#with a bite and a kiss ~ Leslie

[sanguineterrain]

Would you be willing to write a Jason Todd x reader inspired by the bulletproof vest scene from Criminal Minds? Maybe it's early in their relationship and they're fussing after hearing he's been shot. Maybe with an annoyed Damian breaking up their flirting?

(Here is the scene if you don't know what I'm talking about!! youtube.com/watch?v=C2bjYavXWec)

Haha this was such a fun prompt! Thanks for sending 🩷 I love prompts inspired by tv scenes

jason todd x gn!reader. minor injury, fluff, suggestive/implied nsfw, making out, implied timkon

****

Jason opens the door, looking extra comfy in his GU sweatpants and a Wonder Woman t-shirt. His curls stick up in fifteen different directions, making him look like an overgrown chick.

You'd coo if your heart hadn't been in your stomach all night.

"Hey, ba—"

You launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The force of your embrace makes Jason stumble back a step. You suddenly remember his injury and reel back.

"Baby, what's goin' on?" His eyes are wide. Jason holds onto you, inspecting you right back.

"I'm so sorry!" you say, hands fluttering over his body. "Oh God, did I reopen stitches? Fuck, fuck—"

"Sweetheart." Jason places both hands on your shoulders and guides you away from the door. He kicks it shut with his foot. You both settle on the couch. "What're you talking about? Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" You sit up. Jason rests his head on the back of the couch, watching you. "God, Jason, you got shot! I heard you caught fire this morning so I got here as quickly as I could. Did I reopen stitches? Be honest because I swear to God, Jay, if you lie to me about that..."

"Honey. Oh my love. Y'know I'm crazy about ya?" Jason holds your face with both hands and squishes your cheeks. He's smiling. "I got shot in my bulletproof vest. No stitches required. Who told you I got shot?"

You take his hands and hold them to your chest. "Well, I was listening to the comms 'cause I can't sleep when you have overnight missions and—"

"You haven't slept all night?" Jason frowns. "Baby, you need to sleep."

You scoff. "None of that matters, Jay. What I'm hearing is that you still got shot!"

"'S not a big deal, honest. Just a few bruises. Leslie wrapped me up, see?"

Jason lifts his shirt. His ribs are wrapped in an ACE bandage. You feel around for a secret wound.

"No blood?" you ask, poking at the edges.

Jason laughs and catches your hand. He kisses your knuckles. "No, sweetness. No blood. 'S just a little sore." He lets his shirt fall. You're only a little disappointed by the loss of his bare skin.

"Why would Bruce send you out in a bulletproof vest? Of all the stupid—usually you wear your armor! That's actually bulletproof! Vests are bullet-resistant. That's like saying Gotham rats are toxin-proof. Just because they don't die from the Joker gas anymore doesn't mean they aren't higher than kites when it happens."

Jason kisses your cheek. It turns your insides ooey-gooey. He's always so warm, so solid.

"Mm. I'll call Merriam-Webster tomorrow and relate your beef with 'em. And to answer your question, I was undercover, so no armor. But I am fine. Okay?"

"I'll be the judge of that, mister."

You hike his shirt up to his neck and pat down his chest. Jason honest-to-God giggles, which only encourages you. You pinch the soft skin under his biceps, then kiss down his sternum. He squirms, sliding so he's lying on the couch.

"Tickles," Jason says, letting you love on him.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm trying to conduct a very serious medical examination," you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "I think I'll need a closer look at these."

You kiss Jason's right pectoral, and his face flushes pink like it always does because you know how sensitive he is there and how his sensitivity makes him shy. Your mouth grazes his nipple and a tiny grunt pushes out of his throat.

"'M just a piece of meat to you, huh?" He catches you with a hand on your hip.

You smile and nip his neck, careful of his bandage. Jason's breath hitches.

"Please, baby, show mercy. Want me to get on my knees an' beg? I will."

"Sir, that is highly unprofessional language for this procedure. I'm afraid I'll have to give you an oral exam to see what's causing that filthy mouth of yours."

"Yeah, I'll show you filthy," Jason murmurs, cupping the back of your head. "Let's see how filthy y'get when I—"

"Oh my God, stop."

"Todd!"

You freeze with Jason's mouth on your neck and your shirt rucked up. Tim and Damian are at the edge of the living room. Tim looks nauseous. Damian's mouth is shriveled like a prune.

You scramble off of Jason, mortified, and smooth down your shirt. Jason leisurely turns his head, still holding onto you. He sighs.

"What d'you brats want?"

"To erase the last sixty seconds from my brain," Tim says.

Jason grins, all teeth. "That can be arranged."

You roll your eyes. "We're sorry, guys. Did you need Jason?"

"Yes. Father wants you back at the Cave immediately for debrief," Damian says, glancing at Jason's exposed bandages with tangible disgust.

You tug down Jason's shirt. His mouth quirks briefly before he registers his brother's request.

"Oh, hell to the fucking no. I got back two hours ago. Tell him to fuck off."

"I think you tell him enough for all of us," Tim says. "It's just a debrief. Babs started timing him and he's been good about keeping them short."

"He can email me. I'm not going to the Cave for a damn debrief."

Tim squints at Jason, then you. "I see. You know, you're awfully energetic for someone who should be recovering. Leslie benched Dick the last time he overexerted himself."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be speaking about exertion after what you and Connor did at the Kents' fourth of July picnic last year, Timbelina."

Tim somehow turns more pale. Damian whips his head around.

"Drake? What is he talking about?"

"Nothing. C'mon, Damian, let's go. Jason can debrief later."

He hauls a protesting Damian out the fire escape. Jason waves after them.

"Uh-huh, take care now, bye-bye! Close the window on your way out!"

The window slams shut. You look at Jason, eyes wide.

"What...?"

He shrugs. "Brotherly blackmail. All in good spirit."

"I see. You really don't need to go? I can wait."

"Nah. Bruce can wait. I have a very important injury that needs tending to."

You roll your eyes, smiling. "Uh-huh. Are you sure you're okay?"

Jason kisses you. "Positive," he says against your mouth. "This is nothing. But I appreciate you worrying about little ol' me."

"I'll always worry about you, Jay."

He ducks his head and nudges your neck like a cat. "I know, baby. 'S why I'm the luckiest guy in the whole wide world."

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: reader drunkenly explains her love for Chris to ‘Matt’

Warnings: swearing, reader being drunk, drinking alcohol, drunk confessions, kissing, mainly fluff

Word Count: 2.9k | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The night started out slow, but then quickly picked up as more people arrived. Your friend, Wren, was hosting a five mill party tonight and you were definitely celebrating.

“Come play pong with me!” Wren yelled as she grabbed your arm.

“One second, I need to send this text.” You kept your eyes on your phone, typing out a text. Wren leans over, “Texting Chris?”

You jerk your phone away, “No, it’s- um.” You roll your eyes, “Yeah, Chris.”

“Christopher Sturniolo.” She says with a smirk and you shush her, “Keep your voice down. He doesn’t even know I like him, I don’t need a hundred and fifty people knowing before him.”

“Are you ever going to tell him?” She tilts her head and you nod, “Yes.”

“When?”

“When.. I fell like te-“ you huff, shoving your phone back into your pocket, “Let’s go play pong.”

