#which is why its short :( but i wanted to post it before it was too late to post for dahyuns bday so! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seospicybin · 4 months

Text

BAD IDEA, RIGHT?

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Your ex, Chan, makes a return to his social media with a thirst trap. Horny and bored, you decide to see him for the sole reason of getting your physical needs fulfilled. However, as the night goes, you start to wonder if seeing him tonight is a bad idea. (14,4k words)

Author's note: Yes, it's inspired by that one Olivia Rodrigo song.

Talking to your ex is a bad idea, right?

You've been considering whether to slide into his DM or not, commenting on his Instastory which is a video of him exercising half naked, exposing his toned upper half body in all its glory.

It's been two years after the breakup and he didn't post anything on his social media until today, it's like he knows you're bored and horny.

It's unclear whether it's him or it's your uterus talking, but he looks hotter, sexier, and bigger than the last time you saw him. Although you must admit that he's always been attractive to you, except that his attractiveness is on a whole 'nother level now and it makes you wonder why you let this man go in the first place.

In your defense, Chan is not a terrible ex, he decided to break up with you because he was leaving to study abroad and thought the long-distance relationship would be hard and mentally draining for both of you.

You acted like it didn't hurt you but when you came home that night, you cried so hard that your pillow got drenched in tears. You didn't want to break up with him because he's a great guy who happens to be great in bed too, not only because he has the most delicious cock you've ever had but he also knows how to put it to a good use. Simply put, you were so devastated thinking that you'd never find a man like him again.

And you know what? You were right. You tried dating a few times but nothing comes close to what you had with Chan. Also, can't two people reconnect?

Before you get to change your mind again, you decide to hit the like button and send a short message in his DM.

Hey, there. You type into the message box, adding a smiling emoji at the end to make it sound casual but friendly at the same time.

There's no reply or a sign that he's read your message, you figure he must be busy on a Saturday morning, he could be having another session at the gym or having breakfast, or... yeah, it could be him ignoring your messages.

Slightly hangover from hanging out with your friends last night, you slump down your bed and close your eyes to get another few minutes of sleep.

You wake up an hour later with more than a dozen notifications on your phone, they're mostly your friends sending photos they took of you last night. You groan when you see a couple of work emails and do not think twice to skip them. There are some texts from friends and then, there it is, a reply from Chan.

Well, hello, there!

It's been ages.

How are you?

You check the time and his replies came about fifteen minutes ago, there's a possibility that he's still on his phone and he'll respond faster this time.

Never been better.

How about you?

Looking fine as ever, I see.

You add the eyes emoji before hitting the send button and drop your phone onto the bed, it's a bit risky but a compliment never hurt. Besides, who doesn't like getting a compliment?

The thought that Chan is probably waiting for your reply in those fifteen minutes amuses you but pfft... that's just your wishful thinking.

As you wait for his response, you're checking the photos your friends sent you. You check them one by one, deleting the ones that you don't like and saving the good ones where you look flattering.

An idea pops into your head as you go through your gallery: a plan. First, you choose a photo of you that shows your whole look last night, dressed in a blue mini dress and strappy heels with your hair up, tied in a messy bun, in other words, you looked hot and you felt like it when your friend took the picture.

You upload it as your Instagram story and wait until it is successfully uploaded. You're sure as hell he'll see your new post, then he'll get curious and open it, and Wowza!

Chan thinks he can be the only one posting a thirst trap on a Saturday morning, huh?

It only takes a minute for the thirst trap to do its job, you smirk at the notifications and see Chan's username on the top.

Me? He adds three flustered emojis to it.

Nah. I'm not.

But you...

You look beautiful as always.

Is it even allowed to look that beautiful?

A year of being single makes you weak at the slightest chance of romance, you catch yourself smiling to yourself in the mirror. You slap yourself to get ahold of yourself, reminding yourself that he could say that just to—

A notification pops up and it shows that Chan liked and reacted to your Instagram story with the hearts eyes emoji. Fuck! You just caught yourself smiling again. but what can you do? You're just a girl who is lonely and in need of some loving touch.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and think about what to reply to him.

And you...

Is it even allowed to have that much of muscles?

Someone, please close the gym!

You look good nonetheless, Chris.

But seriously, close the gym! You add a laughing emoji to keep it playful.

You patiently wait for his reply but your patience only lasts for twenty minutes until he makes you wait longer for his reply and you slump on the bed again.

It's time for plan number two!

The thirst trap worked to pique his interest and you have to come up with something that shows you're a hot commodity, you don't waste your time chasing boys, they chase you. That way, Chan will respond to your message faster.

So here comes plan number two, you take another trip to your gallery, scrolling through photos from last night, and find the perfect photo. It's a picture of you and one of your male friends, you're standing side by side, holding your drinks together and smiling to the camera. There's enough friendliness in there to show that you're close with this guy but also, not that close. You don't know how to explain it, but you know it'll work.

You wait a few more minutes to add it to your Instagram story, not forgetting to tag your friend which is the best part of it. If anyone checks his account, they'll see a model with blue eyes, just the perfect guy to make certain someone is jealous.

You're devilishly laughing as you hit the post button and wait until it is successfully uploaded. You check to see the final result and smile in satisfaction.

Okay, maybe you were too haste and didn't do your calculation right because morning has turned into afternoon and Chan hasn't replied to you. Not only did he make you wait, but you also wasted three hours of your day staring at the ceiling with the phone resting on your chest.

At this point, you should've given up and maybe it's true, he only replied just to be friendly, nothing more. You fling your phone across the bed out of spite and get up, planning to wash him away from your head with a hot shower.

Against the loud sound of the hairdryer, you hear your phone chimes and you turn it off to check whether you're imagining it chimes or not.

You hate how quickly you forget how upset you were a while ago after seeing your phone light up with new notifications.

I'm sorry for replying late.

I was busy moving some stuff.

Do you have time?

And you hate it more that he can easily get your hopes up again. You figure it's time he tastes his own medicine, you put your phone away and leave him on read. You'll reply later when you feel like it, or never. Who knows?

You continue drying your hair but the constant hum of the hairdryer makes you unable to hear your thoughts, especially one that stops you from going to your phone again as it chimes with a new notification. It only takes twenty minutes for you to cave into the temptation.

I don't know about you but all these chats, they're not enough.

Can we video call instead?

It takes you not even a minute to say yes to him. You make a run to your closet and change your clothes, picking up a white top with a low neckline, ditching the bra, and pairing it with denim shorts.

Chan doesn't give you a minute to choose the setting of the video call, your phone rings as you try to make the bed as best as you can and sit with your back against the headboard of the bed.

The phone keeps ringing but you need to check your hair in the mirror again to finally accept the video call. A second later, Chan's face appears on your phone screen, and from his damp hair, it seems like he's just taken a shower too.

"Hey," he greets you as he brushes his curls with his hand.

"You look a little wet, Chris," you tease with a sly smile.

Chan moves, changing his sitting position and revealing himself in a bathrobe with his chest all exposed. Intentional or not, you must admit that's quite a show!

"I was feeling hot so I took a quick shower," he answers with a grin.

"Feeling hot, huh?" You tease again.

"I am now," he playfully responds, flashing you a sly smile and lip bite.

The two of you just stare at each other through the screen and it's getting too much for you with how intense his eyes are.

"So, where are you now?"

"I'm actually in the city," he shortly replies.

"Oh? You're back!" You gasp but hold yourself back from continuing the sentence and ask if he's back for good. The most important thing is he's confirmed his location, all you need to find out next is if he's up to do no good with you.

"Kind of," he vaguely answers.

"Kind of..." you teasingly repeat his words and then giggle.

Chan grins and rests his back against a pillow, it's unclear if he's sitting on the bed or the sofa, "Oh, how I missed that," he says.

You take a pillow and put it on your lap as something to hold on to, "Missed what?"

"Your sweet smiles and cute giggles," he shortly answers like he's been waiting for you to ask him that.

"Oh, stop it, Chris!" You respond, getting a little flustered that you melt onto your pillow. You may as well lie down on your stomach and put the pillow under your chest, "You're getting good at lying, huh?"

"Yeah. Nah. Just a little bit," he jokingly says, then bursts into laughter that his dimples sunken deep into his cheeks.

And oh, you missed his dimpled smiles and his sonorous laughter too, but you're not going to tell him that, maybe not now, or ever.

To avoid it escalating really quickly, you shift the conversation elsewhere. You prop a hand under your chin and tilt your head to the side while the other hand steadily holds your phone far enough from your face.

"So, what are you doing now?"

"Staring at your face," he answers, a half smirk decorating his rectangular face.

"Just my face?" You jokingly ask with a flirty lip bite.

"Everything else too," he adds, catching his eyes flicking down for a second then smirks.

You act oblivious to the fact that with the way you lie on your stomach, you're offering him a view of your cleavage and he would be stupid if he missed the sign.

"What I meant is what are you doing in the city? Is it for work or...?"

"I need to sort a few things," he vaguely explains.

It's obvious that he's keeping the details from you and you have to respect that, he's not your boyfriend and even if he is, he's not obligated to tell you everything. Including the possibility that he came here to see his new girlfriend, perhaps?

"Oh? So, all business, no pleasure?" You joke with a light chuckle, hiding your true intention to know whether he's seeing anyone or not.

"I'm free tonight and I was hoping that we could meet," He says, shattering the negative thoughts that rush through your head.

Now, that gets you thinking if he's coming here to see you and you get that fluttering feeling in your stomach, or it could be your uterus ovulating as you speak, either way, you like it.

"Tonight?" You ask, acting like you already have a plan for tonight.

"Yes. Or do you already have plans for tonight?"

The act always works, gosh, you should consider to start a career as an actor, "Not really, but uh... where do you want us to meet?"

"There's a nice bar in the hotel I'm staying in. We can have a drink or two," he replies, then licks his lips and makes them appear wet and fuller, tantalizing you to kiss them.

Despite you feeling like screaming and jumping on the bed, you remain coy about it, reminding yourself to not sound eager but show enough enthusiasm.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, tilting your head to the other way and saying, "Hotel bar has better drinks so... yeah, I'd love a drink or two."

A triumphant smile rises on his face and it's cute that he lets it show, making you feel a lot of things in a few seconds.

"I'll see you there, I mean, here at 8?"

You tug your middle finger between your teeth and flash him a seductive smile, "Okay."

"I'll DM you the address."

"Okay," you mutter again while staring at him through the screen on your phone.

"See you tonight then," he says, touching his lips and rubbing the lower lip with his long, dainty finger.

"Can't wait to meet you," he adds.

Instead of answering him, you let out a giggle and sit up on the bed. You flip your hair to the back and just stare at him for a minute without saying anything.

"See you tonight, Chris," you finally reply, making sure to call his name with a low, sultry voice and a sly smile.

Without hesitation, you hang up first and let out a long sigh after. It's just a video call but Gosh! It feels like a foreplay already.

You give yourself a moment to compose yourself before execute plan number three: Dressed to fucking impress. To be honest, you don't even bother with the 'impress' part, you just want to fuck.

See? Talking to him is not a bad idea after all.

The sound of your high heels constantly tapping the marble floor as you walk echoes in the hotel lobby, you're unsure of how to inform him that you've arrived just a few minutes late from the appointed time.

You take your phone out of your purse and are about to compose a message when you catch him holding his hand up at you from the second floor.

You wave your hand back at him and make your way to the stairs, climbing each step with caution because it would embarrassing if you tripped. But looking at Chan waiting for you at the top of the stairs makes it feel like you're living a scene out of a movie.

Even with his signature all-black look, it doesn't make him less princely. He looks dreamy with crinkles in his eyes and a charming smile on his face.

He offers his hand when you're only a couple of steps away from him. You take it and let him guide you on the last steps of the stairs. His grip is firm as you remember and he still has his favorite chain bracelet around his wrist.

"You look gorgeous," he doesn't say it in a dramatic, hyperbolic way but he softly whispers it to you before placing a sweet kiss on your cheek, so close to the corner of your mouth.

The night has just begun but he's already succeeded in making you quietly hold your breath. You put on a smile for him and coyly say, "You look stunning in black as... always."

He laughs and it feels like to see and hear it in person, like you can feel the warmth that his laughs emit.

"Want to have dinner first?" He asks.

"I've had dinner," you answer.

The truth is, you barely had dinner because you were too nervous to eat anything but you did eat a nutrition bar in the taxi.

"This way to the bar then?" He offers his arm at you like a true gentleman.

"Lead the way, sir!" You say as you link your arm around him.

It's only a short walk from the hotel lobby to the bar Chan mentioned, the interior is rather luxurious, leather seats with a live jazz performance. He mutters something to the hostess, probably where he prefers to sit and she nods in response.

"This way, please!" She says with a polite smile, walking like a feline creature in her tight skirt and silk blouse.

You glance to the side to see if Chan is looking at the pretty hostess in front of him, but you find him staring at you instead.

"Is there something on my face?" You ask in slight panic, afraid that you have something in your teeth but he feels bad to tell you.

"No," he simply answers.

"This way, sir, ma'am," the hostess says, gesturing to the booth she chooses for the two of you, a little hidden in the corner of the bar to provide some privacy.

Chan gently places his hand on the small of your back and lets you take a seat first. You have a seat in the middle of the curved sofa and he sits right next to you.

"Can we order drinks right away?" Chan asks as he puts his phone on the table.

"Sure," the hostess answers, slightly bending down to hear him talk clearly, "What would you like to have, sir?"

"I'll have the... Boulevardier," he eloquently says with a slight French accent.

"Excellent choice, sir!" She comments, she then turns her head at you to take your order, "How about you, ma'am?"

Things have been feeling a little surreal for these past few hours your brain is struggling to keep up, you want to be cool and confidently answer the fanciable hostess but it takes you a longer time to process a simple question like that.

"I'd love a daiquiri, please!" You answer, ignoring the fact that it takes you a minute to come up with it.

"Can I recommend you with the Hemingway special? It's a daiquiri with a splash of sweet grapefruit juice and Maraschino liqueur," she eloquently explains, proving that she's not only hired because of her look.

"That sounds amazing. I'd love that," you say with an impressed smile.

After confirming your orders, the hostess left the booth and it's just the two of you now in this nice yet slightly erotic setting of the bar.

"That's a nice dress," he suddenly compliments as he's looking at your face, not at your dress.

The dress goes to your midthigh, it's white and tight enough to showcase your curve. It's long-sleeved but the sweetheart neckline exposed just the right amount of skin. You've been saving it for a special occasion and considering that you haven't met him for two years, you reckon it's time to wear it.

"Just something I had, you know, lying around," you playfully answer.

The drinks come not long after and Chan waits until the server leaves to initiate a toast with you. Your drink is in a glass with a thin stem so you carefully lift it with your fingers.

"Cheers!" You mutter in unison and clink your glasses together.

The first round of drinks went with a conversation that consisted of basic questions. He asks you about work, family, life in general, and everything in between. You must admit that your life is kind of boring but it's nice to know that he wanted to catch up on your life updates.

It's a little disappointing though that he doesn't ask anything about your love life or whether you're seeing anyone or not.

When you deem that you're on the verge of oversharing, you stop talking and shift the focus to him.

"What about you? What are you working on at the moment?" You curiously ask, putting down your drink on the table and leaving one last sip on the fragile-looking glass.

"I'm working on a lot of things right now. From a lot of places too," he answers.

"So, you've been traveling a lot," you remark.

"Yes."

That says something about his relationship status and unless he has learned how to be in a long-distance relationship, then it means he's not seeing anyone right now. Even if he is, there's a big chance that it's noncommittal.

This calls for a celebration so you pick up your drink and drain every last drop of it, delightfully gasping once you swallow it.

"Round 2?" Chan offers.

"Yes."

Now that you've made up your mind about it and from the subtle signals he's sending you so far, it's safe to say that he's up to do no good with you. You smooth down the hem of your dress and flip your hair to the back, preparing yourself to execute plan number four: Make your intention known.

As much as you feel tempted to say 'Chris, let's fuck!' right to his face, you decide not to be haste and go with a more convenient, acceptable way. You plan to be forthright about your intention what you want and if he wanted the same too so the two of you can skip the formalities and go straight to the fucking.

"Chris, I have something to tell you," you say to him.

He positions his body slightly turns to the side to face you and softly smiles, "You can tell me."

You've mustered up the courage and have the words prepared in your head only for the moment to be ruined by your phone ringing in your purse.

"Fuck..." you quietly mutter to yourself, you could sense your courage shrinking inside you.

The phone has stopped ringing but you grab your purse on the space next to you and pull it out to check the caller. A new text message appears on your screen.

Call me. It's urgent. Your friend wrote in her text along with multiple red exclamation marks.

It seems rather urgent, you put on an apologetic smile at Chan and say, "I'm sorry but do you mind if I make a quick call?"

"Not at all," Chan says with an easy smile.

You take your phone with you as you get up from the sofa, leaving the booth at the same time the waiter comes with your second round of drinks.

Finding the way to the restroom, you hit the call button as you enter and stand in front of the sinks, waiting for your friend to pick up while checking for your hair and make-up in the mirror.

"What's the urgency?" You say the second you hear the call being picked up.

"I need to borrow your laptop. Mine is suddenly frozen and I can't reboot it," your friend answers in a rather distressed tone.

Knowing that it's not the kind of urgent you imagined in your head, you let out a sigh of relief and then say, "Yes, yes you can use my laptop."

"I'm already in the elevator to your floor."

"You have the code to my apartment and I'm sure you know where I put my laptop," you calmly tell her, putting the strands of hair to the side and carefully dabbing the skin under your eyes.

"Wait. You're not home?"

"I'm not and I'm not taking any more questions," you immediately stop her before she gets too nosy.

"Don't call me for the rest of the night. Bye!" You don't wait for a response and quickly hang up.

