecting a package today so this must be it. You swing the door open and your heart jumps out of your chest and runs down the hall. “Are you okay?” 

Jeongin waves in front of your face to grab your attention as you stare at him, unmoving. “I called, you didn’t answer.” You clear your throat but end up choking a bit from how dry it is. You opt for nodding your head while you desperately swallow your spit to try and save you from further embarrassment. 

“Right, yeah yeah come in, what’s up?” You hastily stumble to the side as you open your door wider. He stalks in like he always does, comfortable and confident. “You have my green jacket, Felix hyung wanted to borrow it tonight.”

”I gave that back, didn’t I?” You smooth down your skirt, suddenly feeling super self conscious. He’s seen you in this exact outfit more times than you can count but it’s different this time, right? No, it’s not supposed to be different. We’re acting normal. We’re so normal about this.

”Noona?” His fingers wrap around your wrist and you jump out of your thoughts, literally. “Is everything alright? You keep spacing out.” 

Has his hand always been this damn big? That’s all that you can think to yourself as you stare down at where he’s holding you. “I’m fine, Jeongin,”

”You usually call me Innie.” He retorts with furrowed brows until it all clicks for him. “Is this about last night?” 

You pull away from him like he’s on fire and start power walking to your bedroom before he can say another word. “I’ll go look for that jacket.”

You slam your room door closed behind you and sink to the floor against it immediately after. This is crazy, you’re acting crazy and horny and - and - fuck, has his hand always been that big? 

Has he always called you noona that smoothly? Has he always been like… that?  Wait, no, pull it together. Find the jacket and send him away so you can spiral in peace. 

After about ten minutes of searching through the mess you made and battling your inner demons you find the jacket that Jeongin came for. When you leave your bedroom you expect to see him sitting on your couch but you find him in your kitchen instead. He’s washing your dishes while he hums some song that you’re sure that you could identify if you concentrated but you can’t think straight. Your brain isn’t working at all because your best friend is standing there, at your sink, washing your dishes… In only a white tank top and gray sweatpants. 

Your eyes find the discarded sports sweater he arrived in thrown sloppily over one of your counter stools before they quickly return to Jeongin’s toned back. This shirt should be illegal. He shouldn’t be allowed to look this good. 

You stand there, jacket in hand and thighs pressed together while you try to muster up the courage to say something, anything. Just as you’re about to speak he turns around with a cup full of water but it’s only full for a second before he jumps with a scream and pours it all over himself.

”Ya, noona!” He huffs, bracing himself against the counter. “What the hell? You scared the life outta me.” He drops the now empty cup into the sink and braces himself with both hands against the marble. 

“Why are you just standing there?” You don’t even hear his question. You can’t hear anything except for the fast beating of your heart and incoherent screaming from your last brain cell as you take in the sight before you. 

The front of his shirt is soaked and you can see right through the fabric sticking to each and every dip and contour of his unbelievable body. Has he always been… so hot? “Noona, seriously, what is going on with you? Do we need to talk about something?” 

He steps towards you and you take a clumsy step back. “I uh, found the jacket.” You sit the jacket on the stool where his sweater is then look back at him. You look him in the eyes this time to avoid possibly fainting but you quickly discover that his gaze is just as intoxicating. 

“Forget the jacket, I’m trying to figure out if -“ He takes another step towards you and you take two back. 

“Okay, so I’ll see you later, right? Awesome, later Innie.” You rush back to your bedroom just as he takes another step to try to stop you. You slam the door shut and repeat the same routine as earlier. When did he get so hot?

What the fuck? Did he just ask you if you like it?…Why is the answer yes? Why does that make every thought that you’ve been thinking for the past 12 hours way worse? You gotta pull it together, you can’t let a simple question cause you to spiral. He probably didn’t even mean it like that…right?

You spend the next three hours trying to forget that text. You take a shower and cook yourself a dinner that you barely even touch because it’s not what you want. It’s not him, do you want him? 

You drag yourself to your bedroom after you stuff your leftovers in the fridge and plop down on your bed. You scream into your mattress once or twice before you decide that you can’t take it anymore, you need to do something. Anything. 

Before you can even really think about it you’re in your closet that should honestly count as a second bedroom but you're fine with it being your mini studio. This is where you’ve filmed every video, where you capture every picture and record every ramble. This is where you are when you make the content that Jeongin loves. Maybe he’ll love this too.

You make yourself a bit comfortable in front of the large mirror on the wall and turn on your voice recorder. “Hey there…Do you have a second? I just wanna get something outta my head.” 

You settle into the fluffiness of your bean bag chair and spread your legs in front of the mirror. Your pajama shorts ride up a bit and the thin gusset exposes just enough of your cunt for you to take in. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, yeah you. I can’t get you off of my mind and it’s driving me crazy.” 

You sigh into your phone, glancing down at the recorder to make sure that it’s still running. Your free hand runs over the scarf tying your hair back and trails down the side of your neck. Your fingers brush over your sweet spots slowly and carefully kinda how you think he would do it.

”I want you.” It’s more of a whisper than you intended but you keep going. “I want you so badly that it’s driving me mad. I bet you know that though, don’t you?”

You nearly say Jeongin’s name at the end of that sentence and you nearly moan it into the air when your fingers brush over your nipples. “Tell me that you thought about me too.” 

Your hands start moving faster, grazing your covered and exposed skin with a hungry haste that you’re sure that Jeongin would recreate. He’d explore you with a lust driven by curiosity and desire. He’d rip you apart and take his sweet time putting you back together. He’d be rough and gentle, slow and fast, shallow and deep. He’d be everything.

You didn’t even realize that you were still talking into the recorder when your eyes snap open. You have no clue what you’ve said and you have no clue when you started rubbing at your clit but you don’t care. Moans are tumbling from your chapped lips as drool threatens to spill over the corners.

There’s nothing but pure carnal desire lingering around you and it’s all for your best friend. All for a man that you’ve never looked twice at until today, or have you? You always knew that Jeongin was attractive. You always felt a tingle when he’d hold you or play around with you but you’ve learned to push it down. It was manageable until last night. That’s when the dam broke.

”In- I - I need you.” You almost said it, almost let it slip. “Touch me please, please.”

Your fingers are slipping inside before you can even process it. You’re stroking up against your g-spot at a pace that should be painful but you feel nothing but bliss because you’re thinking of nothing but him. Him him him. 

The slick sounds of your cunt are loud enough to be caught on the recorder but you wouldn’t be surprised if they’re completely overshadowed by your moans. “Make me cum, please please please, m’ gonna cum.” 

Your vision is going white before you can even take a deep breath, it gets caught in your throat as you cry out. You’re panting, mumbling curses left and right and then right as you’re ending the recording it finally slips. “Innie”

After sitting and staring at your reflection for maybe thirty minutes you finally pulled yourself up off of your bean bag chair and freshened up. You plopped down onto your bed face first and screamed, this seems to be becoming a routine. 

Once you get a grip you sit up against your pillows and stare at the new audio. How could you make this while thinking about Jeongin? Are you a terrible friend? Can you blame him for being hot? Can you say that it’s all his fault and just live life hating him for ever finding your account? No, I mean, yeah you could but that would be stupid.

You load the audio into your Only Fans account and put together the new post. You usually wouldn’t think twice about uploading a ramble, you’d usually listen to it in your headphones to check the quality and then throw it online for your subscribers to enjoy but this one feels different. This one feels wrong to post. After a bit of debating you take a deep breath and go for it. It can’t be that bad right?

Nevermind

It’s been about an hour since you posted the audio and it’s gotten back to back likes and comments. You’ve even gotten some chat requests with tips that you plan to reply to later but the one that just came in caught your attention. 

You don’t know what it is about it, maybe it’s the username or the energy behind their message but you’re almost a thousand percent positive that it’s Jeongin on the other side of this chat. 

You sound so pretty in your new audio. You’re really fueling my imagination tonight. I.2.n.8 Sent a tip 

You stare at the message for so long that you forget to blink. This is so obviously him. The user name is a dead giveaway. Jeongin is messaging you about your new ramble… you shouldn’t reply.

Fuck.

You replied. You replied and you flirted so fucking hard that you’re sure that he’s blushing in his bed just like you are right now. You’ve talked to plenty of guys like this. You flirt and make them feel special and then boom more tips but you don’t even care about the money right now, not when you’re having so much fun texting - sexting - the only man that’s been on your mind. Your best friend. 

When you see Jeongin the next day at a small get together you expect it to be awkward. You expected for him to give you knowing looks from across the crowded restaurant table but he didn’t. He acted completely normal like he hasn’t been sexting his best friend for the past eight hours. 

You tried your best to mimic his demeanor. You spoke to him as normally as you possibly could and as the night went on it got easier to ignore the elephant in the room. You stole some food off of his plate and even sang karaoke with him at the bar that you went to afterwards. You almost forgot about the messages, until you got home. 

Care to help me with a situation, sweetie? I’ll make it worth it, I promise. I.2.N.8 Sent a tip

Holy Fuck, that’s a big tip… like, money… that kind of tip. You sat on the edge of your bed with a messy cocktail of cheap liquor running through your veins and giving you confidence to do things that will surely have you screaming into your mattress later, and not in the way that you really want. 

You strip down and head to your closet, clicking a few pictures in poses that you’ve never tried before and some that are your tried and true classics. You hold your breath as you organize the album and attach a price to it. If he really wants to see it he can pay, you’ll be needing the money to fund your therapy sessions after this anyway cause this teasing is driving you insane.

Right when you send the set to the ‘mystery’ guy a text from Jeongin drops down into view and you’re instantly covered in goosebumps.

Ayen 🥐❣️: I had fun with you today, missed you. Ayen 🥐❣️: I work late tomorrow but I’m free the day after, wanna come over?

This is suspicious… right? You should decline. Yeah definitely decline, you don’t wanna risk anything happening that could ruin your friendship. 

You’re screaming into your mattress again.

 You accepted the invitation as you were thinking about declining it. 

You never stood a chance. 

You don’t sleep, instead you plan a cute but chill outfit to wear when you go over to his place. It’s not a date but you still wanna be cute, this isn’t weird. This is normal. 

What’s not normal is the way that you’ve been glued to your phone since this chat with Jeongin popped up. You’re not neglecting your other messages but you do spend extra time on his chat. You give him exclusive content that barely costs a thing and you’re fucking enjoying it. You’re addicted. So much so that when you get to Jeongin’s house the next day for your hang out it’s all that you can think about.

You’ve been here for about an hour and a half. You thought that it was just gonna be you and Jeongin. You thought that it was gonna be a nice best friend date. It’s not. 

“You seriously never saw that video before?” Jisung asks Felix with a mouth half full of whatever he ordered a bit ago. You’re sitting next to Jeongin on the couch with his roommate Seungmin next to him and his other roommate Felix on the floor with Jisung. ”Never.”

They fall into some conversation that everyone seems to be paying attention to but you. You’re too busy staring at your blacked out phone screen as you try to cope with the fact that you’re sitting next to the man that you’re secretly sexting. 

He hasn’t made anything weird just like he promised, everything is fine. You just need to calm - what the fuck?

Your phone chimes and your screen lights up to show a browser notification. An OnlyFans notification. You look over to the man next to you to catch him stuffing his phone in his pocket while he laughs at something that Felix said. Did he seriously just text you?

He did. You open your browser and the message is right there. Staring at you while you stare at him.

Bet you’re lookin’ so pretty today, sweetie.  I.2.n.8 Sent a tip Mind showing me what you’re wearing today? 

You gulp down the spit pooling in your mouth and choke a bit but you hide the cough well, you think. Why would he text you now? Why here? Maybe this is a good chance to see if it’s really him. Yeah, this is your chance. 

You type the cutest reply you can think of while your heart does the cha cha slide in your chest and hit send. You hold your breath as you wait for the ding but you’re choking once again when you actually hear it. 

Jeongin reaches into his pocket and smiles down at his phone. He doesn’t unlock it. He doesn’t check the message. But you know what he does? He fucking smiles at you. 

“You okay, noona? You’re spacing out again.” Seungmin is replying before you can even open your mouth. 

“Maybe if you actually spoke to her instead of texting that OnlyFans girl she wouldn’t have to daydream.” The other two instigate Seungmin’s teasing and Jeongin only rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“You’d be obsessed with her too if you’ve seen what I’ve seen” He settles back into the cushions a bit, extending his arm to the back of the couch behind you. He feels so much closer to you like this, or maybe it’s just because he’s talking about you to all of your friends. “She’s worth obsessing over.”

“Share her account then.” You jump a bit at the suggestion, it was quick but it was enough to gain Felix and Jisung’s attention. Jeongin is the opposite of you. He isn’t phased by the suggestion one bit, he just smiles down at his lap and shakes his head. “Nope, she’s a treasure that I plan to keep to myself.”

Seungmin scoffs and the other two start with the teasing again but Felix’s gaze keeps floating back to you. You try your best to relax, no one knows that you’re the OnlyFans girl so they aren’t actually talking about you. But this on top of Jeongin texting you while sitting right next to you is starting to be too much.

“Yeah yeah, tease all you want, I’m getting a drink.” Jeongin asks if anyone else wants anything from the kitchen and collects requests from almost everyone except for you. You just sit there quietly staring at your lap, quietly dying inside until the burning in your chest gets your feet moving. 

“I’ll be back.” You mumble but only Felix replies, he’s the only one that heard you and his eyes follow you as you take the same path that Jeongin did a second ago.

Your friend is looking into the open fridge when you get to the kitchen. He’s grabbing a bottle of water when he notices you come around the corner.

“Hey, did you want -“ 

“Not here.” You whisper through clenched teeth, it’s quick and quiet enough for you to get the point across and then escape. “Do not message me here, are you insane?” Jeongin closes the fridge, water bottle in hand and a grin on his lips.

”What?” You look back to make sure that you’re still alone before stepping closer to him. ”Do not text me here.”

”Why would I be texting you when you’ve been right next to me?” He sips from the bottle in his hands before sitting it down. “I think that you’re confused about -“

”You’re I.2.n.8, I know you are. You’re the one who’s been tipping me and texting me on OF for days.” Jeongin looks down at the tile in an attempt to hide the smug grin on his face. “You promised not to make it weird.”

”I kept my promise.” He shrugs, looking back up at you with a different gaze, a darker one. “I haven’t made anything weird. I haven’t brought it up. It’s you who thinks that I’m texting you.”

He steps closer, leaving little room between you two. You can feel your face getting hot, the temperature is rising with each second that your eyes are on his. Your thighs press together and you take it as a desperate plea from your body but you don’t know what for. “ Do you want it to be me texting you?” 

The air feels too thick with him so close, you can’t breathe. It’s too much. You turn away, desperate to retreat back to your safe space on the couch but he grabs your wrist before you can escape. 

His other hand finds your waist and guides your back against the marble counter next to the fridge. “Don’t run away from me again, noona.” There’s barely an inch between you two and the air feels dry at this point. Your tongue feels too heavy to control in your mouth so you dip it out to skate across your bottom lip. Jeongin watches the movement carefully, too carefully.

”Tell me, do you want it to be me, hm?” He shifts, caging you between his arms as he leans against the counter. You catch the flex of his muscles from the corner of your eye and it makes you feel dizzy, what is going on? “Do you want it to be me who tells you how badly I wanna ruin such a pretty thing like you?” 

You bite back a groan and sink into the surface behind you. He steps forward, now impossibly close as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Is that what you want, sweetie?”

Oh fuck, it is him. It’s really him.

”Jeongin, we can’t” You’re whispering to him so he whispers back. “Can’t what? What are you thinking about? I’ve only asked you a question.”

”You can’t be this close to me.” Your words feel forced and your limbs feel heavy as you try to find a way to settle against him. “This isn’t right.”

”Yeah? So you touching yourself in your closet and moaning my name is fine? But this isn’t right?” Your eyes widen the second those words leave his mouth, how did he know that you film in your closet? He’s been there a couple of times of course, he’s sat in your bean bag chair and he’s helped you pick out outfits but he never knew that you do Only Fans. So if he knows that you’ve been filming in your closet that means he recognized it from one of your videos… which means that he also had to have recognized you. 

“You knew that it was me the whole time didn’t you?” Your eyes flick from his to his lips and back up. “You knew that it was my account.” His lips spread into a wide mouth smile as he mimics your previous pattern with his dark pupils. 

“Maybe I did.” He moves his hand to your arm, running his fingers over the exposed flesh of your wrist. Every touch feels like fire as the pads of his fingers glide up your forearm. “Maybe I hoped it was you.”

His fingers press into your flesh every so slightly, it’s enough to make you shift into a firmer press of your thighs. “Maybe I only subscribed to the account because it looked like you.”

His fingers take their time going over the curve of your shoulder. They tease the strap of your top for a second, before dancing up the curve of your neck. “Guess I got lucky, huh?”

That was what tipped the bucket. That is what had you crashing your lips to his and wiping that smug smile off of his face in an instant. He moans into your mouth before you can moan into his, his hand cups your neck, pulling you closer as his other hand grabs at your waist.

It’s heated and sloppy. He feels just as desperate as you do with every clumsy swipe of his tongue over yours. You’re panting into his mouth, only pulling away for half a second to breathe before you’re tasting him again. 

Your hands grab at his flexing arms, scratching and kneading the flesh before you move to make fists into the fabric of his shirt. He feels unreal, he’s more than what you dreamed of. He feels so strong and soft and he tastes like lust itself.

You press your body further into his, taking in the matching thump of his heart to yours as your lips move in an impossible rhythm. It’s clear that you both feel the same hunger, the same longing, the same need for each other. Maybe this was driving him insane too.

“Jump.” His command is muffled and wet against your lips but you understand him and swiftly obey. His hands move to the back of your thighs to help you up onto the counter and he briskly fills in the space between your parted legs with his slim waist. 

You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands wander up your clothed thighs, his fingers dig into the plush flesh with a deep groan. “Fuck, do you know how long I’ve thought of this?” He trails kisses over your cheek and over the shell of your ear. 

“I watched every video.” He moves down the curve of your neck, nipping and kissing the flesh to milk moans from your parted lips. “I listened to every audio. I saved every picture.” 

He sucks bruises into your clavicle, licking over the rising cherry marks and planting sloppy kisses. “But none of that is as good as this.” You’re panting and moaning into his ear. Words don’t make sense. They jumble and disappear behind your eyes with each rough grab and desperate lick. 