You pull her over to the table, standing next to her as two other people emerge from the crowd to play against the two of you.

Your drink was finished by the first round, “Damn.” You laugh, “We really suck at this.”

“You’re not drunk enough. The key to pong is being plastered, okay?” Wren points to the guys across the table, “Well be back for a rematch.”

They laugh, giving a thumbs up and she drags you to the drink table, “Here.” She places two shot glasses on the table top and fills them with a clear liquid, “Cheers to five million!”

“Cheers to five million!” You take your shot and set the glass down, and she instantly refills it, “Oh sweetie, we are just getting started.”

You laugh, taking the second shot, “Okay.” You pour some alcohol into your cup, “Let’s go dance a little bit.”

You dance, go back for more shots, dance some more, get a few more drinks, play some pong - and win, and in between all of that, you were still managing to text Chris.

You so agould hace came,, chrisypjher

You watched the screen as the text bubbles popped up and smiled when his text came through.

Looks like you’re having a damn good night. I would have, but I didn’t have an invite.

You bite your lip, your cup between your knees as you focused on typing as best as you could.

You were drunk, drunk.

Yo u coula have cane wirh me it woulw have bwsn okayu

You lean back, finishing the rest of your drink. You were honestly ready to go home. It’s been a few hours, and within those hours, you partied hard.

It’s okay, ma. I hope you’re having a good time. You deserve it.

You bite your lip, smirking as you reread his text. You were close with the Sturniolo brothers. You grew up down the street from them, so you knew them pretty well.

Your crush on Chris, though, only grew bigger and bigger as the years went on.

Before you can reply, you’re pulled up from your seat, “Come with me!” Wren yells as she pulls you away from your seat.

“What? What’s going on?” You ask confused. The tone in her voice made it seem like something was wrong, “Wren?”

She pulls you away from everyone and turns around, “That girl over there, the-the blonde one with the bow.”

You look over, nodding as you see her, “What about her?” You look back at her, swaying back and forth, you felt like you needed to sit down but the words from Wren’s mouth shocked you, “She likes Chris.”

“What?” You stare at her, “What?”

She nods, “You need to claim him now or else he’ll be gone forever.”

“Don’t say that.” You felt like you could puke, “Are you serious right now?”

She nods, “I over heard her talking to my friend, she said that Chris has been texting her and he really seems interested.”

You glance down at your phone, seeing a Chris from text, “M’gonna ask him.” Wren watches as you bring your phone up.

“What’s her name, Wren?” You look up at her and she shrugs, “I think Leslie or something of that sort? I dunno, I jus’want you to be able to be honest with your feelings with him. You’ve liked him forever.”

A part of you felt like Wren was making this whole thing up just so you would tell him, but then again, the triplets were popular and it is LA that you’re in right now.

“I don’t feel good.” You shake your head, “I need to..” you step back and start walking towards the back patio, “..go outside.”

You walk out, closing the door behind you. To your right, two people were pretty much choking on each other’s tongues and you let out a small huff, walking over to the back of the house more and leaning up against the wall.

You squint your eyes as you try to navigate through the letters on your keyboard as you type out your message.

You stop, realizing when you don’t know what to say. You’re just tapping random letters, “Shit.” You take a deep breath, swiping out of texts and going to your contacts.

You scrolled down to Matt’s contact and his call.

After a few rings, he picks up, “Hey, how’s the party?”

“I-I need you to come get me.”

“Is everything okay? What happened?” Matt asks from the other end, “Y/n?”

“I’m just..” you sigh, “Ready to leave this place.”

“Okay, can you drop your location to me? I don’t know how to get to Wren’s house.”

“Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

“Okay, I’m on my way, can you wait out front?”

“Yeah, I’ll go there now.” You hang up, sending him your location before you walk back in. Wren runs up to you, almost like she completely forgot the news she just delivered, “So good news.”

You sigh, “I’m leaving.”

“Is it because of what I said?”

You shrug, “I just.. drank too much? I think?”

“Whatever, anyway, good news is, she was talking about a different Chris. Apparently this guy is some actor or something, so your Chris is still available.”

You smile slightly, “You need to work on your wording and getting to the point faster.”

“How are you getting home?” She tilts her head as she sips her drink. You hold up your phone, “Matt is coming to get me.”

She nods, “You going to their house?” She smirks, “Where Chris resides. Hmm?”

You roll your eyes, “I guess. Unless he wants to go out of his way, I mean it’s almost one in the morning so.”

“Just bite the bullet, stay at their place.” She perks up, “Fuck I love this song.” She runs away before anything else is said and you shake your head before stumbling to the front door and walking out.

You sit down on the sidewalk outside, looking around as you wait for Matt to roll up.

You look down, gasping quietly when you remember you left Chris on read, “Oh shit.”

Sorty things gor a litle hetiv

Hectic^*

You laugh, shaking your head as you type more.

I’m deubk

You look up as a car pulls up and stops right in front of you. Matt gets out and walks around, “Hey drunkie. Need a ride home?”

You laugh and extend your arm out, indicating you need help up, “Please.” You laugh as he pulls you up and opens the passenger door, “Don’t puke in my car. I just got it cleaned.”

“I’m good, I’m good.” You smile and give him a double thumbs up, “I promise.”

“You better be.” Matt laughs and shakes his head before closing the door. He walks around and gets in, buckling up before looking at you, “Seatbelt, please.”

“Aye aye captain, sir.” You turn, pulling the belt out and laying it over your body. Matt shakes his head, laughing as he starts to drive once he hears the click.

“How was it?” He glances over at you and you sigh, “It was good, really fun, up until Wren had to go and ruin my mood.”

He furrows his brows, “Why did she do that? That wasn’t very nice.”

You scoff, “She told me that some bitch was trying to talk to-“ you stop talking, shaking your head, “Some bitch was causing issues.”

“Issues how?”

You sigh, resting your head back, “Stuff. I think, I don’t know. Wren said she was talking to someone I liked and I got all.. down in the dumps.”

“Who do you like?” Matt asks teasingly and you push his shoulder, “m’not tellin, but you know him.”

Matt knew you liked Chris. Chris was oblivious, even when Matt and Nick would pick on him about how he wouldn’t stop smiling around you.

“I know I do.”

Your head snaps over, “You know I like Chris?”

“I didn’t.” He plays dumb, “But I do now.”

You groan, “Please don’t say anything. Please Matt.”

“I won’t, but you should probably tell him soon.” Matt looks over at you and your heart sinks into your gut, “W-why? Is what Wren said actually true?”

He shrugs and you whine, “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like this is a game because it’s not.”

“You get whiney when you drink, too much. You know that?” He looks at you and laughs, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding.”

You roll your eyes, fighting back laughter, “Not my fault.”

“Actually-“

You cut him off, “Are you taking me home or to your place?”

“Where do you want to go?” He asks as he stops at a red light, “Either one is fine with me.”

“My house is further than yours and I need a shower.” You sigh and Matt nods, “Yeah, I know that, too.” He laughs and you smack his arm.

“I think I’m getting buzzed just by you sitting next to me, goddamn.” Matt laughs and you shake your head laughing, “Fuck off, Matthew.”

“Oooh, we’re going by full names now, okay.” Matt shakes his head, “Why don’t you text Christopher and tell him what you told me.”