On the way back to your booth, you see Chan enjoying the jazz performance on the stage, tapping his foot against the floor. You didn't notice the way he sat until now, his legs spread open, he's slightly slumped and his long arm rests along the edge of the sofa, plus he left the top three buttons on his shirt open.

Chan looks so hot simply by sitting like that and you're sure you've seen much hotter men but you really can't remember when.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and slide into the booth again, then slowly sit on the sofa, leaving a gap between you and him.

"Here's your drink," he says, handing the glass to you with such caution.

"Thank you!" You mutter your gratitude.

You're glad that you're taking the recommendation because the Hemingway Daiquiri tastes so refreshing, it's sweet and sour, certainly an upscale from the classic daiquiri.

"I hope the call wasn't something bad," he says to you.

You lick your lips after taking a sip, "Oh, no. It was my friend. She needs to borrow something," you spare him from the details.

It takes a minute to remember where you left the conversation and when you finally recall, you need to take more time to prepare yourself again. You immediately take another sip to quicken the process of building up your courage.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He suddenly comes up with an unexpected request.

Your throat burns from accidentally swallowing your alcohol too fast and you can feel your eyes get teary as well.

"Sure," you manage to answer.

Somehow the gap you purposely put between you and him disappears, he sits so close to you that his knee bumps into yours.

"I've been stalking your Instagram page," he shares with a shy smile.

You snort because he makes it seem like it's an embarrassing thing to say, but you doubt if that's true, he could be saying that to make you feel flattered.

"As far as I can recall, you've been abandoning your account until today," you say, hardly believing his so-called secret.

"That's because I'm using a fake Instagram account," he simply answers.

You snort again and roll your eyes at him, "Yeah, sure."

Chan smirks and picks up his phone, he opens Instagram to show the fake Instagram account he made and it only has one following, you.

"Do you believe me now?"

It's hard to stay calm when you find out that the guy who broke your heart two years ago has secretly been keeping up with you through your social media. You're happy but a part of you is still in denial.

"I mean... why not use your own Instagram?" you ask out of pure curiosity because it's not like you'd mistake this as a sign that he wants to get back with you. You're not that naive nor delusional.

"Then you would know that I regret breaking up with you," he casually answers like he didn't just reveal something profound.

You look at him to check if he's just messing with you and you would know if he's lying cause he's bad at it, but nope, he's telling the truth.

"And you would know that I've been struggling to get over you," he continues with glints filling his doe eyes.

There's an alarm going off in your chest, it's coming from the heart and it's telling you to be cautious, potential heartbreak lies ahead. You get reminded that you came here not to confront your feelings, you came here to get fucked, hopefully hard.

"And I guess you posted your boxing video for a purpose?" You ask with your eyebrow raised at him.

"Well..." he shrugs and slyly grins, "it worked, didn't it?"

As expected, this man has so many tricks up his sleeves. Better be careful as he puts all of his attention on you, his arm slowly makes its way around your shoulder and his hand is playing with your hair.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No comment," You smirk and take a small sip of your drink.

Chan lets out a laugh, the sonorous one and the kind that makes his eyes form two crescents. He takes a sip of his Boulevardier which is an upscale version of negroni.

"I've been wondering why you stayed single for so long," he says with an underlying tone, implying that he's actually asking you the reason why. Also confirmed his secret stalking behavior.

"It's not that long," you reply, crossing your legs together as you flash him a sly smile.

"A year, isn't it?" He asks.

You groan and roll your eyes at him, "You really are a stalker."

"You can tell me," he playfully elbows your side.

"No. It's a secret," you refuse to share.

"I shared my secret with you and it's only fair if you share yours with me."

"First of all, I didn't ask for your secret," you defend yourself while holding your drink close to your mouth.

He leans to your side, offering his ear at you as he says, "You can whisper it to me."

He means to know the answer anyway so you lean into his ear and cover the side of your mouth, then whisper, "All the guys I've met, they don't have a big cock like yours."

That's a way to get his attention and escalate the tension between the two of you. You pull away with a devilish smirk dancing on your face.

You glance down at his crotch and ask, "Is it still as big as I remember?"

"If you're lucky, you'll get to find out," he plays coy about it and you find it extremely attractive.

Noticing that you've drained your drink, Chan waves his hand to get the two of you another round of drinks. Obviously, you don't want it to end when things have just started to warm up.

He looks at you and then glances down, showing his hand snaking its way to your thigh.

"Have I told you that it's a nice dress?"

"I don't mind hearing it one more time," you respond with a cheeky smile.

He shoots you a big grin while he's playing with the hem of your dress, feeling the fabric between his fingers.

"It's a nice dress," he compliments, then leans in close so that you can feel his warm breath brush your cheek as he adds, "And I want to take it off of you tonight."

You place your hand on his hand that rests on your thigh and play with his bracelet, "if you're lucky, you'll get to do it," you poke fun at him.

You can audibly hear his laugh in your ear as he leans in closer his nose pokes your cheek, "We're even now."

The third drinks bring the tension higher as the two of you relax from every sip and the gap between your bodies gradually disappears.

Chan has his eyes on you all the time, it's overwhelming at times but you like the way he looks at you like an animal who has his eyes on its prey and you like seeing the confliction in his eyes on whether he should eat you whole or play with his food first.

There's so much chemistry and tension here, plus the alcohol, you're only waiting for the light to turn bright green, really.

He gently brushes your hair to the side and keeps it there so he can plant a kiss on the skin behind your ear, knowing that it's your sensitive part of body.

"You change your perfume?"

"Yes," you manage to remain calm despite the proximity and the way he constantly rubs your thigh with his knuckle.

He drags his lips to your ear and asks, "What is it called?"

You lick your lips and make him wait for your answer, "I believe it's called Good Girl Gone Bad."

He tilts his head to the side and looks at you right in the eyes, wide and dark with lust, "How bad?"

You grab the collar of his shirt and tug at it, "If you're lucky, you'll get to find out," you get back at him again.

As he bursts out laughing with his eyes closed, you follow your intrusive thought to cup his jaw with your hand and laugh along.

"That's two to one," you remind him.

He stops laughing only to fondly smile at you, "Remind me how I broke up with you."

"For a start, you acted like an absolute jerk that day," you half-jokingly say.

The truth is it wasn't the breakup that hurt you the most, it's the post-break-up and his total absence from your life, he didn't call or text, or even send a pity email after that day. It felt as if he didn't want you in his life anymore.

Fuck. How did you get here again? Forced to face your feelings. Time to shift the talk.

"It's getting late, don't you think?"

Chan immediately reaches for his phone on the table to check the time, "It's 10.51."

"Oh," you plainly respond and finish you drink.

"Can I have your new numbers?" He suddenly asks.

You put down your glass on the table and answer, "I still have the same phone numbers."

"Yeah but I lost my phone at the airport and had to get a new one, lost all of my contacts," he explains like he knew you thought about how he didn't call you earlier.

Chan hands you his phone so you can enter your phone numbers and hand it back to him once you've finished. He hits the call button instead of saving it first and your phone rings a second later.

"Come on. Pick it up!" He tells you.

You obey him, accepting his phone call even though he's sitting next to you, "Hello?"

"Hi, it's future Chris calling," he says with a mix of foolish and sexy grin, you don't know how but he does it so well.

Curious to see where this talk is going, you decide to play along with him, "If you are really from the future, can you tell me the lottery numbers for this week?"

"I... can't tell you that."

"I'm hanging up," you joke.

"But I can tell you something else."

"Not interested," you put away your phone from your ear.

He glares at you, forcing you to continue playing along with him, "Hear me first!"

"Okay, I'm listening," you say with a dramatic eye roll.

"Future Chris says you need to go to hotel room number 103 tonight."

"Uhm... why?"

"You have to go there if you want to get lucky," he says with his tongue slightly poking out on one corner of his mouth.

"Still not interested," you poke fun, pretending to hang up the phone again.

"You'll regret it," he teases.

"I doubt that," you say with your nose scrunched at him.

Chan gets a little annoyed now, you can tell by the way he has his tongue poking his cheek and the fed-up grin on his face.

"Don't you want to get lucky tonight and find out about..." he pauses as he reaches for the pendant of your necklace and turns it over in his fingers, "the thing you're curious of."

This is it then, your intention matched his intention and the light has turned bright green. You take his hand and put it down onto your lap, then you slide your hand into his palm, "Okay."

"Okay," He says, holding your hand in his then brings it close to his mouth to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

As you're waiting for the elevator to arrive, Chan steadily places his hand on the arch of your back and lingers there until the elevator chimes open.

He lets you get in first and you choose to stand on the side, close to the panel full of numbers of the hotel floors and he reaches for it to push the number to his floor.

Should you consider yourself lucky that the elevator is empty? Should you be nervous because you're starting to feel like a prey being locked with its predator inside a small, enclosed space?

No words are being exchanged as the two of you locked in a gaze, but he speaks so much through his eyes, they're fiery, filled with so much want, so much need, and ultimately, desire.

After that much teasing, flirting, alcohol, chemistry, and tension, you've been wondering how the two of you managed to not kiss each other already.

It seems like he's about to make it happen as he comes closer to you, putting his hands on the handlebar and caging you in between. Slowly, he brings his hand close to your face and carefully puts away the strands of hair covering your face to the side, then tucks it behind your ear.

In this proximity, you can see how plush his lips are, how soft and full they are, and it's getting too hard to try to ignore. You look at him, telling him how much you want to kiss him through your eyes and deliberately blink to give him the unspoken permission to kiss you.

The heating moment gets interrupted by the sound of the elevator chimes open and a group of people gets in from the fourth floor.

"Excuse me," a man says as he reaches for the panel to press the number to his floor.

With his hand on your back again, Chan protectively guides you to take a step forward and stands behind you, he puts his arm around your waist with his hand resting on your abdomen.

There's a low chatter going on from the other corner of the elevator but the absence of silence doesn't make it less tense as Chan buries his nose in your hair, you can feel every breath he inhales on the nape of your neck. It feels hot and cold at the same time, making you tingling inside.

He then presses his mouth to your ear and softly whispers, "You're still using the same shampoo, mmh?" His lips graze your ear as he speaks.

Chan puts his other arm on you and quietly, pulls you closer until your back meets his chest, that way you can feel him behind you and his body heat that slowly melts you from the inside.

Quietly, he slides his hand down to the curve of your ass cheek and then gently squeezes the flesh.

"My God, this body..." he whispers with his breath tickles your body, "Makes me want to ruin you so much."

Is it wrong that you don't even want to hide it anymore? You want everyone in the elevator to hear what he just said to you and for a split second, you want Chan to fuck you right there and let everyone watches.

However, Chan suddenly lets go of you and you pout at the sudden loss of contact. Then you notice that the little screen above the panel shows that the elevator is about to stop on the 10th floor.

When it chimes open, you make your way out with Chan trails behind you. None of you look back but keep walking ahead with his hand resting on the arch of your back again, leading you to where his room is. His hand goes lower and lower the further you walk through the hotel corridor.

"This way," he says, guiding your body to take the left corridor.

Without warning, he grabs you by the waist and roughly pulls you with him until he hits his back against the wall, then crashes his mouth on you.

This is not your shared first kiss but this is somehow better than that. The feeling of your lips finally reunited in a rapturous kiss especially when you've been craving it oh, there's nothing like it!

Chan kisses you so hard, so deep, so passionately that you have a hard time returning it to him and breathing becomes a second priority to you.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," he mutters when he lets go of the kiss.

Still gasping for air, you nod and say, "Me too."

To your surprise, he turns you over and has you pinned against the wall this time, he pushes his body against yours as he seeks to be as close to you as possible until there's no inch of gap left between your bodies.

When he deems that you need to breathe, he lets go of your lips only to kiss you on your neck and you tip your head to the side to give him the free access. You let out a low moan as his teeth faintly scrape the skin.

His hands run amok, feeling you all over and touching you through your clothes, eventually his hand cups your breast in his. He kisses your lips again only to distract you from his hand trying to pull down the front of your dress and after a few tries, he manages to send your breast spilling which he wastes no time to take it in his mouth.

"Oh..." The moan just slipped out of your mouth and you hurriedly press your lips together to shut yourself up, aware that you're in a hotel corridor and the hotel guests might hear it, oh and also, someone may walk in on you making out in the hotel corridor.

He leaves your breast wet with his saliva when he lets go and goes straight to kiss you again, putting his weight against you and hoisting your leg around him.

It's getting hard to stay quiet as he starts to dry hump you, you can feel the friction of his clothed erection on you, big and bulging, highly arousing.

Hearing footsteps coming, he hurriedly fixes your dress and takes your hand, this time, leading you right to his hotel room. He swiftly unlocks the door with his keycard and pushes the door inward.

"Come in," he softly mutters, keeping the door open to let you in.

Once you're both inside, the obscenity continues. Nothing is stopping you from coming at each other and ripping each other's clothes. Your dress is the first to go then his shirts, they're lying on the carpeted floor now.

As you lips continuously latch with his, Chan swiftly unbuckles his belt and zips open his fly, he pulls his erection out of its confine.

Without breaking the kiss, he takes your hand and puts it around his hardening member. You gasp at how hot it feels in your hand, how hard it is that you can feel the veins coiling around his length.

He pulls away and looks down to see your hand holding his cock, "Is it as big as you remember?"

You suck air through your teeth and then say, "I'm not sure."

You start to slowly pump his length in your hand and look up at him, "but there's a way I can know for sure."

His eyebrow raised in question, "You do?"

"Uh-huh," you answer, leaning in to kiss him.

From his lips, you begin a trail of kisses to his neck and his chest next, then down to his sculpted abs until your knees hit the carpeted floor.

Something about kneeling in front of him and he's looking down on you with a mix of excitement and anticipation in his eyes arousing you in a whole new way.

In return, you look back at him, innocently blinking your eyes at him all the while your hand keeps stroking his cock in front of you.

"Can I?" You ask him with your thumb softly rubbing the tip of his cock.

He puts his hands in your hair, brushing your hair and gathering them in the back of your head, making a makeshift ponytail with his hand, "Yes."

Without looking away from him, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, then slowly, you take him in your mouth. You take him little by little and give yourself time to adjust yourself to his size which you think is somewhat bigger than you remember.

Wanting to impress him, you push yourself to take more of him but you're too haste and his cock hits the back of your throat so fast, triggering your gag reflex. You immediately pull away before you embarrass yourself more and look away as you let out a cough.

"Still too big for me," You say with a shy chuckle.

Chan places his hand on your cheek and tenderly caresses it, "Too big for you, mmh?"

You nod with your puppy eyes at him.

"But you're taking it so well," he coos, now wiping your chin with his thumb.

You wrap your hand around his cock again and slowly pump it, "Yeah?"

"Yes," he mutters with a soft smile.

The truth is you're not a big fan of giving blow jobs and you're not very confident in your skill, but he remains sweet and patient with you and you believe it's because he knows.

Chan makes you feel safe and comfortable enough to make you want to do it again.

"Let me just..." you don't finish your sentence but do it all over again.

You remind yourself to take it slow, regulate your breathing, and keep calm, it's even better if you can try to enjoy doing it.

To compensate for the rest that you can't take in your mouth, you use your hand and alternate between sucking and licking.

"See? You're taking me so well," he softly mutters, delicately tucking your hair behind your ear.

It doesn't take long for you to find your rhythm and slowly enjoying yourself giving him head, you're even humming in pleasure with your mouth full of him.

Seeing his reactions and hearing the lewd noises coming out of your mouth, encourages you to keep going despite your jaws getting tired and your knees are hurting from kneeling too long.

In between his low moans, he manages to mutter sweet nothings to you.

"Oh, that pretty mouth!"

"You're just too good."

"Oh... Too good at this!"

After a few minutes though, you sense that you needed a break so you slowly pull out and replace your mouth with your hand.

"You like that?"

"Very much," he answers without a beat.

He offers his hand to help you get up from the floor and pulls you close, hoisting your body against him knowing that you're probably tired from kneeling too long.

"You're getting too good, it's dangerous," he whispers to you with both hands cupping your ass cheeks.

You giggle and let him have your lips in him again, you're opening your mouth for him so he can kiss you deeper while he hoists you higher until your feet are lifted off the floor.

Chan carries you to the bed and gently lays you down on the bed, he removes his jeans first before joining you, lying next to you on the bed.

He brushes your hair away from your face and presses a kiss on your lips, "So, is it as big as you remember?"

You tangle your hand in his soft curls, "Jury's still out," you answer with a sly smile.

Chan glares at you as a grin slowly blossoms on his face, he offers his arm as your pillow and then pulls you closer to him, that way, he can comfortably plant his lips on yours again.

As he keeps you busy with his kisses, his hand is making its way down south and not stopping until it lands on your clothed cunt. He smirks against your lips the second he slips his fingers under, meeting your wetness.

"That wet for me, mmh?" He murmurs.

You coyly shrug and shoot him a smirk just to provoke him.

"Well, I'm honored," he says with his fingers tracing your folds and running it up and down your slit.

When he starts playing with your clit, you know you no long can keep your cool anymore. The cold that comes from the metal of his chain bracelet adds a different sensation to the hot and wetness of your cunt.

"Goodness..." you breathlessly gasp as he inserts his finger into you.

"I know you can take one more," he mutters with his mouth pressed to your ear, then proceeds to add another digit.

His two long fingers are inside you now, pumping them in and out of you, and curls them to find that spot that makes you—

"Chris! Oh, fuck!" You curse and grip his shoulder hard enough your nails dug into the skin.

He's enjoying it from the way his head hovers above you and peacefully observing your face, wanting to see all of your reactions to his delightful assault.

He has his mouth sucking on your breast now and the other is being fondled by his other hand, the other hand is busy making a mess out of you.

You're squirming on the bed with your waist upheld in the air and shamelessly arching your back at him, seeking more of him inside you.