“Do you feel as good as you look, sweetie?” Your eyes flutter open when he pulls back from your neck. Both of your lids are low and your eyes have a lustful haze fogging them. “Can I please feel you?”  His hands explore you while you fight with your tongue to form words. They skim over your curves and make you feel like you’re electric. You’ve wanted this, you wanted this so badly. 

“We shouldn’t.” Your mouth forms the wrong words and you curse yourself for it. Jeongin just nods at you, hands still exploring your body until they reach your breast. He cups them, squeezing a bit and running his thumbs over your hardened nipples. 

“We shouldn’t” He repeats after you, massaging your breast more intensely and pressing the prominent bulge in his sweatpants firm against your cunt. Your breath hitches and your eyes flutter shut.

“We can’t” It comes out as a moan as he leans in and sucks on the flesh on the other side of your neck. Your fingers rake through his hair and he groans at the slight tug you give. “You’re my best friend.” 

“Don’t worry about making things weird.” He whispers between kisses to the shell of your ear. “Just worry about what you want.”

He pulls away again, fox eyes staring into yours. “You’re not gonna lose me, don’t worry.” Your eyes search his for a second and you can feel your resolve breaking. 

 “Touch me.” Your voice is barely above a whisper but he heard you, he’s just going to act like he didn’t. “Say it again.”

“Touch me, Innie, please. I wan’ it.” His hand is slipping down the front of your shorts in an instant. Everything is back to being clumsy and rough, fast and desperate. He moans when the pads of his fingers run over your slick folds.

“No panties, sweetie?” His eyes roll back and he bites at his bottom lip to try to control himself. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He hooks his fingers into the side of your shorts and starts trying to work them down your thighs. “I need you, it’s driving me mad.” 

You lift up for him and when you come back down his lips are on yours. “You’re driving me insane.” He whispers against your spit slick lips, his forehead is pressed to yours as his fingers roam your slippery cunt. He covers you in your own slick, dipping in and out of your folds and teasing your waiting hole.

“Please, no teasing, I can’t take it.” He rubs your clit, once then twice before slipping back down. “Innie, please I’ll be so good. I’ll be so good for you please just fuck me.” 

He pushes a finger into you slowly, taking in the soaked warmth that he caused. This is all because of him and his cock twitches at the thought. You moan and arch your back, your nails dig into his forearms as he moves. His rhythm is steady and unfamiliar, it makes your body sing in a way that no one else ever has.

“You’re so tight, noona. So wet.” His eyes are glued to where his finger is disappearing inside of you. He adds another, pushing in slowly before taking his previous pace. “Oh fuck, this is how it looks when you fuck yourself. When you take those toys and stuff your cunt. Shit, it’s so hot.”

You’re grinding into his hand, meeting his fingers when they fill you to the knuckle. Your tongue is poked between your teeth in an attempt to keep yourself quiet but you’ve already failed. Each thrust is met with a whining whimper that Jeongin eats up like candy. 

“Innie, Innie, c-can you curl them please? Curl your fingers inside of - holy shit, yes yes yes.” He watches your eyes roll back as your orgasm builds and builds. 

“Did you think of me?” His voice is thick with lust as he watches you. “When you made your last audio, did you think about me?” You’re shaking your head before you can even filter the question. You admit it shamelessly as you chase your high that’s dangling in front of you.

“Yes, I did I did, I thought of you.” Your orgasm rushes up your legs and blurs your vision with one more stroke of his fingers but he’s pulling out before you can ride it out. You whimper at the loss but a gasp quickly follows when you’re filled with something thicker.

“I know.” He moans, bracing himself against the cabinet behind your head as he pushes into you. “You said my name in the audio, you know that?”

He bottoms out with a groan, your cunt is spasming around him as your previous orgasm rips through you but you can already feel another one building as the first one subsides. His other hand settles at the nape of your neck and he pulls you in for a searing kiss. 

You can’t breathe being this full of him. With his tongue exploring your mouth and his cock stretching your walls. It feels like you're suffocating in the most delicious way. “Shit, your pussy takes - takes me so well.”  You can feel his control dissolving. It’s evident in the way he pants against you and how his dark eyes droop lower and lower with each unsteady pull of his hips.

“I wanna take my time with you.” He whispers against your lips. “I wanna but I can’t.” He’s whining, moaning and cursing into the air as he drags against your walls. You can’t even really hear him if you’re being honest. Between the sloppy sounds of your cunt being fucked, the rapid beating of your heart and ringing in your ears you’re completely clocked out. Utterly brain-dead. 

“Please, let me hear you. Please, I wanna know what you sound like when I fuck you.” Your voice shakes with a moan of his name as he switches his pace. His thrusts become faster and deeper, his breathing ragged, he’s doing his best to fuck you how he’s seen you fuck yourself. He’s doing his best to ruin you the same way that he imagined every time that he’d jerk his cock to your content.

 “More more more, please. Deeper, I wan’ it deeper.” His hands move to your thighs at your request and he pulls your ass to the very edge of the counter. He supports your legs on either side of him while you brace yourself against the side of the fridge. 

He pushes into you until his pelvis is flush against you. Every single thick inch of him is buried inside of you. Your pussy swells around him, squeezing him so perfectly that he lets his head fall forward with a moan. The hand that isn’t against the fridge balls the fabric of his shirt against his chest and slowly pulls it up until his torso is exposed to you. 

“Oh, fuck.” Your eyes snap shut once you feel him twitch inside of you. You let your hand run over his toned core, taking in every firm dip from under his fallen shirt. “Move, please. Please, Innie.”

“‘M gonna cum if I move.” His voice is strained as he rummages for any last bit of self control but he’s lost it all. He pulls back slowly, swirling his hips to hit every spot that you could imagine and more. Your pussy clenches around him as he sinks back in and he nearly busts at the feeling.

“I can feel you in my fucking stomach.” That’s all that you had to say to break him. That’s all that you had to say to have him pushing deeper into you then pulling back with every intention of ruining you. The only sound that you can hear is skin against skin decorated by your harmonizing moans.

 His eyes are shut tight as he moves, he’s biting his tongue, trying his best not to whine and moan like he does into his hand while watching your videos. You on the other hand are loud. You’re so fucked out and dazed that you can barely remember where you are. You couldn’t answer the first question asked to you even if you tried, the only thing that you can think of right now is Jeongin. Everything is him. Him, him, him.

“Innie ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me. Gonna make me cum, fuck fuck fuck.” You scratch into his abs, leaving pretty red marks for him to remember this moment. Your head falls back as you float in the feeling of being dumb with pleasure. His hips slam into you at their own accord and you just take it. You let him fuck you just how he wants, just how you need it. 

“Cum, please cum. You feel too good. sweetie. Gonna make me cum.” His thrusts become more frantic, his movements more erratic. Your body is trembling and your mind is blank. A familiar fuzziness takes over your vision as you lose control, you welcome it. You savor it and quietly beg for more. “Cum on my cock, noona.”

He’s begging and you’re complying. Your vision blurs with a hazy white, your breathing hitches, and your body trembles with pleasure. You’re more than positive that your damn near screaming his name as he fucks you through what might be the most intense orgasm of your life. “That’s it, Thank you for your cum. Thank you.” 

His fingers dig into your thighs as his thrusts become unpredictable. He can’t take much more and he knows it. As much as he wanted to savor you he just can’t help but to get lost in the way you feel. He can swear that you were made for him. “Oh fuck, oh, fuck, I’m cumming.” With one final thrust he’s pulling out and milking his cock of thick ropes of white that settle on your inner thigh and drips down to frame your glistening cunt. 

He slumps forward, forehead resting against yours as you both pant hot and heavy satisfaction into the air. The silence is loud, almost louder than your pounding heart and racing thoughts as your eyes flutter open to meet Jeongin’s.

You stare at each other, it’s soft and almost comfortable but there’s still this looming uneasiness in your chest that makes you feel like you made a big mistake. It makes you feel like you just lost something. “Here.” He speaks first, pulling back from you to reach for the water bottle that he had earlier.

“Drink this, please.” He’s gentle as he opens the bottle and raises it to your lips. He tips your head back with a bent finger and turns the bottle up for you. “Are you okay?”

You swallow hard, panting for another second before you try nodding your head but you don’t know what to tell him. “Hey.” He grabs your attention, pulling you out of your thoughts for a second and calming you with his touch. “Everything’s alright. We didn’t ruin anything.” 

He smiles softly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips that you can’t help but melt into. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re just nervous to confront all of this, maybe you’re just scared to admit to yourself that you want him. You want him so badly and so much more.

He pulls back and you sigh, nodding your head with a whisper. “I’m okay.” 

“Let me clean you up and we can talk?” He starts fixing himself up and you can’t help but to snort a laugh. “I feel like we did this in reverse order.”

He smiles as he moves over to the sink. “Yeah, maybe.” The two of you laugh softly as he wets a couple of paper towels. It’s quiet again. It's comfortable. Everything will be alright.

“Your bedroom is literally right down the hall, you couldn’t fuck there?” Seungmin yells to the two of you and you freeze, Holy fuckaroni, you forgot that they were here. 

“You never even brought me my drink!” Jisung follows and Jeongin rolls his eyes and comes back over to you with the paper towels. Felix yells right after Jisung and you can’t help but to break out into laughter with Jeongin as he cleans you up. 

“Are you two not confused that they just fucked? Is it just me?.” 

Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

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[dantes-jacket]

Dante Scenario

Dante x fem reader

Author notes: day 9473292736291929 thinking constantly about this man. This idea has been stuck in my brain for so long so I had to write about it

* You are Dante’s assistant. You basically do everything for him. You do finances, cook, patch up his friends after a mission, you help run Devil May Cry, and so much more

* You and Dante have a really close relationship that has built up over the years

* Everyone knows you two like each other and always begs you two to confess to each other. But the other party always says “they don’t see me like that” or “I don’t wanna ruin our friendship”

* That is until one day…

* Imagine Lady comes to Devil May Cry to talk to Dante about a job

* There’s this club that has been having a lot of females disappear and it’s always the same story. “A single girl sitting at the bar and a guy comes up and talks to them, they leave and never get seen again.”

* Lady deduced it’s a sex appeal demon, that is essentially a walking aphrodisiac. It shows the desires of the woman to her then puts her under a spell to control her. After the spell cast the woman follows whatever the demon wants (and that’s just the demon literally sucking the life out of her)

* Lady says she wants Dante’s help with this mission

* Dante brings up how he’s a guy and he can’t do too much to get close to the demon. But if he can know what the demon looks like he can try and hunt from the shadows

* Lady brings up how the demon changes appearances every night so nobody knows who it actually is

* Dante suggests she lead the demon out but lady quickly shuts down that idea because the demon would definitely recognize her

* Dante and Lady go through multiple plans and all end up seeming like dead ends

* You sit there quietly and just listen to them go back and forth. You don’t know much about demon hunting besides stuff you’ve picked up on throughout the years

* Then it clicks in your head after they have another failed idea

* “What if I am the bait for the demon?”

* Lady looks at you and talks about how that is a great idea and starts making a plan

* But while that happens Dante stands up lets out a firm “No.”

* Lady rolls her eyes and looks at him, “It’s the only shot we got. We need to get this mission done and this is our best idea.”

* Dante looks pissed and you get it

* “I am NOT putting her in danger just so I can kill this fucking demon. We still have time so let me think of a new plan.”

* You stand up and walk over to Dante and look him dead in the eyes, “Dante we don’t have any more time. The more we wait there’ll be more innocent women that will die. I don’t want to put anyone through that. If I can help and prevent it I’ll do it.”

* Dante quickly refutes “But what about you? What if you get hurt? I could never live with myself if something happened to you because I put you in danger.”

* You reach for his hands and hold them tightly, “Well Mr Pro demon hunter will just have to protect me right? I feel the safest when I know you’re around anyways.”

* Dante tightens the grip on your hands, “I’ll protect you with my life, I promise you.”

* You, Lady, and Dante all make a quick plan because you have to get ready since you are going to the club tonight

* The plan is to have Lady as surveillance and watching you at all times (on the clubs cameras) you’re also going to be hooked up to a mic that both her and Dante can listen to

* Dante is going to be in the club laying low trying to find the demon before he can get to you

* You all confirm the plan then you go get ready

* You get dressed in a tight and short red dress (you saved it for whenever Dante would ask you on a made up date you made in your dreams)

* You put on some heels, makeup and perfume and you walk into the main area where Dante and Lady are setting up the mics

* Once you walk in Lady cheers you on and compliments you

* You thank her and turn your attention to Dante who can’t take his eyes off of you

* You’re so beautiful and captivating in his eyes, but does he admit that? No…

* He just shakes his head and goes back to adjusting his mic

* Lady frowns and looks back at you. She sees you’re upset from the lack of compliments by Dante

* Lady waves you over to put on your mic and make sure it’s hidden so the demon won’t be able to tell

* After it’s all set up Dante has you test it to make sure it’s working, once the test is successful you all head out

* You’re sitting in the back of the van Lady has with Dante

* As you all get close to the bar you feel your nerves skyrocket

* It is now that you realized what you offered to do and that it’s actually going to happen

* You’re going to be face to face with a demon and you’re not even going to know

* What happens if it succeeds? Will you die? Will it be painful?

* You start to bounce your leg up and down due to your anxiousness

* You then feel a big warm hand settle on your knee stopping you

* You look over at Dante who is already looking at you

* “I told you, I promise I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything happen, you’ll be safe.”

* You nod and thank him

* You two just look at each other for what feels like a century

* Dante opens his mouth but is cut off by Lady announcing you three have arrived

* Lady gets out of the front seat and comes to the back where she’s tapped into all the cameras in the club

* Once that’s good she spins in her seat to face you, “Alright, you’re turn. Dante will enter in about 10 minutes. Be safe.”

* “Okay I’m off then.” You go to leave out of the van but Dante grabs your wrist stopping you

* You look back at him, “If you ever feel uncomfortable and want to stop say pizza and I’ll come to you.”

* “Got it. I’ll say pizza if I’m uncomfortable.”

* You can see Dante’s expression soften a bit and see some stress melt off of him but he still looks super tense

* You leave the van and head into the club

* You walk straight to the bar and order a drink

* You slowly sip on your drink looking around waiting for anyone to approach you

* After about 45 minutes no one has come up to you and it confuses you. Are you doing something wrong?

* As if Dante can hear your thoughts, “You’re not doing anything wrong sweetheart. We got here a bit early to make sure we would be all set up.”

* You nod obviously knowing he can see you responding non verbally to him

* Another 10 minutes goes by and Lady speaks up into the mic, “Someone a little off looking just came in. He’s got on a white polo and blue dress pants. He’s has brown hair that is gelled up.”

* Dante then speaks up, “Got eyes on him.”

* Lady then calls your name, “He’s coming your way.”

* You take the last sip on your drink, by the time you’re putting it down someone appears by you

* “Well it looks like I got lucky today. The pretty girl I wanted to chat with has a drink that is all gone. Do you mind if I buy you another one?”

* You look at the man and see the exact one Lady described

* Steeling yourself you bat your eyelashes and flirt back, “Well I can never turn down a drink from someone so handsome. Do you mind joining me? There’s an open seat right there.”

* The man sits down and flags the bartender down and orders two drinks

* You stare at him trying to look if anything is off. You’ve barely seen demons so you can’t tell

* The bartender comes back with the drinks and the man faces you

* He tips his drink up to do a cheers, you tap his glass and you both take a sip of your drinks

* Small talk ensues. You’ve two talk about your jobs (well your made up one), what foods you like, what’s your favorite animal and so on

* The man finishes his drink and stares deeply at you, it kinda makes you uncomfortable

* It doesn’t feel like the one Dante gives you. His look makes your heart race but the look you’re getting now makes you feel sick

* The man pushes some hair behind your ear and then rests his hand on your cheek

* If you weren’t on a mission you’d slap his hand away

* “So tell me, what is a beautiful and single girl doing here all alone?”

* He rubs his thumb against your cheek and it’s like your mind starts to become foggy

* You don’t even really know what you’re saying while you talk

* “Oh it’s because I love someone and he doesn’t love me back.”

* The man looks shocked, “Oh really?”

* You bite your lip, “Yeah…”

* “Does he have a girlfriend already? Or maybe even a wife?”

* You shake your head, you’re not even in control anymore

* “He doesn’t.”

* The man smirks, “Then why doesn’t want you?”

* You think about it and don’t know. Why doesn’t Dante want you?

* “I don’t know…”

* The man scoots closer, “Come on sweetheart, I know you can do better than that.”

* Your stomach twists when he called you sweetheart, it doesn’t give you the same emotions it did earlier when Dante called you that

* You can hear talking in your ear but your brain can’t register it

* Little did you know it was Dante freaking out and trying to call our to you

* Lady tries to stop him so he doesn’t fuck up the mission

* Dante growls “I’m not going to let her get hypnotized by the demon, and I sure as hell don’t want to listen to her talk about the man she loves.”

* Dante then hears you speak up again

* “Well he’s my boss. He is the most beautiful person in this world. He has such a selfless heart and cares about everyone around him. He works so hard and never stops until he knows peace is coming. He is also so funny and silly. He never fails to make me laugh and smile. He’s also a great dancer. Whether he’s dancing by himself or drags me to dance with him. I love him so much but I don’t think he sees me in that way at all.”

* Your voice cracks but you continue, “I’m not strong at all. His job is very taxing and I can’t even keep up with it. I feel so useless any time he is so tired and stressed because I can’t do anything to help. He’s also surrounded by so many beautiful and strong women that I get outshined in every single way. He never compliments my looks and I just don’t think I’m his type.”

* The man brings your focus back to him, “Do you want me to help you?” He pulls his hand away and it’s like you’re in a deeper trance

* You nod and let out a meek “Yes.”

* The man smirks, “Okay what’s this man’s name?”

* “Dante…”

* Dante’s voice hitches. He feels like he can’t breathe. His heart is racing and he reaches for his chest to hold it

* He clenches his chest and heaves, How can he let you think he doesn’t love you? How did he mess up so fucking bad that you think you’re not special? You’re the most important person in the world to him. You’re so smart, kind, caring, funny, and absolutely gorgeous. He couldn’t compliment you earlier because he couldn’t find the words to describe how beautiful you are.

* Lady yells his name over the mic, “You idiot try and talk to her to see if we can get her out of the trance so she doesn’t get taken.”