At that moment, your phone buzzes in your lap, a few texts from Chris appearing on your Lock Screen, “I’m not going to tell him that, not yet. But I will tell him how much of a bully you’re being to me right now.”

Matt laughs, “Good luck with that.”

You read down the texts from Chris,

I can tell lol

Is Matt there to get you yet?

Are you coming here or going home?

You bite you lip, concentrating on typing out your message.

I’m wirh Matthew hea being a bulky righy now tho lol alsp coming to youe house

You hit send and look over at Matt, “Does Chris like me too?”

Matt shrugs, “You’ll have to ask him that one yourself.”

“How do you not know?” You scoff, laughing as you look over at him. He shrugs, “I don’t get paid enough to be a matchmaker.”

“We don’t pay you at all?” You laugh and Matt laughs, “Exactly.”

He pulls into the driveway and you let out a sigh, “Fuck.”

“What?” Matt asks as he undoes both seatbelts, “Thought you wanted to come here.”

“I did, I do. I just, am way too drunk for this right now.”

Matt laughs, “Too bad, you’re not sleeping out here. Come on.” He gets out, walking around to open your door. He helps you out, holding onto your arm as you walk up the steps, “Last one.”

You nod, stepping up and standing at the door. You stare at the knob and look at Matt, “Is it locked?”

“No it’s not locked.” Matt laughs, “Get in there, drunkie.”

You laugh as you walk in, gasping when you see Nick heading for the steps, “Nick!”

He turns around, head tilting as his eyes go wide, “Hello?”

You walk up and give him a hug and Matt closes the door, “She’s wasted.”

Nick nods, leaning back, “Yeah, I can smell it, goddamn. How much did you have to drink?”

You start counting on your fingers but you end up laughing, “A lot.”

Nick raises his brows and shakes his head, “So you had a good time?” You nod, “a greeeaate time!” Matt walks up behind you, “Come on. To the bathroom. You need to wash off the night, literally.”

You groan as you follow him, taking your time on the steps. When you look up, Chris is standing there with a smirk, “What’s up, drunkie?”

You roll your eyes, smirking as you make it past the last step, “I am in fact, drunkie.”

“I know, you told me. Multiple times.” Chris laughs and you sigh, “I gotta go wash the night off, literally. Matt’s words, not mine.”

You hold your hands up in defense and lean back, you gasp as you feel like you’re falling but both Matt and Chris reach out for you, grabbing you before you tumble, “Yeah.” Chris nods, “I’ll go get you some water.”

You walk to the bathroom and you can hear Matt and Chris whispering but you pay no attention. You walk into the bathroom and close the door.

You lean against the wall as you reach in to slowly turn the water on. You sigh, pushing yourself up off the wall and take off your dress and everything else.

You step in, closing the door and letting the water fall down all over you. You sway back and forth, humming to yourself as you reach out to grab some of the soap.

You wash your body, then you move to your hair and rinse and you take a few more moments, just standing under the hot water before finally getting out.

You were still drunk, but you already knew you were in for a massive hangover tomorrow, which you dreaded, but it was always worth it.

You wrap the towel around your body, wiping the mirror to check if all of your makeup was off or not, and it was, luckily.

You opened the door and walk out. As you make your way down to the guest room, a voice calls out for you, “Y/n.”

“What?” You turn around, moving to lean against the wall. Matt walks down the hall, “Do you need clothes or anything?”

“I think I have a few things here. If not I’ll come find you.”

He nods, “Okay. If you need anything at all, just yell.”

“Okay.” You laugh and walk to the room. You had a shirt and a pair of sweats here, so you dried off and threw them on.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. You got up from the bed and opened it, “Matt. I’m good.” You spin around and walk back to the bed to lay down.

“I-“

You cut him off, “Actually. I want to talk to you.” You sit up, glancing over at him, “Remember what I said in the car?”

“You said a lot.” He chuckles, “what part exactly?”

“About Chris.” You look over at him, “Matt, I don’t know how to tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

You scoff, “That I like him. Come on, keep up dude.”

You hear him laugh and he brings his hand up to his mouth, “Right, yeah. Sorry.”

“What so funny? Seriously, I feel like I’m going to lose my chance on being with him, like I just want to know if he likes me back, why can’t you just give me that?”

“He does like you.”

“He does?” You snap your head over to him and your heart sinks into your gut, “Oh fuck.”

“Hey.” Chris pushes down his hood and runs his hand over his hair and you shake your head, “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.. to.. fuck. Drunk me always embarrasses myself.”

You lay your hands over your face and you feel the bed dip down. Chris gently pulls your hands away and tilts your chin up, “Look, I’m just glad that I finally got confirmation.”

He laughs slightly and you smile, “I’m not, like, having a drunk hallucination am I?”

He shakes his head, “No, ma. This is real.”

You were suddenly feeling,. Bold, to say the least. You tilt your head, squinting your eyes, “Prove it.”

Chris smirks, shaking his head as he laughs, “Alright, fine.”

He leans in, cupping your cheek before pressing his lips to yours. Your hand slides up his chest, resting on his neck as your lips move with his.

He leans back slightly, eyes looking into yours, “Did that prove anything?”

You nod your head, “Uh huh. I just hope I remember this tomorrow.”

Chris laugh, “Yeah, me too.” He smiles and nods towards the top of the bed, “Come here.” He moves up, laying down and holding his arms out.

You move up, laying your body on his and his arms wrap around your body, holding onto you tight, “Thanks for drunk texting me.”

You laugh slightly, “drunk or sober, it’s always you.” You tilt your head up and he looks down at you, smiling before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Good, now get some sleep.” He kisses your head and with that and his embrace, you were out like a light.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thanks for reading! I love you all so much! Catch you in the next one. 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[sunnie-angel]

Always and Forever

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason tries to end things after a bad patrol. you won’t give him up without a fight.

tags: f!reader, smut, kissing, biting, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering (mention) cock warming, orgasm denial (kind of), belly bulge, size kink (if you squint), overstimulation, creampie (if you think this is misproperly tagged please let me know) minors and ageless blogs do not interact

rated e (mdni) | wc: 5.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing smut (or a fic of this length) so please be gentle! if you find jason a little ooc, i’m still working on getting his ‘voice’ right, so just consider him one of the many versions we’ve all come to love. this started as a single smut scene and grew feelings and a bit of plot from there. this was definitely a labour of love so i hope you all enjoy it!

“We’re done. Us. All of it. You’re free to leave.”

The modulated voice of the Red Hood startles you. It’s nearly six in the morning, and you’ve been up since three when Jason didn’t return from patrol like he promised. He’s still in his Hood gear, hasn’t bothered to take off the helmet or even the boots crusted in who knows what. The leather jacket has taken a beating, and in the dim light of your apartment living room it glistens damply like he was caught in the earlier rain. He won’t even look in your direction, hands fisted at his sides, the darkened leather of his gloves taut across his knuckles. Jason didn’t come home like he promised and now he can’t even bear to look at you as he tears your heart in two. It’s understandable then, that when your voice returns to you and you can breathe around the lump in your throat, that your voice shatters the silence.

“Look at me. Look. At. Me.”

Only the way that his body locks up, somehow tenser than before, deflates you. A whole night’s worry and frustration drained away.