Chan knows when to stop, he teases you enough to prepare you for what comes next. He slows down his hand motions and slowly pulls them out. He doesn't let go yet but keeps his hand inside your underwear, playing with your clit.

A moment later, he draws his hand out of your underwear and rubs his fingers coated with your arousal on his lips, "Taste yourself on me," he says.

Seeing his lips wet with your essence is rather arousing and you don't hesitate at all to kiss him, tasting yourself on him. The kiss feels exceptionally kinky and you thought you couldn't be more aroused than this.

Without letting go of the kiss, he hovers above you and props his elbows against the mattress, "Are you still on the pills?"

You swallow air before answering, "Yeah."

He places a sweet peck on your lips then looks at you, "Is it okay if we do it without protection?"

Maybe deep down you know you can trust him and it wouldn't be the first time you're doing it with him without a layer of protection so you find it easy to agree to it and nod.

"Okay," you say, also providing him a verbal consent.

He smiles at you and lowers his mouth on you again, he continues the kisses down your front. His hands tugging at the elastic band of your underwear and pulling it down as he continues the kisses down to your legs.

The bed quakes as Chan gets off the bed and he's just standing there, looking at you and your naked body for his eyes to lust on. You catch him inhaling and exhaling air like he's overwhelmed by what he's seeing.

"You're so beautiful," he mutters with a delightful sigh.

It would be the only normal response to get flustered under his lustful eyes, you look away from him and say, "Just get in here, Chris!"

He surprises you by jumping onto the bed, making the bed quakes once more and he immediately puts his lips on yours again.

"Turn over for me," he softly whispers to you ear.

Without saying a word, you obey him, turning over on the bed and getting on your fours, kneeling with your hands propped against the mattress in front of you.

Chan positions himself behind you and then with so much care, he puts all of your hair away onto one shoulder so he can place kisses on your back. His hands freely roam around your body.

In your opinion, Chan has the most attractive pair of hands, it's warm and firm with veins snaking on the back of his hand, and of course, long fingers that know how to find your most sensitive spot. Now, they're on you, going all over you and feeling you all over.

"I almost forgot how soft you are," he murmurs.

He then brings his hands to your chest to play with your mounds, he hums in pleasure as he sees your breasts mold perfectly in his hands.

"Like they were made just for me," he sighs.

It's like his attractiveness and his big cock aren't enough, Chan has to have a smart mouth too, a mouth that knows what to say and how to say it.

Then again, you're just a girl and you're prone to sugary sweet words like that. You look over your shoulder and smile at him, not expecting that he's going to capture your lips in a kiss.

He slides one hand down to your throbbing cunt again, making sure it's wet enough for him to penetrate. He gently pushes you to the front so he can aim his cock at your entrance and then slowly, he guides you to take him in.

"Oh... ah..." you moan, crumpling the sheet underneath you.

And you almost forget how big he is until he's inside you and you get so high that you blank out, you're there on all fours and merely just a vessel.

Not giving you another minute to adjust, Chan moves back and pulls his cock out only to push it deeper inside you. He then wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly while you're flailing against him like a rag doll.

"You feel so good," he whispers, his breath is hot and heavy in your ear, "So fucking tight around me."

He brings his hand down to rub your clit, adding gentle pressure as he's circling on it.

"I'm going to move, okay?" He says to you with a slobbering kiss on your shoulder.

Unable to form a coherent answer, you repeatedly nod in answer.

The sploshing sound of his fingers incessantly rubbing your clit intensify along with the pace of his thrusting. Chan either has his lips on your lips or plants them on your shoulder, either way, he does it to muffle his groans.

This is what happens when his hand and his cock joint forces, you find yourself on the brink of orgasm when all you've been doing is filling the room with your high-pitched moans.

"Oh, I'm cumming," you whine, holding onto the sheet as waves of pleasure surging all over you.

Chan slows down but does not stop thrusting into you, he kisses your neck and shoulder as you relish your orgasm. He keeps you close with his slung across your chest.

"Chris?" You breathlessly call his name.

"Yes, baby?" He answers your call and you guess the pet name unintentionally slipped out of his mouth.

Not going to lie, it gets you fluttering to hear him call you baby. You curve your arm around his neck and bring his head close to kiss him.

After a while, you start to doubt that the fluttering feeling came from Chan calling you with a pet name. You think it's because you're getting your second orgasm.

"What should I do, Chris?" You whine against his mouth

He breaks the kiss and looks at you with a concerned look, "Huh?" Chan confusingly asks.

"I'm about to cum again," you shamelessly admit.

Chan lets out a low chuckle and presses a kiss on your lips, "Then let's cum together, yeah?" he simply resolves.

He draws you close to him until your back hits his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you to hold you steady as he adds more speed to his thrust.

"Chris, oh..." you moan while holding onto his forearm.

His hands slithering around, one hand squeezing on your breast and the other wrapped around your neck. His mouth nests in the crook of your neck, grunting in pleasure and at times, sucking on your skin to muffle his noises.

"Oh, you keep clenching, baby," he mutters, followed by a broken moan.

That is probably because his cock is deep inside you, it's engorging and pulsating, filling you whole and continuously rubbing against your velvety walls, making the knot in your stomach tighten with each passing second.

Getting weak on the knees, you collapse onto the bed and Chan hurriedly holds you by the waist as he maintains the pace.

"I'm close, I'm close," you tell him repeatedly with one side of your face pressed against the bed.

Chan groans as he pushes his cock as shallowly as possible inside you, "Almost there," he says through his gritted teeth.

The previous orgasm makes you more sensitive than before and you can't hold yourself back anymore so you slowly let go and let the pleasure take over you once more.

Meanwhile, Chan hovers behind you and takes your hands, he holds them by the wrists then pin them against the bed as he restlessly thrusts into you to chase his high.

"Want me to cum inside you?" He asks, still thoughtful as you remember

"Uh-huh, yeah," you manage to answer even with your brain close to short-circuit.

Getting the permission is all he needed to get to his release. Then moment he finally come undone, he lets out a hoarse yet the most beautiful moan you ever heard, then lets himself lay on top of you.

A moment passes in contented silence and Chan presses a long kiss on the nape of your neck, then softly asks, "Are you okay?"

Not getting an answer, he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face to check it himself, "Did I go too rough on you?" He asks again with a slight concern.

You allow yourself to take a few more seconds to gain your composure and instead of answering, you foolishly grin at him and say, "That was so fucking good."

In response, Chan brightly smiles then pecks your lips, "No, but seriously, are you okay?"

You nod at him, "I'm okay."

After hearing your confirmation, he lets out a sigh of relief and then kisses you again, longer than the previous one.

"Sweet break?"

You don't expect him to say that after a long time, you smile and nod, "Sweet break."

Sweet break is something you used to say to each other when you need to take a break from something by eating something sweet. Like now, for instance, you and him taking a break from sex to order something sweet from the room service.

"Bad news is the kitchen is closed" Chan announces the second you come out of the bathroom.

It would be bothersome to put on your dress so you put on Chan's shirt instead, buttoning it as you join him on the sofa, "And the good news?"

He opens the food cover to show you what he got from the room service, "They're still serving desserts," he says with a grin.

The two of you huddle together around the plates of desserts and eating them on the sofa, filling the room with the sounds of your chewing and the dessert spoon scraping the plate.

It's fascinating to watch Chan casually eat his chocolate cake like he didn't just fuck the brains out of you a while ago. You let out a low chuckle and get back to your crepes.

"What's so funny?" He asks, catching you quietly chuckling to yourself.

"Nothing," you answer with a shrug.

He glares at you and decides to invade your plate with his fork, stabbing at the sliced banana and then shoving it into his mouth.

"Hey, eat your own dessert," you scold him but let him collect more bananas from your plate.

"But you don't like bananas," he says in between his chews.

"I don't like bananas but that doesn't mean I can't eat them," you say, but proceed to put the bananas to the side of the plate.

"I'm eating it for you so you only eat what you like," he says with a proud grin.

It's endearing that he still remembers little things like this. The sweet break, your dislike toward a certain and even how many of his fingers you like to have inside you. You can't help but wonder if he remembers other things too. His feelings for you, perhaps?

"Want to order another one?"

The two of you shared and finished the last plate together, even though you feel like you can have another plate, you refuse the offer.

He puts the plates away to the side of the room and returns to the sofa, lifting your legs before he sits next to you and then puts your legs on his lap.

"What's that café with the salted caramel cookies?" He suddenly asks.

"The one with butternut latte?" You ask back to check.

He gently puts his hand on your shoulder and plays with your hair, "Is it still open?"

Damn. He even still remembers that one café you regularly visited when the two of you were still dating.

"Yes," you answer with a smile.

"Man. Those are the best cookies!" he sighs with his fingertips lightly rubbing your thigh.

"I mean, we can go there tomorrow if you want," you casually say or you hope it sounds casual, it's a friendly offer.

He stops playing with your hand and cups your jaw, "I would love to," he says.

From the way his smile slowly dims, you sense a 'but' coming. Oh no, you sense a regret coming. You shouldn't have offered it in the first place.

"But I have to leave tomorrow," he says.

"Oh?" You try to remain unbothered and keep your facial expression in check, "Tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah. I have to take care of a few things back home," he explains.

By back home, he means Australia and he'll fly out tomorrow, and probably for good. You hate that you get sad like it would be the first he's done it to you.

He holds you by the chin and slowly brings your head close to place a chaste kiss on your lips, it's so tender that you feel a tug at your chest.

"Thank you for coming to see me," he sincerely says with his eyes wide and shining for you.

This is where you start losing the objective of why you're here, you came here to solely get fucked, not expecting anything but his cock inside you.

Time to put some sense into your head and laugh it off, "Oh, my God, Chris!" You gasp out loud.

His forehead wrinkles in question, "What?"

"Yes, we can fuck again, no need to try so hard," you say with a sassy eye roll.

Learning that he's being pranked, he squints his eyes at you with his tongue pokes his cheek. While clutching his chest, he says, "Gosh, I thought—"

Before he can finish his sentence, you shut him up with a kiss because you don't want to keep talking about your feelings or get reminded of how things were when you were still together. You kiss him because you want to forget.

"You thought what?" You ask as you sit on his lap.

He licks his lips and shakes his head, "Nothing."

He's more than glad to have you sitting on his lap as it allows him to hold you close. His hands trail the sides of your body until they eventually land on your ass and then eagerly fondle them in his hands. Catching you off guard, he lands a slap on your ass cheek.

"Chris!" You shriek, abruptly stop kissing him, "That stings!"

"Can't help it," he innocently says while laughing and then pulls you close to kiss you again before you scold him more.

As a safety measure, you take his hands from your ass and fold them together on his chest but he takes it to his advantage, he finds another playground for his lewd hands.

Doesn't want to waste time unbuttoning it, he slips his hand under your shirt to fondle your breast, circling his fingers around your nipple before pinching at it.

He then lifts your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool night air, and wastes no time to bury his head in between your mounds. He then pulls the shirt down and hides himself in it, acting like a toddler by purposely placing ticklish kisses on you to make you laugh

"Stop playing," you scold him with your hand tangled in his curls, "Let's go to bed, mmh?"

Chan pops his head out through the opening of the shirt and looks at you, "Kiss me first," he demands.

How can you say no when he looks at you with fondness in his eyes and a smile on his face? You fulfill his wish and place a long, lingering kiss on his lips.

"Can we go now?" You say the second you pull away from the kiss.

"Okay," he obliges.

He gets out of your shirt first and you get off his lap next, then starts walking toward the bedroom when Chan suddenly comes from behind you and hoists you up, looking unbothered carrying you on his shoulder.

"To the bed!" He announces, then slaps the back of your thigh.

"Chris!" You scold again but you can't do anything about it as you hang upside-down on his back.

The bed is already a mess and it seems like it's going to get even messier with the way Chan constantly has you pinned under him. He kisses your lips, softly yet hungrily like devouring an ice cream.

Aware that he has taken his turn, Chan doesn't complain when you flip him over and take it over from him. You're straddling him, rubbing his cock between your slit while he's unbuttoning your shirt open.

You find yourself wet for him again in no time and his cock is as hard as you need it to be, maybe this is why sex with him feels exceptional, the two of you are always horny for each other.

You let out a low, long moan the whole time you lower yourself on him and a seductive chuckle slips out of your mouth the second he's fully buried inside you.

When you look down at him, you find him staring at you with his mouth agape. You slyly smile and place both of your hands on his glorious pecs, "Have you always been this big?"

Chan licks his lips and rests his hands on your thighs, "And have you always been this tight?" He asks back instead of answering.

Being on top gives you the freedom to set a pace you prefer and switch positions as you like, more importantly, you can fully enjoy every bit of it. But it's working because Chan is such a great partner, he lets you have full control and lets you take your time.

If not using his hands to touch you all over, he has his hands folded under his head and quietly enjoying watching you fucking him.

"If you keep clenching around me like that, I might cum too fast," he tells you.

"I'm okay with that," you calmly respond.

To tease him more, you purposely keep clenching around him and rolling your hips in circular motions. Somehow you stop focusing on getting your high and start thinking about how to please him more.

"Oh," he loudly groans and his hand grips at your waist, "You're bad!"

You giggle in response while continuing to roll your hips back and forth in painstakingly slow motion.

"Oh, you're really, really bad," he says with ragged breath.

The sex may not be as hard or as intense as the previous one but it's just as good, even better. Maybe it's the unwavering eye contact, maybe it's the way he hisses every time you tease him, or the way he trusts you to make him feel good.

Whatever it is, you feel like sharing an intimate moment with him and you can't lie, it feels special.

"Are you close?" You ask because you're very close to your climax.

"I've been waiting for you to ask me that," he hastily answers, still able to joke in a heating moment like this.

You take him along with you to the edge and not stopping until the two of you come to your release, you keep moving at a sloppy pace to ride out the high.

Chan pulls you close, forcing you to lower yourself onto his body and accidentally sending his cock to slip out. You don't mind it at first but you can feel his hot cum dripping out of you and onto his abdomen.

You break the kiss and mutter in panic, "It's dripping."

"I'll put it back in," he simply responds, reaching down for his cock and slowly pushes it back into you.

Now that it's resolved, he puts his arms around you again and pulls you even closer until your bodies mold into one another, then kisses you more.

Without looking and breaking the kiss, he pulls the duvet and covers both of your bodies with it, ready to end the night with your bodies still connected.

"Have I told you this?" He suddenly asks.

"What?"

He looks at you with his brown eyes that looks like a nice cup of cocoa, comforting and warm.

"I miss you," he ever softly says.

There he goes again, making you debate whether you came here for the sex or to try to rekindle old sparks with him. But in all honesty, it feels good to know that the yearning goes both ways.

For once, you let your heart answer it for you.

"I miss you too, Chris," you mutter back with a smile.

And now you start debating if seeing him tonight is indeed a bad idea.

There's a wet, squelching sound when you first come to your senses the next morning, you feel like sleeping for another hour or two but you also feel the urge to check what that noise is all about.

You force open your eyes and find out right away the source of that wet, squelching sound, it's coming from Chan and he has his mouth latched to your breast.

"Morning, Chris," you croak as you brush your hair away from your face.

He lets go of your breast with a loud pop and looks at you, "Did I wake you?"

"Not really," you answer, putting your hand in his fluffy bedhead.

"I'm sorry," he says but not looking like it.

"Are you? Sorry?" You jokingly say and lay back on your pillow.

He slyly grins and shifts his focus back to playing with your mounds. He holds your breast up and uses his slick tongue to tease your nipple, alternating between licking and sucking.

It's normal to feel horny in the morning and, you find yourself already wet under there, you guess Chan has been helping himself while you were still sleeping.

Chan's head hangs above your chest and you can see how much he's enjoying your breasts, playing with them like a toddler, he even makes noises as he fills his mouth with your ample flesh.

"Aren't you leaving today? Shouldn't we get up and shower?" You mutter, softly scratching his scalp as you talk.

He sucks at your breast so hard and pulls it before letting it go, grinning as he is satisfied with what he just did.

"My flight is in the afternoon," he says.

"And I'd better go so you can pack—"

"But I already ordered breakfast," he whines like a fussy child.

"Well, we can shower first."

"They'll send breakfast at 8," he shares with a wild grin.

You turn your head to check the time on the clock hanging on the wall, "But it's hardly 7."

"Exactly!" He exclaims.

"Exactly what?" You ask in genuine confusion.

He buries his head in your neck and whispers, "We have an hour before breakfast."

Despite catching on to his intention, you decide to act dumb, "And?"

"And..." he inhales your scent before hovering above you, "I'll have my breakfast first."

He winks at you then goes under the duvet, and settles himself between your legs to have his so-called breakfast and it only makes sense that it progresses to intercourse.

Morning sex offers different things, it's the quiet, the peace, the slivers of morning sun shining through the cracks of the curtains, doing it with a refreshed mind and body, it's also the best way to start the day.

It's even better when you get to be a pillow princess, you just lay back and let Chan do all the handwork. He has your legs locked around his waist as he thrusts into you at a slow yet steady pace and in every thrust, he makes you feel every inch of his length rubbing against your walls.

"This is just great," he says with his face pressed to the side of your head.

"Mmh, what?" You respond as best as you can.

"I don't have to do cardio today," he says with a low chuckle.

This is your favorite kind of sex, do it by not taking it too seriously. Because in your opinion, other than it should be comfortable for the individuals involved, sex should be fun.

You kiss his open mouth and drag your lips down to his neck, then plant your mouth on his skin, sucking at it hard enough to form a hickey on it.

"What's that about?" He's rather dumbfounded instead of annoyed.

"Just trying to make it fair," you coyly say as you point to the blossoming mark he made on your breast.

"Yeah, okay," he says in defeat.