* Dante frantically calls out your name

* He sees you and watches you start to follow the demon

* “Baby please, that’s not me. Don’t let him manipulate you. I promise you, I will take you out after this.”

* His voice cracks, “Just please don’t go with him.”

* By the time he finishes the demon has you in the back alley and Lady tells Dante how to get there and he goes running

* Dante tries to talk to you more though

* You feel like shit in all honesty

* This all feels off, the man in front of you looks like Dante but doesn’t feel like Dante

* His hands aren’t super big, they aren’t rough with callous’

* This doesn’t feel right

* You hear something in your ear again but it’s getting louder and louder

* “Baby- please listen to me. Please let me know you hear me. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

* You let go of the demons hand and you mind stops fogging up a bit

* You breathe out “Dante?”

* You hear a huff and your name, “Is that you?”

* “Dante? Why is there two of you?

* “The one in front you isn’t real. Im coming to you now, get out of there.”

* The demon obviously caught on, “Come on sweetheart, don’t let go.”

* You try and rip your hand out of his but it’s futile you can loosen the demons strong grip

* “Oh so you figured it out? Well I’m not going to let you survive anyways. I’ll just devour you right now.”

* The demon grabs you by your shoulders and pins you hard against the wall

* The demon bares it fangs and goes for your neck and you hear something through the mic,“Don’t move.”

* A couple shots go off and you hear a howl from the demon

* The demon lets go of you and staggers back then a flash of red appears in front of you

* You breathe heavily “Dante.”

* Dante doesn’t look back but grabs his sword, you see his grip is tight

* “Don’t worry I’m here now. I’ll protect you, just like I promised.”

* The demon laughs, “So this is the man that you love but doesn’t care an inkling about you?”

* The demon looks at Dante, “You know I could see her memories and feel her emotions? I felt the hurt and pain you cause her. You hurt her more than anyone. YOU SAY YOU WANT TO PROTECT HER BUT YOU’VE ONLY HURT HER!”

* Dante freezes and you can see his attention wavering

* The demon tries to capitalize on this but you yell, “THAT’S NOT TRUE! Dante means the world to me and he makes me so happy. Being by him no matter what the context feels me with so much joy. I’m not going to let you make him think he’s not everything to me.”

* That seems to snap Dante back into the fight

* It catches the demon off guard and has a hard time fighting off the many attacks Dante his hitting him with

* Dante deals a fatal blow and the demon falls to the ground

* He stands over the demon who is badly injured and can barely move

* The demon growls, “You want to act like a hero but you’re not! I’m the hero here, I helped women like her be able to get what they wanted. I helped them! Not you. You only have hurt the girl that claims to love you. Stop acting like you’re some goddamn saint!”

* Dante stares at the demon, “No you killed innocent women for your selfish greed. You are no hero. A hero doesn’t march around saying all the good deeds they do, their actions are what speak volume. I’m not hero and no saint, and never claimed to be. But if she told me to do something I’d do it. If she wanted the world I’d give it to her.”

* He grips his sword and slices the demon’s head off

* “I’d do anything for her, after all I love her.”

* You breath hitches at his words

* Dante turns around and stares at you. He looks you up and down, “Are you okay? It didn’t hurt you right?”

* “I’m okay, I’m not hurt.” You two stare each other in silence

* Dante can’t take it anymore and walks over to you and pulls you into a tight embrace

* He holds your head to his chest and you can feel how fast his heart is racing

* “You really scared me sweetheart.”

* “I’m sorry Dante.”

* “Please don’t apologize for anything. I should be the one to apologize.”

* “Dante if what it said bothered you don’t listen to it-“

* Dante squeezes you tighter to him, “I’m not good with words and never have been. But I’ll try my hardest.”

* “I don’t know what I would do without you. You make every day so much better. You keep me sane in this fucked up world we live in.”

* Dante leans back and puts one of his hands on the back of your head to connect your foreheads

* You stare deeply into his beautiful blue eyes

* “I don’t think you understand how radiant you are in my eyes. You walk into a room and my eyes are instantly drawn to you. Damn it… earlier I wanted to compliment you non stop but didn’t know how or what to say. No words felt right to describe what I thought.”

* Dante softly calls your name, “You are so beautiful. Whether you be in this dress, in your pajamas, in my jacket, or wrapped up in a blanket. Even when you’re tired, exhausted, or stressed you’re still so breathtaking in my eyes. Your smile and laugh is so contagious and I crave to hear and see those two things every day. I don’t care if I have to look like an idiot to get my wish, I’ll do it.”

* “Dante-“

* “I’m not done.”

* “Having you in my arms makes me feel at home. You are my home. Coming back to you after every mission makes my heart race. I want to be with you always. I meant what I told that damn demon, if you wanted the world I’d give it to you. No matter what I had to do. Because I love you and nothing will change that.”

* You are lost for words, you have no idea what to say

* Dante was right he’s never been good with words but you can tell he put everything into this declaration

* “Dante, I don’t need the world. I just need you because I love you.”

* Dante lets out a deep sigh that turns into a laugh, “Thank god that confession was good. Don’t know what I would have done if it didn’t.”

* You laugh, “Even just if you just said you loved me I would have believed you.”

* “You deserve more than just a simple confession. But I want to do one more thing.”

* “What is that?”

* “I really and I mean really want to kiss you.”

* “And I really want you to kiss me.” You beam up at him.

* Dante leans down and pulls your head close to connect both of your lips

* The kiss is soft but is over quick

* You two pull apart and then Dante doesn’t hesitate to go back in

* He connect your lips in a heated clash

* He pulls your hips closer to him so you’re completely pressed up against him

* He slides his tongue into your mouth to connect with yours

* You get his message and let your lips and tongues dance in the heated clash

* Dante disconnects again and goes to kiss down your neck

* “You drive me fucking crazy.”

* He knows he finds your sweet spot once you let out a little moan

* “There it is.” He sucks on the spot which makes you let out another moan

* Before Dante can continue his actions you two hear a throat clear in the mic

* “Finally you two confessed but how about the first time you fuck it isn’t in a dirty alley. Where I can also hear.”

* You hide yourself in Dante’s chest out of embarrassment and the man groans

* “Did you really have to ruin the moment? Also I wouldn’t fuck her in a dirty alley, I have dignity.”

* “Whatever just get back to the van so I can take you guys back.”

* “Okay, okay we’re coming.”

* Dante steps back and takes off his jacket and helps you put it on

* Once it on he holds out his hand, “Let’s go home.”

* You grin at him, “Let’s!”

[animatingforfun]

This was a pure joy to work on.

For the behind-the-scenes story of how I made this animated mini-short, click “keep reading” below.

I started this 6 weeks ago, just before Nintendo shut down its 3DS and WiiU servers. The server shutdown meant no more multi-player online play for 3DS games, like Mario Kart 7, but also no more uploading to the Butterfly Animation online gallery directly from the app.

As an homage to the Inchworm and Butterfly Animation apps for the DSi and 3DS that I’ve been animating on since 2011, I originally was just going to animate just a single shot featuring something butterfly related.

But the story evolved as I began asking myself a series of "what if" questions that I had fun answering, like, “what if it was a little girl playing dress up as a butterfly?” And then “what if she was first cosplaying as a caterpillar then the butterfly?” “If this is a story of growth, what if she stumbles? What is her attitude when she stumbles?” “What if the design of the girl was something like Isao Takahata or Yoichi Kotabe would draw?”

Making this was the embodiment of everything I hope to achieve with my personal animation: to let creativity flow and just have fun animating and creating.

Since this mini-short was animated on my Nintendo 3DS, there was a memory limit of only 100 drawings, which was a bit of a challenge for longer or complex actions, but was a fun puzzle to solve. Sometimes limitations force you to come up with even more creative solutions. (I was able the squeeze in more drawings than the memory allowed, and filled it to the max!) :)

The song I used is from Rebecca Sugar’s album, "Spiral Bound", and perfectly fit the theme of the short. Initially, while I was drawing the character, I found myself humming a tune from Steven Universe that dealt with beginnings, endings, and not being ready. It’s amazing how the brain can subconsciously pick the playlist!

In the end, that song, sung by Steven’s father in the show, didn’t quite fit, but then I remembered another song by Rebecca Sugar which was more on theme with my story, called “My Own Way to the End”. The whole album is wonderful! You can check it out here:

Painting the backgrounds for this was the most challenging thing for me, but also the most eye opening! After painting, I would look around at the trees in the neighborhood differently. So many colors when you really look closely.

There’s so many talented people at my work and it was great that I could ask them for advice. One person I asked was the talented Tia Kratter, who happened to teach a mini-painting class for the animators while I was working on this short. I asked her for advice on one of the background paintings and she asked great questions which challenged me to try different things, but I still felt like I was having fun and playing without fear of failure. I mean, it was still hard though! Hahaha!

If you’ve read up to this point, thank you for reading this. :) I hope you enjoy this mini-short as much as I enjoyed making it!

[screwitbaby]

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader

day 6/7

summary: part 6 of the naive series!! mandy and martin get back together in the worst way possible but it’s okay because you and hamzah get to have some fun of your own…

contains: SFW and NSFW content ;-)

w/c: 2.8k-ish

~

It's awkward. You know that. Hamzah knows that. The mosquito buzzing by your ear knows that. You only hope Mandy knows that she scarred you for life.

"In my defense, I thought you would come back a lot later," she says.

You stare at her blankly. Martin hasn't made eye contact with you since last night. Hamzah's sat next to you, completely checked out of the conversation and scrolling on his phone. If you could click your heels three times and teleport home, you would.

"So you could fuck in my bed for several more hours?" you seethe.

"It's a hotel bed! It's not even yours!" Martin argues.

"It's a bed that I was supposed to sleep in!" You feel like you're about to pop a blood vessel. "Why didn't you just do it in your suite?!"

"It was a spur of the moment thing," Mandy says, walking over to sit next to you. "We were just going to talk. I didn't plan for it!"

Hamzah looks up from his phone and raises his eyebrows at the familiar words. You roll your eyes and turn to Mandy before he can see the red rush to your face.

"But hey, we aren't fighting anymore," Martin points out, scooping more sand over his pale chest.

He's been working on burying himself in the sand for the past hour since you and Hamzah joined them on the beach. You're grateful for that fact.

After being unpleasantly surprised by the sight of him in his birthday suit upon entering your hotel room, even a single glance at his body reminds you of the unholy vision. You and Hamzah had returned from your day on the town after eating out (ahem) and wanted a peaceful place to recover from your food comas. The couple seemed to have other ideas. You did a 180 and left without a single word.

"I don't even know what to say to you right now," you tell Martin without looking in his direction. "Mandy, why? Just why?"

"I'm sorry," she says, but there's a smile on her face that makes you scowl. "It's a little funny!"

"No, it's not!" you cry out. "Every time I shut my eyes I get a flashback to Martin's pasty asscheeks!"

"Hey!" Martin shouts. "Mandy loves these pasty a—"

"Shut up," you and Mandy say at the same time, albeit your tone is a little more hostile.

"At least you get to sleep in Hamzah's room from now on," Mandy whispers to you. You pinch her and she squeals. "I basically did you a favor!"

"You only have to do me a favor because you did some shit in the first place!"

"Guys, calm down," Hamzah says, waving his hand between you and Mandy, "we'll just get the sheets changed. It's not that big of a deal."

"So you're on their side?" you question him.

"Oh my god," Martin groans.

"Okay, if you're that disgusted, we'll get you a new room," Hamzah offers.

"They're all booked for the season," you grumble. "I checked last night after... the incident."

"And there's no way I'd pay for that," Martin says. You glare at the side of his head.

"When I said 'make up and make out' I didn't mean it literally," you tell Mandy. "I can't believe this."

"So dramatic," Hamzah teases. "C'mere."

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and even though you're upset, you don't move away. It helps you to cool off, but you can't stop your brain from wishing the clouds would part and smite the couple down in that moment. You lean closer into Hamzah's embrace and take a sip of your cocktail, avoiding Mandy's inquisitive stare.

You don't even know why you're so distressed by this whole thing, it should be a net positive that Mandy and Martin made amends. Plus, you had such a great time prior to the event, you shouldn't let it ruin your mood. It really isn't as big of a deal as you're making it out to be. Something about it rubs you the wrong way, though.

"Okay, I have one last question." Your words make the group groan and you shush them. "If I didn't walk in on you, were you going to tell me about my bed?"

The couple's silence speaks volumes.

"You fucking freaks!" you nearly scream. Hamzah flinches away from your voice and coughs into his fist to poorly disguise his laughter. "Ew! Ew-uh! What the fuck!?"

"We didn't even think that far," Mandy laughs out, "I'm sorry!"

"I hate you."

Since there isn't much to do on the beach but lie around and day drink with the two people you currently despise most, you and Hamzah decide on going someplace else. Nearing the end of a trip is usually draining, but with him it's like every minute counts for something more and that gives you the strength to push through your desire for self-isolation.

"We could get frozen yogurt?"

You shake your head.

"Go to an aquarium?"

You shake your head again.

"Do our laundry?"

"For real?" You scrunch your face in disapproval.

"I don't know what you want from me," Hamzah says, squeezing your hand tighter. "We're in a foreign place and we're bored as hell. You try to give me some ideas."

As you walk further up the street, swinging your hand in his, you spot an interesting store in your peripheral vision.

"Hamzah," you say, pointing. "We need to go."

He looks up and scoffs. "Are you 12? We're not going in there."

"Why would a 12-year-old be in a sex shop?" you joke and pull him along. "It'll be goofy and silly. Please."

"This is so stupid," he says, but ultimately obliges.

The two of you walk in and are instantly greeted by a wall of monstrous dildos. You bite your lip to not laugh out loud at Hamzah's disgruntled reaction and drag him over to an idle worker, all while he's quietly protesting your mischief.

"Please don't," he mumbles, much too late.

"Hi," you greet the worker cheerily. "My boyfriend and I would like to know some of your recommendations for starter toys."

Hamzah blushes beet red and you grin deviously.

"Sure, follow me," she replies, leading you to the back of the store.

You feast your eyes on the seemingly never-ending array of degeneracy. It reminds you of walking into the back of a Spencer's when you were in middle school, only so much more serious. This is top notch stuff. You find yourself actually becoming intrigued.

"Here we have our bestseller," the worker says, taking a toy from the shelf and presenting it to you. "This is a bullet vibrator. Great for travel."

You hum, nodding your head. Hamzah's hand is a dead weight in yours as he looks between the ceiling or his shoes, avoiding eye contact with the multitude of phalluses surrounding him.

"This here is another great pick," she says, showing you a glass dildo. "Simple, but satisfying. Comes with your choice in any of our flavored lubes."

"Ooh," you exaggerate. Hamzah makes a grunting noise and it takes all of you to keep from bursting out laughing. "Do you have anything that's more for... him?"

"Ah, yes, of course."

The worker turns to unlock a display case in the corner and brings a little rubber toy out. Hamzah rubs his eyes like he's trying to awaken from a nightmare.

"This is very popular with the tourists," she says, handing it over to you. "Press this button."

You do as she says and the cock ring not only lights up, but also starts wriggling in your hand. It tickles your palm and you giggle, reaching over to press it to Hamzah's arm to catch his attention. He jumps as if he's shocked by an electric current.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes to the worker, pinching the toy between his fingers and hastily dropping it back in the display. "I just realized I'm perfectly capable of pleasing my girlfriend on my own. Goodbye."

With that, he tugs on your hand and nearly sprints to the exit. You cackle while he makes you cross the street to get as far from the store as possible.

"It could've been worse," you tell Hamzah as he slides the key card to his door. "She didn't even get to the sex swings."

"Please shut up," he says, tired of your bullshit.

He still holds the door open for you, even though you've been messing with him all day. You walk into the room and place your shopping bags down. You had convinced Hamzah to window-shop after your little stunt, but you couldn't help yourself. You ended up buying some knickknacks and cute postcards for your family and friends back home.

"Do you mind if I take a shower in here?" you ask him, taking your shoes off.

"You're really not going back to your room?"

"You wanna get rid of me that fast?" You dramatically fall back on his bed. "I thought what we had was special."

Hamzah walks over to you and holds himself above you at arms length.

"I didn't exactly agree to the whole 'boyfriend' thing," he quips.

You pull him forward by his collar and smile. "Then why'd you call me your girlfriend?"

His eyes hone in on your lips. "I was just playing along."

"Really?" you question, placing your hand on his cheek. "And how far are you willing to play along for?"

You move up and capture his lips in a kiss. He responds eagerly, like you knew he would. His hand grips your waist and you quietly moan into the kiss, trying to rile him up. He takes the bait, pressing his body to yours and pulling the both of you further up the bed. When your head comes in contact with the pillows, you roll him over and sit in his lap to grind your hips. He tries to touch you and you stop him, holding him down by his arms. He could easily overpower you, but he stays pinned down, staring up at you with his big doe eyes.

"I don't think people who aren't really girlfriend-boyfriend should do this kind of thing..." you trail off.

You climb off the bed and walk straight to the bathroom, tossing your shirt off before closing the door behind you. You hear some shuffling outside as you strip and step under the shower head. You begin to lather some hotel body wash in your hands right when the door opens. Through the fogged glass, you see Hamzah taking his clothes off, but you pretend not to take notice as you rub the suds all over your body.

Hamzah steps into the shower behind you. You close your eyes to step under the shower head and wash the soap off, still paying him no attention. When you bend over to grab the shampoo, you feel his hands trail up your thighs and settle on your hips.

You turn with the bottle in your hands. "Do you mind?"

"Nope," he says.

He takes the bottle from you and pours some into his palm before placing it back. You watch his face as he reaches up to massage your scalp with the shampoo. He's concentrating hard, but the contact is gentle as he takes extra care of not tangling your hair. It's cute, but it would be cuter if you didn't feel him growing against your thigh.

"Does shampooing usually give you a boner?" you ask.

"Yeah, always," he replies sarcastically.

You giggle and close your eyes, enjoying the salon experience. When he's done, he moves you under the water and dips your head back to rinse your hair. You switch places with him after teaching him how to apply conditioner and grab the body wash again, but for him this time. He sighs as you massage his shoulders with the soap and you spread the rest down his torso. Your hands trace the curvature of his pecs and waist, taking a little too much time with each section just to feel him. When your touch begin to descend, he places his hands on your hips and pulls you forward. You sharply inhale as his dick prods your lower belly.