“Jay? Please take off the helmet and look at me.”

His black curls are matted to his forehead with sweat. His one white streak is dark with it,. Somewhere along the way he must have ditched the domino mask, because the sight of his bare face twists something tight in your chest. His beautiful eyes are red rimmed, tear tracks still staining his cheeks. His lips look bitten raw. He looks at you the way a dying man looks at salvation. Realization dawns slowly for you.

“You didn’t get caught in the rain, did you?”

A sharp nod, jaw clenching, but he doesn’t look away. Now you’ve noticed, you can’t stop. There’s a faint blood spray on the front of the helmet, barely visible from where Jason’s placed it on the counter. The leather jacket is soaked through with blood, darker splotches on his tac pants from where it’s followed gravity. The grime on his boots now looks rusty, though that might just be your imagination. Jason’s come home hours late covered in blood and is telling you to leave. This time, your voice is startlingly gentle.

“Jay we talked about this. You promised no life altering conversations when you’re covered in blood, remember?”

At the time, had been a joke. A promise made after a close call, when Jason was still loopy from sedation and painkillers and insisting he was going to duel Doc Leslie for your honour. Finally lucid, he had sheepishly promised no more dramatic ultimatums when he's covered in blood.

“But you need to—“

“No. You promised. What’s going to happen is you’re going to leave all your gear at the front door and we’ll deal with it tomorrow. You’re going to tell me if you’re injured and let me fix you up if you are. Then you’re going to shower. Then, and only then are we going to have this discussion.”

“I don’t—”

“Please.”

He caves at the way your whole body sags under the weight of one word. Carefully toes off his boots and socks, peels the stiff tac pants off, and lays his top and jacket on top of the whole pile. Reveals a smattering of bruises down his arms and along his rib cage. To get to the ensuite he has to walk past you and through your shared bedroom. The heat of him passing by has you turning after him, a star caught in his orbit, words curling to ash on your tongue. It’s only when he’s firmly out of sight that you allow yourself to collapse into the couch. Head lolling back, gaze fixed on the ceiling. Blankly you watch the headlights of passing cars loom and fade across the ceiling.

You do your best not to cry but wet trails burn down your face. You dash them away, but it does nothing to make you feel better. You don’t know if you’ll survive the coming conversation, a litany of “he doesn’t love me anymore, or at least not enough to keep me” is running through your head. Something is wrong, you think. Usually after a rough night, Jason can’t get enough of you. He comes home to your shared apartment and holds you, needs to feel the touch of your skin and the heat of your breath to truly know you’re alive. He's never the most talkative on the worst nights, but he always reaches out. Mumbles into your throat just to hear your replies, get you to distract him with chatter about your own day. He’ll act like he’s touch starved, press his split knuckles to the back of your hand, pull you into him until his nose is buried in the crook of your neck, pet and touch whatever bare skin is in reach. You're used to shaking off the vestiges of sleep to Jason between your thighs, fingers and tongue skillfully opening you up before he slides his cock inside, splitting you open just to feel you tighten around him. Tonight he hasn’t even reached out to hold your hand.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Jason stands in the doorway to your shared bedroom. Wet from his shower, the streetlight filtering through the curtains illuminating the water still beading on his skin. The bruises look less stark now. You look at him and feel love. You look at him and see the man you gave the most vulnerable parts of yourself to, ready to hand them back to you on a platter. Rolling your head to look at him properly, you notice he hasn't bothered to dress, wrapped in a towel like he couldn't wait to put off this conversation a moment longer. Your eyes meet, and it snaps whatever trance he's in. He shuffles over to you, eyes asking for permission to join you on the couch. The couch dips under his weight, and you turn on your side to face him, legs curling up to your chest.

"I'm glad you're home."

You reach out to brush his face, aching to remind yourself that's he's real but he shies back from the motion, denies you both the comfort of contact.

"Don’t. I'm not— I'm not good for you. We can't— I'm not gonna do this to you anymore."

"Do what to me Jason?" you ask, genuinely puzzled "Be us? I chose this, I chose you, and I have kept on choosing you from the beginning. I don't understand." By the end, you're truly pleading, begging with your voice and eyes and body for him to explain this to you. To explain why he's trying to make this choice for you.

"Bein' with me puts you in danger," he says slowly, carefully. "You think you know what you've signed up for but you don't. Not really. I painted a target on your back and now the worst of Gotham are gonna come sniffin’ at your door. You're never gonna be safe with me and I don't want to be the reason why you're hurt. You deserve better than me and a life of looking over your shoulder. I can't give you that, I'll never be able to give you that."

And oh, that hurts. The way he says it, dripping with self-loathing and certainty, cracks your heart open. It speaks of long held fears and convictions that he will never be good enough, that he is too broken and too dangerous to be loved.

"Did something happen tonight?" you ask, searching for a reason, anything, that would have brought old wounds to light.

"What?" Tension laces his body tight. There's a wild look in his eyes, shifting closer to green than blue.

"Jay, you made all of those risks clear to me before we were even real friends. So, what happened tonight to make you so sure that you'll be the death of me?"

Something about the way you state the question so matter of factly unsettles him enough to reply. "Heard some chatter down at docks about Black Mask setting up a new warehouse. Tonight was just supposed to be easy. Just about fuckin' with him, get B and Wing time to gather evidence on his new operation. He was waiting for us, probably set the whole thing up as a trap. Did a whole melodramatic monologue too 'bout how if we were gonna threaten his operation — the only thing that means anything to him — then turnabout’s fair play."

He's paused in his remembered anger, hands flexing against the couch cushions. You nod, trying to encourage him, not wanting to break the spell that got him talking in the first place. But you really don't like where this was headed. When he speaks again, its in a whisper.

"He knew your name. He knew who you are to me and he knew your fucking name."

The fear that jolts through you at that statement is matched by the intensity in his eyes. Distractedly you notice that you can’t feel your fingers. Heart racing, the only thing grounding you is the weave of the cushion under your cheek.

"Okay, we can— we can handle this. It'll be difficult but I can—"

"He's dead," Jason interrupts.

"He's what." All trains of thought come to a crashing stop.

"I killed him."

Its a confession and a plea for forgiveness wrapped in one. He can't quite look you in the eyes anymore, his whole demeanor screaming shame. Stunned and wide-eyed all you can do is drink him in, this incredible, ridiculous man. Car headlights cut through the shadows, lighting up the planes of his face and catching on the still too-green of his eyes. Somewhere along the way you've moved closer. His face is only a breath away and in the silence it feels unbearably intimate.

You can't help blurting out, "Can I kiss you?" The thought of being unable to touch him any longer is utterly unthinkable. Not when he's right in front of you, lips parted and waiting for you to pronounce judgement over him. He nods, shyly, and then you're in his lap. His face is cradled in your hands, eyes wide as he looks up at you. His lips are warm when you finally give in to the urge to taste him. They're rough from where he's bitten them but they're pliant against yours. Drawing back, you rest your forehead on his, unwilling to be any further apart.

"He had your name in his fuckin' mouth and I couldn't let him live for that. So yeah, I killed him. Him and every one a his lieutenants in the room that heard." Jason pauses, tries to gauge your reaction, continues on more self-consciously. "B and Wing couldn’t stop me and I didn’t want them to. He was a threat to you and I didn't know. You could have died and I wouldn't even've known what to protect you from." He tries to pull back from you, but you don't let him. Lets his motion pull you along with him, hands still cradling his face.