As much as you don't want the sex to end, it eventually ends but in a rather explosive, euphoric way. You feel like you've just been given another chance at life after that last orgasm.

"Who needs coffee, huh?" You sigh as you blankly stare at the ceiling.

It's a rhetorical question but Chan decides to respond to it anyway, "Not me, apparently."

Then you remember that he indeed doesn't drink nor need coffee to function, "Not you, apparently," you correct your earlier remark.

Chan carefully lowers himself on top of you and hastily kisses you, both of your teeth almost colliding.

"Thought I was still dreaming when I woke up next to you," he says, coming with another sentimental remark that evokes something deep within you.

You decide to push it further down and keep it there by saying, "Ugh. It's too early for that," you groan.

Chan weakly chuckles with his head nestled in your neck and just like the universe knows you need the distraction, the knocking comes on the door and it must be the breakfast.

You gently pat his head and say, "Now, go get my coffee!"

The morning continues with a quiet breakfast, it's obvious the reason why, the two of you burnt so many calories last night and need a reload.

Then there's the shower and you strongly refuse to share with him or else, it'll take much time. But Chan has an even stronger will and joins you anyway.

This is another reason why sex with him feels exceptional, the two of you are the same insatiable creatures.

The two of you dressed in silence and at times, catch him watching you, instead of feeling shy, you give him a proper show, bending down and wriggling your ass as you put your underwear on.

Chan enjoys every bit of it, he grins and bites his lips, tempted to come up at you, and goes at it again, but sadly, time is running out.

It's here, this is where it's going to end and you never know when you'll see him again, and that's even if you're still able to. You can only hope that he doesn't see how much you want him to stay.

"This is it then," you say, standing right in front of him in the foyer.

He takes your hand, loosely lacing his fingers with yours, "Can I still text you?"

"Sure," you answer.

"How about phone calls?"

"Booty calls only," you jokingly say.

He smiles and takes a step closer to you, you can almost see every moment the two of you shared last night flashes in his eyes, and it's achingly beautiful.

"Can I kiss you before you leave?"

You plan to make the goodbye as brief and as painless as possible but you don't want to risk losing the opportunity to make it a not-so-sad ending. But if you have to be honest, you simply want to kiss him.

"Okay," you agree with a nod.

You put your arms around his shoulders and let your body molds into him as he holds you close, you tilt your head up and close your eyes.

The moment your lips make contact, your heart bursts open and there's no way of stopping your feelings flow out of it so you let them be. You let him feel your pain, your yearning, and ultimately, your feelings for him that you try so hard to conceal, and then slowly, you pull away from the kiss before they fight their way out of your heart.

It's possible that Chan feels it too, that the kiss feels intimate, the kiss feels emotional, and a little close to the heart. He pulls you into a hug that lasts for a long time as if he tries to convey some unspoken messages too.

"No need to send me off," you tell him, not wanting to make it sadder than it already is.

Chan walks you to the door with his hand on the small of your back and then keeps it open for the final goodbye. You stand facing him and say, "Goodb—"

He puts his finger on your lips to stop you from finishing your sentence, "I'll see you when I see you."

That sounds like he indirectly promises you that one day, he'll come and see you again, and surprisingly, it only makes you uneasy.

You put on a smile and try another way to say goodbye, "Have a safe flight, Chris."

As you get into the back of the taxi, you get these familiar feelings and unfortunately, they're not the good kind. You feel like you went through the same thing before, you feel angry, you feel sad, and lost, and you feel this tightness in your chest that makes it hard to breathe. Then it hits you that it feels exactly like that day he broke up with you, this is the feeling of heartbreak.

In the end, you got your physical needs at the price of having to face your feelings and it all comes down to one conclusion: seeing him was a bad idea.

ONE MONTH LATER

It's like you're trapped in an endless loop, it's the weekend and you're lying on your bed, horny and bored.

Your phone is blaring with notifications and messages, you check and skim through them, they're from your friends or some other miscellaneous, you couldn't care less.

In other words, they're not the notifications you've been anticipating.

Chan has been diligently contacting you, sometimes he texted and when he's not, he calls you late at night because apparently, he's always busy during the day. The point is he always contact you by any means of communication.

However, for these past few days, it's been total radio silence. He's not even looking at the pictures you specifically posted to thirst-trap him. If only he knows how much time and energy you've spent just to get a single flattering shot of yourself. Ugh!

As you're about to spiral down, your phone dings and you consider ignoring it to spare you from getting disappointed all over again.

After a moment though, you cave in. You unlock your phone and get greeted by the very notification you've been dying to get.

What you doin'?

Busy running around in my head? He wrote a corny message and added a crying laughing emoji.

A week of no contact and that's the first thing he said? You scoff in disbelief and just stare at the messages, you've learned to make him wait for your reply and use the time to think of witty, flirty answers to his messages.

Am I running with clothes on or naked? You playfully ask back, giggling as you type it.

I think you know the answer. He wrote back with a winking emoji.

Let's hope I don't catch a cold then. You jokingly write in response.

You should stop cause it does things to me.

One minute he's corny, one minute he's cute, and the rest of the time? Hot, confident, and flirty, and you eat those shit up.

Things like what? You reply.

Like this. He wrote along with a picture.

Intrigued, you hurriedly click open the attachment and it's a picture he took of him in the mirror, wearing nothing but his white underwear. Your eyes feast on his glorious Greek God body, his sculpted abs and broad shoulders, and eventually your eyes flick down to the bulge inside his underwear.

In all honestly, it's the first thing that catches your eye because it's so fucking big and the underwear does nothing but enhance the shape and the size.

All of a sudden, you feel thirsty, literally and figuratively, and Chan knows how to make you keep swallowing air by sending you another picture.

The picture is of the same setting but in a rather different position, he's sitting on a chair, slightly slumped with his legs spread wide open and his hand holding his bulge.

Wish it was your hand.

Did he take a class on how to take good thirst traps and nudes? Because damn! Two pictures are enough to make you feel like an animal in heat.

Can I have it in my mouth instead?

Want to have you in my mouth.

Being straightforward mixed with the drooling emoji always works but what really does it is the one magic word: Please?

A minute later, there's no reply from him but your phone rings, he's calling you and you scramble to sit on the bed. You take a deep breath first before hitting the accept call button.

"Hello?"

"Gosh, I want you so much," He suddenly says, no greetings or small talk first. He goes straight to what he wants and you kind of dig that.

You giggle into the phone and playfully ask, "How much?"

"So fucking much," he emphasizes every word and lets out a heavy sigh after.

"Come and maybe I'll give it to you," you seductively say while playing with the lint on your denim shorts, "Maybe."

He chuckles and then jokingly says, "I'm on my way."

"Don't make me wait long," you play along with him but secretly wish that it's true.

You hear rustles from his end of the phone call and think he's probably calling you while lying on his bed but then, you hear the sound of bustling streets and car horns and—

"You're not really on the way, right?" You nervously ask, twisting the loose thread around your index finger.

"I told you, I'm coming," he coyly says.

Your heart skips a beat but he could be anywhere, he could be driving to work or you know, in a taxi in... Australia. Right?

"Chris..." you meekly call him.

"Yes?"

"Are you in the city?" You ask to confirm his location.

"Suprise!" He exclaims followed by a series of giggles.

Yes, you secretly wish that he was coming, but not now but not now and maybe, not ever because the last time you saw each other, things didn't end well for you.

So seeing him tonight is a bad idea, right?

"Why didn't you—" You don't know how to word it without sounding like you're not grateful for his surprise.

"I want to see you," he says, cutting through your silence, "Do you want to see me too?"

What should you do? You don't want him to come but at the same time, you want him to come. Oh, God, this is so confusing!

You want to lie so badly but your heart won't let you, "I want to see you," you openly admit.

"I'm coming so wait for me, yeah?" He softly mutters.

"Okay," you weakly reply.

"I'll see you in a bit," he says with a smile that you can hear through the phone.

"See you."

The second you hang up the call, you start pacing back and forth in your room. He'll be here anytime soon and it'll be just like that night all over again.

You almost jump when the knock comes on the door and you slowly walk to the door, just standing there with your hand on the knob, debating if you should ignore him and pretend you're not home.

The knocks come again and reflexively, you turn the knob and pull the door open.

There he is in a white shirt and blue jeans, the simplest way of dressing yet somehow, it looks incredibly stunning on him.

"Hi," he says with a sweet grin on his face.

His hair is slightly tousled, he smells incredible and those dimples have the power to make you soften around him almost immediately, they're your kryptonite.

"Hi," you say back, lingering by the doorway.

"Brought you wine," he says, showing the bottle of red wine in his hand.

You tilt your head to the side and fight the urge to jump at him and climb him like a tree.

"That's so nice of you," you say with a smile.

"Can I come in?" He asks, gesturing his head toward the inside of your apartment.

But it's a bad idea, right?

However, you find yourself nodding and you step aside, "You may come in."

Chan steps inside and you close the door behind you after. The second you turn around, he pushes you to the wall and crashes his lips against yours.

And you know what? Fuck it! It's fine.

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ddejavvu · 5 months

Note

Also… your post about ani loving back scratches omg.. you think he’s into like reader playing with his hair too?? His curls, and even when he had short hair like wow I just know that man has the softest hair ever

happy may the 4th! send me star wars requests/headcanons and we'll have a party <3

i pictured this as tcw!anakin's hair because it was like the cutest little baby mullet/shag where it was growing and curling against the nape of his neck and i wanted to scrunch it with my fingers so bad <333

"Keep going."

"Hold on, hold on," You mutter, "My friend's texting me."

Anakin releases a displeased grunt into the fabric of your shirt, and you feel it where it lands warm in your lap.

"Easy," You tap away at the screen of your datapad, pecking letter by letter at what is shaping up to be a lengthy paragraph, "I thought they taught patience at the temple, Jedi Knight. I'll go back to playing with your hair as soon as I'm done."

Anakin grunts again, louder this time.

You don't dignify his dramatics with a response, and you continue typing, the lingering warmth of Anakin's hair fading from your fingertips. He lets you get half of a sentence more in before you feel an invisible tug at your hand, and it relocates itself against Anakin's scalp instead of where you'd placed it on your pad.

"Anakin!" You scoff, "Did you just force my hand back into your hair?"

He lets out a muffled chuckle into your sleep shirt, "Force."

"You are absolutely insufferable," You grumble, but you indulge him with the scrape of your nails against his scalp. It sends a shiver down his spine, and he burrows his face further into your stomach.

"You sound like Obi-Wan," He muses, "I've heard insufferable, incorrigible, reckless, untamable, unmanageable-"

"Unshushable," You add, still making a valiant effort at typing one-handed rather than returning your second hand to its rightful place among Anakin's barely-curled scruff, "Do you ever stop talking?"

"You love the sound of my voice," He accuses, peering up at you with squinted, tired eyes, "That's why you make me read to you at night."

"No, I make you read to me at night because the last thing you read was a users' manual for a landspeeder, and you barely even skimmed that," You scratch against the crown of his head and he groans, "I worry about your literary habits."

"I worry about your hair-playing habits," He reaches out to knock your datapad out of your hand which he drags back into his hair, "Come on, baby, you owe me three books-worth of this."

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker scenario #anakin skywalker oneshot #anakin skywalker one-shot #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker headcanon #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker hcs #anakin skywalker hc #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker dialogue #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut

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peachsayshi · 7 months

Text

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ blessings ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

↬ summary: nanami kento tries to be the perfect husband and father but when a tough night fighting curses ends badly it results in nanami snapping at his daughter.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: nanami x female reader; hurt/comfort; nanami has a daughter; domestic drama; being a jujutsu sorcerer is hard; momotarō is a famous Japanese folk tale :c ↬･ wc: 3,383

↬ notes: hi, everyone! I'm currently not really active at the moment so please don't feel disheartened if I haven't been responding to your messages or tagged posts. I'm taking a small break and only coming online for a bit to catch up on some messages, read fics or queue posts. I'll be back to properly posting and interacting soon but in the meantime I wanted to share that I finished up this draft over the weekend. I was actually debating if I should post this but then just decided to go for it! sending all my love xx

nanami’s head is heavy, completely clouded with despair, and it tints his brown eyes a shade of murky gray. the walls of his beautiful home feel narrow, almost claustrophobic, which explains why he’s struggling to catch his breath right now. stepping into the hallway, he instinctively peeks into the dining area to find you and his daughter eating dinner together. she’s sitting on the chair, her legs far too short to even touch the ground, holding a half eaten onigiri between her small hands. you are by her side, sneakily tidying up after her as you brush away the stray beads of rice trickling onto the table.

a little glow blooms in nanami’s heart at the sight of you both but there is a vicious creature residing in the pit of his stomach that veils the bright light away.

he quietly takes off his jacket, his bruised fingers loosening the tie around his neck. he clears his throat before announcing with exhaustion to you both that he’s finally home.

your eyes meet his, the muscles on your face falling immediately. he can practically feel the blood rushing through your veins as worry washes over you. the reaction makes his chest uncomfortably tight, but he knows that he can’t hide his expressions around you like he used to.

you both move together so fluidly now, like a single body of water that ebbs and flows to its own natural current.

he escaped the night’s fight with a few cuts and a couple of bad bruises, but there is currently a student on shoko’s table who barely made it through. the young man arrived at jujutsu tech only a couple of weeks ago, but his naive and charismatic qualities turned into fatal flaws in the world of sorcery.

he bit off more than he could chew by trying to take on a special grade curse.

shoko promised nanami that she would heal the boy, but admitted there was only so much she can do in regards to the aftermath of his injuries. the sorcerer couldn’t bare to leave him behind, but gojo refused that he stay and insisted that he return back home to his pretty wife and adorable daughter immediately.

“I’ll handle things from here,” is what his superior said, while nanami’s guilt climbed up his throat.

that student was his responsibility...

...and he failed him entirely.

“papa’s home!” his daughter chirps. the pitch of her voice ringing in nanami’s ears to pull him back to the present and far away from the scene where life and death were dancing together in a tango. “papa, look, look...mama and I made onigiri!”

her feet bounces up and down, and there’s a touch of a pink against her cheeks when her mouth stretches into a beaming grin. the innocence in her eyes makes nanami falter and he can feel himself falling deeper into the abyss. for a minute he resents himself for selfishly bringing such a beautiful thing into this world, only to gamble with the fact that she may potentially be in his shoes one day.

he begs for that outcome to never happen, beseeches whatever higher power above him that exists to spare her from this life. she should never have to go through this, never have to experience these heartbreaks that only wither a person down.

“I can see that,” nanami replies in a low voice before shifting his attention to his feet.

right now, he can’t stomach an ounce of her purity, and it radiates around her like a halo. she's so unbothered by his presence, so completely unaware of the sudden change in the atmosphere around her...

“we made tuna, salmon, and veggies...” she babbles on.

“how nice...” nanami curtly interrupts, before anxiously running his fingers through the strands of his messy blonde hair.

“which one do you want, papa?” she questions eagerly, pointing her sticky hands at the plate to show off the selection of triangles.

“sweets,” you interject just as nanami turns on his heel to walk in the other direction, “how about we finish up eating our dinner, and we can save some for your daddy tomorrow...”

“nooo!” she whines far too loudly, which forces nanami to stop dead in his tracks. he glances over his shoulder to see her puffing out her bottom lip with disappointment, “you said...you said we make it so we eat together!”

she’s only six.

she can’t perceive that her father is struggling to hold himself together. deep down inside nanami knows that, but it isn’t enough to keep his cool. he doesn’t know why his daughter’s insistence causes him to pinch the front of his brows with annoyance or why he shoots a frustrated look in her direction.

he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly picturing shoko calling the student’s parents to deliver the news that the man who was supposed to protect their child was unsuccessful in his duty.

he doesn’t know why he feels at fault for everything that happened, even though the circumstances of the events were completely out of his control.

he doesn’t know why he’s imagining himself on the receiving end of a very similar call, or why he can’t stop picturing his precious daughter on that table instead…

all of this pummels into him, and the monster emerges out from it’s cave.

“be quiet and stop making such a fuss.”

his voice comes out sharper than expected, and the expulsion of his frustration allows him to see the crystal clear picture before him.

the room is dead silent.

your face is in full shock at the hissing tone of your sweet husband snapping at his darling baby girl who he only ever speaks to with a gentle voice.

what truly unravels nanami is the look that his daughter is giving him - her angelic features are sullen, but her eyes remain wide with surprise. her bottom lip is slack, and the only sound he can hear is her uneasy breathing. her eyes, the most beautiful gems in existence, twinkle as tears begin to form and she tries to quickly blink them away before turning her attention back to her plate.

nanami doesn’t know he managed to stop time itself but the three of you remain frozen in place.

he regrets his words immediately.

he wants nothing more than to pull his precious girl close into his chest and smother her with apologies. the part of him with sense tells him to follow through and make things right with her, but instead he begrudgingly continues to wallow in his own self pity as he walks over to his room.

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

the house is unusually quiet now, the music of domestic joy morphing into hushed murmurs and whispers outside your room door. you settle your crestfallen daughter into her bedroom before moving to check on your husband next.

fresh out of the shower, nanami is seated on the edge of the bed with his exhausted eyes pressed firmly into the palms of his hands. he exhales a heavy breath, his dirty work clothes still piled just outside the bathroom, and your heart nearly collapses seeing him in such a state of disarray.

you kneel before him, two hands sliding across the soft material of his sweats as you brush them along his thighs before carefully bringing them up to circle around his wrists.

“kento?”

he allows you to pull his palms away but your throat constricts when a band forms tightly around your neck. you swallow the lump with an upturn of your brows as you are greeted with red, exhausted eyes. you cup that handsome face in your hands, your thumbs sweetly motioning back and forth across his cheeks as you try to soothe the tension away.

after all this time together, it hurts you to see that he still tries to hide his tears. nanami constantly holds himself to the highest standard, always ensuring that he can solidify himself as the rock for you and your daughter to depend on through thick and thin. it’s so rare for you to see him crack, to watch him crumble under the overbearing weight of the things that he is burdened to carry.