He leans in to kiss you, making you completely forget about your task and wrap your arms around his shoulders. His tongue finds yours and you feverishly return his advances, running your fingers through his soaked curls to smooth them out of his face. When his hand reaches down your back to cup your ass, you moan and lift your leg to wrap it around his hip. His other hand does the same and he carries you to push you against the shower wall. His erection nudges your center and you thrust forward, desperate for any friction. He teases his tip through your folds and against your clit.

"Be my girlfriend," Hamzah whispers, in between leaving open mouthed kisses on your décolletage.

You toss your head to the side, too overwhelmed to even respond. He continues his actions, feeding off your pleasure. You grip the back of his neck and bring his mouth back to yours.

"Be my boyfriend," you mumble against his lips.

You reach between your slick bodies and pump his shaft a few times, your foreheads pressed together as you watch his eyelids flutter from the sensation. Lining him up, you feel him gradually enter you. Both of you breathe heavily and as soon as you get used to his size, you buck your hips. Moans fall from your lips like water droplets, echoing against the bathroom tiles as he begins to thrust into you faster and faster. You clutch his shoulders and he buries his face in your neck, his groans vibrating against your wet skin.

Letting go of one of your legs, Hamzah kneads your tit, pinching your nipple then soothing it with the pad of his thumb. You whimper and stand on your tippy toes as he pounds into you, trying your best not to buckle from the feeling. His lips suck on the side of your throat, sure to leave marks in the places he lingers. You dig your heel into his lower back, wanting—no, needing to feel all of him.

When you start clenching around him, he glides his hand down your front and rubs circles on your clit. You gasp out breaths, digging your nails into his back.

"Feel good, baby?" he pants in your ear, his hips crashing into yours with each word. "Tell me."

"Yes, Hamzah, yes," you sob. "Harder, please!"

He complies, the wet slapping getting louder between you. Your eyes screw shut as white heat fills your veins from your head to your toes and all you can do is moan haphazardly. He's in a similar state, his voice breaking as curses fly from his lips. He fucks you through your climax, holding out as long as he can while he flicks his hand relentlessly. Once you’re completely spent, he pulls out with a groan and cums all over your stomach and thighs. You raise a trembling hand to stroke him until he finishes and his moans steadily fade out.

Your chests rise and fall as you attempt to catch your breaths. Hamzah lightly kisses up your neck, still holding you against the wall as the both of you recover. You bring your other leg back down to the ground and lean your weight on him.

Pushing him under the shower head, you watch the way his curls slowly shrink back into place.

“Shampoo,” you breathe out.

Hamzah hands you the bottle and watches as you return the favor for him.

“Put your head down, please,” you request. “I’m too shaky.”

He laughs silently but does as you say. Your fingernails graze his scalp and he makes little noises of approval.

“Body wash me,” you say.

“Do I have to?”

“Yeah.” You bring his head up to make eye contact. “Boyfriend-ly duties.”

The two of you leave the shower after a couple more minutes of teasing and fondling. Hamzah wraps a towel around you and you plug the blow dryer in as he grabs one for himself. He’s about to leave the bathroom when you call him back.

“C’mon,” you say, beckoning him to the mirror. “You don’t style your hair?”

You grab a tiny dollop of conditioner and run it through his curls.

“I usually just let it air dry.”

“That’s fine, but you should always moisturize.”

“Every time?” he asks like it’s an unfathomable chore.

“From now on, yeah.” You scrunch some of the strands. “Can’t have my boyfriend looking crazy.”

“You’re really loving that title, huh?” he teases.

“Am I not supposed to?” you ask, washing your hands in the sink and looking at him through the steamy mirror. “If I knew how simple it was to get that title, I would’ve fucked you a lot sooner.”

Hamzah chokes on his spit.

~

a/n: i realize this whole chapter was basically abt sex and yk what i don’t even mind it. how we feeling abt there being one part left? what do yall think is gonna happen omggggg🙈 also should i do an epilogue or just stick with 7 being the ending? lmk!!!! love yall as per usual<333

[bernardsbendystraws]

Fresh Air

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Check out my pinned post for more of my writing.

00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 FINAL

Summary: One night at a party seems to change everything. A strange man with a friendly smile and a sleeve of patchwork tattoos seems to make you feel at home for a change. You're finally happy to have made a good friend to lean on - especially when it comes to your not-so-great relationship with your boyfriend. But what happens if you lean too much...what happens if you fall?

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

06: A Little Blurry...

Matt’s arms swarmed around me, the heat between our bodies under the covers making me feel like a puddle of comfort. Stripes of light peeking through the blinds made the calm aura only grow, my skin feeling as soft as ever as I feel his fingers start to twindle hazily on my bare lower stomach. 

The more and more conscious thoughts that seeped in, the more my bones started to vibrate under my skin. What did I do? Did that really happen? Did I…did I cheat on my boyfriend? 

“Morning, dollface.” His hum is spoken with a gruff voice. As my senses start to wake with panic, I let myself feel the dry warmth between our bodies. Was it all just a dream? Is that still cheating? 

“Um…morning,” I sigh, chaotic thoughts starting to calm as I let my body melt back into his embrace. 

If it was just a dream, I wouldn’t feel like this. It’s definitely still cheating. This can’t be okay - I just cheated on someone. Fuck. 

Matt seems to notice my anxious energy. “Are you okay? Did you not sleep good?” he asks, peering over my shoulder to look down at my face. 

But I just can’t look at him. 

“I need to go. I…I need to go now.” 

__________

Awkward and tense silence had infiltrated our normal relaxing drives as Matt dropped me off at my apartment. I couldn’t bring myself to explain, the mere thought of even saying such a thing out loud made me nauseous, it made my skin shrivel with disgust. 

I’m a cheater.

The one thing I never thought I’d say, the one thing that a younger version of me would be crushed to hear. 

He had told me to call him when I was ready to talk. But, what was there to talk about? I couldn’t even look at him without seeing the vicious guilt that poured down over my body like acid. It burned to know how utterly fucked I was - how my own stupidity had led to a mountain of grief and shame to deal with. 

I find myself clicking away at my phone until I reach her contact, tapping on the call button and bringing the phone up to my ear as I anxiously run my hand through my hair. “Hello?” Manon answers. My mouth opens and shuts, words stuck on the edge of my tongue as I feel my chest collapse harder and harder. 

“Could - could you, um,” the panic overrides my senses, words seeming harder to pull together as I let my fingers grip harder at my scalp. It hurts but at least I can feel it. And maybe I deserve the hurt too. 

“Are you okay? Hey,” she soothes, the jingling of keys projecting through the call as I hear her shuffle around, “-’m on my way. Take deep breaths, c’mon,” 

It’s like I can barely hear her. The urgency blasting about guilt and making decisions - it’s all too much. 

“-talked to…hello?” 

“I…can’t focus, I’m just - just - just panicking and I,” a cry fumbles from my lips as I clutch onto the thick fabric of the hoodie laying on my chest, almost as if I could try to claw the feeling out. 

“Breathe, I will be there soon, ke…” 

It’s like she just disappears. The subtle melody of her voice is heard, but no words are being processed in my brain - only guilt. 

I cheated on someone. 

I’m a cheater. 

I didn’t even deserve to be upset, but here I was, crumbling to the floor as I gripped onto Matt’s hoodie covering my body, the soft material starting to feel like a brutal exfoliant, only emphasizing that rotten disappointment echoing through my mind. 

Even imaging the look on Hayden’s face felt like death. Knowing that every time I’d look in the mirror, I’d be repulsed. 

And…knowing that I would never be able to look at Matt the same.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Any interaction is appreciated!!! I am hoping to get out weekly updates of this series. Let me know your thoughts <333

[lucysarah1875]

I headcanon the mounting spring MC using some sexual terms not knowing they're, well, sexual due to her upbringing, and just casually using them with Levi while he's just flabbergasted. Example 1:

"Can you give me backshots?"

"...what?!"

"Back massage? I have a terrible ache from riding in the cart."

"..."

Example 2:

"Stop being so stubborn and let me give you head!"

"Excuse me?!"

"Head? You know, like advice or opinion?"

"What the actual fuck are you talking about? Don't say that to anyone else."

Example 3:

"Oh, I'm really craving a good creampie right now. Can you arrange for it?"

Levi, trying not to smirk, "I'll give you as many as you want next spring."

"???"

And maybe she heard something about husbands giving their wives "facials" or "pearl necklaces" and asks him about it? And another joke that you added in Holy ground about "eating out" and "making out", yeah that was really good as well XD I absolutely love "miscommunication" and "misunderstandings" like these hehe

HAHAHAHAHA You know... great minds think alike because THIS IS AN SCENE OF THE UPCOMING CHAPTER HAHA:

Levi shoved the itchy gray blanket higher over his shoulder with a decisive tug, like he was drawing a line—marking the end of whatever pushy conversation she thought she could keep going. His bare legs stuck out the bottom—he’d long given up on staying fully dressed in this godforsaken heat, modesty has lost the battle—but ditching the blanket altogether felt like surrendering to the cold. That was too much. Some things just made sense, even if they didn’t.

One arm folded beneath his head, his face turned away from her, eyes squeezed shut with deliberate force, his brows deeply furrowed. He wasn’t asleep—anyone could tell—but he was clearly committed to faking it. Or at least, forcing the night to end by sheer will. Mostly, he was hoping she’d get the message.

“Levi…” she called out again.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, each word bitten off and heavy with exhaustion. Her persistence was wearing him down, strand by strand, like a fraying rope.

“But I need to ask you something…” She shifted upright slightly. Her voice had that unmistakable pouty tone—he could practically hear the lip quivering.

“Ask me in the morning.”

“But—” she protested, voice smaller now, embarrassed.

He groaned into the blanket. “For the love of—what could possibly be so important that it can’t wait till sunrise?”

Her voice dipped into a sheepish murmur. “It’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

His brow twitched. Levi let out a longer breath, then scoffed. “And it just had to be asked at three in the damn morning? In a tent?”

“…Kinda.”

The awkward silence that followed was laced with too much emotion to ignore. He cracked one eye open and glanced over his shoulder. She was sitting up now, fiddling with her fingers and looking away.

‘…She’s kinda cute like that,’ he thought grimly, and instantly regretted it.

“I wanted to ask you in private,” she murmured.

Levi propped himself up on an elbow, gaze sharpening. Whatever this was, she clearly wasn’t going to drop it.

“What?” he asked, already annoyed, but clearly listening.

“Well, since you're my husband now and all… I guess it should be you who teaches me.” She was dancing around the words like they were hot coals, and that irritated him even more. He clicked his tongue. “I want to ride.”

His brain shut off.

“…What?”

“It was Hange idea!”

It’s just that his brain had already gone places. Dangerous, sweaty, deeply inappropriate places.

“I want you, as my husband, to teach me how to ride. I don’t really know how to do it, and I’m kinda ashamed, but I thought if I felt a little bit in control, I might be willing to try new things—”

Her awkward stammering was cut off by his sharp interruption, voice rough and suddenly tight.

“Riding what?” he cut in, voice suddenly dry and a little panicked, because his brain was already passing down all the decisions and thinking to his other head.

‘She’s that ready? I mean… I do prefer to be on top, but—shit, for a virgin, she’s eager but I guess it's easier for a virgin to see how much deep they want to go? And here? In a tent? I mean, I won’t be the first to do it like this, but… damn, I thought she'd want a bed at least.’

‘Not that I’m complaining, though.’

“A horse,” she said flatly, frowning at him like he was the idiot. What else is there to ride?”

All the tingling heat rushing down his spine screeched to a stop. His body had been seconds away from betraying him—his scent, his posture, everything had been more than ready to jump the gun. He was even ashamed of how quickly his own body betrayed him giving away a “I’m more than ready,” scent.

“Well,” he muttered under his breath, “I could think of a few things…”

She sniffed. “Wait. Why do you smell like that?”

“Go to bed, for fuck’s sake,” he growled, flipping back over and yanking the blanket high enough to bury half his face.

“Are you going to teach me or not?” A muffled thud followed, along with her yelp: “Don’t hit me with a pillow!”

“Shut up!” Levi hissed. “You’re gonna wake the whole damn camp!”

I AM 100% taking your ideas into consideration and they will be debated with the council (me).

[petrichoravis]

Hello lovely! if your taking requests maybe spencer reid x reader hurt comfort. Where reader just needs spencer to take care of her. Maybe just letting her know she’s not being a burden. Totally cool if not!

Have a great day ☕️🍪

summery: you're lacking energy and Spencer is your sun. (Or, what the request says)

word count: 1,4k

what to expect: spencer reid x reader, established relationship, mental health issues (no specific diagnose but depression is mentioned and heavily implied), bashing of toothpaste ad music (unbiased), mention of nudity, but it's in no way of sexual nature

a/n: My first request wohoo!! Thank you for your req, lovely. You didn't specify why r needed taking care of, so I went the mental health route, I hope that's okay! I hope you have a great day, too<3

────── ༊*·˚

You couldn't feel the blanket under your fingers as you traced the fabric until your fingers went numb. You had no idea how long you've been here, like this. Curled into a ball on your couch, the TV was playing an ad about toothpaste.

Why is it that toothpaste ads always had the most annoying music?

But your muscles betrayed you, refusing to even move an inch towards the remote. In a constant loop of your movement along the blanket.

The door clicked open, but the usual rush of oxytocin and dopamine wouldn't come, you just stayed in the puddle of your misery.

Muffled, you registered Spencer calling out that he was home, but your mouth wouldn't form words. Frustrated, you stayed silent.

A figure crouched in front of you. You hadn't realised he has crossed the room already.

Spencer said your name softly, quietly, "What can I do?"

You didn't answer. Not because you didn't want to, you physically couldn't. Like your brain had shut down all contact with your mouth.

"I'll just change out of my clothes and make us tea, okay? I'll be back before you know it."

You were able to convince your head to nod. You hated how he was talking to you, all soft edges and careful treading.

He lingered, unsure if he could leave you in this state. "I'll be right back." He repeated, more to convince himself than you, before standing up from his crouch.

Half-heartedly, you thought about grabbing his sleeve and making him stay. You watched him leave the room.

Spencer does come back before you know it, you felt like four seconds or a lifetime had passed. He made you sit up and you reluctantly obeyed. It seemed like your body wanted to listen to Spencer more than you. You fault his brown eyes.

A mug with tea was pressed into your hand. "Drink. I cooled it down with a little water." He said softly.

Only then, when your throat bobbed around the gulps, you felt the migraine that had been forming behind your eyes and soon your body was coming back from rigor mortis.

Voice hoarse, you said, "I'm sorry."

"None of that." He said sternly. (Hah, sternly. As if one look from you doesn't make him melt like a snowflake in your palm.) "I'll prepare the shower and get you new clothes, okay?"

When you gave him a look, he laughed. "I'm not trying to seduce you. It's actually proven that showering and changing your clothes can make you feel better when you're feeling down. Kind of like an external change."

You don't believe that it would actually change anything, but you humoured him anyway (Spencer knows best, after all), letting him walk you into the bathroom. He peeled of your shirt and pants with gentle hands.

It's refreshing, the way he looks at you. You're naked in front of him and there isn't one speck of lust in his eyes. Just worry and love.

"Do you want to shower alone?" At your nod, he steps back a little. "I'll see you in a minute." Pressing a kiss to your cheek and forehead, letting his lips linger there for a little.

A laugh escaped you. "You're acting like I'll be gone forever."

"Might as well," he smiled at you. "I haven't seen you all day and now you're disappearing again."

"I'll be quick." You promised.

When he left the room, you stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away your sorry. Spencer was right, showering did help—though the word showering might be misleading, you just let the water cascade down your back until your muscles began working on their own again.

And you kept your promise to him, finished after ten minutes. You slipped into the sweat pants and Spencer's shirt that he had placed folded up on the toilette for you.

You stand in front of the mirror, pulling the t-shirt over your nose and smelling his scent.

After taking the moment of quiet that wasn't filled with self-doubt, but filled with so much love, you open the bathroom door. You found your boyfriend preparing a snack plate in the kitchen.

"Spence, you really didn't—" you startled him.

He turned towards you, his gaze lingering on you in his shirt, wet hair. "I wanted to." He reassured, turning back to cut the fruits and vegetables. You hugged him from behind.

After a while he is finished with preparing the snack and he turned, hugging you back.

"Bed? Or do you want to stay on the couch? We could watch a movie, your pick." His hand smoothed over your back.

"Bed." You mumbled, hiding into Spencer's chest. He welcomed you and you stayed like that for a little.

"Come on." He said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You let him kindly manhandle you into bed and don't even protest when he insisted that you had to eat a piece of apple (mumbling something about how they're packed with manganese, which is said to a lower the risk of depressive episodes).

He set the plate down on the bedside table and, finally, laid down on the bed next to you, the bed dipping with his weight, pulling you towards him like a magnet, you felt a little less rotten.

Spencer's pinky brushed yours to tell you if you want to touch him, you could, but there was no pressure to do so.

You rolled towards him, letting him wrap his warms around you. Both of you stayed like that for a while before either of you said anything.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Silence for a moment, and then, "There wasn't any trigger. I was fine one minute and the next…I was on the couch watching trash TV."

"There's not always an obvious reason for feeling down. But," he didn't know how to continue the sentence without making it sound like a lecture. "Did you go outside at all today?"

You frowned at him. "Yes."

He soothed the lines with his fingers, before brushing them along the side of your face and letting his fingertips tangle in your hair. "Good, because being out in the sun will increase your brains level of serotonin."

"I know that." The snap in your voice was barely there, but Spencer was, well, Spencer.

"I know you know," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your eyebrow to soothe you. No bad intentions behind his statement. "Just reminding you."

"I'm sorry." You said again, this time for snapping because of such a silly thing.

"We talked about that, love. There is no need to apologise. I like taking care of you."

"It's not just that…" You struggled to find the words for your feelings. You felt like the biggest load and didn't want him to have to carry it, worrying him like that, making him care about you after what would have had to have been an exhausting work day. And now you were even snapping at him.

So you tell him just that.

"You're not a burden—don't look at me like that, I know you were thinking it. I promise, you're not making me do anything. I'm here on my own accord and I’m staying." He said firmly, but his tone was gentle. He was good at that, getting his point across without sounding like he was scolding you.

Still, you didn't believe him. "When you came home, I ignored you." Your voice cracked a little.