"Is that where all the blood is from? You're not hiding any injuries besides the bruises from me?" you ask worriedly. He's done it before, but you'd hoped he'd learned to trust you better. Jason goes to remove your hands from his face and you don't resist. He presses soft kisses to each of your palms before folding them to his bare chest right over his heart.

"Fuck sweetheart, I tell you that I've just killed a roomful of men and you want to know if I'm okay? You're not angry that I killed, again?" And oh he looks so ready for you to reject him. Waiting for you to turn away, to call him a monster, for your love to turn to horror.

When you speak, the words come out slowly, each syllable weighed out with care. "Am I bad person if I say that I'm grateful?" You can feel his heartbeat speeding up under your hands as you speak. "Because I am Jay, I'm so, so grateful. I'm grateful that I'll never have to worry about a bullet in the dark or getting taken off the street. Mostly I'm grateful that I won't be used to hurt you. But I'm also so very sorry Jay that you had to kill again." He shudders at that, closes his eyes and squeezes your hands tight tight tight. "I know that you were trying so, so hard not to kill, to live by your family's rules and I'm so sorry that you had to break that promise to yourself. Can you forgive me for putting you in that impossible position?"

"I— I don't need your forgiveness, not for this. But don't you see? I'm the reason you were danger. If I hadn't a been quick enough, if there's ever a day when I'm not fast enough, then you'd've died." At that he stops, swallows thickly, like he's considering a world where he doesn't save you. "This doesn’t end just ‘cause Black Mask’s dead. It’s every enemy the Hood has ever made knowing that my heart’s walking around outside my body.” And that, that makes your breath catch in your throat. Stuns you enough that you’re not fully prepared for what he says next. “So this, you and me, it's gotta be done. I'll move out tomorrow, pack things up later. I won't leave you unprotected, I'll— I'll still patrol but you won't have to see me again. You can have a clean start."

Now, now you are angry. Pushing off his chest you lever yourself upright, forcing him to look up at you. Straddled across his lap your balance is precarious at best but you need him to see you, to realize that what you say next is what you mean with every wretched part of you.

"No."

"No?" He's looking up at you, glazed eyes and mouth open wide with shock.

"No. Jason Peter Todd you do not get to make this decision for me." With every word you push your finger into his chest for emphasis, your whole body shaking with the force you're putting behind your words. "I knew the risks because you told me about them. I decided that I could live with them if it meant having you. I told you always and forever. I meant it then and I mean it now. So this, you and me, it’s over when I agree it is. I gave you my fucking heart and this is me not accepting it back. You tell me I’m free to leave anytime, well I’m not.” His hands have fallen to your hips where they clench and unclench. “You haven’t been able to keep me out of your sight lines for more than three minutes tonight. You can’t go a day without touching me, feeling me up and getting your cock wet. I know you don’t sleep half so well if I’m not in your bed and neither can I. I know the way you look when you think nothing you’ve done has ever been good enough and the face you make when you feel like a hero. I know you to your bones and you know me. You want me to live a life that you’re not a part of, well I won’t." Suddenly fed up with the chafing of the towel on your poor inner thighs you try to shift, when you feel him hard under the thin layer of the bath towel. You feel Jason freeze up, time crystallizing around you before speeding back up like a poorly wound tape.

“Off. Off now” You start pawing at the blasted towel unsuccessfully, before giving up and going for your own sleep pants. You’re half way through wiggling them off before Jason’s brain catches up with you and then he’s scrabbling to tear the towel off and get you bare. You grab his hardening cock and guide it to the entrance of your cunt. You’re still not slick enough for this, didn’t spend ages getting opened up on fingers first, but you’re desperate enough to make it work. His hands around your thighs are like iron, clinging to you like a life preserver. You take it slow, letting gravity do the work of spearing you open on his cock, unable to take him to the hilt in one swift motion the way you ache to. Jason’s a big man, always towering over you in size, and his cock is perfectly large to match. Already the stretch is just the other side of painful, the thickness of him cleaving you in two. You gasp like you’ve been punched with every inch downwards. By the time your hips meet his pelvis his stomach muscles are clenched and twitching from the effort of not just fucking up into you and taking what he wants. His fingers are buried in the couch cushions. Deliriously you wonder if the cushions will still be intact by the end of this conversation.

"So tell me again," you pant, "tell me why you think you can just walk away from me and all the love we have like it's nothing." Jason groans at your words, buries his face in your throat, hips still twitching with aborted thrusts.

"Please, please baby. Let me move— shit, let me make you feel good. God, sweetheart you're so fucking tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me." The growing roll of his hips is distracting. He's so fucking thick, this position making him feel like he's somewhere in your stomach, every flex of his muscles bullies him deeper, threatens to shake all the thoughts out of your head. That just won’t do. You take back control with a soft hand on his chest pushing him back until he's leaned right back against the couch cushions.

"You started this conversation Jay. It’s not done until you finish it. Besides, you’re the one that wants to put a stop to all this." You punctuate your words with a single calculated grind of your hips, make him claw at your hips with abandon. Revel at the weight of him inside of you. Trail your hand up his chest so you can thread your fingers into his damp curls. "Why should I let you move, hmm? Give me that list of reasons, and maybe I'll let you fuck me when we're done talking." His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the colour of his eyes anymore.

It takes a few false starts before he can put a coherent thought together. "Being— being with me makes, oh god, makes you a target. People'll go through you, tryna hurt me. You're gonna get hurt cus'a me, could die fr'me." He's trembling all over now, words slurring together and gasping for air. He settles a little when you run your other hand down his chest to trace his y-shaped scar, lean in and kiss him slow and sweet. Nip and tease at his already abused bottom lip.

"Love that ship went and sailed the first time you talked to me," you say. "There's no putting that back in the box and hoping everyone will forget that we were us." Taking your time, you mouth along his jawline, feel his hand slide under your shirt to come settle on the small of your back. "Say we split up, what then? Doesn't matter how often you swing by, someone'll always try and find a way. Tonight was just a reminder. How does breaking both of our hearts make that go away?" Nuzzling into that sweet space below his jaw, you can feel the way his pulse races and cock twitches in you. All the while you keep your hips tortuously still, warming his cock with your cunt, enjoying the stretch of him. A tug of his hair gets him talking again.

"I'm not a— not a good man. I've killed a lot a people, don't even regret most a'em." He can't look at you as he says it, eyes fixed on a spot over your shoulder. His hand on your back flexes, fingers tightening around your hip bone.

"Didn't we just go over this? Jay I'm glad you killed those men, and if that makes you a bad person so am I." This time its him that goes in for a kiss, latches on to the plush of your lips, licks his way inside. Cradles your skull and pulls you closer, has to stop kissing you to gasp when that shifts his cock inside of you.

"Sweetheart, you're the best person damn person I know," he breathes into your mouth. Traces over your cheekbone with the tip of his nose. "You're the best fuckin' thing to happen to me. But you shouldn't hafta decide if you're okay with me killing people. Shouldn't be something you gotta think about at all." There it is again, that tinge of self-loathing. And that's what it’s really all about isn't it?