“you had a rough night,” you point out in a low, sympathetic voice and he simply just nods his head in acknowledgement.

his eyes flutter close again when you lean forward to press a tender, reassuring kiss on his brow. “you want a talk about it?”

the way his voice shakes makes you shiver, but you tentatively listen as he relays the events of the night before finally concluding that satoru called him only a few minutes ago to reassure him that the student in question is alright.

“he lost an eye, but at least he’s alive...” he concludes somberly, the warble in his final statement prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a protective hug.

nanami receives it with gratitude, strong arms circling around your waist as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder and breathes in.

your scent is a reminder of his permanent sanctuary.

a safety, a reassurance of home.

you stroke his blonde locks between your fingers until he exhales, "i'm so sorry," he breathes, "I...I didn't mean to snap like that..."

a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you unravel yourself to cup his jaw into your palms once again. "I appreciate the apology, but I don't think I should be on the receiving end of it..." you hint sweetly.

nanami closes his eyes guiltily. "I'm a horrible father."

you click your tongue with disappointment, your face falling as your disapproval pinches between the space of your brows.

"you're just human," you remind him defensively, "you're a wonderful father, the best man that our daughter can look up to"

"did you see the look on her face?" he replies, his voice unnaturally small. the tender expression he gives you is filled with regret, and it's enough to make your heart ache all over again.

"kento," you contend, "don't do this to yourself. we're both going to have days where we mess up, but that doesn't mean that the problem can't be fixed."

you thread his hair between your fingers, like your brushing through rays sunlight. "she's waiting for me to read her a bedtime story," you explain, "but I'm sure she would rather be with you instead..."

"I doubt that," your husband replies as he reaches for your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.

"we will always love you, kento," you answer back, "unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

he didn't even know how desperately he needed to hear that, for your certainty to remedy away all his sorrows, until they actually left your lips.

your husband's throat tightens, tears pricking his eyes once more but he hides them away when he leans in to seek out a kiss from the woman whose heart he deeply adores.

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

nanami leans his shoulder against the frame of his daughter's room. his heart patters lightly, making him realize that he might actually be nervous. it's strange, he thinks, that he would feel hesitant to approach his own child considering that he was her guardian but nanami had never allowed his professional life to fracture into his personal one like this before.

she's seated on the floor next to a pile of books and her stuffed rabbit secured tightly underneath her arm. there's a warmth in his chest when when he makes note of the soft toy, because he purchased that himself the day she was born and the pair have been inseparable ever since.

he clears his throat, bringing his scuffed knuckles to gently knock on the door.

"my love?" he calls out to her.

his daughter perks up, her breathing changing slightly as it rises and falls with a hint of apprehension. she glances over her shoulder to see him.

"where's mama?" she asks, her question shattering the man into a million pieces at her subtle dismissal.

"taking a shower," he answers cooly, "but I'm here to get you ready for bed..."

her lovely eyes refuse to lock into his own, and she simply tucks her lip between her bottom teeth to avoid giving nanami a reply.

she looks so much like him when he was a child. he remembered when his parents used to scold him too, and how he would also hide away in his room. the only difference is that nanami's parents were far more traditional - a time where elders were never submissive to young hearts.

"may I come in?" he requests politely, ensuring that his daughter knew she had a choice if she wanted to speak to him.

her nostrils flare slightly while she considers him, but to his relief she nods her head eagerly.

nanami steps into her room, always feeling largely out of place amongst her things. "did you find a story for bed?" he asks.

she again quietly nods her head and picks up her favorite book; a compilation of japanese folktales with beautiful illustrations. you both have been reading one for her each night ever since she got it it as a present from her grandparents.

he crouches on his knees to meet her at eye level. "you've really been enjoying this one, haven't you?" he carries on, hoping to coax more words out of her.

“yeah,” she replies in the same mousy voice of uncertainty. she shifts her attention away when she stands on her feet, clutching onto the stuffed bunny tightly while her other hand swings the book by her side.

“and what tale are we reading tonight?”

she shrugs her shoulders with indifference, a hint of pink blushing her cheek. “I dunno. I…I can just until mama is ready…”

nanami visibly slumps. her rejection an entirely new painful experience that he's never endured before. he scratches the back of his head anxiously, finding himself at a loss for words. the seconds pass, an awkward bubble surrounding both father and daughter. it’s only broken when nanami exhales a sigh, and reaches his hands towards her waist to draw her into his frame.

“darling,” he addresses tenderly, “can you look at me?”

“no, you were mean…” she blurts out, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

nanami’s heart sinks.

that’s the first time he’s ever heard those words from her lips.

“I know,” he murmurs shamefully.

her mouth forms into a tiny button of a pout but she meets his eyes for the first time as he acknowledges his behavior.

nanami arches forward to kiss her forehead, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. I’m so sorry if I upset or scared you”

she fidgets with the book in her hand. “did you not want onigiri?” she asks, her innocence tugging the corners of her father’s lips into a small grin.

“it wasn’t the onigiri, my love,” he reassures, “daddy just…had a bad day at work…”

“why was it bad?”

nanami sighs once again.

she still doesn’t know that he’s a sorcerer. you’ve both reduced his position to her by simply explaining that nanami “helps and protects people".

thankfully your daughter doesn’t pry too hard to ask any further questions.

“someone I know got hurt. so, daddy was a little shaken up when he came home…”

"shaken up?"

"scared, my love"

his daughter shakes her head in disbelief, “nu-uh, you never get scared, papa” she rebuts.

nanami huffs out a laugh, flashing her a full grin now as he brings his fingers to his chin to to ponder her sweet statement. he quirks his brow and cheekily replies, "we can't all be brave like you," in an attempt to lighten the mood.

his daughter narrows her eyes towards his hand, her mind instantly distracted with other things already. "you got hurt too papa!" she gasps, dropping the bunny by her side to point at his knuckles.

nanami glances at his fingers covered in red marks.

"wait!" she exclaims as she places the book by his side. "I have something!"

she spins on her heel and rushes towards one of her drawers. meanwhile, nanami just takes her in with his love soaked eyes, watching as she rummages through her stuff with determination until she scurries back his way.

"got it!" she squeaks with a smile, and to his surprise she jumps right into his arms with such nonchalance it nearly make him crumble on the spot.

your voice echoes in the back of his mind: "we will always love you, kento. unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

"mama bought it for me," she explains, regaining her father's attention once more.

nanami rests his cheek on her shoulder, and inhales her powdery scent as he keeps one arm warmly secured around her waist. he watches her peel off the plaster of the band aid, lbefore grabbing his hand and placing it unevenly over his knuckles.

"now a kiss!" she adds, as she brings his hand to her mouth and exaggerates a loud "mwah" sound for emphasis. "mama says the kiss is what makes it all better"

nanami instantly feels significantly better from this remedy of love. he extends his digits out, and looks at the hot pink "hello kitty" band aid that now rests comfortably on his knuckles.

"thank you, my darling," he coos and peppers her cheek with a few kisses before turning her to face him once again. "you made me feel a lot better"

she flashes him an equally large smile in return, showing off her missing teeth.

"I did?"

nanami chuckles as he scoops her up in his arms to give her a well deserved bear hug. she laughs as he stands on his two feet, and sheds away any lingering thoughts of apprehension that may have stuck.

"you always do," he reassures, his soul vibrating back to life when he feels her return his embrace. “you think you can forgive me for how I spoke earlier?”

“yeah,” she confirms and squeezes him just a little tighter. "I love you lots, papa"

"oh, my angel," he hums, "you have no idea just how much I love you too..."

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

after winding down from your evening pampering session, you decide to pass by your daughter's room to check on your little family. you peer through the cracked door to find nanami spread out on your daughter’s bed, with your daughter curled into side and her head resting on his chest.

“did I come from a peach too like momotarō?” you hear her ask, but your heart flutters at the sight of your husband’s pearly whites.

you’ll never get over how much you love seeing him smile with such genuine emotion.

“no,” you hear nanami reply calmly, his finger lightly holding the page open. “you remember your mother explaining how you used to live in her stomach first?”

“oh yeah,” your daughter replies with a hint of disappointment over the fact that she was not birthed from a piece of fruit as mentioned in one of her favorite folk tales.

“shall I carry on?”

“uh-huh,” she answers and she readjusts her position to get even more comfortable. "I think if we look hard enough we might find momotarō..."

"you think so?" your husband wonders with honest curiosity.

"I know so, papa!"

"how many peaches do you think we need to check?"

"hmmm," she mumbles, "maybe a million?"

"a million?" your husband dramatically replies, "that's a lot of peaches don't you think,"

"I mean, it's less than a billion..." she responds quite matter of factly.

you catch his gaze from between the door that’s ajar. his expression fully relaxes, and you smile knowingly in his direction at the sight of father and daughter making up.

“papa?” his daughter questions upon his sudden silence, but your husband keeps his focus on you as he hums in acknowledgement before replying, "you're not wrong, but it'll still be quite a challenge to cut through a million peaches..."

"we might need some help," your daughter adds on.

you blow him a secret kiss as to not interrupt further, and quietly close the door before heading back to your bedroom.

#[peach is away.💌]#[peach queues.🧡]#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x female reader #nanami x ofc #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento angst #nanami angst #nanami hurt/comfort #jujutsu kaisen angst #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction #jjk fluff

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ravengards-rogue · 7 months

Text

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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creganslover · 2 months

Note

Cregan Stark with

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here, okay? I’m not gonna leave you. I’m never gonna leave you.”

cregaaaaaaan <333 sorry if its short!

warning/s: mentions of kidnapping, slight violence, cregan being worried

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You had gotten taken, someone had managed to sneak into Winterfell and had a target upon you, Cregan Stark’s spouse. They were smart enough to attack at the time when Cregan had been off to the Wall to check on his men in training.

All of Winterfell had been alerted of your missing presence, causing alarm and panic from your people, with Cregan left with no knowledge of your taking.

Until a raven had been sent to the Wall.

Cregan was absolutely fuming, the spouse he had promised to return to, that he promised to take care of until snow seeped into his bones- taken at the time of his absence.

His horse took him home, few of his elite men following suit as Cregan was nearly going berserk with worry and agitation, the folk witnessing as their Lord torn the walls apart with his booming voice, demanding as to why his spouse was not guarded that night and why had they let the intruder take them easily.

Cregan began thinking of the possibilities of who could have done this, it could have been anyone, sending out patrols whilst getting no ounce of sleep, mind running million miles an hour. Were you well? Had they hurt you? Or worse, killed you?

Yet the news of an unknown camp sighting came within the sights of Wolfswood, Cregan hopped onto his mount before one could even speak his name.

It had been a long search, a day or three when Cregan and his men narrowed it down and found indeed the camp within Wolfswood, overhearing the men laughing and celebrating the capture of you followed by your cries made his blood run cold.

In a matter of moments, their entertainment was cut short by Cregan appearing, demanding his partner be released or face such consequences, the leader had been surprised and made the mistake of taunting Cregan, not knowing he would go through the Seven Hells and back for his other half.

Cregan gave the signal, and his men came out from the woods, dealing with the goons. Cregan then searched until he had stumbled upon a lone tent, his heart fearing the worst as he neared and grasped the flap of the tent.

There you were, shivering and tied to a post. Thankfully, you did not look too harmed nor defiled, Cregan kneeling as you shook, realizing it was him as he cut off your ropes, wasting no time in embracing his burly frame, shaking in his hold.

Cregan wrapped his strong arms around you, murmuring in his deep voice, clutching you tighter as he rubbed warmth onto your back. “It’s okay,” he began. “They’re gone, it’s okay. I’m right here, okay? I’m not gonna leave you. I’m never gonna leave you.” He told you, shrugging off his own furs to wrap around you.

You can ensure that once you get back to Winterfell, Cregan would punish those who had failed to protect you that night, sending them to the Wall as he replaced them, you had also noticed him be hesitant when he is required to leave you, even for a short while. But as you kept reassuring him when you had felt better and regained your strength and life, Cregan could slowly see your usual self coming back.

Cregan entered your shared chambers, wanting nothing more but to get back to you after his responsibilities, shrugging off his cloak of furs before he joined you on the bed. “Are you alright?” He always asks, holding onto your hand.

Leaning in to nuzzle against his form, you sighed in content as you placed your hand over your man’s chest. “I am, do not worry.” You reassured.

“Thank you, Cregan.” You voiced after a beat of silence, which he returned with placing his lips against yours, giving your hand a light squeeze.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

cregan tag-list: @misswynters

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark

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pomefioredove · 3 months

Note

hello dovee! I saw the "I'd look good on you." and immediately thought of vil! if I could please request for that? THANK YOU SO MUCH🍰stay creative!

thank you everyone for feeding me vil requests. I got a little crazy with this one

summary: "I'd look good on you." type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, a little suggestive a part of this event

"No, no, no, no. Wrong, dreadful,"

You dodge another designer handbag as it goes flying across Vil's room, joining the growing pile of clothes behind you.

"Why is this so difficult?" he groans, storming out of his closet. "I have not a SINGLE decent thing to wear for this interview."

You look over your shoulder, watching him as he begrudgingly begins to clean up the mess he'd made.

"I think you're stressed,"

Vil pauses midway through sliding a silken shirt back on its hanger to glare at you.

"Another excellent observation," he says dryly. Then, a sigh.

"Sorry. I've been wanting to work with this director for years... I don't care for this role, but if the film does well, he'll likely want to work with me again... How's this?"

He holds up a glittery purple dress in front of him. You blink.

"...Good,"

"Ugh," he scoffs, tossing it aside. You don't know how many more times you can tell him he looks good in everything before he kicks you out.

"What is the role, anyway?"

Vil rolls his eyes, catching onto your attempt to distract him. He indulges, anyway.

"Another villain, although this film is more of a..." he pauses, gesturing vaguely. You stare. "...A young adult movie."

"So it's bait for teenage girls?"

"...Essentially,"

He sighs again, cleaning up the last of his temper tantrum and sorting it in his massive closet.

"Thus my role is more... provocative, we'll say. Which is fine, if not for the fact that I feel I did horribly,"

"I'm sure you didn't,"

"I'll be a laughing stock, this director will never work with me again, and I'll become one of those pathetic, washed up former child stars by age twenty-one,"

That feels... a tad overdramatic, but you don't mention it.

"That's not going to happen," you insist. "I'm sure you make a great... provocative... villain!"

Vil sighs, returning to the bedside to sit with you. For a brief moment, you can feel him staring, but you say nothing of it.

"You haven't even seen it," he mumbles, finally looking away. "I only have half an hour... I feel completely unassured."

You can't help but feel pity. Before knowing Vil, you had stupidly assumed that most celebrities are confident by nature, exuding grace and certainty.

Now...

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Vil quiets, seeming to consider the offer. "...May I use a line on you?"

You're not exactly sure what he means by that, but it can't be anything too painful. He only has half an hour, after all.

You nod.

Vil smiles, then turns away. He takes a deep breath... you've seen this before. He's getting into character.

It's very effective.

When he turns back, his expression is completely different. And his body language. Even his very presence has shifted.

You've seen this before, you remind yourself. The dangerous, menacing facade that he's known for, that makes his roles so iconic...

But he's also smiling, his eyes lowered, a pleasantly amused look about him.

His hand finds its way to the bed on your other side, effectively caging you between his arms. And then he moves in, guiding you down onto the mattress and leaning over your body.

This is your friend. You're just helping him. There's nothing to be nervous about.

Despite what you tell yourself, you can feel the effect he's having on you.

He can tell, too.

Vil tuts, his free hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Scared?" he asks. His voice is gentle, though there's a lingering danger behind it.

"Poor thing... I won't bite,"

He leans closer, his other hand intertwining with yours and keeping it pinned to the mattress, hot breath pressing against your ear.

"I'd look good on you," he whispers.

You know you shouldn't interrupt him, but you can't stop the nervous, flustered whine that comes out of your throat.

Vil breaks character, beaming, and gets off of you.

"Oh, my..." he grins, studying your expression. "You were right. I was worried over nothing."

He stands, smoothing out his clothes, and strides towards the closet to change, leaving you flustered senseless on the bed until he returns.

"How do I look?" he asks.

Of course, perfect. He always looks perfect. And now that he's confident again, gorgeous.

He smirks. "I'll take your silence as a compliment, potato. Thank you for the boost... I'll be back to pick up where we left off in a few hours,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #queued

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arlertwhore · 1 month

Text

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

warning(s): nsfw/18+, fighting (verbal/physical), toxic relationship stuff, fingering, thigh riding, pussy eating, squirting,

synopsis: the bitchy, possessive, and temperamental gf who paige thinks she can handle proves her right!

word count: 2.4k

Author Note: got my first lil hate comment the other day 😜 i feel like an actual writer now lmao! here goes draft #6, comin’ in lit 🔥

Fuck knows what you're complaining about this time. She's straight from practice — from a rigorous, exhausting, and intense practice, frustrated with her own performance, only to find you waiting at the door, already irritated about something entirely. Perhaps it was how she didn’t answer you at all today—or how you saw her looking too close for comfort to another 'fan' as she claimed, though you never trusted it—or maybe she even fucking sighed at you the wrong way upon entering through the door because the littlest of things ticked you off—you—her bitchy, demanding, and infuriatingly sexy girlfriend, whom Paige has to constantly remind herself she willingly got involved with, knowing full well she was signing up for the being the figurative property of the brattiest, bossiest, most high-maintenance girl on campus.

"Are you even listening to me?!" you fume as Paige storms past you, stripping a trail of her clothes all the way to the bathroom, letting her hair fall loose from its low bun as she saunters away from your chaos, massaging her temples.