Spencer's hand cradled your head against his chest, hugging you tightly. "No, you didn't. There are many reasons why you aren't able to speak when you're in that state. You could be processing your emotions and feelings, or you're disconnected from your emotions. The latter is a normal symptom when a person is experiencing depressive episodes."

You stayed quiet, tucked into Spencer's arms. Safe.

"Point is, I know you weren't ignoring me. And I knew you would talk to me at some point, there is a difference."

"Thank you." You mumbled, pulling back a little so you were able to look at Spencer.

"You're welcome," he pecked your lips. "I love you."

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

It's like a balm to the wounds you have been licking in vain for all your life.

How lucky you were to have him now. What you must have done in a past life to deserve him, you had no idea, but you won't question it, in case there had been a mix up. He was yours now and you're not letting him go.

──────────── ༊*·˚

thank you for reading!!! please remember that reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr. feedback is appreciated:)) here is a link to my masterlist in case you want to check out my other stuff<3

[uhhlifeig]

Smitten - Feb. 17th - word count: 827 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus woke up, his head throbbing.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Lupin,” a woman said, hovering over him. “How are you feeling?”

“Where am I?” Remus asked, trying to sit up in his bed. The lady pushed him back down. 

She must be a nurse, he realized, since she was in a nurse’s uniform.

“You’re in St. Mungo’s. Do you remember?”

Remus frowned. “Remember what?”

“What’s the last thing you remember, Mr. Lupin?” she asked, pulling a notebook out of her pocket. 

Remus racked his brains. “Uh, not much,” he shrugged.

“And what does it feel like?”

He frowned, thinking of a way to phrase the sentence. “It feels like I’m supposed to remember something, but I don’t. Like there’s just… empty space and colors.”

“Interesting,” the nurse hummed. “Well, you must've been hit with something, since you still have practical memory, yes?”

“Yeah,” Remus sighed. “Yeah. I can do stuff, I just don’t remember how I learnt it.”

“And do you recognize faces?” she asked.

“Dunno,” Remus replied dully. “Are there any faces?”

“Oh, sorry. One second, Mr. Lupin.” The nurse left the room, letting the door click shut behind her.

A moment later, she returned, a gorgeous man in tow. 

“Er, hello,” he mumbled, feeling his face heat up under the steel-colored scrutiny of the mystery man. 

The man turned to the nurse. “Are you absolutely quite sure he’s alright, Beatrice? Has the confusion worn off?”

“Yes, Black,” the nurse said. “He’s just missing memories, that’s all.”

‘Black’ opened his mouth to speak, but the nurse cut him off. “No, Sirius,” she sighed. “It’s not permanent. It’ll be back soon.”

Sirius. What an interesting name, Remus thought. He’d heard that somewhere before…

“Good,” Sirius nodded, checking his watch. He cursed. “I have to go, the Curse-Breaking people need me. Sorry, I’ll be back.”

Remus frowned. He wanted to talk to the pretty man. He had such nice hair. Remus wanted to run his hands through the man’s hair. Would it feel nice?

Remus shook the thoughts out of his head. That man was probably off the market, considering the silver band on his finger.

~~~~~

There was a messy-haired man next to his bed, chattering on about his wife and son. 

He showed Remus the pictures from his son’s fifth birthday, and he also reminded Remus of a place called ‘Hogwarts’.

Remus didn’t remember too much, but he did recall a big, moving tree, and three animal-shaped figures trailing after him. When he told the messy-haired man (James, his name was), he grinned.

“You remember that? That’s great, Moony!” he exclaimed. “Do you remember the names? Of the animals, I mean.”

“It was…” Remus trailed off, thinking. “Prongs, Wormtail, and Padfoot, right? And I was Moony?”

“Yeah!” James cheered. “I was Prongs, of course, since, well,” he leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m a deer.”

“Yeah, and… there was a kid called Peter, right? Which was he?”

James chuckled. “Oh, Pete’s Wormtail. He’s a rat.”

Remus tilted his head ponderingly. “So who was Padfoot?”

“Oh, easy. That was Sirius,” James said, smiling.

Remus gaped. “Wait. Sirius? Sirius as in the man who came earlier? That Sirius?”

“Well, he didn’t tell me he’d stop by, but yeah,” James shrugged. “Why?” 

“Merlin, that man is so beautiful,” Remus sighed. “He just has the prettiest eyes, and his hair, and-”

“I’m going to have to stop you right there,” James frowned.

Remus’s eyes widened, head dropping to look at his sheets. “Oh, shit, right. He’s married, or engaged, or something. Sorry, I just-”

But James interrupted again. “No, no, shut it, Moony. I heard way too much of this from Sirius’s side during fourth year, and let me tell you-” he gave a full-body shudder. “I never want to go through you two pining again.”

Remus raised his head hopefully. “We were together?”

“Uh, yeah? Merlin, Remus, did you not see the wedding band on your finger?” James scoffed. “Smartest Marauder my ass.”

Remus elected to ignore the last comment and instead looked at his right hand, where a gold band was wrapped around his ring finger.

“Oh, shit, he’s my husband?” Remus asked, voice rising in pitch with every word.

“Duh.”

~~~~~

Remus sighed contentedly as Sirius curled into his side on their couch. 

“So,” Sirius began. “Prongs told me what happened.”

Remus felt a cold trickle of embarrassment down his back. “What?” he asked cautiously.

“When you were in Mungo’s that time, remember?” Sirius looked innocently up at Remus. “When you forgot that we were married?”

Remus groaned. “Shut it. He did not-”

“Oh, but he did,” Sirius said. “He called it cute how you were acting all smitten about your husband. And then he said that if one of us ever lost our memories again, he wouldn’t be there.”

“Oh, yeah. What did you even say to that poor man in fourth year?”

Sirius grinned. “Well, I’m pretty sure I started off with how good you looked, and then-”

“Dear Merlin.”

[hyperfocusthusly]

Falling right into you

@bucktommyfluffebruary - Day 16 prompt: AU: Didn’t know they were dating

Notes: pre-relationship, getting to know each other, accidentally dating they’re just too oblivious to see it, minor injury | rated: G | words: 3.5k

All of my love to @leashybebes for listening to me yap about it and giving me the motivation to get on with it! Also shout out to @livelaughlou and @bybobbysbeard for saving me with their Die Hard knowledge when I made the frankly insane choice to include in this fic a film I’ve never seen 🫶🏻

[Read on Ao3]

———

It had been a long day. None of their calls had been anything too serious but it had been relentless. Every time Tommy had laid his head down on a bunk pillow he had been interrupted by the alarm. He felt heavy, right down to his bones. He had made it home, but between the sleep deprived grittiness of his vision and the way his hands felt like they were made of lead, manoeuvring his key into the lock was proving difficult. He stepped back and cursed, squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear some of the fog building up in his brain.

As he opened them again the door clicked open, it took him a moment to register that someone was stood in the doorway. Someone was inside his house.

“Hey, long shift?”

Evan, Evan Buckley, his brain supplied. 118, Howie’s friend, he’s staying here because frat houses are not conducive to sleeping well enough to be an effective first responder. Tommy lets out a sigh, he could have used being alone tonight.

“Something like that.”

Evan steps back from the doorway and Tommy comes into the house, it smells great, Evan is always cooking something and, as Tommy has discovered, he’s pretty good at it. His stomach rumbles. He looks over at the pot on the stove, bubbling with a rich red sauce, thinks about the reheated leftovers he had set aside for dinner, if he even gets that far. A shower was the first priority. The ones at Harbour were fine for a quick rinse, but he longed for the quiet solitude of his own bathroom to truly wash away the day’s grime.

When Tommy re-emerges he feels a bit more human and a bit less grumpy about his decision to share his home with a practical stranger. He goes to the kitchen, it appears empty until Evan pops up from behind the kitchen island, making Tommy jump.

“Oh, sorry!” He is holding two plates, uses one to gesture towards the pot on the side. “Do you want some? I’ve made way too much for just me.” Tommy can’t deny that it looks and smells incredible, he thinks about declining but cooking is not his forte and he could do with some good food right now.

“Yeah, if you’re sure that’s okay?”

Buck grins, it lights up his whole face, makes his bright blue eyes sparkle.

“Of course, I’ll bring it over.”

They sit down at the table together, while they’re eating Evan tells him about the last shift he had, getting used to the routine and workings of the firehouse. Tommy nods along, it’s all familiar to him. He offers little pieces of advice as they go.

Once they’ve finished eating Tommy clears away the plates, he’s loading the dishwasher as Evan comes alongside him and starts running the tap into the sink to wash up. They clean up in companionable quiet. With all the jobs done Tommy heads towards the stairs, he turns to Evan and gives him a quick half wave.

“Goodnight, thanks for dinner.”

“No problem, glad you liked it.”

He gives Evan a parting smile and goes up to his room, settling quickly under the covers. He can hear the light sounds of Evan padding around the living room. He doesn’t mind it, the house feels more comfortable somehow, less empty. Maybe having a housemate isn’t such a bad thing after all.

——

Spring has started to show itself and Tommy has decided that today was the day to throw himself into a full house clean. With Evan’s help it had taken half the time it usually did. Finishing up in the kitchen, Tommy is on his knees bent around inside the corner cupboard wiping out the last of the dust.

“You doing okay in there?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out muffled. He shuffles out, his hair is sticking up everywhere. Buck offers his hand and helps Tommy up. He leans over and drops the cloth he had been using in the sink. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead. “Now I know how a TV dinner feels.”

The reference goes straight over Buck’s head, confusion spreading over his face.

“Oh come on, it’s Die Hard.”

“I’ve never seen it. It’s a Christmas film right?”

“A- a Christmas film?” The incredulous tone of Tommy’s voice makes Buck feel immediately like he’s got something fairly wrong.

“Does it not happen on Christmas Day?”

“Well yeah.” Tommy is gathering up the cleaning supplies from the counters, putting them back in their respective cupboards.

“But it’s not a Christmas film. It’s just a film that happens to occur at Christmas.”

Buck scrunches his brow.

“Riiight.”

“Okay, okay, come here.” Tommy takes Buck by the elbow and leads him into the living room. He goes to the DVD lined bookshelf and starts skimming through the titles.

“Sit down” he calls over his shoulder. “We’re watching it right now.”

Buck smiles to himself, it’s been a few weeks, but he finally feels like he’s starting to crack into Tommy’s shell.

“Yes sir.” He makes a mock salute and flops down onto the small couch.

Tommy rolls his eyes good naturedly, sits down next to him and starts the movie.

He can tell it’s coming, but the shot that kills the first hostage still makes Buck flinch. His leg bumps against Tommy’s but he is too involved in the movie to really notice. Tommy notices though, the soft press of Evan’s sweatpants and the warmth radiating from him is hard to ignore. He takes a deep breath and tries to concentrate on the TV.

It isn’t until the scene moves on that Buck realises his thigh is still touching Tommy’s. His gaze flickers down to where they’re pressed together, is it weird to stay like this? Should he move? The couch is small, not really designed to hold to grown men with any additional room and Tommy hasn’t made any indication that he wants Buck to move. He decides that it’s probably been too long anyway, doing it now would be more awkward than not, right?

——-

By the time Hans Gruber is falling backwards out of a shattered glass window Buck feels like he’s been on a rollercoaster.

The credits start up and he looks over at Tommy,

“Definitely not a Christmas film.”

Tommy stares at him for a second before bursting out laughing.

——-

The next day Tommy gets home from his shift and dumps his bag down by the island, comes into the kitchen to see what Evan was making for dinner. It had become a routine of theirs, not that Tommy minded. Evan was far better in the kitchen department than he was. He was starting to find that he enjoyed having someone to come home to.

He goes to the fridge, it had been hot that day and he was in desperate need of a cold drink.

“I’m sure that cooking without a shirt on is probably a hazard of some kind.”

Evan is fiddling with the scale settings, carefully measuring out ingredients before mixing them together in a saucepan.

“Oh yeah,” he looks down at himself quickly, as if he had forgotten about his bare torso. “I-I can go and get one if it bothers you?”

Tommy waves a hand around the open fridge door.

“No it’s fine, as long as you don’t burn yourself.”

“I have no intention of doing so.”

Tommy chuckles,

“You of all people should know that nobody intends to burn anything.”

Buck laughs,

“That’s true.” He wavers for a moment, stirring the contents of the saucepan, like he can’t decide if he wants to say something.

Tommy watches him carefully.

“Hey did you know that Bruce Willis wasn’t the first choice to play John McClane?”

“No, I didn’t.” Buck face lights up with the knowledge that he’s giving Tommy something new.

“Yeah, he was like sixth in line, they offered it to bunch of people like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, Burt Reynolds, Harrison Ford before they gave it to him. Apparently because he was in a show called Moonlighting at the time which was more like a drama comedy thing? They weren’t super sure he’d be a good fit for all the action.”

“Hard to imagine anyone else doing it now.”

Tommy watches Evan, he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, radiating energy. “Wait, how did you know? I thought you said you’d never watched it before?”

“I hadn’t.” Evan grins and slips past him to get to the fridge. He tries not to think about the bare heat of Evan’s bicep as it brushes past his own. “I was listening to this podcast at work today.” He comes back past, waving the stick of celery he had retrieved as he talks. “While we were restocking the engine, it was really interesting - apparently McClane wasn’t meant to fall so far in the elevator scene, he was supposed to stop at the first vent but when they short the stunt man slipped and fell further than he was meant to.”

Tommy isn’t paying as much attention to Evan’s words as he should be. He is watching the muscles in Evan’s back move as he chops the vegetables on the counter in front of him. The up and down of his shoulder, the flex across his shoulder blade when he has to press down through something harder. Selfishly imagining what it would feel like to feel those muscles shift under his hands, to press a kiss to the juncture of Evan’s neck while he’s cooking, rambling about a film he had no interest in before yesterday. A film that he went and researched because he thought Tommy would like the extra information. He squeezes his eyes shut, scrubs a hand over his cheek. He needs to get a hold of himself. Evan is straight. He’s has never talked about anything other than women as far as Tommy can remember and even if he wasn’t, it’s not like he would be interested in Tommy anyway.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Evan turn to face him, the stream of consciousness coming to an abrupt halt. He realises that he hasn’t listened to a word Evan had said in the last few minutes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out I just-“ he not sure how to finish the sentence. ‘Sorry I wasn’t listening, I was too busy thinking about biting your traps’ didn’t feel at all appropriate.

“It’s okay.” Evan’s voice is smaller now, his shoulders have dropped, something unreadable on his face. “I talk to much, I don’t blame you for not-”

Tommy takes a step forward, he see the hurt in Evan’s eyes, cast down to the floor.

“It’s not that.” Before he knows what he’s doing he’s reached forward and wrapped his hand around Evan’s wrist. “I was just somewhere else, which is on me, not you. I want to hear about it.”

Evan chews on his lip, fingers curling up in his palm, up towards Tommy’s hand.

“Really?”

“I promise.”

Evan looks up and meets Tommy’s reassuring gaze. He swallows, can feel something in the air like crackling static. He can feel Tommy’s hand curled around his arm, drawing him in. He feels himself being pulled into to Tommy’s space, he just wants to be closer and closer -

He’s so lost in the moment that the alarm going off on his phone makes him jump clean out of his skin. He fumbles with it on the side, the noise finally stopping. He looks back but the moment is gone, Tommy quickly lets go of his arm and mumbles something about going to set the table. Buck watches him leave the room. He looks down at his arm, the residual heat still clinging there. Tommy is a good looking guy, sure. Buck can appreciate an objectively attractive man, but he’s never considered it any further than that. He furrows his brow and runs his fingers along the inside of his arm. That hadn’t felt very objective.

——-

Buck is stood in the grocery store staring at the vegetables section. He glances down at the list. ‘potatoes’ is scrawled there in Tommy’s slanted handwriting. Buck sighs, Tommy had done the meal planning this week because Buck’s shifts had been long and exhausting, which was sweet of him. Normally it’s Buck’s job, one of the things they had agreed on when he moved in. Recently things had become a little looser, Tommy had started picking up the jobs than Buck was too exhausted to get to and in return Buck had done the cleaning allotted to Tommy this week. They were beginning to cross over more, it is starting to feel like living with a friend rather than emergency bunking with Chimney’s old colleague.

He fidgets, can still feel the ghost of Tommy’s fingers curling around his wrist, can still feel the desire to hold his in return. He remembers the charge in the air, the sudden, overwhelming desire to close the space between them to lean in and-

He is jarred out of his thoughts by someone clearing their throat next to him. He looks across and realises that he has been holding up everyone else who needs to get theirs.

“Sorry.” He mumbles and shuffles out of the way. He’s probably overthinking it, considers that he might be the only person who thinks this much about type and variety of potatoes. He pulls out his phone anyway, flicks open Tommy’s contact. He’s hitting the call button before he can talk himself out of it. It rings and rings.

He closes his eyes and considers what kind of insane voice mail he is about to leave for the poor unsuspecting guy who kindly lets Buck live in his house when Tommy picks up.

“Hey Evan, everything okay?” He sounds out of breath.

“Oh uhm, yeah everything’s fine I was just-” Buck pauses, Tommy is still breathing heavily on the other side of the phone.

“Are you okay? I’m not interrupting anything?” He hears Tommy shift around.

“No, I was just working out, trying to squeeze something in before we get called out again.”

“Oh, okay.” Buck’s mind is suddenly so far away, images of Tommy working out, muscles pumping, sweat running down the thick column of his neck, damping his collarbones, rivulets making their way between his pecs and-

Not for the first time that day, Buck is pulled out of his thoughts by someone clearing their throat.

“Evan? You still there?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry. I was just calling because-” He swallows nervously, suddenly afraid that Tommy can somehow read his thoughts. He glances back at the potatoes, wonders how he ended up here.

“I am just at the grocery store,”

“You’re doing the shopping?”

“Yeah, I had some time and nobody really wants to go shopping on their way home from work so I just thought it would be easier if I did it.”

“Oh, uhm, thanks.” There is something unreadable in his voice, panic flutters through Buck’s chest, but before he can spiral out too far Tommy’s voice comes back into his ear.

“I appreciate it, you’re right, nobody does want to go shopping on their way home.”

Buck can’t help but smile.

“And as for the potatoes, I can’t say that I know specifically, usually I just grab whatever is closest.”

“What do you need them for?”

“I was just going to make wedges.”

“Okay, so probably like a Russet then?”