"You're not making me do anything. You think I didn't know who I was saying yes to when you asked me out to dinner? That I was unaware of Hood's brand of justice? That unlike your family, I didn’t already approve of your methods? Love, I was grateful for you before you'd even walked into my life." Its a confession you hadn't said out loud before, but maybe you should've. Something about your faith in him has Jason whining at the back of his throat like a wounded animal. He tries to buck his hips but freezes when the hand in his hair forcefully tugs his head back, exposes the vulnerable line of his throat.

"Can't just say that sweetheart. Can't just say that and not let me fuck you full." Another tug at his hair has him moaning, the cords of his throat standing out. "C'mon, c'mon. You're so wet and so warm for me. I'll make you feel— feel so good." On the last word he tries to thrust up but you were expecting this, dig your knees into the couch to leverage up off of him at the same time he moves forward. You bite down on the soft skin of his throat before pressing a kiss to the forming bruise. Let go of his hair to clasp the side of his neck, rub your thumb over the hinge of his jaw. Let his head fall forward to your chest, resting his brow on your collarbone.

"I said after our conversation, didn't I? And those aren't your only reasons, are they?" you tease. "You can fuck me whenever you want Jay, you just have to be honest first."

He’s torn, you can tell. Caught between chasing his pleasure at the steep price of his darkest fears, but also wanting to do right by you, as misguided as this attempt is. But he’s been so truthful so far, deserves a reward for how good he’s been. So you clamp down, hard, feel his cock brush against that soft part of your gut that makes you shiver with pleasure. Enjoy the punched out sound that wrings from him. Grind your hips down in a filthy circle, once, twice. Then just as suddenly stop. Let him pant and shake, breath warm in the contours of your throat.

When he finally speaks, his voice is so small you can barely hear him. "M'scared." He shudders as he says it. Something in the curve of his spine screams vulnerable, sparks an itch in your fingers to touch and so you do.

"Think 'm too broken for you to love. Think 'm too broken to love you right. Scared one day that the pit's gonna burn too bright and I'll hurt you." Like a broken dam, the words come tumbling out so quickly now. All you can do is keep stroking his back, this giant of a man rendered so small in your arms. "That I'll wake up one day and it'll be my hands covered in your blood." The hate and self-loathing is almost palpable, an oil slick shadow creeping along the floorboards. You could cry from the way his voice shakes and cracks.

“Oh, love.” And this time it’s your voice cracking. “I’ve never thought of you as broken. There’s never going to be a day where I think you’re too broken for me to love. If the day ever comes that you do break, I’ll pick up all the shiny pieces with my bare hands if I have to. I’ll put you back together again even if it cuts me open because that’s what we do Jason. You don’t think there aren’t parts of me I’d rather smooth out too? You don’t have to love me perfectly to love me right.” He’s straightening up now, trying to get a better view of your face, needs to see the truth of your words. His arms have moved around you like a vice, holding on as if you’ll disappear if he lets go. “You’ve never hurt me Jason. Scratch that, you’ve never hurt me before tonight and your stupid, noble attempt to break up with me. But not once have you laid your hands on me and not once have I been afraid of you.” He tries to interrupt, opens his mouth to speak but you’re not finished. You lay finger over his lips, force him to let you say your piece. “But I know that the problem isn’t my trust in you, it’s yours. Besides Black Mask and his thugs, did you hurt anyone else tonight?” At the shake of his head you continue. “There you have it. Even tonight, when you had every reason to spin out of control you didn’t hurt anyone you didn’t mean to. So talk to me. We’ll figure this out. Hell, we’ll find you a therapist if that’s what you want. So trust me, at least, even if you can’t trust yourself.”

You’d swear there were tears in his eyes if you didn’t already know never to trust the early morning light. It’s past dawn now and in the silence Jason looks like something out of a fairytale. The weak golden light makes him look so alive, so vibrant. He sits there still as stone, holding you tight in his lap, dumb with the weight of your love and acceptance. His grin, when it breaks over his face, is a little watery but possibly the most precious thing you’ve ever seen.

“There’s really no scaring you off, is there?” It’s a weak joke, but he’s trying.

“No. There isn’t.” If your words don’t convince him then the tone of satisfaction ringing through them would. Pushing at his shoulders you maneuver him as close to lying down as you can manage on your old couch. Tearing off your oversized sleep shirt (stolen from Jason of course), you’re finally as bare as he is. Perched over him, you enjoy the view of him splayed out like an offering. Reaching for his arm, you find his hand, place it on the curve below your belly and lace your fingers over the back of it. You push his palm down into you to feel the hard swell of where his cock is curving you out, carving out a place in your guts and moulding your cunt to the shape of his cock. You can see the exact moment his restraint snaps when he realizes he’s feeling himself through you. Let him jack knife up into you, feel the way his hardness moves under his palm. Enjoy the way it feels to finally have him drag his cock through you. But he’s trying to be respectful and you haven’t given him the go ahead yet. He restrains himself to shallow rocking motions, unable to stop himself completely, but the effort this is costing him is clear by his straining muscles and wide eyes.

“You paying attention Jay? This—” and this time you clench down on his cock as you press his hand to the shape of your womb just to hear him choke, “is yours. And you left it aching and empty for hours. You made such pretty promises earlier.” For this last part you lean down real close, brace yourself with an arm over his shoulder, wanting to make sure he doesn’t miss a thing. “And our conversation just ended.” He takes it as the permission it is and slams into you, deeper than before like you can feel him in you throat. Hands an iron grip around your waist, pulling you down to meet each sharp rolling thrust. Bullies his cock into you until he finds the angle that has sparks running under your skin, keeps hitting that angle with all the precision and aim of a sniper with his marksmanship. At this angle, his head’s at the perfect height to mouth at your breasts. You can feel him smiling around a nipple as he listens to you moan, only detaching to give the other breast the same kind of enthusiastic attention. Your arm finally gives out, falling down onto his bare chest. Limp, you let him manoeuvre him how he wants you, a rag-doll for your mutual pleasure. All the while he doesn’t stop fucking into you, any semblance of earlier control gone.

“Fuck, sweetheart you don’t know— don’t know what you do to me.” He’s gasping between each word, but the meaning of them still makes their way to your blissed out brain. The slick drag of his cock head along your clenching insides making everything else fade away. You can feel your orgasm building, heat pooling and growing with every thrust. Jason can feel you tightening up around him, knows the signs of your body so well. He starts circling your clit with his fingers, alternating pressure with his thrusts. The long drag and stretch of his cock, almost too much for you to take, never falters. It bumps up against your cervix, fills you up so completely that there’s room for nothing else but it and the pleasure it rips from you. Your release tears through you like wildfire, and for a moment dark spots cloud your vision. You know that you’ve clamped down, tight and hot and slick by the punched out groan from Jason, the way his head falls back onto the couch. But through it all he still keeps pumping into you.