"Seriously, Y/N, now's not the time, I gotta-" - "I don't give a fuck!" you explode, chasing after her and grabbing her arm to spin her back around. "I don't care about your shitty day or your shitty excuses. Why the fuck didn't you text me back, hm?" Paige sighs, avoiding your eyes with an air of exasperation, her gaze shifting to the ceiling in an attempt to not roll them. At her silence, you feel your anger boil over, frustration evident in the clenched fist at your sides and the tense set of your jaw. "You're the fucking worst, Paige!" you snap, "You think just because I'm understanding that means you can take pictures with all these other bitches, post all on your Instagram, but then NOT text me back!"

Paige knew she was the man, the kind of person who could handle any challenge, which is why she thought dating someone like you—a real piece of work—would be a good match. She believed you could keep her on her toes, pushing her to become mentally stronger, more confident, and dominant—qualities she hoped would shine on the court, but on days like this, when you demanded drama and chaos, she wondered if she was truly cut out for it. Her honest, no-bullshitting, no-pretense attitude of: My girlfriend is so sexy opinion? Nah. And she promptly proved that stance when she spat out, “Alright, I’m sorry, baby… Is that what you want me to say? That I’m sorry I have things to do and you act like a bitch about it?” her voice venomous and defensive, stunning you. “Man, get the fuck out of my way right now. I don’t feel like fighting with you, for real,” she demanded, trying to brush past you. You couldn’t believe she actually spoke to you like that—she was usually so considerate of your feelings. In a fit of rage, you squared up to her and pushed her back by her shoulders with a strength you didn’t know you had over the 6ft wall of strength she was. Growling, you commanded, “You’re gonna stand here until WE’RE done talking!”

Paige stands with her hands on her hips, clenching at her sides with such restraint that her basketball shorts ride up, revealing her boxers underneath. She warns, "Stop playin' with me, yo. Step aside." and as she advances again, trying to get to the bathroom door behind you, you block her path, arms crossed and eyes flashing. Sneering, you challenge defiantly, "No. What are you gonna do if I don’t step aside, P? Hm? You gonna hit me?"

She takes a deep breath, drops her head, and shakes it exasperatedly before a light chuckle escapes her, broad shoulders bouncing. “Whatever, ma,” she mutters, turning around and picking up the clothes she’d left scattered on the floor. “I’m gonna go shower at Mikayla’s — forget this.”

You don’t have enough time to be angry about her saying she’s visiting Mikayla’s house—the slut you’d warned her to stay away from. Instead, you sprint to the front door, grab her keys off the rack, and hide them behind your back. Coldly, you say, “You’re mine, Paige. Turn around and get your ass in bed, NOW! You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Paige knows you and your past well enough to recognize that you aren’t joking about this possessiveness. However, she’s far from intimidated at the moment. Instead of backing down or appeasing you like she usually does for her princess, she glares at you with a fiery defiance. Her voice is firm as she refutes, “Give me my keys, Y/N.”

You gaze at her, a smirk forming on your face as you watch her façade of nonchalance crumble. Her face turns a subtle red, veins bulging in her hands as she holds them open, waiting for the keys, her lips curled inward and cheeks hollowed. She stands there expectantly, like a statue, until you bristle as she seizes your wrist, slamming it against the door while reaching for the keys with her other hand. Instinctively, you counter with your free hand, pushing her away. She’s lost her calm and collected demeanor. It’s scarier how she doesn’t run but still chases you with the relentlessness of a predator. Her eyes blaze with determination as she follows your running with a steady, purposeful stride. You taunt, “Come and get it, doggy! Yeah, you little bitch!” luring her toward the bathroom, the only room in the house with a lock, and Paige knows exactly what you’re up doing. Just before you can slam the door in her face, Paige lunges for it and forces it open, stepping inside and backing you against the door. This time, she tries a different approach to get the keys—she clasps your waist, holding you in place with her knees pressed against your smaller legs, effectively immobilizing you. As she tussles with you for the keys, you keep a tight grip on them. The struggle is fierce, and you're both panting in each other’s faces, exchanging only ragged breaths. You finally manage to break free from the bathroom and run for the bedroom with Paige hot on your heels. As you glance over your shoulder to see where she’s at, you realize too late that she’s no longer focused on reclaiming her keys. With a swift tackle, she takes you down onto the bed, pinning you there and forcing you into submission. The keys fall out of your hand, but Paige remains on top of you, her anger unrepairable as she growls, “Wanna bitch at me like that when I’m tired?” Her big hands begin to untie your nightrobe. “Wanna piss me off when I’m trying to be nice about things?”

She moves with an almost animalistic quality, yanking you down the bed by your legs and sending your clothes flying off with the force of her pull, baring your body to her hungry blue eyes. She hisses against your neck, “Little bitch?” and you nod rebelliously, “Yeah..fuck,” you heave, “look at you, so pissed, hm?” Her words are unbearably sexy when she vows, “I’ll show you a little bitch.” Mere moments later, she’s seated on the edge of the bed, with you draped over her lap like a ragdoll. You’re writhing, still trying to resist, biting and clawing at her thighs, but Paige’s grip is unyielding. Under her strength, you’re completely powerless.

Her hands spread your ass open, giving her a clear view of your dripping pussy. She chuckles cockily, the smirk evident in her voice even though you're not looking at her when she drawls, “This is why you’re really bitchin’ out, huh, ma?”

You whine at her words, stuttering and squirming, “Let me go, Paige, f-fuck!”

She tuts dismissively. “Aw, but that’s not what you really want, baby... you just need this pussy fucked, don’t you? To get fucked back to your senses—make you my good girl again, my princess...” she purrs, her fingers sliding through your slick and teasing your asshole. Then you hear the dirtiest, most sinful suck of fingers in her mouth you’ve ever heard.

Hips arched high with her strong arm restraining you from running, pressed firmly into your lower back, punching pressure deep within and outside of you, all aligning on the inside, she works her fingers into your soaking wet cunt with precision. She curls and bruises against your walls, relentlessly hitting that spot that makes you squirm like a torture puppet and cry out, "Ah!" for your dear life.

Her smarmy, taunting response? “I know, baby, I know, fuck… too tight for it, I know,” she bellows, feeding off your whimpers and whines with a sadistic delight. That smirk on her face—the one you wish you hadn't turned back to see—tells you she's savoring this victory a little too much and has no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if you've clearly accepted that you're the little bitch. “Please,” you plead, sinking your nails into her thigh, but it doesn’t seem to perturb her in the slightest—if anything, it only eggs her on, makes her devilishly speed up. “It won’t happen again—I-I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry,” you submit, hoping for some mercy, but she’s unforgiving. She chuckles darkly, yanking you up by your hair so you’re forced to look her in the eye, even if hers aren’t fully focused on yours, watching how your tits bounce as she fucks you senseless. “One more time,” she stares at them, biting her bottom lip with a smirk before she refocuses and demands it sternly. Without hesitation, you repeat it louder before she even finishes her command: “I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry!” She smirks, her grip tightening. "I know you won't. Not after I'm done with you." She releases your head, and you fall forward hard, your back arching under what feels like tons of weight as she drives into you overwhelmingly, making you cry out in shock. "Shit!" you gasp, involuntarily pushing back against her long fingers to soften the blow and the jam, so forcefully that your ass claps with each thrust as she fucks into you.

“Say my name, baby, who’s fucking you,” Paige demands. You groan, clenching around her thick, long fingers and spilling spurts of slick arousal as you pant, “You, Daddy!” Paige tilts her head, unsatisfied. “Nah.” Her hand, once forcing down your back, quickly wraps around your throat, clasping firmly as she whispers, “Tell me, Ma.” With the blonde holding you tightly, despite your attempts to escape, with no leverage, she easily grips you by the throat like a puppet, forcing you back onto her fingers with insane speed and force. She thrusts into you even faster, your clit now grinding against her thigh. You hike a leg up in a desperate attempt to run or crawl away, but she's got you firmly in place.

“Paige! Paige, Paige, Paige, you’re fucking me!” you cry out.

“And you like it, baby? Like how my fingers feel fucking that tight pussy?” she taunts, flexing her leg muscles and increasing the friction.

“Aww shit,” you moan strainedly, feeling the familiar coil in your stomach emerge. Your body still tries to crawl away, but your brain forces you to stay put, losing all the air inside you.

“Stop fucking running, ma, take it,” she commands. “Take it, baby, just cum for me, kay? Cum for me, give me your cum.”

You listen to the sound of your cunt, feel it pulsing and clenching around her fingers before you give up and stop fighting and allow all the pleasure crash over you, your body convulsing as your orgasm hits. You gasp and cry out, surrendering to the intense sensation as your cunt tightens rhythmically around her fingers, your clit throbbing against her thigh. She fucks you through your orgasm, continuing even after that, giving you no recovery time, no chance to catch your breath before she has you on your back, legs still spread and a wet mess beneath you. Leaning in, she murmurs, “Be good for me, be still, kay? Let me clean you up—jus' lemme taste you, baby.”

Your hand comes up to cover your face, crying out as you feel her tongue glide through your folds. Gripping onto her hair tightly, you sob—a genuine cry from the overstimulation. Through your tears, you manage to gasp, “Fuck, baby, it hurts so good, ugh!”

You shout and clamp your legs shut, burying her with a guttural scream once her fingers scissor your folds and hold them open, her tongue flicking exactly against your clit, making direct contact.

She pries your legs open inhumanly, like an uncaring monster, her voice resounding and vibrating in your cunt, "Hold your ankles in the air." a command.

You obey, and she’s even nice enough to help, her strong arms holding your legs apart as she laps and slurps up all your cum like she’s parched, her swallows audible and incredibly sexy.

You look down at her and watch her head shake around wildly, losing herself in the abyss, entranced. You try to push her away by bucking into her face, hands occupied, but you end up unintentionally pushing her closer instead. You whine out desperately, your toes, nipples, and cunt especially on fire. "Pl-PLEASE!" you gasp, "I c-can't, I’m gonna—" Her fingers replace her tongue on your clit, while her tongue dips inside you as she murmurs, "Mhm," You cover your face, and the last thing you hear before you pass out is the frantic noise of her tongue fighting to slip even deeper inside you. There’s the sound of a leak, then the subsequent opening of your eyes after what feels like days. You look down at your girlfriend to find her face glistening in a pool of arousal, juices smeared everywhere. Her first instinct? To lick around her mouth, trying to savor the taste as she smiles at you smugly, knowing she’s clearly gotten her point across to your fucked-out self.

Needless to say, Paige has proven herself to you as she knew she would always: she is NOT someone to be underestimated.

MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: uhh so i reread this and i just wanna know if anybody else reading this who writes, is it crazy i reread my own work and blush at it like a viewer 😅 am i a freak guys 😅😅😅 do you do that too?? ANYWAY GUYS PLS INTERACT WITH ME ILY ALL MWAH!

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schrodingerscougar · 7 months

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Part two for this one. I'm sorry for the cliffhanger in the first part. The illustration is from the amazing @ave661 .

Four months. That’s how much time it took Simon to get out of that hazy fugue state. He didn’t really remember what he had gone through during that time, his brain switched to autopilot after the breakup. He often wondered why it affected him this much when he didn’t even love you. You were just someone he spent time with, someone he tried to play house with for a short while to feel normal.

Still, now as he lay on his bed, watching the ceiling fan rotate to stir up the hot air in the room, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He even found himself opening a social media app to search for your name from a fake account he had set up a long time ago, and he was shocked to see the most recent photo of you. It was impossible to miss the unmistakable shape of a baby bump under your shirt, and based on its size, you got pregnant long months ago.

When he was finally allowed to go home for a short while, Simon went to see you. He knew he had hurt you, he knew you were probably still mad at him, but he had to know if it was his child. It only happened one time. One night when he tried to fix things by giving you what you wanted, hoping sex could make him see you in another light. Maybe he would finally want you the way you always wanted him to want you. But it didn’t work, and it was after that night he made the final decision to end things with you.

“What do you want?” you asked him when you opened the door.

Simon nodded as he bit the inside of his cheek. This cold welcome was fair enough, he deserved this kind of treatment. Normally, he would have left you alone. But normally, you would have told him you were pregnant.

So he silently pointed at your belly and waited for you to realize what he wanted. He knew you weren't dumb, the pieces would fall into place in a second. And sure enough, you let out a sigh then opened the door wider to let him in.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked you as he stood in the kitchen next to you with his arms crossed.

You were busy making him a cup of tea, but you took the time to silently shrug. When he let out a heavy sigh, you looked over at him and said, “I didn't think you'd care, Si. Simple as that.”

You were right. He didn't care. Even now that he was looking at you, his eyes occasionally moving to the bump that hid his own blood, his mind was somewhere else. He was a soldier, he knew how to take responsibility for his actions. You getting pregnant was his fault too. He couldn't just ignore the problem.

“I’ll pay child support,” he assured you.

“No need.”

Simon reached out to put a hand on the base of your neck, but you quickly pushed his hand away before he could touch your skin. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

You inhaled through your nose and held your breath in for a few seconds before finally exhaling. “So what? You’re gonna be around and help us? Take her to a doctor’s appointment or for a stroll around the block?” When you saw him looking down at his shoes, you couldn’t help but snort. “Thought so,” you said.

“I’ll better get going. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Months flew by, but Simon barely noticed. He was on a mission again far from home, risking his life as usual. You never called and he didn’t force it. He accepted that he would have to live with the guilt of making this happen. Since you didn’t want to accept child support, he opened a bank account where he stored that money, hoping that one day he could give it to you or his daughter when she became old enough.

One day he checked your social media accounts like he had done a few times before, just to see how you were. This is when he saw the post in which you announced the arrival of your baby girl. He didn’t make a big deal out of it at first. She was born and she would probably ask about her father one day. If he was still alive then, he would gladly give her a toned down explanation. If not… Well, he left everything to her in his will.

Eventually he began to save the photos of his daughter and he often found himself looking at them. She was adorable, some of her features resembling his own. Her big brown eyes were definitely his; the color and the shape were both so familiar to him.

No one from the team knew about this part of his life. He had never told anyone, because why would he? They were close, they were his brothers, but you and your daughter were carefully guarded secrets in his life. Simon knew the real reason why he never talked about you; he was afraid of the judgmental looks and words.

Two months later, when he entered his apartment again after another round of deployment, Simon didn't really know what to do with himself. He ended up looking at his daughter's photos more and more often and eventually he made up his mind to give her a visit. It had absolutely nothing to do with you. He was doing this for the little girl.

You weren't welcoming but, once again, he couldn't blame you. “I just want to see my daughter,” he said softly, hoping the two of you could avoid fighting.

For long moments you were cautiously watching him, as if you were trying to decide if he could be trusted or not. But then your eyes fell on the big teddy bear he was holding with one hand and you let out a sigh of defeat.

On the way to the nursery, you didn't talk at all. The silence didn't bother him, but still he would have appreciated some words about the little girl he was about to meet. Was he allowed to pick her up? Did she like to be held? How was she? Did she have stomach ache often? Were she teething?

“Be quick,” you warned him when you stopped by her crib.

Simon let out a sigh. “Come on, don't be like that.”

You just rolled your eyes at him before taking a step back to lean your shoulder against the doorframe, arms folded over your chest, eyes watching his every move like a hawk. He found it a little too much, he hated that you didn't trust him. Sure, he hadn't given you many reasons to trust him, but for the sake of your daughter you should have tried.

With a sigh, he rested an elbow on the side of the crib and reached out to touch the baby as gently as he could with his other hand. His own flesh and blood. It was amazing, really. Without asking for permission, he picked her up and couldn't help but smile when the baby smiled at him.

Now that he was holding her close to his body, placing soft kisses on her head every so often, Simon couldn't deny that he already loved his daughter. There was an invisible string between them, something that brought her closer to him that anyone has ever been.

The baby giggled suddenly and it brought an even wider smile to Simon’s face. He could only hope you would let him see her as often as he could visit, but something told him it wouldn't be easy to convince you.

“She likes you,” you suddenly noted.

He put down the little girl then turned to you. “The feeling's mutual.” A faint smile appeared on your lips. “Can I see her some other time?” You nodded. “Thank you. If I can help with anything, just give me a call or send a message. I'll get back to you as soon as I can,” he offered.

You been to walk out of the room and he quietly followed you, waiting for you to say something. He didn't really know what he was expecting to hear, but he had a feeling you were holding back something. And sure enough, after a few minutes of silence you began to talk, scolding him for not even bothering to send at least a text to ask about her before suddenly showing up.

“I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd read them.”

“I'm mad at you, that's true,” you agreed.

Simon leaned against the doorframe as he watched you pace in the living room like a caged animal. He remembered those nights he had spent thinking about on deployment, the moment he saw that photo of you, and he realized that maybe he was missing you.

But how could he miss someone he didn't even love? Or had he developed feelings for you, feelings he tried to hide even from himself? It was way too confusing for him, and he didn't like to be confused. It was a weakness on the field and in his civilian life.

“I should go. If you need anything–”

You came to a halt, turned to him and nodded. “I know where to find you. But can I ask you something?” Simon motioned you to go on. “Why now? Why did you become interested in her all of a sudden?”

He let out a thoughtful hum as he put his hand on the back of his neck. “I saw the photos, how much she looks like me, and… I don't know.” You took a few steps closer to him, but you still kept a comfortable distance. “I've been saving money for her. I want to give you access to that bank account.”

“I don't need your money,” you were quick to say.

“It's for her. Please, accept it.”

You became mad at him, accusing him of assuming you couldn't take care of your daughter you'd been raising on your own from day one. He knew there was no point in defending himself, you were too lost in the hate you felt for him. So he just waited there in silence, letting you finish your speech.