“If that’s what you think is best.”

“Yeah it’s got a good skin and it’s more starchy so the inside will be fluffier and-” He stops himself, hears Tommy chuckle.

“I’ve never known anyone to know so much about everything.”

“Well it’s important Thomas.” He hears the pout in his own voice. Tommy laughs again.

“It sounds like it is, I’m sure I’ll hear all about it when I get home.”

“You sure will.” The sound of the station alarm cuts through the call.

“Oh shoot, gotta go.”

“Yeah of course, be safe.” It slips out of Buck’s mouth so easily.

“I will, see you later.”

——-

A few day later Buck is lounging on the couch in a pair of boxers and slightly too long jumper, the only things he could be bothered to put on after his post shift shower, when he hears the handle of the front door.

He tenses. Tommy is on shift until 7pm so it shouldn’t be him and he isn’t expecting anyone else. The door rattles slightly, like the person on the other side is having trouble getting in. He can hear two different voices outside. His heart starts to pound in his chest. He glances around for his phone, curses when he realises that it’s upstairs on charge. Instead grabs the nearest thing to hand and raises it in front of him. He takes a deep breath and plants his feet ready for whatever is coming through the door.

Finally the handle swoops down and the door opens.

There’s a moment of silence.

“You planning to hit me with that?”

Buck lets out a huge breath and drops his arms.

“Tommy! What the hell, you are definitely not meant to be home yet!”

There’s a laugh from beside the front door,

“Wow Kinard, Hell of a home security system you have here.”

Buck looks at his chosen defensive object, a stainless steel water bottle as it turns out, maybe not his best choice.

“Hey now Luce, be nice to him, he was ready to defend my home.” He looks at Buck with a sparkle in his eye, he tilts his head as he takes in Buck’s chosen outfit. Lips quirked up in a smile. Buck suddenly feels self conscious, he tugs on the hem of the jumper.

“I wasn’t expecting you home yet.”

“It’s fine, I should have called. I wasn’t really expecting to be home yet either but-” He gestures up towards his head and Buck registers the thick white bandage covering a large portion of Tommy’s forehead, curving down around his temple. Buck all but drops the water bottle and rushes over. How could he not have seen that immediately?

“God, are you okay?” Without thinking he takes Tommy’s face in his hands, looks more closely at the bandages, counts the tiny cuts that are scattered across his cheek.

Tommy protests the attention a little, but makes no move to get out of Buck’s grip.

“I’m fine, Evan.” Buck furrows his brow and keeps cataloging Tommy’s injuries. A cut above his eyebrow catches Buck attention and he gently swipes back a loose curl to get a closer look at it.

“Evan.” Tommy’s voice is soft now, gentle. Buck realises that they’re only inches apart, he can feel Tommy’s warm breath ghosting across his cheek.

“Okay so I only have one question.” They both startle as if they’ve forgotten they aren’t alone.

“Why did I have to bring you back when you apparently have a perfectly good boyfriend at home? Does he not drive?”

Buck takes half a step back, his hand slips a little, but doesn’t break contact with Tommy.

“I- I can drive.” Tommy holds his breath, waits for the denial. It shouldn’t hurt so much he thinks, to hear it out loud. He squeezes his eyes shut.

He had let himself hope, ever since Evan had spent a whole 2 hour movie squashed into his side. Since they had started having dinner together, spending the time they weren’t on shifts closer and closer. He shouldn’t have let himself believe there might be a chance, waits for Evan to deny Lucy’s assumption of their relationship.

But he doesn’t.

“Right well, whatever is going on here-” he can hear the teasing in her tone, “I have to get back to work.” There’s a clatter of keys and the door clicks shut behind her. Tommy feels frozen in place, Evan’s hand is still cupped around his jaw. Tommy opens his eyes and Evan is just as close as he was when he closed them. There’s something in his eyes, bright and hopeful.

“You didn’t tell her you aren’t my boyfriend.”

“Well,” Evan’s tongue darts out nervously, “what if I wanted to be?”

“You want to be my boyfriend?”

Evan’s eyes soften impossibly at the hint of disbelief in Tommy’s voice.

“I do.”

“I want to be yours too.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

Buck inches closer, tilts his head up. It seems so obvious now, as their lips meet. Tommy’s hand is brushing up his arm, coming to rest at the juncture of his neck. The kiss is soft and gentle, makes Buck feel like he’s unraveling in the best way. So clear what the feeling was when he was obsessing over the places where their bodies touched on the couch. When he was working to make Tommy laugh, going after new information just to be able to give him something. Calling in the middle of Tommy’s shift just to make sure he was getting the right potatoes. Buck smiles against Tommy’s lips, they part minutely.

“Something funny?” Tommy’s voice is barely a whisper.

“We really have just been accidentally dating haven’t we?”

Tommy huffs out a laugh, Buck feels it where his hands have found themselves against Tommy’s back.

“Mmm, I do think that’s what has happened.”

Buck drops his head, slides into the crook of Tommy’s shoulder.

“I’ve never accidentally dated anyone before.”

“Well I’m more than happy to be your first.”

Tagging some beloveds (as always let me know if you want to be added or removed);

@loulou-land @loucifersbitch @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @hippolotamus @bucksaiga @sad-girl-hours23 @evansbuck-ley @typicalopposite

@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bucksboobs @ohithankyou @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @sweaters-and-silly @theotherbuckley @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela @bidisasterevankinard

@sunnywithachanceofbi @blitzynatural @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott

[sushiyuzu]

a fake relationship

nanami kento x reader

a/n: interested to read more? click here to read the book!

the school bell rings, echoing through the hallways as students spill out of classrooms, chatting, laughing, and groaning over the latest assignments. you're in no particular rush, meandering through the crowded corridor on your way to your locker. most of your friends have already left, probably heading to the café nearby or the library. but you? you have a different kind of problem to face—one that's been plaguing you all semester: math.

you open your locker with a sigh, tossing in a textbook and pulling out your crumpled math test results. a large, angry red 48/100 glares back at you from the paper, and you wince. it's the third failed math test this month. no matter how hard you try, no matter how many formulas you attempt to memorize, numbers just don't seem to click in your brain. you stuff the paper into your bag, muttering under your breath.

"great. just great."

you're not dumb—far from it. you're a pretty solid student in most subjects, but math? math is your achilles' heel. and you can already picture the conversation with your parents at dinner tonight. they've been on your case about your grades, and if they find out about another flunked exam, well... that's a disaster you're not ready to deal with.

as you slam your locker shut with more force than necessary, you catch a glimpse of nanami kento. he's standing at his locker not far from yours, his face set in that calm, unreadable expression he always wears. neat, composed, a little too perfect, really. you've never spoken more than a few words to him in class, but he's hard not to notice. he's the kind of guy who seems like he has everything figured out—top of the class, disciplined, never flustered by anything.

you're about to turn away when a shrill voice rings through the hallway.

"nanami-kun!"

a group of girls is lingering nearby, one of them stepping forward with a bright, flirtatious smile. "are you free after school? maybe we could study together?"

the girl's voice is sweet, her smile almost rehearsed, like she's done this a hundred times before. it's no secret that nanami is one of the most sought-after guys in school, and girls are always trying to get his attention.

you pause, pretending to fix your bag as you watch out of the corner of your eye, already knowing how this will go.

without even looking up from his locker, nanami replies, "i'm busy."

his voice is polite but detached, and the girl's smile falters. she quickly tries to recover. "oh, well... maybe another time?"

nanami doesn't respond, continuing to organize his books like she's not even there.

the girl fidgets awkwardly before giving up, walking back to her friends with a disappointed shrug. you can hear them whispering and giggling as they retreat down the hall. you almost feel bad for her—but at the same time, it's no surprise. nanami has this way of effortlessly deflecting attention, and yet, that only seems to make people more interested in him.

you snap out of your thoughts, turning to leave, but as you sling your bag over your shoulder, you feel a presence beside you.

"hey."

the deep, calm voice startles you, and you turn to find nanami kento standing right next to you. your heart skips a beat. you're not used to him being this close, let alone speaking to you directly.

"uh, hey?" you reply, trying not to sound as confused as you feel. why is nanami kento talking to you of all people?

he glances around briefly, then lowers his voice, his expression serious. "i need to ask you for a favor."

your eyebrows shoot up. a favor? from nanami? you're intrigued, to say the least. "what kind of favor?"

he hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking back to the group of girls still lingering at the end of the hallway. then, with that same calm composure, he says, "i need you to pretend to be my girlfriend."

what?

for a second, you're sure you misheard him. "excuse me?"

"a fake relationship," he clarifies. "it'll be temporary."

you blink at him, completely thrown off. this was not the kind of favor you were expecting.

"okay..." you say slowly. "why would you need a fake girlfriend?"

nanami's eyes shift toward the group of girls again, the faintest hint of annoyance crossing his features. "lately, i've been getting a lot of unwanted attention," he explains, his voice low but steady. "it's distracting, and i don't have the time or interest to deal with it."

you take a second to process his words, your mind still trying to catch up. the most composed, serious guy in school needs a fake girlfriend to fend off admirers? it almost sounds ridiculous. but then again... you look at him—stoic, serious, perfectly put-together. you can see why people would constantly try to break down his walls.

"and you think this'll work?" you ask, crossing your arms skeptically.

nanami's expression doesn't change. "yes. people will lose interest once they see i'm already in a relationship."

you chew your lip, still unsure. "okay, but... why me?"

he turns his gaze to you, his eyes steady. "because you're not caught up in that drama. you're not the type to spread rumors, and you're not interested in unnecessary attention."

he has a point. you've always kept a low profile, and you don't really involve yourself in school gossip. but still...

"and what's in it for me?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

nanami doesn't hesitate. "i'll help you with whatever you need—homework, projects. you need help with math, don't you?"

your stomach flips at the mention of math. of course, nanami would know that. he's in your class, after all, and you've failed more than enough tests for it to be common knowledge by now. but still, hearing it from him—someone who probably never struggles with any subject—stings a little.

"how do you know that?" you mutter, crossing your arms defensively.

nanami raises an eyebrow, unfazed. "i've seen your test results. you're not bad in other subjects, but math is holding you back."

you're about to snap something back, but you stop yourself. he's right. you've been struggling in math all semester, and it's been dragging your grades down. if you fail one more test, your parents will lose it.

"and you're offering to tutor me?" you ask, the skepticism still clear in your voice.

nanami nods. "in exchange for this arrangement."

the offer is tempting—really tempting. it's not like you have any better ideas for improving your math grades, and having nanami, the top student, help you? that could actually save your skin. but at the same time, agreeing to a fake relationship with him? it's crazy.

you glance at nanami again. his expression is calm, composed, but there's something else in his eyes—something genuine. he's not asking for this because he wants attention or drama. he just wants peace.

after a long pause, you sigh. "fine. i'll do it."

for the first time, nanami's expression softens just a little—a flicker of relief, maybe. "thank you."

you smirk, a little more at ease now. "but if you flunk me in math, this deal is off."

nanami chuckles lightly—something you've never heard from him before. "you won't."

as you walk down the hallway together, the weight of the deal you've just made starts to sink in. you're about to dive into something completely unexpected, and who knows how this will all play out?

but one thing's for sure: your school year just got a whole lot more interesting.

[eiightysixbaby]

Okay, so, this is kind of embarrassing to type out but kind of a hot idea for a fic, too? Please delete if it makes you uncomfortable!

Last night I had a little *me time* with my vibrator and my little machine (it's like one of those things you put a dildo on and you can set the speed to whatever you want so it's like it's fucking you) and I was on my tummy and had the vibe pressed to my clit and I came soooo hard but I don't know who to imagine when I think about someone finding me like that, Eddie, Robin, or Jonathan. 🫣 Send help!

ooooomg. i mean like they would all short circuit if they witnessed that, let’s just get that out of the way. but like, i guess i can elaborate. 🤭 i chose to do robin for this one, let’s try something new!! also i made this maybe a little more cutesy flirty than downright hot, but i hope you like it 🥹

18+ only pleaseeeeee

You let out an audible sigh the second you sink down onto the silicone toy. It presses so deep, your body slowly adjusting to the intrusion.

Quite honestly, it had been a long day, and you were pent up and seeking release. With your period just around the corner, your hormones are spiking at an all-time high, and you really aren’t sure how you even survived your shift at work without combusting.

You click a button on your tiny little remote, controlling the contraption you’ve strapped the dildo to. It starts to slowly move, helping the toy undulate, mimicking the thrusts of another person. Your brows furrow, your head tipping back as you rock your hips to meet the slow and steady thrusts.

Inhaling sharply, you click on your vibrator, pressing the tip of it against your puffy clit. A moan rips its way out of you, the second toy making your pleasure even greater. You’re grateful you have your apartment to yourself, your roommate’s shift running late tonight, so you don’t have to stifle your sounds.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, tension building in the pit of your gut already, a coil ready to snap and it’s only been a couple of minutes. You work your vibrator in rhythmic circles on your sensitive bud, panting as you inch yourself closer to your first climax of the evening.

With a cry, you’re clenching around the pink dildo, zaps of pleasure coursing through your desperate body. You give yourself a moment to steady your breathing before you’re upping the speed on your little fuck toy, letting out a long, low groan as the dildo fucks you faster.

If you hadn’t been lost in bliss, you’d have heard the front door open. If there wasn’t a white-hot ringing in your ears, you’d have heard Robin call out for you. But you didn’t, and you hadn’t, and all too late your bedroom door is swinging open.

Robin’s never been great with the whole knocking thing.

Her bright blue eyes go wide, her jaw flopping open and closed like a fish out of water.

“Oh! I- uh- I’m so sorry, ohmygod—” she stammers, her face going bright red.

Your mouth falls into an ‘O’ shape, frozen at the shock of being caught. Robin’s eyes flit from your face to the toy that’s fucking you and back again, neither of you knowing what to say.

You feel your whole body heat, and for a split second the thought passes through your brain that you’re flustered because you want her to see you, not because you’re embarrassed that she did.

You don’t have the capacity to unpack that though, not when a seven-inch dildo is rocking into you and your vibrator is buzzing suddenly way too loud and Robin is now covering her eyes with her hand and awkwardly stumbling out of your room.

“Rob, wait!” you call, hurriedly shutting off your toys, slipping on an oversized sweatshirt and some underwear.

You find yourself worried — irrationally so, you can admit — that you’ll find Robin packing a bag to stay at Steve’s or something. Too traumatized to continue to live with you.

What you actually walk in on is Robin anxiously pacing the floor of her room, her face going that same shade of red when she notices you.

“I am sofuckingsorry, I did not mean to walk in on you and I also didn’t mean to stare for a second there but like, wow, that was a lot, and—”

“Rob, hey,” you interrupt, knowing she’ll ramble for god knows how long if you don’t settle her.

She stops her movements, chewing on her lip as she skittishly meets your eyes again.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful and like, locked my door or something. I thought you were working late, I did not intend for you to… see that..” you tell her, wringing your hands together. You feel feverish, that heat creeping back up your neck and flooding your face.

Because suddenly you want to ask her if she’ll touch you, if she’ll be the one to bring you to sweet release. Suddenly your stupid crush that you’ve been trying to tell yourself didn’t exist, is hitting you full-force like a freight train. Suddenly Robin is so strikingly beautiful — and she always has been — but it’s suffocating now.

“I- um,” she starts, her expression a little bit frantic as she picks her next words. “Are you… upset? That I saw you like that?”

The question shocks you, and you hesitate to answer for a moment.

“Was that so stupid to ask? I’m sorry, I am totally making this worse—”

“I wasn’t upset,” you cut her off. “I think I kind of… secretly hoped you’d walk in on me.”

Now it’s her turn to be speechless, and god, she looks so fucking cute when she doesn’t know what to say. Her eyes have gone so wide, and you can’t help but clock the way her gaze shifts to your mouth.

Maybe it’s not a big deal if you have a huge crush on your roommate, because maybe she has a crush on you, too. Maybe it’s always been this way, and you were just too stupid to see the signs.

You take a couple steps toward her, until you can feel the heat from her body radiating off of her. “Just tell me if this isn’t what you want, okay?” You ask, taking her face gently in your hands and bringing her to you, searching her eyes for approval before fully closing the distance.

She nods, a barely noticeable thing, and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. Your heart beats hard, and you wonder if hers is doing the same thing. The way she pulls away and has to literally catch her breath is confirmation that it is.

There’s a giddy type of silence, the kind that comes after new boundaries are crossed and there’s tangible tension in the air.

“Can I please touch you now?” she murmurs finally, sounding as if she’s been dying to ask that question for an eternity, if not longer. “Because watching you fuck yourself on that toy made me start sweating.”

You can’t help but giggle, and her expression lightens at your laughter.

“God, yes,” you reply. “You just edged me so hard walking in on me like that.”

She laughs, now, the nervous edge to her demeanor wearing off little by little. “Oh, poor thing,” she says, getting her footing in the situation. “I’ll have to take care of that.”

A little smirk plays on her pretty lips, and she kisses you again on the mouth before moving down to your jaw. Her hand reaches down to cup your heat through your thin underwear, and already you’re seeing stars.

She’s going to make sure you see the whole galaxy tonight.

[fanficwritinggirl]

My prerogative (Fred Weasley)

"Love?" your eyes look up towards Fred who is standing in his pyjamas in the archway to the stairs up to the boys' dorms, his hand rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. "What are you still doing awake? Its 3am," he walks closer to you and all you can do is offer him a tired smile, you had been up for hours, you hadn't even changed out of your uniform.

"Studying, its only a few weeks until our O.W.L.s Fred, if I want to move...," Fred cuts you off.

"If you want to move onto the N.E.W.T.s you have to do well," he finishes for you. Rounding the couch, he plonks himself down next to you leaning fully against the back. "You're going to do well love," you shake your head at this.

"You don't know that, Fred. I mean I have been studying for weeks and it just seems that there is not enough time to revise all of this information. I mean if I fail an Owl then I am going to be held back," your heart was racing, you could feel tears threatening to fall.

"Oh love," Fred leans forward pulling you into his arms, your head falling into the crook of his neck, your tears now free falling. His hand rubs comforting circles on your back as you cry which now had turned into full blown sobs.

"You don't need to worry love, you'll pass," you shake your head, pulling your head away you look at him.

"But you don't know that. I'm not like you and George, I'm not someone who can just trust that everything is going to work itself out. It just seems that my brain won't shut off Freddie," Fred face scrunches up before pulling you into his arms again.