He bites and sucks at your throat, a distraction from your over sensitivity. He leaves your clit alone, stops assaulting all your senses so viciously. Listens to you mewl from how sore and sensitive you are from having taken his cock nearly dry, having held it in you for so long before getting your cunt battered by it. “M so sorry sweetheart. Didn’t wanna hurt you. Gonna— gonna make it up to you. For the rest a m’life.” Now he’s rutting into you, all rhythm and finesse gone in pursuit of his own pleasure. Fire is running through your veins, gathering in your cunt and burning you whole. Your legs are weak and trembling where Jason’s placed them, hands trailing down your thighs to hook under your knees and pull your legs wider. Like this you’re trapped, pinned against him by the spread of your cunt, clit wet and grinding against his pubic bone every time he fucks back into you. You’re so close to another orgasm, quicker than you’ve ever been before.

“Please— Jay please, don’t— don’t stop. Need you. Need you har— harder. Jay. Jay” Jason being Jason, obliges. Your whole body jolts from the force of him inside you. You’re so frustratingly close, dancing on the knife’s edge of oblivion. Jay’s close too. You can tell by the way his breathing speeds up, the way he wraps one arm over your shoulder to keep you in place as he fucks your cunt raw. What sends you both over the edge is Jason taking his other hand and pushing down hard on the swell of your abdomen, the both of you feeling his cock kick and spurt inside of you. Heat paints your walls, and it’s that combined with all consuming pressure of his cock remaking you in his image that has you crying out your orgasm. Jason doesn’t pull out right away. Stays inside you and lets himself grow soft. Kisses featherlight over your face and eyelids. Strokes your flanks and combs his fingers through your hair. Soothes you into a light sleep.

When you wake up, it’s to full sunlight streaming into your bedroom. Turning your head, Jason meets your gaze, propped up on an elbow to watch over you. The both of you are still naked under the blankets but he must have cleaned up the mess between your legs. He pressed a kiss between your eyes before you can get too swept up by your thoughts.

“Hiya sweetheart.” The corners of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles like this. You think they’d make him look kind when he’s older. “I’m not going anywhere now, I promise.”

“Always?”

“Forever.”

[two-white-butterflies]

only a genius | toto wolff

Description: Toto Wolff dates a Bollywood actress.

Pairing: toto wolff/actress!reader

Author's Note: Using Young!Kareena Kapoor as fc. I love her.

hereisyn: 3 months since we last saw each other.

284 comments 139,249 likes

bananasinpajamas: HER BOYFRIEND IS AUSTRIAN RIGHT. SO HE'S PROBABLY SOMEONE FAMOUS AND HOT RIGHT?

elleelee11: Ya'll saying his Austrian but he could be German (but born in Austria) - dannygirl: bitch explain - elleelee11: She's done 10 movies with Daniel Bruhl 🤣 let that sink in for a minute

ZOOM INTERVIEW FOR 'LESLIE' SERIES (by elle)

Y/N L/N: Daniel is a nice co-star, he's sweet.

Daniel Bruhl: Yeah, and you're nice too - actually you're professional. I love you [laughs]

mmmwhatchasay: BITCH WHAT? I LOVE YOU?

danielxyn: Ya'll aint fooling anyone 😭

"Maus," Toto spoke, entering the living room with his tablet at the ready. "Ja?" you ask while taking a bite of the sandwich. "You are being 'shipped' with another actor." he sat down beside you, showing you his iPad that was in 75% font size. "Where did you learn that word?" you chuckled - wiping your fingers with a napkin.

To your surprise there were numerous threads talking about you and Daniel. A co-star that you considered to be a friend. "Russel," he replied - slowly leaning on your shoulder. "- but this isn't real," you comforted him - knowing that he could get a little jealous.

"I know - but other people think it is." he looked at your face, memorizing every indent and shadow. "What can I do?" you pressed a kiss on his jaw, inhaling his chocolate perfume.

"Let's tell the truth."

hereisyn: 2 years of marriage. More to come.

938 comments 2,239,109 likes

DanielBruhl: Phewww! That was a hard to keep secret.

lewishamilton: Happy anniversary, Mrs. Mercedes! Patiently waiting until Toto gets an instagram. - hereisyn: It'll turn into his facebook pretty soon. - - lewishamilton: 🤣 - - - mercedesamgf1: Lewis, - (Toto) - - - - hereisyn: free him, he did nothing wrong 🤷🏻‍♀️

bananasinpajamas: Y/n and Daniel shippers after today.

0 comments 10 likes

totowolfffanaccf: toto wolff fans, how are we?

12 comments 8 likes

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

Would you be willing to write Livewire (from Superman The Animated Series) x male reader smut?

Content: Bratty Livewire. Kissing. Biting. Oral sex (Livewire receiving). Thick thighs. Thigh worship. Thighjob (reader receiving). Rough sex. Aftercare.

VOICENOTE.

Sinopsis. Leslie has always used others for her own gain, manipulating emotions to control those around her. But that day, something shifted. In a rare moment of vulnerability, she reveals her struggles, and for the first time, the connection between her and the other person feels genuine—something deeper, unspoken, yet real.

pairing ── Leslie Willis (Livewire!) x Male! Reader

Content. MDNI ── Angst, friends with benefits, Bratty Livewire, Kissing, Biting, Oral sex (Livewire receiving).,Thick thighs, Thigh worship, Thighjob (reader receiving), Rough sex, Aftercare.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish — Sorry for the delay in uploading it. I had to do some research on the given information, and I also had some personal issues to deal with. Thank you for your patience!

You were only supposed to be her refuge, her safe place when the weight of the world overwhelmed her or when she felt playful. Leslie loved sending you voice messages loaded with a warmth you knew wasn’t entirely hers. “I love you,” she would say, in a syrupy tone that disarmed even the most guarded, though that phrase, repeated so confidently, was nothing more than a lie. A vile lie that she wielded with the same skill she used to control electricity. 

Leslie—or now Livewire—had always been that way: bold, straightforward, and almost supernaturally skilled at using people to her advantage. With you, her advantage came wrapped in skin and caresses, a tacit contract that allowed no negotiations. Her sparking eyes, always sharp, looked at you with a mix of interest and control, as if calculating your every move. Every time you crossed that line with her, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being a pawn in a game whose rules you didn’t understand. 

So, what changed? 

It wasn’t just desire that shone lately in Leslie’s gaze but something deeper, something even she didn’t know how to name. She had started staying longer after your encounters, her usual sarcasm giving way to half-confessions, her sharp words turning into whispers when she thought you weren’t paying attention. At times, her façade would crack, revealing nervous gestures, words laden with insecurity that didn’t match her explosive personality. 

It was as if the storm had taken on her form. Her lips were bursts of heat and humidity, leaving a trail of chaos behind. She bit with the precision of someone who knows pain can be just as addictive as pleasure. There was no tenderness in her kiss, only an intensity that allowed no truce. 

"Don't stay still," she ordered with a crooked smile. Her tone was mocking, but her gaze pierced you like lightning. Her tongue traced lines over your skin, and each caress was accompanied by her low, dangerous laughter. She pushed you onto the couch with insulting ease—or maybe you surrendered without resistance. With Leslie, it was hard to tell who gave in first. 

Her teeth sank into your shoulder, skirting that line between pain and pleasure. For a moment, you didn’t know whether to pull away or let yourself be consumed by the magnetic chaos Leslie unleashed with every move. 

"Does it hurt?" she teased, as her lips descended, leaving a trail of kisses that weren’t really kisses but small, controlled explosions. 

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The electricity radiating from her body—both literal and metaphorical—kept you in a feverish state. Her hands, rough yet magnetic, explored you with a confidence that left no room for doubt. 