Then, the moment you seemingly finished, he closed the gap between the two of you. He didn't know what he was doing, he just followed his instinct when he leaned down and kissed you. This was probably the first time he truly enjoyed kissing you, and it helped a lot that you were quick to return it.

Maybe this was why he wanted to come here today. To fix things. To try to get a family he'd been craving ever since he lost his own.

(part three)

#ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #simon riley #mw2 #mw3 #modern warfare #simon riley x reader

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solar-wing · 10 months

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⚣ Five & One 💪🏻

⚣💪🏻 A/N → This is a re-post and, once again, it was inspired by this post by @gone-batty-fics. I'm leaving the full NSFW version up here since it's not that much, so no need for an extra link. I hope you guys enjoy reading this around a second time and sorry if any of you have been missing it. This was my most popular post on my previous account and I'm sad I gotta start it over, but oh well. WARNINGS: Breathplay/Choking, Implied Size Kink, Jealous and Possessive Behavior, Rough Anal, Violence, etc.

⚣💪🏻 Summary → Five times people thought you needed rescuing from your boyfriend, Jason Todd. And the one time, someone needed rescuing from you.

⚣💪🏻 Words → 7.8k

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

Also, vote in my Omegaverse/Yandere poll here!

⚣ ENJOY 💪🏻

Okay, you got it.

Your boyfriend was a very intimidating and scary guy when he wanted to be. But, that didn’t mean people had to keep asking you if you needed saving like you were some damsel in distress. You weren’t even a damsel! You were a damsmen. Damsman? A Damson?

Oh, forget it. Point still stands, people needed to stop treating you like you needed rescuing. You were fine! Besides, when he wasn’t out hunting criminals, Jason was literally the least threatening person in the world. It was you bitches should be worried about! And if bitches didn’t believe you, bitches could just find out on their own.

Bitch.

The first time wasn’t bad. You considered it actually sweet and could see how under the circumstances someone was not aware of the dynamic between you and the vigilante.

It was a sunny day in Gotham for once. Everyone was out, enjoying the sunshine while having barbecues in the parks, strolling down the street in sunhats and sandals, and going swimming at the local pools. You were no different, seeing the usual moody and depressing atmosphere absent from the sky and deciding immediately to take advantage of it and drag your boyfriend Jason out, making the whole day a date between you two.

You and Jason decided on simple outfits since the sun was out and the temperatures were warmer than usual. You decided on a regular button-up, leaving the top three buttons down to show some skin, which your boyfriend both loved and hated since he could ogle your chest with no shame, but anyone else could do the same. You paired it with some boat shoes and simple shorts that did an excellent job hugging your ‘boo-twah,’ a nickname Jason gave your ass for its large-hand-friendly size, as he liked to say.

“Instead of like boo-tee, it’s boo-TWAH. It’s just out there.” He explained one morning when you had spent the night at his place. Jason, sitting and ogling at his boyfriend in his well-fitted yoga pants and sleeveless hoodie while you made breakfast.

“You are such a nerd.” You laughed at him.

“Well, this nerd scored big,” He responded before landing a heavy smack on your behind, which you chastised him for since he made you almost fling the eggs you were scrambling out of the pan.

Back to the sunny day, Jason dressed simply too but was more relaxed than you. He went for a comfortable pair of joggers, one of his nicer gym shoes, and a tank top covered by a sleeveless hoodie since he got hot easily.

A few months after you and Jason got together, he told you about his double life and his family’s. It explained why when he would spend the night at your house a few times, you’d play doctor while wondering where he was getting all these bruises and wounds. As you and Jason grew closer and began to explore your ‘interest’ in each other’s bodies, you’d find he was actually shy about his body even though the man was built like a tank.

It wasn’t necessarily his body he was ashamed of. It was his scars he actually didn’t like. All things he saw as painful reminders of his more than rough past, especially the bigger ones he had received from Joker. You were patient with him and reminded him at every possible chance that his scars were nothing to be ashamed of. Instead, they were to be celebrated and seen as trophies. Reminders that in the face of everything thrown at him, he came out on top stronger than ever.

Over time, Jason became more confident and comfortable in his body. He bought more shirts, tank tops, and shorts that showed his arms, chest, and legs. Even going as far as cutting the sleeves off some of his hoodies since you owned many pairs, and he loved how they looked on you. He’d prefer to wear yours, but since you were much smaller than him, he’d end up stretching or ripping them. Now, you were no dainty stick or anything like that. You had some meat on your bones and were taller than the average guy. But again, Jason is built like a tank and very much dwarfed you in size.

You weren’t complaining.

He also loved the benefit of the sleeveless hoodies as they made him look more intimidating, which helped whenever he noticed other guys and girls at the gym ogling you a little too long for his liking. He didn’t care who it was, Jason would always look out for and protect you.

Yet, others seemed to see it differently as you walked down the street in Gotham, going in and out of the various stores. You were both sipping on some slushies while chatting about whatever, Jason holding your shopping bags in one hand. You tried to snatch the bags from him multiple times since you didn’t want to feel like Jason was your butler or servant. Besides, you worked out too. Look at your arms! You could carry Jason if you wanted to.

Okay, yes, you knew that was a lie but you were allowed to dream. You’d get there…someday.

“Jason, give me my bag. I can carry it myself!” You said, trying to reach for the bag again.

“Sorry, Bugs, you know the rules. You’re not allowed to carry anything in my presence. Well, except my love for you. That’s heavy enough as it is.” Jason said with a cheeky smile.

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s corny behavior and another one of his nicknames for you. You’d made the mistake of bringing Jason around your best friend during a study session for one of your classes. He revealed your childhood obsession with Looney Tunes and how many times when you reacted to a situation, you were a carbon copy of Bugs Bunny with his sarcasm and behavior.

“Get away from me dude,” You said, putting distance between yourself and the brick wall of a man.

“Ah, get back here.”

Jason grabbed you by your waist and pulled you to his side, nuzzling his face into your neck while tickling your sides.

“Jason, stop!” You shouted in laughter, trying to push him away.

“Never! You are now my hostage.” He joked back with you.

You stood there for a few more seconds wrestling with each other on the sidewalk. Someone should really scold you two for acting so cutesy and loving out and public like that. WE GET IT! You’re in love! Stop rubbing it in our faces.

When you broke apart, you found yourselves outside a bookstore. You saw Jason’s eyes light up even if his face didn’t show it. He turned towards you, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes and pout.

“Oh, get in there you dork. But, don’t max out your dad’s credit card!” You said, successfully pushing him off you.

He leaned down to plant a kiss on your lips before shooting into the store like the Flash. “No promises!” He yelled over his shoulder.

While he was in the store living out his childhood fantasy, you decided to let your ankles rest since you had been on them for a few hours. Jason offered to carry you at one point, and though it was tempting, you declined.

You sat on a nearby bench while scrolling on your phone for a bit. Your head shot up when you spotted someone approaching you from the street. It was two girls, both who looked to be in their late 20s to early 30s, carrying concerned looks on their faces.

“Hi!” You spoke with a smile, waving to the women walking up to you.

“Hey, are you okay?” One of them asked when they got to you.

Now, you had a confused expression on yours.

“I’m sorry?” You responded with a puzzled eyebrow raised.

“We were across the street when we saw that guy grabbing you. We can walk with you to the police station if he’s harassing you.” The other woman said.

‘Were these chicks on crack?’ You thought.

“Um, I think there’s been some confusion–” You started but was interrupted by the door swinging open, an excited Jason springing out of the store.

“BABE! THEY’VE GOT A MINT-CONDITIONED PRIDE & PREJUDICE! Can I get it?! Please!!!” Jason shouted while running up to you and grabbing you by your arms.

You could barely keep off the amused smile on your face while looking around your boyfriend’s shoulder to see the two girls looking shocked and embarrassed by your giant for a boyfriend, begging you for a book like a kid.

Jason turned around as well, seeing the two women staring at you two while he just pulled you closer to his body, wrapping his arms around you.

“Who are your friends, Bugs?”

“Just some nice girls being friendly,” You answered before using your hand to turn Jason’s head back toward you. “Don’t you already have three copies at home, Jason? Why do you need another?”

“Okay, but those are all old copies and are falling apart. This one is BRAND NEW! Never been opened. Please!!!”

You could only sigh at his antics before turning back to the girls, “I’m fine, ladies. But, thank you for asking.”

They both nodded with embarrassment before walking off down the street, Jason watching them with a confused expression before looking down at you.

“What was that about?”

“Don’t worry about it.

This one also wasn’t so bad, but it was still annoying.

Your parents were out of town for a month for their anniversary, so you invited Jason over. When he got there and saw how your cupboards and fridge were damn near empty, he was upset at you for not telling him you had no food and your parents for not supplying you with anything.

Truth be told, they literally just forgot to go before they left. Jason always wondered where you got your forgetfulness from. Now, he knew.

So, he dragged you to your local wholesale store once again with his adoptive father’s credit card to stock and load your cabinets so you wouldn’t go hungry. Well, really so, Jason wouldn’t go hungry since he would be spending a lot of time at your place now. Again, the man was like a mountain, so of course, he ate like one.

You had been in the store for about 15 minutes, and already your cart was damn near half-full.

“Jay, don’t you think this is enough? We don’t have to get a bunch of stuff today.” You voiced, eyeing the growing basket with concern.

“Bugs, you can’t stay in your house for a month and not have any food. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you go hungry?” He responded while grabbing four boxes of your favorite cereal brands off the shelf and placing them neatly in the basket.

If it’s one thing that shocked you to learn about Jason was that he was very clean and organized with anything. You expected that trait more out of his brothers like Tim or Damian. But in truth, Tim was more of an organized chaos type of guy, and Damian was very simplistic, so he didn’t really need to organize much, except for his drawings and paintings, which he sometimes left scattered all over his desk.

Dick was a mess that couldn’t be saved. God bless the soul that ended up with that man.

But Jason was the cleanest out of all of them. The man could barely go two days without scrubbing down or re-organizing something. Again, you weren’t complaining. Every time he came over, he’d clean your room without you even asking.

“Okay, but my parents did leave me money to order out. Plus, I don’t want Bruce thinking I’m using you for money, or anything like that, especially since you keep taking his credit card.” You pointed out to which your boyfriend scoffed in response.

“Please, as much as that man has put me through, maxing out his credit card is the last thing he’s worried about me doing. And don’t worry, he and the rest of the family love you. Honestly, if it wasn’t for you dating me and the fact that you have great parents, I wouldn’t be surprised if the old man didn’t try to adopt you, which, if I haven’t mentioned this already, I don’t recommend.” He finished while heading further down the breakfast food aisle and grabbing boxes of Pop-Tarts.

“Fourth time.” You stated. Jason does not hold back regarding his tense relationship with his adoptive parent.

That was something you’d also been watching him work on.

When Jason met your parents and saw the relationship between your father and you, it opened up an emotional wound he wasn’t prepared for. And though he still had some resentment toward the Billionaire Playboy, aka the Dark Knight, for not sending Joker to the seventh ring of hell after his death, it didn’t mean he didn’t still care for and love the man. He just had mental blocks he needed to work through, and you’d be there to support him.

Jason was about to give you one of his dorky responses until he realized he forgot the credit card in your car.

“Shoot, I forgot the card in the car. Where’re your keys?” He asked.

You handed them to him, and he gave you a quick kiss and a slap on the ass with a warning to not put anything back before rushing towards the entrance/exit of the store. Rolling your eyes, you moved down the aisle scoffing at his warning. Of course, he knew you were going to try and put some of the items back. Just like you knew him better than himself sometimes, it was the same for him with you. He could predict your next move before it popped into your head which you found very cute but extremely annoying at times.

While you stood there for a few moments scrolling on your phone out of boredom, you heard a voice speak up behind you.

“Excuse me.”

You turned around to see two guys around your age standing behind you. You figured they were trying to get to something behind you, so you moved yourself and your cart out of the way.

“Oh, my bad. Here ya go.”

“No, no! Not that. We were just wondering if you needed help getting your car or getting away from that guy. We saw him drag you in here.”

You barely held back the eye roll that was itching in your skull. Yes, Jason did somewhat have to drag you into the store since you insisted that you didn’t need to go grocery shopping. But, what happened to common sense? If Jason truly was holding you hostage or had bad intentions for you, why in the world would he bring you to a grocery store out of all places?!

Seriously, what were they thinking? That he was going to stick a Fruit-Loops box over your head and torture you with your most hated juice flavor?

A small sigh escaped your mouth before you responded to the boys, “Okay, this is not what it looks like. That guy is my boyfriend, and we’re just grocery shopping. I promise I’m fine.” You assured the guys.

“Are you sure? He isn’t forcing you to say any of this, right? I know that guy’s intimidating, but we can call security or the police to help you.”

Before you could respond, you both heard the sounds of quick footsteps approaching from around the corner. You turned to see him holding a plate with two large slices of pepperoni pizza and a large orange soda.

“Babe, I got you two slices of pizza and your favorite soda from the food court. I know you haven’t eaten today, so I figured you could snack on this, and then we can get you some chicken tenders and fries from your favorite restaurant after we leave here.” He offered while handing you the plate, looking at you with the most adoring gaze.

This boy really did have your whole heart. You could only wonder what you did to deserve someone like him.

When Jason took note of the two other guys standing by you looking dumbfounded, his arm instantly found its way around your waist, pulling you into his side while eyeing the two boys suspiciously and on guard. Anyone that wasn’t your parents, best friend, or his family, Jason saw as a potential threat. Even his family sometimes was included in that list a few times, and living in Gotham, you could never be too careful.

And any excuse for Jason to show you as his to anyone else watching was always an appreciated opportunity.

“Can I help you, fellas?” Jason said, a stern tone in his voice while eyeing the two down with every menacing look he could muster in his eyes.

You’ve never seen two guys who looked like they wanted to shit their pants so bad and run in the opposite direction. They started stuttering out a response before you took pity on them.

“They’re fine, Jay. They were just trying to grab some cereal behind me. I was just moving out of their way.” You threw a look toward the boys, who looked at you confused before they caught on to what you were trying to say.

“Y-Yeah m-man. Just ... um gra-grabbing some Frosted flakes.” One of the dudes said, pointing his fingers toward the boxes right behind you.

Jason eyed that finger with malice before he felt your fingers turning his face toward you.

“Hey, stop it. I’m good. Now, are you going to let them get their cereal and let me eat my pizza before it gets cold?”

A small smile crossed his face while he backed you both up moving the cart as well. You ruffled his hair watching the two boys grab a box and run down the aisle with their tails between their legs. He let out his usual whine, using his other arm to fix his hair.

“Shut up, you big baby. You promised me chicken tenders and fries, so get a move on before I get a food attitude.”

Jason smirked at your words before the hand around your waist moved to your butt, palming and squeezing your cheeks under the ‘hoochie’ shorts you were wearing.

“I know something better that’ll fill you up and take care of that attitude for you.” He whispered in your ear before giving a nip.

At least you weren’t in front of the salads when this was happening.

This wasn’t bad. It was actually funny, and you got a friend out of it.

You and Jason were at the gym, getting a workout in. You decided you both liked going in the afternoon when it was less busy. It was leg and glutes day for you (per usual) while Jason was working chest and shoulders.

Two of your favorite body parts on him, including his arms, but that’s not important.

Now, you both agreed when you went to the gym that you would do your workouts separately but your warm-ups and cardio together. So, at some point, Jason was on the Smith machine doing a shoulder bench press while you were on another bench doing Bulgarian split squats.

Of course, the gym was a place where people met each other all the time. And, in many of those meetings and interactions, people would find others attractive and want to date or hook up with them. You were no exception to these rules. You were approached many times by both girls and guys, but you always politely declined. Well, you tried at least before Jason walked over and made it clear who you were with.

It was no secret to anyone that Jason did not only get easily jealous at the thought of you giving your attention and time away to someone who was not him, but he was also the living definition of anger issues. Match that with his very selfish and possessive attitude towards you, and you had a man ready and WILLING to do just about anything to anyone who dared lay a finger on you in the wrong way.

So, whenever someone deemed themselves stupid brave enough to approach you and flirt a little or leave a teasing touch to one of your arms, you’d try to give them a warning but it was always too late. They’d quickly find a towering shadow looming over them and turned to see a less than pleased Jason staring down at them with his bulging arms crossed over his chest. These being one of the few moments Jason gladly showed off his scars because they communicated his message quickly and effectively.

Back. The. Fuck. Off.

That was usually enough to get them to do just that. Most of the time, at least.

There always ended up being at least one guy or girl who wouldn’t take no for an answer. This time, it was a guy who kept finding himself next to you during your sets. Jason was watching you from afar with hooded and irritated eyes as he also noticed your gym shadow moving around with you.

The guy decided to play smart and keep his hands off you since he could tell your brute of a boyfriend was watching his every move. The only reason he didn’t do anything was because he knew if he did, the guy could claim Jason as the aggressor, and since this was your favorite gym because your college’s gym was always crowded, he didn’t want to risk you getting in trouble and banned.

So, when Jason went to the bathroom, the creep took advantage of the moment and offered to ‘spot’ you on your set of squats with the smith machine, which you were sure was just an excuse for him to get behind you so he could ogle your ass and ‘accidentally’ grind his dirty crotch into it.

Luckily, a girl working out nearby noticed your uncomfortable stance when the man came over to ‘help’ you while you were setting up and immediately stopped her workout to shoo him away.

“Dude, he’s clearly not interested. So either go and finish your workout or pack up and get out!”

He tried to get defensive and argue with her, but when she revealed her boyfriend was one of the owners and threatened to have him kicked out and banned, he finally backed off. He made sure to point out how you weren’t even all the hot anyway to mask his hurt pride while you threw an appreciative look toward her.

When he left and Jason returned from the bathroom, the girl unleashed her rage on him as well.