"I hate seeing you like this," he whispers to you, his own tears now threatening to fall. Fred didn't know how long he lay there with you in his arms before realising that you had fallen asleep. Fred smiled at this, thankful that you were finally getting some proper sleep. Carefully he moved the both of you so that you were sprawled on top of Fred who had now moved to lie fully down on the couch. George looks over at the roaring fire and sighs as he looks back at you. He was going to help you if it was the last thing that he did.

"Wait you want to do what?" George looked at his twin like he had three heads.

"Come on Georgie, its for Y/N. She's been really stressed out with the O.W.L.s coming up and I just want to see her smile is all. I'm not asking you to do it with me just to help out," George was shocked. He and Fred had done some silly things in the past but nothing like this, this was taking the cake.

"You are really whipped," is all George says before walking off. God this better be worth it.

You were exhausted, you could feel yourself falling asleep. "Y/N," fingers clicked in your face snapping you awake. You look over at Hermione whose eyebrows are frowned. "You were falling asleep again," you give her a small smile before taking a sip of your coffee that had now gone lukewarm.

"Have you been getting any sleep. You know what Professor McGonagall said, we need to not only be studying but getting good sleep. There is no point in showing up to the O.W.L.s falling asleep," you nod your head.

"Just feels like there is not enough time is all," Hermione nods at this, knowing what the pressure felt like better than anyone. Just as you are about to speak you hear a loud bang. You and it seems everyone else in the great hall jumps, heads turning towards the source. You were shocked when you see Fred standing on top of the Gryffindor table. Your eyes meet and Fred just gives you a smile before nodding his head towards George who is standing off to the side with what looks like a speaker.

Within seconds the start of the song starts, and you instantly recognise it. My Prerogative by Bobby Brown was one of the first muggle songs that you introduced Fred too and it was one of your personal favourites.

Fred starts dancing to the song causing everyone to start laughing and cheering him on.

Everybody talking all this stuff about me.

Why don't they just let me live?

Fred dances his way down the table, making his way towards you and you couldn't help but smirk, shaking your head. God he was an idiot, but he was your idiot.

I don't need permission to make my own decisions.

That's my prerogative.

Fred comes in front of you and you both look at each other and can't help but laugh. This was one of the most ridiculous things anyone has ever done for you. Jumping off of the table Fred pulls you into his arms. "So, what did you think love?" you laugh and shake your head.

"Ridiculous but very entertaining," Fred smirks at this and nods.

"I'll take it, if it means I get to make you laugh love," and God did your heart melt and this.

"I love you Fred," you whisper to him. Fred smiles, taking your face into his hands.

"I love you too, love" he brings his lips to yours and the room burst into cheers from everyone who was soaking up the entire situation, loving it.

"MR WEASLEY," Professor McGonagall shouts as she marches towards the pair of you. Well maybe not everyone loved it.

For all of by book readers, you will get this chapters reference.

[saxophonesir]

Part four of my white passing Tim Drake agenda

It started with a joke.

Dick had been helping Tim clean up his apartment—by which he meant Dick was lounging on Tim’s couch, making comments, while Tim actually cleaned.

Tim was reorganizing his bookshelf when Dick, scrolling through his phone, snorted. “Man, I swear, Bruce has us all collecting languages like trading cards. What are you at now? Five? Six?”

Tim rolled his eyes, shifting a stack of books. “Seven.”

Dick let out a low whistle. “Show-off. What are they?”

Tim didn’t even look up. “French, German, Spanish, Russian, Latin, Greek, and Mandarin.”

Dick froze. “Mandarin?”

Tim, still distracted, hummed in confirmation. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Huh.”

Tim turned, eyebrow raised. “What?”

Dick sat up, studying him like he’d just grown a second head. “You speak Mandarin.”

Tim frowned. “Yeah? So?”

Dick gestured vaguely at him. “Since when do you speak Mandarin?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Since I learned it, obviously.”

Dick scoffed. “No, I mean—why?”

Tim blinked, thrown off by the question. “…Why does anyone learn a language?”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “Okay, but, like… was it just for missions? Or did you—” He cut himself off, his brain finally catching up.

Tim saw the exact moment it clicked.

Dick’s eyes widened slightly, his expression shifting from confusion to realization to something softer. “Wait. Is this a family thing?”

Tim sighed. He should’ve known this was going to happen eventually. “…Yeah. My mom was Chinese.”

Dick stared at him. “Holy shit.”

Tim rolled his eyes again. “Really? That’s your reaction?”

“I mean—! I just—!” Dick gestured wildly, clearly thrown. “Dude, how did I not know that?”

Tim shrugged, turning back to his bookshelf. “I don’t really talk about it.”

Dick was still staring, his brain visibly short-circuiting. “I just assumed—you know, rich Gotham kid, white parents—” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “God, I’m an idiot.”

Tim smirked. “Finally, something we can agree on.”

Dick huffed, then, after a pause, asked, “So… do you actually use it? Like, can you hold a conversation?”

Tim hesitated, then admitted, “…My Mandarin is kind of crap.”

Dick’s brows shot up. “But you speak seven languages?”

Tim groaned, flopping onto the couch beside him. “I know! It makes no sense! I can read it fine, my grammar’s solid, but my accent—” He shook his head. “Apparently, I sound awful.”

Dick snickered. “Like, ‘off’ how?”

Tim glared at him. “Like, I sound like a white guy reading from a phrasebook.”

Dick lost it, doubling over with laughter. “Oh my god—”

Tim shoved him. “Shut up.”

Dick was still grinning. “No, no, it’s just—it’s so you! Of course you’d be perfect at every other language but sound like a tourist in the one tied to your own family.”

Tim scowled. “Glad you find it funny.”

Dick nudged him playfully. “Hey, it’s kinda endearing. And, you know, we do have a bunch of native speakers in the family. If you ever wanna work on it, I’m sure Damian would love to mock—I mean, help you.”

Tim groaned. “Great. Exactly what I need.”

Dick grinned. “Hey, I think it’s cool. And, you know, if you ever do wanna talk about it, I’m all ears.”

Tim glanced at en gave a small nod. “Yeah. Thanks, Dick.”

Dick beamed. “Anytime. Now, say something in Mandarin. I gotta hear this accent.”

Tim threw a pillow at his face.

Now, Bruce. Bruce prided himself on knowing everything about the people in his life. It wasn’t just a habit—it was a necessity. Information was protection. If he knew, he could prepare. If he could prepare, he could keep them safe.

It wasn’t arrogance—it was necessity. Their lives depended on preparation, on understanding the people they fought alongside. He had contingency plans for all of them, profiles meticulously detailed, habits cataloged. He knew how Jason held his jaw when he was about to throw a punch, the exact lilt in Dick’s voice when he was covering up exhaustion, the barely perceptible shift in Damian’s stance when he was about to lie.

And yet, somehow, he had missed something so fundamental about Tim that it made him question everything.

He had overheard it by accident.

A rare quiet evening in the manor, Damian and Tim sitting at the long dining table, a chess game between them. Bruce had only been half-listening as he went over case notes, his mind caught between the present and the ever-growing weight of unfinished business. Then, in a tone that was more observational than judgmental, Damian had said, “Your pronunciation is dreadful. It is almost shameful, considering your background.”

Tim had groaned. “Yes, thank you, Damian. I’m aware.”

Bruce hadn’t thought much of it at first—until Damian continued.

“It is strange. You should be more naturally inclined toward it.”

Tim had sighed. “Yeah, well, language skills aren’t genetic, Damian. And just because my mom was Chinese doesn’t mean I grew up speaking it fluently.”

Bruce had stilled.

It was such a small thing. Just a few words exchanged between brothers.

But they hit Bruce like a blow to the chest.

Tim’s mother was Chinese.

Janet Drake—distant, sharp, refined—had been Chinese. And Bruce had never once thought about it. Never questioned it.

And suddenly, all the little things he had overlooked over the years began to piece themselves together.

The way Tim brewed tea with an almost unconscious precision. The books on his shelves, some with spines marked in Chinese characters. The way he sometimes hesitated before saying certain words, as if recalling something half-forgotten. The fact that he had never quite seemed at home in spaces meant for him, never quite fit into the image of “Timothy Jackson Drake” that the world had constructed around him.

Bruce had missed it.

And that realization settled deep inside him, alongside all the other failures he carried when it came to Tim.

Because, of course, he had missed it. Of course, Tim was the one son he had never quite been able to read.

With Dick, there was warmth, openness. With Jason, there had been fire, defiance. Even Damian, for all his sharp edges, had a clear, undeniable presence.

But Tim?

Tim had always been quiet. Always watching. Always adapting. A chameleon in any situation, taking up only as much space as the moment required. He was easy to perceive, but never to see.

And now Bruce was wondering—how much else had he missed?

The thought lingered with him long after Damian had won the chess game and Tim had grumbled about it. Long after they had cleared the board and gone their separate ways.

That night, Bruce found himself in the cave, staring at Tim’s file on the Batcomputer.

It contained everything—height, weight, medical records, case history. But nowhere in those cold, analytical lines of text was the truth of who Tim was.

Who he had always been.

Bruce sat in the dim glow of the monitor, fingers steepled, jaw tight.

For the first time in a long while, he felt like the world’s greatest detective had failed to solve the most important case of all.

His own son.

It makes sense now, in everything Bruce had dismissed before. When he overheard Tim practicing Mandarin with Damian, his accent just slightly off. When he’d caught sight of an old photo of Janet Drake, tucked away in a folder on Tim’s desk. Or when it was the tea—chrysanthemum, Tim had said absentmindedly one night, a quiet tradition carried from his mother, a detail Bruce had never thought to ask about.

It was staggering.

Not because it changed anything—Tim was still Tim. But because he had missed it. Because it made him realize just how much he had always been missing when it came to Tim.

It was a quiet night in the Cave when he finally said it.

“I didn’t know.”

Tim, hunched over the Batcomputer, barely looked up. “Know what?”

Bruce hesitated. “That your mother was Chinese.”

Tim’s fingers froze over the keyboard.

For a second, there was nothing. Then, slowly, Tim turned, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t?”

Bruce exhaled, feeling something heavy settle in his chest. “No.”

Tim studied him, and Bruce could see it happening—Tim processing, assessing, deciding how to react.

Then, with a faint, almost amused scoff, Tim said, “Huh. And here I thought you knew everything.”

Bruce closed his eyes briefly. “I should have.”

Tim was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was unreadable. “Does it bother you?”

Bruce’s eyes snapped open. “Of course not.”

Tim tilted his head slightly, like he was testing Bruce’s reaction, looking for cracks in his composure. “Then why bring it up?”

Because I failed you.

Because you’re my son, and I should have known.

Bruce exhaled. “Because I realize now how much I’ve overlooked.”

Tim blinked at that, clearly not expecting the admission.

Bruce pressed on. “I… I’ve always felt like there was something missing. Like I was never able to connect with you the way I do with the others.” His jaw tightened. “I thought it was just me. That I was failing in some way.”

Tim’s expression flickered—something unreadable, something quiet.

“…Bruce.” His voice was softer now, less guarded. “It’s not like I was hiding it.”

“I know.”

Tim glanced away, drumming his fingers against the desk. “…Guess I just never thought it mattered.”

“It does,” Bruce said simply.

Tim let out a slow breath, then, after a pause, smirked. “Well. If it makes you feel better, I barely speak Mandarin anyway. My accent’s terrible.”

Bruce gave him a look. “Yes, I’ve heard.”

Tim groaned. “Oh my god, not you too—”

Bruce let the corner of his mouth quirk up, just slightly.

Tim rolled his eyes, but there was something lighter in his expression now, something easier.

And Bruce… Bruce felt it, too.

Maybe they weren’t as disconnected as he had always feared.

Part three

[tilebytiles]

infallible beliefs - a.t. (part 2)

summary: as it turns out, professors are actually capable of feeling things, and alex feels more things for you than he'd like to. word count: 5.2k warnings: age gap (reader is 21 and alex is 30), mentions of violence, physical abuse, sexual assault - implied and written a/n: this is LONG awaited and for that i sincerely apologize. i'm testing out writing in all lowercase to see if i prefer it ... it is easier than manually capitalizing everything but we'll see part 1

you silently wished there was some great instruction manual for how to navigate conversations with your professor after having him discover the nature of your abusive relationship. you wished an angel could descend from the heavens, give you a good slap for how you'd let things play out in that stupid dingy bar, then fill you in on mr. turner's exact schedule so you could avoid him at all costs and never speak to him one-on-one again. you even stared down at the beige coffee that filled the plastic cup in your hands, a personal heater for your dreadfully chilly palms, waiting for the streaks of frothed milk to form the answer. but, of course, nothing came — and maybe you were actually insane for expecting anything at all. you were beginning to think god only kept you around because you amused him.

your ecclesiastical theory was only compounded by you nearly running into the wall — a door, actually. you quickly steadied your coffee cup in your hands and looked up, peering at the small name plaque attached to the door. alexander turner, ph— oh, of fucking course. you wondered how much time you had before he would notice your presence, and your left foot was already turning away, your brain drafting up yet another panicked signal to get you the fuck out of there, but it was too late. you locked eyes with him through the tall glass window on the right side of the door, and you watched as he took a whole of 1.5 seconds to register who you were before setting his pen down and standing up from his chair. goddamn it.

the door creaked open, and you were quick to slap on what was, at best, an only semi-falsified smile. it wasn't like you had anything against him, you just ... really didn't wanna see him. "mr. turner!" you said a little too loudly, a nervous laugh serving as punctuation. "fancy seeing you here!"

"this is my office." he rose an eyebrow at your abnormally skittish behaviour. "you were standing outside the door."

"oh. was i?" you laughed again, silently begging someone to run down the hall and shoot you already.

to your relief, mr. turner didn't say anything else on how strange you were acting. he leaned against the doorway, eyeing you for a moment, then asked, "did you need something?"

advice. your schedule so i can never see you again. a gun, maybe? "nothing ... in particular. just, um ..." you glanced to your left, then to your right. the hall was empty both ways, but paranoia still curled up in the recesses of your mind, a slumbering serpent waiting for the right time to strike. "could i come in?"

"of course." he pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped back, giving you enough space to slip past him into his office.

now that you thought about it, you weren't sure if you'd ever been in here. the door gently clicked shut behind you, and mr. turner stepped around you and back to his desk, sinking back down into his chair. all things considered, it was a nice office, at least to you; it wasn't cramped, like you'd always seen in movies, and there were a number of personal touches scattered about the place. the bookshelf against the back wall was full, although the books all seemed to pertain to literature ... or teaching ... teaching about literature ...

a picture on one of the shelves caught your eye, and without giving it much thought, you walked over and reached up, picking up the frame. you held it between both hands as you examined the photo, eyes narrowing. there were two people pictured, a man and a woman, and they had their arms around each other, smiling brightly for the camera. it was a sweet scene, but neither of the people looked particularly familiar, and honestly, you wouldn't put it past your professor to not be arsed with taking the stock image out of the frame. you stared a little longer, pondering where on earth you'd seen those big brown eyes before, when it suddenly clicked — the puzzle came together, and your brain cells rejoiced at their first victory of the day (one that was sorely needed, as far as they were concerned). "is this ... you?"

you looked over at mr. turner for confirmation, and it took him a second to look up from the paper on his desk. you turned the frame in your hands and held it out so he could see what picture you were talking about. he leaned forward, squinted a little, and then nodded. "yeah, that's me."

"you had long hair?"

he smiled sheepishly. "it wasn't that long."

you held the photo up beside his face for comparison. maybe compared to other hair lengths — yours, for example — it wasn't that long, but compared to the length his hair was at now, it was a noticeable difference. "why'd you cut it?"

"did you only come here to judge my past decisions?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, but there was a teasing lilt to his voice. "i cut it because it didn't suit me anymore. plus, it seemed a bit dated. i was about to start teaching, and i didn't need my students making fun of me on my first day, now, did i?"

you mulled it over and shrugged, then set the frame back up on its rightful shelf. "when'd you start, anyway?"

"oh, about ... seven or eight years ago? it's all kind of blurred together at this point, honestly. i went for my doctorate a couple of years in." his eyes followed you as his spoke, watching as you settled into the chair on the other side of his desk. your bag hit the floor beside you with a muted thump.

you wondered if he was just exceedingly disinterested in talking about his own hair, or if he'd been able to see through you before he'd even opened the door. as soon as you appeared to be settled in, he asked, in a lower tone, "how have you been recently?"

you immediately stiffened in your seat. foolishly, you had hoped he would've been able to just forget everything that'd happened — or, better yet, he would pretend he'd never seen anything, pretend he hadn't brought you down from tears in that stupid fucking bar, pretend he hadn't driven you home and given you his phone number as goddamn insurance. you could pretend, too; you'd taken a drama class in high school once with a friend. sure, it'd been for fun, but you had learned a few things, and how hard was it to act, really? on top of that, you were a literature student, and writers were destined to be pathological liars with all the shite they made up for a good story. you could both pretend and have no trouble at all, and each glance thrown at one another, each conversation shared, each accidental touch, wouldn't weigh half as much as they all did now. if you would both just pretend, then maybe you would know peace.

but it was never that easy, was it?

"i've ..." you looked down at your coffee, still in your hand, and wondered if it would unveil its great secrets now. the frothed milk still did not move. his office, spacious as it'd seemed just a few minutes ago, now felt increasingly small, like its walls were closing in on you, threatening to crush you and compact you down into one of those trash cubes from wall-e. "i've been alright," you finally replied, your voice dropping down to a pitiful mumble. conviction had packed its bags and declared an indefinite vacation, and you weren't allowed to come with. "just been ... busy, you know. school and work and all."

"busy," he echoed, as if that was the one, the word that would allow him to sink down into the depths of your psyche and sort through what was really going on. "and how's your boyfriend?"

"he's alright, too."

"just alright?"

"yeah."