“And you too! I’ve seen you harassing and stalking him all over the gym. I’ll kick your ass out too and have you banned if you don’t leave him alone.” She scolded the dark-haired man.

Jason looked confused while you just laughed before grabbing his arm and pulling him to you, “Nah, don’t worry about him. This one’s good.” You said, reaching up to ruffle his hair, even though you had to stretch a little bit.

Jason pouted down at you in childish anger, “I told you don’t do that! Do you know how long it takes to get this in the right floppy position?” He whined while trying to fix his hair.

She looked back and forth between you two before realization dawned upon her.

“Boyfriend who’s a menace to everyone but is a total baby when around you?”

You gasped, “Girl, how’d you know?”

“Mine’s the exact same.”

“Oh, we’re gonna be great friends.” You declared.

Okay, this time, it was lowkey your fault, but still. People should be able to tell the difference between an actual cry for help and a joke.

Jason decided to take you to one of his favorite cafes in Gotham since you were in desperate need of a study break. You picked up some classes over the summer, so the schedule was much more tightly packed since they had to speed up a four-month course into two with the semester being divided into two sections.

Jason was sitting on one of the lounge chairs reading while you were sipping on some apple juice and reading a fanfic story on your phone. Whether or not it was smut was not important and nobody would be able to tell by the look on your face. At least until you read over one particular part that had you gasping out loud which managed to catch your boyfriend’s attention.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You quickly said, liking the fic quickly and closing the browser, knowing Jason was not going to drop it.

“Uh uh, Bugs. What were you looking at?” He asked, setting his book on the table and moving over to your side of the table.

“Nothing Jay! I promise it was nothing.”

“Oh really? So you wouldn’t mind if I looked at your phone then?”

You felt your cheeks heat up while Jason took notice of your tense stance, peering at you and your phone while slowly leaning toward you from his crouched stance.

“Let me see your phone.”

“No.”

“Give me your phone.”

“I said no.”

“Bugs,” Jason said, now mocking a stern look on his face, “Give. Me. Your. Phone.”

He held out his hand for emphasis, and you felt your fingers reflexively tighten around your smart device. You stared back at him with your own dour expression, “No. Means. No.”

You both stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before he suddenly grabbed at your phone, attempting to snatch it from your hand. It became a tug-of-war over the device while you both consciously tried not to be too much of a disturbance to the other patrons of the cafe.

This is where it accidentally was your fault.

“Help! Assault! Violence! Thief!”

You thought you were shouting it quietly, but there was a reason your family always told you to quiet down when you thought you were speaking at a normal volume. You got it from your mother really. Strong voices and all…

“Dude, fucking back off!”

You both heard the deep voice shout before you watched a guy tackle Jason to the ground, feeling hands coming to your side.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” This random brunette said while checking you over to make sure you weren’t hurt.

You were FINE. However, you were worried as hell now. Not for Jason at all, cause… Well, ya know.

You were scared for the other guy that had tackled Jason. Your boyfriend did NOT do well with physical touch, considering how long it took him to get comfortable with just cuddling with you. Let alone sudden physical touch? And the man is used to fighting criminals at night and having to be on guard 24/7 if he feels something suddenly grab or touch him? Yeah, you were hoping this didn’t end in a trip to the precinct like last time.

Don’t ask.

“I’m fine. But, I do suggest you quickly get your friend off my boyfriend before he has to go to the hospital.” You assured the girl while warning her at the same time.

She looked at you confused, “Boyfriend? Wait, huh? We thought that guy was attacking you and trying to steal your phone. And don’t worry, my boyfriend’s a professional kickboxer. He can handle him.”

‘Yeah. Mine has anger issues and was trained by Batman and can re-load two guns in under twenty seconds with his arms tied behind his back.’

“AH!”

You both turned your heads to see Jason holding the other guy in a chokehold while looking up at you.

“Aww, man! He spilled my coffee over my book.” Jason whined, “Babe, can you get me another one, please?”

“Yes, Jason. Can you do me a favor and let him go before you break his neck?”

Jason rolled his eyes before releasing the guy, who went into a coughing fit on the ground as he caught his breath.

When he sat back at the table as the girl went to help her boyfriend off the floor after giving you both weird looks, he set your phone on the surface, eyeing you with a quizzical look.

“What?” You asked after he stared at you for a few more minutes.

“Really? Yandere?”

Your heart jumped in your chest, and you were ready to bolt for the door.

“So, all those times you swore you weren’t trying to make me jealous just to get a reaction outta me, were you actually just trying to get me to tie you up and lock you in my room?” He said with a dark look in his eyes and a cheeky smirk on his lips.

HOT BOY DOWN! I REPEAT, HOT BOY DOWN!

Now, this was just ridiculous. Of course, it made sense, but you were thoroughly pissed off when it happened.

You and Jason had returned to his apartment after having dinner with his family at Wayne Manor. Bruce decided he wanted to have at least one family dinner a month, and since you were considered an honorary Wayne and everyone loved you, of course, you were invited. Jason, on the other hand, was still hesitant.

Even though he was working on his relationship with Bruce and trying to move past his mental scars, his family still brought up some sensitive subjects for him. Typically, they made his insecurities flare up a lot more. You were Jason’s safe space. So, he wasn’t really keen on mixing the things that made him question himself and the person who made him feel the most loved and secure together.

You didn’t push, still wanting to go at his pace and let him bring you around more when he was ready. The day of the dinner, you figured he either had a change of heart or somebody had talked to Jason and convinced him to bring you along, and you had a great time. Jason was a bit quiet throughout the evening, but you could see a small part of him was happy at seeing how you integrated well into his family dynamic. He took great pleasure in how you humbled Dick a few times as well.

But, something was off, but you couldn’t tell what it was. You knew Jason was usually the quieter one out of the rest of his siblings. When you were around, he showed more of his goofiness and playful side. You barely saw that at all tonight. You knew he was watching you as you made conversation with Bruce, argued back and forth with Damian, repeatedly told Tim he needed to get more sleep, snapped photos with Steph, joked with Duke, and even learned a little sign language from Cass.

He watched as you offered to help Alfred with the dishes, who respectfully declined, but did make his appreciation known to you and the others, especially Tim.

“I offer to help you sometimes, Alfred!” Tim shouted while chasing after the butler offering his help.

Usually, Jason would laugh at any moment that came at the expense of Tim’s sanity.

None of that happened.

So, when you got back to his place, you asked him what was wrong. He remained silent as he just looked at you, but you could see there was a storm behind his eyes. When you came up to rub his arm and hug him, his hands shot up to your neck, wrapping around it firmly but not tight to where you couldn’t breathe.

Your hands grabbed his wrists as he maneuvered you against the wall that connected the living room to the kitchen. He placed his lips roughly on yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth while never loosening his hold on your neck.

“Mine. Not theirs, mine.” He muttered against your lips before quickly taking his hands off your neck, ripping your clothes off while ridding himself of his.

In less than two minutes, Jason had you pressed back against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist, and his long and girthy member tucked deep inside your ass, fucking you with hard and menacing thrusts. His large and rough hands were back around your neck, now squeezing around your neck as you moaned breathlessly against him.

Jason took immense pride in your sounds of satisfaction and whining, increasing his already brutal pace in your guts while slowly stealing more of your breath away. Jason’s hard breaths pounded against your face as he stared at your now sweaty and ragged body, limping weakly against him. You placed your arms on his shoulder but were careful to avoid his neck, knowing that along with some other areas on his body were off-limits unless specified otherwise.

This was the dynamic between you two always. Anyone could see how Jason was wrapped around your finger in public and even in private whenever you two were just lounging around and relaxing. In these moments, you were fully under Jason’s authority. You lay completely at his mercy while he dominated your body and controlled where, when, and how you got pleasured.

The who rarely came into question as though your boyfriend had considered it a few times, you didn’t see a day likely where Jason’s jealousy and possessiveness would let him allow someone else to see you in this manner. No, you were for his eyes only.

And the why, well that was simple. Jason had needs, you had needs. And, no one was better suited to fulfill those needs than your boyfriend. Though with him, anything could spark those needs at any given time. Whether the dark-haired boy was just feeling horny and wanted some ass. You decided to wear a tempting outfit, and he decided he was going to right then and there he would have you, whether in the house, in the car, or in public, it didn’t matter. If he felt you were being a little too friendly with someone else, he’d be happy to remind you about who you belonged to. The why was simple; if Jason wanted you, he would have you. No ifs, and’s, or but’s about it.

“J-Jason... nngh p-please-” You begged, feeling yourself nearing the edge as your dick was crushed between Jason and your hot and sweaty abdomens.

“Say my name again,” He ordered, feeling how he flexed his dick inside you while still pounding your sore hole.

His name fell from your lips in a needy moan as you felt his fingers pressing against your windpipes. You could feel how the wall behind you became slick from your sweat as your body jutted up and down against it with Jason’s increasingly erratic thrusts.

He grunted in approval of your increasingly loud whines as you both approached your climaxes. Jason fully squeezed your neck at this point as he punched your insides with his cock. Your own member was feeling the pressures as well as it repeatedly smashed against Jason’s abs before you reached your end, screaming out in blissful agony.

Jason came to his finish with his own groan as you felt him bury himself with his cum deep inside you. You let out soft little whines feeling his appendage throb against your walls. Even though you knew he didn’t like hands around his neck, he didn’t object to you rubbing a hand down his nape. He gave you a warning glance at first, but when he felt your soft hands rubbing up and down his skin, he visibly relaxed, placing a kiss on your cheek.

The quiet and sweet moment though was abruptly ruined by the sound of Jason’s front door being kicked in and heavy boots rushing into his apartment.

“GOTHAM P.D.!” You heard the intruders shout.

Of all the fucking things…

Well, when the cops came around and found you and your naked boyfriend against the wall, and his hands around your neck, you had to admit it didn’t look good.

You had to quickly explain to the officers it wasn’t what it looked like and that everything was consensual. Against the orders of the cops, Jason did not move one inch off the wall, keeping your body covered with his. He’d sooner dip himself in another Lazarus Pit than let these arrogant blue caps have even the smallest peek at you.

So, with a little charm and finesse, you convinced the cops to walk out and let you and him get dressed. Jason couldn’t decide what he was more upset about.

The fact that his door was off its hinges, or that one of his neighbors called the cops on him thinking Jason had been abusing you, or that your private moment was intruded upon and some pervy cops basically saw you naked.

Yeah, he was going to be extra brutal on patrol tonight.

After a call was made to Commonionser Gordon at Jason’s request, the cops dropped everything and left you two alone when Gordon made it clear this was a bogus call. “Jason? Abusing Y/N? That boy is the biggest simp this city’s ever seen. Whoever called that in was obviously misinformed.”

Even if it was true, Jason didn’t appreciate being called a simp. He didn’t deny it, though.

You could barely hold back your laughs to which your boyfriend responded with a harsh smack to your very sore ass. It was a wonder how you were even standing on your legs as they still felt like jelly.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t see him in that manner.”

“No way, he’s way too sweet and innocent to be like that.”

“Dude, have you met your own boyfriend?”

These were all things said to Jason when he would complain to them about how he was tired of everyone thinking he was a threat to you and not seeing the truth. If anything, you were more of a threat to Jason and honestly, should be placed on a national security watch list for some of the things that have come out of your mouth.

The only one who really knew and understood what Jason was talking about was your best friend, who was the first one to warn Jason. The boy didn’t believe him either at first and ended up finding out the hard way.

Well, it looked like Jason’s brothers were also about to find out as they had come to your school’s campus looking for him. You were happy to see the Wayne siblings, as some time had passed since the last dinner. For some reason, seeing how easily you interacted with his brothers drove up Jason’s jealousy to a new level. As soon as they showed up, Jason placed you on his lap, and you could feel his prominent bulge throbbing under you. You knew immediately you were in for it when you both got home.

When you got up to go to the bathroom, Jason was going to follow you, intending to give you a little preview of what to expect in the stalls, but was stopped by Dick, who said they had something important they needed to talk to him about.

Before that could happen, a new presence appeared at your table, and your best friend visibly and audibly groaned at who it was.

“Hi there.” Jason heard a sickly sweet voice say, turning to see another boy he’d heard of.

“Xavion.” Jason heard your best friend mutter under his breath.

He knew that name. He’d heard you curse it and mutter it in irritation and anger plenty of times. He purposefully went out of his way to piss you off and pick with you on multiple occasions. He also thought that because his dads were rich and gave him everything he wanted, he was entitled to anything and everything, including other people’s significant others.

No one knew what started the rivalry between you two, but they knew it got cemented when he had sex with your first college boyfriend while you guys were dating and then went on to sleep with any guy you had the slightest attraction to.

So, Jason would be no different when he placed himself a little too close for the dark-haired boy’s liking, trying to maneuver himself away.

“I’ve seen you around on campus before. Are you a student here?”

“Xavion, don’t you have someone else to harass and stalk?” Your best friend commented with an irritated eye roll.

The boy in question only threw a dirty glance at your comrade before turning back to your boyfriend, taking considerable delight in looking him up and down, “Damn, aren’t you a big boy. You’re Y/N’s boyfriend, right? Gotten bored yet?”

Everyone tensed at that, watching how Xavion only got bolder in his flirting, “I’d understand if you did. Y/N’s just not that interesting, and honestly, a little ran through. I’d be happy to show you other options though,” He voiced with a suggestive tone.

Dick, Tim, and Damian watched with slightly nervous eyes as the promiscuous boy moved his hand that was caressing Jason’s arm and placed it around his neck, waiting for the ball to drop as the second Wayne kid's hands began to twitch on the table.

Before anyone could move to stop it, they saw Xavion get literally yanked off of Jason and onto the ground. Your boyfriend and his siblings along with your best friend who began to cheer your name watched as you dragged the slut onto the ground by the back of his shirt and proceeded to WHALE on him.

No one had noticed you coming back from the bathroom, too busy watching Xavion rub his hands all over your boyfriend. When you got closer and saw what was happening, you immediately saw red and picked up your pace, only to dash into a mad sprint when you saw his hand touch Jason’s neck.

Jason after breaking out of his stunned trance immediately ran over to pull you off the screaming boy who was crying for help. Dick and Tim ran over to pull Xavion out of your grasp, just barely managing to save him from what would have been a devastating kick from your boot to his face.

“Touch my boyfriend again and see what happens bitch!” You shouted out at the boy. Luckily, you were in a secluded part of campus, so no one had seen the fight. But, when Xavion had gotten off the ground looking thoroughly fucked up, he tried to run up on you, seeing Jason holding you back and thinking he had an open shot.

Little did he or Jason expect, you used your smaller stature to slip out of Jason’s hold and rushed the boy before kicking your leg up and landing that hit that was taken from you earlier. You took sick satisfaction hearing and feeling the crunch under your foot as it connected with his nose.

Dick, Tim, and Damian watched in complete shock seeing you beat the shit out of this boy. Now, they could really see why you and Jason were such a good match for each other.

When Jason got you back in his arms, he made sure to hold on a little tighter to you so you couldn’t slip away again. Dick and Tim had to help the sobbing boy cradling his broken nose, saying they would take him to the emergency room.

Jason pulled you both back towards the table, sitting you down on his lap as he held your hands down. He could not help how hard he was under you and didn’t care to hide it. Watching that display had him a different level of horny and he frankly couldn’t wait to take you home.

After a few moments passed and you settled down, everyone looked up to the sound of a throat clearing.

“Todd, I don’t know if I ever told you this before,” Damian started, looking at you both with his usual judgemental stare, “...Good job.” He said with a nod toward you.

You were both surprised, Jason especially, as neither of you had ever heard the youngest Robin give out a compliment.

“If you screw this up somehow, which I have little doubt that you’ll find a way, I will not hesitate to end you.”

There was the Damian you both knew.

“I second that motion,” Your best friend added to which you just laughed.

“Shut it, gremlin.” Jason retorted before squeezing you against his body.

“Don’t worry, Damian. I don’t think Jason will do anything to screw this up. Besides, if he does do something stupid, he’ll have me to worry about.” You said, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

You heard Jason growl lowly against you before grinding you into his lap, letting you feel his hardness poking you through your shorts. You popped his arm to which he responded with a pinch on your ass, your best friend watching in disgusted amusement.

“You two make me sick.”

“Back at you, ugly.” You responded.

Damian turned his head, looking in the direction where Dick and Tim took Xavion to an ER room, “I despise harlots.”

“OH! Speaking of which, thank you, Damian, for reminding me.” You said before leaning over Jason to grab your bag and pull out your laptop.

“What are you doing?” Your boyfriend asked.

“Insurance. I knew the day would come when that hoe went too far. So just in case he decides to go to the university about this little spat, I’m emailing a detailed description of how everything went down, along with photos and evidence of his affairs with various teachers and staff. To them, it will look like Xavion attacked me out of retaliation because he thought I would snitch on him about his sexual misconduct. Now, tell me, babe, did you feel physically violated?” You asked while making various edits to your already drafted email.

“Huh?” Jason replied confused.

“Just say yes.” Your best friend told him with a smirk.

“Um, yes? I think…”

“Perfect! Putting that down for the record, so, if that slut decides to try to get me in trouble, I can show I had completely justifiable reasons to hand him his ass on a concrete platter.” You stated a little too cheerily to be considered not disturbing.

Your best friend was not surprised by this at all, while Damian and Jason looked at you like you had two heads.

“Isn’t the expression ‘silver platter?’” Damian pointed out.

“Yeah, but I dragged his ass up and down on concrete, so it’s a concrete platter today.”

You looked up to see the two Robins staring at you.

“What? Bitches fucked around, so bitches found out. Don’t blame me.” You said while continuing to type.

“I fucking love you,” Jason said while biting at your ear lobe, making you laugh.

Damian could only scoff as he watched you two.

“And people swear Todd’s the threat.”

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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