"you know you can tell me anything, y/n." you knew — how could you not? how could you forget the day he'd first seen that bruise on your wrist and everything started to crumble? he'd told you his door was always open if you needed to chat, and although your short-term memory had quickly discarded the dialogue, your long-term memory swept it up out of the garbage, dusted it off, and stored it on a shelf way near the back of your mental archives, hellbent on never truly letting you forget it. maybe that was how you'd ended up at his office to begin with; your subconscious had taken the reins and decided you were long overdue for that little chat.

you sighed and took a long sip of your coffee. perhaps the froth would only tell you its secrets if you consumed it. "he's ... mostly forgotten what happened at the bar, i think. he — he acts like there's something wrong, like there's something he's supposed to be mad at me for, but he can't remember exactly what. i think maybe, deep down, he knows? it's little things he does, like ... whenever i mention your class, his mood sours, and he immediately changes the subject." i think he's jealous of you, you thought, but you kept it to yourself. that idea — the possibility of your boyfriend seeing your professor as a competitor for your heart — was one dreadful enough to give you a migraine. imagine how the professor in question would feel!

mr. turner nodded slowly, seeming to mull over your words. eventually, he asked, "has he ... put his hands on you again?"

"once. i'd accidentally smashed his fingers in the door, and he got pissed and said he needed to make it even."

"jesus christ. did he break anything?"

"no, no, he was fine. there was some bruising, but his fingers were all intact. i came out of it with a couple of bruises, too, but ..." you shrugged. "what can you do?"

he let out a long sigh and ran a hand over his face, glancing up at the ceiling as if to plead with god for answers the same way you'd done. you wondered if he was already sick of being a part of your secret. you couldn't blame him, honestly. "are you going to break up with him at any point?"

your gaze wandered off to the photo on the shelf again. now that you thought about it, you were pretty sure that was ms. chung next to him. "i don't know."

"i'm not saying you have to do it today —"

"i know."

"— or even tomorrow, for that matter —"

"i know."

"— but at some point. this relationship is killing you, y/n."

"i know, mr. turner."

you knew, better than anyone.

•••••

you felt it before it came. it was in the loose thread that'd cropped up in your favourite jumper that morning; the defiance of your bedsheets as you changed them, refusing to be perfectly flat against your mattress; the forecast in the weather app on your phone, predicting heavy rain starting at 8pm that night; the lead in your mechanical pencil that kept breaking, taunting you, like you weren't applying the same amount of pressure you always used when you wrote. it was the beginning of the end, a maelstrom of disaster with each incident piling onto one another, one after the other, until the stack went so high it hurt to crane your neck that far back. you tried to go about your day as normal — you brushed them all off as coincidences. you turned a blind eye to it all, walking away from the wreckage, because as far as you were concerned, it couldn't be anything real if you didn't pay any mind to it.

but you felt it. long before it forced you to look.

a thunderclap served as the dramatic entry music that accompanied john's arrival back to your flat. you had been curled up in bed, reading a book you really should've finished ages ago — your "to be read" list was so long, it was embarrassing. as soon as you heard the door shut, you were quick to mark your place, scramble out of bed, and slip out of your bedroom and into the living room. john had always hated it if you didn't greet him; you never really understood why. maybe because it made you feel like a housewife?

"welcome back," you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek that made your soul wither. "how'd it go?"

his answer came first in the form of a burp, one he did a half-assed job of covering with his hand. he didn't even bother excusing himself. "went fine," he muttered, shrugging his coat off. rain droplets clung to it, desperate to get an insider look into your flat. how disappointed they must have been. "it was good seeing 'em all again. 's been too long, you know?"

"yeah." you didn't know — you had no friends anymore. there was a slur tugging on his words, making each syllable a little longer than it needed to be, but he was a grown man and he could drink if he wanted to and you didn't feel like saying anything about it and starting a fight. "did you have dinner yet?"

"no, i'm starving. we still got some of that pasta?"

"we do."

"could you make me a bowl, please?"

"of course." as you stepped away from him to retreat into the kitchen, a firm hand landed on the curve of your ass, making you stiffen. a deep chuckle followed. it would be one of those nights, then.

just a few minutes later, his bowl of pasta was reheating in the microwave, and as you waited and watched the timer slowly tick down, green numbers morphing into each other in the blink of an eye, you leaned against the counter. you'd already eaten at least an hour ago, so he would have to eat alone. eventually, you felt his presence behind you, strong arms looping around your waist as he pressed himself against you. when he wasn't being the violent, angry, possessive kind of drunk, he was the clingy kind of drunk. although maybe the possessiveness explained the clinginess. "i missed you today," he mumbled, his nose brushing your hair out of the way so he could kiss your shoulder.

you almost snorted, but you quickly reeled it in. "you did?"

"i always miss you, babe." he shifted, and his growing erection pressed up against your ass, eliciting a soft groan from him. one of his hands slipped underneath your jumper and travelled up to your left breast, giving it a soft squeeze through your bra. "missed these, too."

normally, you would have just gone along with it; you two had done this rodeo several times before, and you had always been the one to topple off the bull. john was the one that had taken your virginity, and since he was your only point of reference for what sex was supposed to be like, you had just come to the conclusion that sex was fucking terrible and no one should ever do it. it was not fun, it was not enjoyable for both parties, and it was rarely ever consensual. john had quickly given up on trying to seek out your consent early on in your relationship. it was never about your pleasure, only his. and you, in all your stupidity — because you firmly believed you were just a giant idiot — had believed that this was how things were supposed to be. it was never meant to be about you.

you didn't know what possessed you to wriggle out of his grasp, to lightly push him away from you and force his hand out from underneath your top. conviction had just come back from its vacation, and with a renewed vigor you were entirely unfamiliar with, it spoke for you. "i don't feel like it tonight, john."

he froze, staring at you for a few moments, unblinking in a way that greatly unsettled you. "you don't feel like it?"

you shook your head. "i-i'm sorry."

he sighed and shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "no, no, don't be sorry, y/n."

was it really that easy? you felt like a fool for not standing your ground sooner, and you could practically hear your brain cells cheering, preparing the festivities for what they considered to be the greatest accomplishment of the modern age. maybe john wasn't the worst person ever — maybe he could listen to reason, and it was just your fault for not trying to find a compromise, some middle ground you could both stand on without resorting to a shouting match. not even he was susceptible to good communication!

his hand descended upon you, faster than you could predict, and you had no time to move out of the way before you were slapped across the face with a force that sent you straight to the floor.

he scoffed. "when have i ever cared if you don't feel like it? did you really think i'd just let you go like that?"

the microwave began beeping. his pasta was ready. "john, i —"

"shut up!" he roared, grabbing you by the hair and slamming your head against one of the cabinets beneath the sink. for a moment, you were sure your ears were ringing. your scalp burned as his fingers tightened around the strands. the world became a blur of colour as he pulled you up onto your knees, then sank down with you as your face was slammed down into the floor. "fucking bitch — can't do fuck all —"

"stop!" you screamed, the word contorting into a wail as you reached up blindly and clawed at his hand, trying desperately to get his grip to loosen. nails dug into flesh, tearing through layers of skin, and he finally eased up with a howl, letting go just long enough for you to scramble up off the floor and dart out of the room. your head was already pounding, and you felt disoriented, but you didn't give a damn — you needed to leave.

you slammed the door to your bedroom shut and locked it, then began rummaging through the closet for an old suitcase. when was the last time you'd gone travelling? a pink one was the one you found first, and you sized it up for a moment before deciding it'd have to do. you could always get new clothes later. as you stumbled around the room, grabbing whatever you deemed essential with one hand and tossing it onto your bed, your other hand made quick work of your phone, calling the only person you could think of.

riiiiing. riiiiing. riiiiing. click. "hello?"

"mr. turner?"

"y/n?" you heard the rustle of fabric on the other end of the line. "are you okay?"

you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, trying not to burst into tears in the middle of the call. "no." your voice wobbled a little. "do you still have my address?"

there was a beat of silence, as if he had to take a moment to process the weight of your question. finally, he said, "i'll be there as quick as i can. find something to defend yourself with."

click.

the next five minutes were spent trying to stuff as much as you could into that measly suitcase while also trying not to vomit everywhere. to your surprise, john hadn't come trying to bust the door down — you couldn't really hear him at all, actually. that terrified you.

you unlocked the door and took a deep breath before slowly pulling it open. john was standing on the other side, arms crossed and gaze unforgiving. his hand was still bleeding. "where the fuck are you going?"

"away."

he snorted. "you think i'll just let you go? huh? you'll fucking come crawling back, anyway, y/n."

"no, i won't. we're over, john."

"like hell we are."

maybe that angel had finally come to save the day. his hand shot out, reaching for you, and instead of succumbing to his grasp as you had so many times before, you lifted the suitcase up and poured all of your strength into shoving it square against his chest, knocking him back — and out of the way. you slipped past him and practically bolted through the living room, fumbling with the lock on the front door for only a second before swinging it open and running out of your flat. his flat, now, you supposed.

you had never run so fast in your life.

the lift took you down to the lobby of the block of flats you lived in, the soft music coming from the speaker jarring in nature compared to the sliver of hell you'd just experienced. with a dinging noise, the doors slid open, and you stepped out of the metal prison, suitcase in tow. at least there wasn't anyone else to see you here, not anyone except the oddly dressed fellow by the front —

wait.

"miles kane?" the sound of his name made miles turn, a smile tugging at his lips, as if he'd expected to be meeting a fan. when he was instead met with you, the girl from the bar that now had a busted lip, a bloody nose, what was sure to become a black eye, and a number of yet-to-bloom bruises that not even you were aware of, the smile dropped like a fire being extinguished.

"bloody fuckin' hell, what the fuck happened to you?" he asked, rushing over to help you; you looked like you were on the brink of collapse. an arm came around your shoulders, a tender touch you were entirely unfamiliar with, as he led you over to a nearby sofa, easing you down onto the cushions.

you sighed and tilted your head back, staring up at the lights overhead. "is it that bad?"

"can you not feel it?"

"i can't really feel anything, if i'm being honest." you watched out of the corner of your eye as he settled down next to you. "what are you doing here?"

"i live here. al told me you'd need some help. texted me a few minutes ago and said he's almost here."

you wanted to cry at how thoughtful mr. turner was being — how considerate they both were — but you were too buzzed up on adrenaline to cater to any emotion at all. "i'm ... sorry."

"what for?"

"that you have to put up with this."

he shook his head. "'s no trouble at all, love. just be safe, yeah?"

safe. what did that even mean anymore?

as the adrenaline wore off, you became increasingly tired, and you would have fallen asleep on that (rather stiff) sofa if it weren't for miles jumping up and announcing to an audience of one, "he's 'ere!"

you jolted up from your seat and turned, locking eyes with mr. turner as he stepped through the doors. the sight of you made him falter, and he opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it and quickly snapped it shut. he glanced at miles, who nodded and wrapped his arm back around you, grabbing the handle of your suitcase with his free hand and leading you both towards the doors — towards salvation.

it was pouring buckets outside, and with the hurry he'd been in, mr. turner had failed to bring an umbrella. the suitcase was passed off to him as miles ushered you towards the car, popping the passenger door open and helping you inside. the door shut, and you were left alone, any conversation the pair were having being drowned out by the thunderous patter of rain against the top of the car. a part of you was still on high alert, expecting john to burst through the doors at any moment and try to reclaim you, but the rest of you wished so desperately to fall back into the pool of peace.

eventually, the driver's door opened, and mr. turner slipped into the seat, thanking miles one last time before shutting the door. miles waved at you through the window with an apologetic smile, and you waved back, watching as he retreated inside. with a sigh, mr. turner turned the keys in the ignition and let the car roar to life.

you didn't know how long it took to get to his flat; you had, more or less, lost all sense of time. you wondered if john had given you a concussion, but tried not to think on it for too long. you were barely aware of the car parking outside his block of flats; of the passenger door popping open as he offered you a hand to help you out; of the ding of the lift as it arrived on your floor, and the second ding as it deposited you onto the floor mr. turner lived on; of his keys jingling as he unlocked the front door of his flat; of him ushering you inside and muttering something about getting you into some warm clothes and putting water to boil for tea.

it was only when a hand landed on your shoulder that you snapped back to reality, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, whipping around to face him. his other hand landed on your other shoulder, steadying you, and he seemed to hesitate briefly before letting his arms slip around you, drawing you into an embrace that was equal parts warm and comforting and soothing and heartbreaking. "it's over," he murmured into your hair, lips ghosting over your ear.

you had felt it before you had seen it, and now, in the calm of mr. turner's flat, you couldn't run from it any longer. it seized you, peeling your eyelids back and forcing you to gaze upon its existence. you weren't aware you were crying, not until you finally let out a broken sob and succumbed to the emotions that had been building up inside of you like the world's most unsteady jenga tower. you sank deeper into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him, clinging to him like you were afraid he'd let go. he wouldn't — of course he wouldn't. "shh, shh, it's okay," he whispered, beginning to slowly rock you from side to side.

a part of you wished he would be repulsed by your emotions; wished he would pull away and send you back out to face john on your own. it would be easier to resign yourself to that fate than to face ... this. everything. the mess you had become, the mess john had made you, the mess mr. turner had recognised since he'd seen your bruised wrist, the mess you had chosen to remain oblivious to because admitting to it meant admitting that something was wrong, and you hated the thoughts of getting pulled down into that dark and ugly whirlpool and being left with nothing to confront but yourself — and you knew, you knew that you would wash up onto shore and the sky would be grey and there would be nothing, and your chest would be cracked open and your ribs splintered apart so everyone could see your heart, bloody and raw and ugly, as it beat the tune of your secrets to the world.

"do you want to shower?" he murmured. tendrils of vulnerability wrapped around you, tugging at your hands and ankles and forcing you down into the whirlpool against your will.

"no," you whispered.

"okay. let's get you changed, at least, and — we can try to blowdry your hair. it got a bit wet in the rain."

you didn't wear your own clothes that night; he gave you some of his, fresh from the dryer. they were warm and a bit big, but that added to the comfort, didn't it? you wondered why he even had a hairdryer, but maybe his hair was like yours and could never dry in a timely manner when he needed it to, making such a tool an essential in his bathroom.

you were sitting on his sofa now, wrapped up in a blanket he'd given you, cradling a warm cup of tea in your hands. you watched as steam wafted up into the air, dissolving as quickly as it'd come into existence. "i'm sorry, mr. turner," you said quietly."

there was a beat of silence. "alex."

you looked up at him. "what?"

"alex," he repeated, his elbow digging into the back of his sofa as he propped his head up in his hand. "i want you to call me alex."

requesting he call you by your first name was one thing — he'd only called you your last name for formalities, after all, a general air of politeness that followed him wherever he went. but this — this was its own beast, loaded with enough implications to give you several migraines. they were all implications that you, for the time being, chose not to think of.

"okay." you looked down at the mug again. "i'm sorry, alex."

he sighed softly beside you. "don't be."

"but —"

"but nothing, y/n. i was more than willing to help, and i still am." you hated how unused you were to generosity like his.

the pair of you fell into silence that stretched out for the span of a few minutes, broken only by you adjusting your position in your fabric cocoon and mumbling, "it was because of the starry night kit."

he rose an eyebrow. "what was?"

"that bruise on my wrist. we'd argued about it, and he ended up pushing me so i fell and hit the table."

"the fuck did he do that for?" now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him, and he smiled a bit sheepishly when he realised what he'd done. "sorry."

"no, it — it's okay." you offered him a meager smile in response. "it's nice to hear you drop the professional tone."

"i'll keep that in mind. but — really, why'd he do that?"

"it was too expensive for him, and he called me ungrateful, among ... other things."

"how much is it, anyway?"

"a couple hundred pounds, at least."

"hm." he glanced off to the side, staring at something you couldn't exactly pinpoint. you wondered what he was thinking about.

given that you'd lost all of your fight, you didn't think twice about agreeing to his giving you his bed for the night while he slept on the sofa. the pair of you exchanged goodnights, and you slipped beneath the covers, relishing in the softness of his pillow and the warmth provided by the blanket. it didn't take you long at all to fall asleep — and it was possibly the best sleep you'd ever gotten.

you remained blissfully unaware of a wide awake alex on the sofa, sitting in the dark as he ordered the starry night set off the lego website at 12am.

tags: @saintfrancis-ofassisi / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @supernaturalandpain / @not-a-big-slay / @captainwans

[pedge-page]

I tend to stay quiet about these things because quite frankly I'd blow my lid off and melt the world around me with my fury but.

It amazes me that people can come on here and have the option to be kind to others and leave an incredibly positive impact on people they interact with, and feel good about themselves for it, but choose to be insufferable shitheads who want to bring everyone else down so they feel as miserable and angry too instead. This isn't math class. Two negatives do not equal positive.

For any newbies , we've lost some of the most talented and inspiring writers in this Fandom thanks to these trolls. The same trolls who have been here for less than 2 minutes are the ones who whine about why there isn't enough content coming out fast enough for their enjoyment.

When we say "18+ only" that also applies to people who use their adult brains. If you can't handle that a properly tagged fic that has explicit warnings about its content is stuff you won't like, the mature thing to do is just shut up and move on. When you start to become you own gestopo trying to police other people's FICTIONAL work that had nothing to do with you in the name of purity censorship rather than just moving on with your own life, you've lost all credibility of calling yourself an "adult". Idc how old you are. You're not ready for the internet. You're not ready to be reading fan FICTION. You're not ready to interact with other adults.

If you spent half as much energy doing this level of "activism" in the real world where REAL people are being hurt , you wouldn't have time to be responding to a million messages applauding or condemning you about your take on FICTIONAL. WRITING. You'd actually be doing something useful with your life. But alas, harassing writers is all you're good for.

You are not the hero you so desperately want to think you are.

And folks, if you're going "hey I'm not harassing anyone!" Ask yourself if you've left a racist, homophonic, transphobic, ableist, elitist, narcissistic anon in someone's box. If you meet one of those boxes, guess what! You're the problem !

The internet is going to be filed with things you don't like. It always has. It always will. But guess what? This is gonna be real shocker for some of you:

YOU ARE RESPONSBILE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME, ESPECIALLY AS AN ADULT.

YOU ARE RESPONSBILE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME, ESPECIALLY AS AN ADULT.

YOU ARE RESPONSBILE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME ESPECIALLY AS AN ADULT.

You picking and choosing what is and isn't ok IN FAN FICTION makes you look stupid. Like I can't tell you how fucking moronically hypocritical some of you are. It has to be a joke.

So if you aren't going to be the adult, and choose to go make a stupid ask to let someone know you don't like their thoughts, don't do it on anon. If you believe in yourself and aren't afraid of your morals, say it with your chest and your profile. Let us be the adults and block you so you don't have to see our content, and we don't have to deal with illiterate kids trying to interact with us anymore.

OR

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