"You're so easy to read," she continued, biting your neck this time. The moan that escaped your lips became Leslie’s trophy, and she looked at you with those eyes that never asked for permission. 

Leslie loved starting with her own pleasure. It was her unspoken rule, her unbreakable law. Her body dictated the rhythm and direction, and all you could do was surrender. With a confident motion, she straddled you, her thick thighs trapping you with an intensity that made you feel both captive and desired. 

"Don’t get sentimental, alright?" she said, her smile itself a challenge. Her platinum hair fell messily, as if the storm within her shaped it too. 

When your hands dared to slide over her thighs, she let out a brief laugh, almost a purr. 

"What are you waiting for, applause?" she joked, though the gleam in her eyes hinted at something more. 

Without needing words, Leslie leaned toward you, pressing her lips against yours with the intensity of someone who knows they’re in complete control. Her teeth, sharp and mischievous, bit your lower lip, pulling it with a mix of violence and playfulness. Her body moved with a confidence that was almost offensive, a rhythm that hypnotized you. 

—Do you know what I like most about you? —Leslie asked, without stopping. —That you are always ready. Like a good boy.  His laughter echoed like thunder as he settled on top of you, his skin exposed, glistening in the dim light of the storm raging outside. Leslie leaned back on the end of the couch with an almost arrogant majesty. Her breasts, firm and perfect as if they were the work of a Renaissance artist, rose with each breath. He bit his lip, his electrifying eyes searching yours.  There were no words. Only the inevitable attraction that made you lean towards her, sinking your lips into the heat of her intimacy, which greeted you with a searing intensity. "Ngh...oh...good doggy...such a good doggy" She whispered placing her hand on your head, sinking you further into her dripping womanhood. A raw, animalistic growl leaves your mouth as she tightens around your pink tongue as you slide again and again inside her, your fingers coming up to make little figure eights on her clit, which was becoming increasingly swollen and hotter.

Leslie's bluish skin was now with reddish undertones due to the heat around you, and her lips were about to bleed from the pressure of her teeth on them. Leslie's lewd sounds and fluids seeped into you. Its juices were a sweet and spicy mixture that wrapped in your mouth as if it were a dessert. Although you will deny it, you loved to adore Leslie, after all, she was your muse. The electric tension in the air seemed to come not just from her, but from everything Leslie represented. Every movement of his was thunder, every moan a lightning that crossed your skin. His hand tightened on your hair, guiding you with almost painful precision, as if the climax was not his alone, but a shared storm.

It was not worship that led you to obey it; It was something more primal, a desire to be consumed by that energy that only Leslie could generate. You felt how his muscles began to tense under your fingers, how his previously controlled breathing became erratic, a melody that only you could hear up close.  "There, right there..." he murmured, with a voice that no longer had traces of mockery. Now she was the one teetering on the edge, struggling to stay in control as the electricity threatened to explode from the depths of her being.  And then it happened. His body arched as if he had been struck by lightning. His hand trembled tangled in your hair, and a low moan, charged with heartbreaking pleasure, echoed through the room. You felt how your body completely enveloped you, its heat, its humidity, its essence. For a moment, Leslie wasn't Livewire, she wasn't the storm. It was just Leslie, vulnerable, pure energy overflowing, and you, her only witness.  The storm subsided little by little, leaving her panting, her skin glowing as if it were made of liquid light. His eyes looked at you, half tired, half filled with a challenge that never quite died away.  "Not bad, little dog," he finally said, letting out a hoarse laugh that carried with it an echo of his previous arrogance. But there was something else in his gaze now, a spark of gratitude, or perhaps simple acceptance.

You stayed there, leaning against his still trembling thighs, feeling the weight of the storm you had helped release. You didn't need words. Words, at that moment, could not capture the electric and visceral language that existed between them.  When he finally laid back down, his hand slid to your cheek, a gesture that was both possessive and indulgent.  "You've been a good little dog...you deserve a prize for your work," she whispered, more to herself than to you, as her breathing began to stabilize.  It didn't take long for her to pin you down and put her thick thighs around your erect penis. He began to masturbate you slowly and tortuously. You didn't want him to get angry, but you knew that more than a reward, it was a punishment, a cruel one. You felt the pressure of his thighs, the heat they radiated, like a constant reminder of who was in control. His gaze sparked with a mix of malice and something else you couldn't quite decipher, and the slow pace of his hand was calculated, as if each movement was designed to keep you on the edge without letting you fall. —Do you like this? —he asked with that honeyed voice that always carried a hidden edge. It wasn't a real question, but a disguised statement, a game in which she already knew the answer. His laugh, low and vibrant, slipped between the silences, while his hand maintained that rhythm that bordered on the unbearable.

You tried to move, to search for something else, but his thighs clenched with a force that reminded you there was no escape. Her other arm rested lazily on the back of the couch, as if this were casual entertainment, a game she could continue indefinitely. “You're so predictable,” he continued, leaning towards you a little, enough for his swollen blue lips to touch yours. The electricity in the air seemed to intensify, as if his every movement charged the space with an energy that threatened to consume everything.

The weather became strange. The seconds seemed to stretch, each one charged with tension as his thighs guided you in that hypnotic swing. The heat in your body was building, and you felt like you were on the edge of a cliff that she refused to let you cross. “Don't you dare finish until I say so,” he warned, his words like thunder that resonated deep within you. There was something in her tone, a mix of authority and temptation, that made it impossible to disobey her. His crooked smile returned, the one that always made you question how much of this was a punishment and how much a reward in disguise. And then he changed the pace, barely noticeably at first, but enough for every fiber in your body to react. His gaze did not leave yours, as if he were studying your every reaction, enjoying the absolute power he had over you.

—Tell me, how far are you willing to go for me? —he whispered, leaning close enough for his lips to brush yours, but not kiss you completely. The heat of his breath was another form of torture, a reminder of how close he was and how unreachable he still was. Your lips parted, but you couldn't get any words out. It wasn't necessary. She already knew the answer, and the spark in her eyes confirmed it to you: this was her game, and you were caught up in it. Your eyes widened as you felt her slide her dripping womanhood onto your cock. You grabbed her hips as you felt the depths of her interior, rubbing against her uterus. She went gentle at first, trying to make you feel each of her fleshy rings on your length. But it was only a few seconds, in the blink of an eye she was holding on to your shoulders, jumping on you while grabbing her hips. It was fast and hard, there was no time to think.

She felt so full, so drunk from the delicious burning of her pussy on your cock. And it seems like you were drunk on her too, because as soon as her hips brush against yours at a fast and deliciously hard pace, the words escape her. They were whispers, soft whispers that made his saliva drip out of his mouth. “Oh...how I love you.”

oh...Oh...OH! That was new.

His words hung heavy in the heady air. You almost put everything aside to ask if it weren't because he caged you in his arms, preventing you from stopping. Your voice shakes a little as you let out a humorless laugh as you moaned at the feeling of his core engulfing your cock. Soft lips rest on your forehead and breathe in your aroma. Absolutely scorching, so sensual, all while quietly murmuring, "I love you, my good boy."

. . . Rage

You took her regardless of her protests and pulled her under you, thrusting, trying to forget what she said. But when you looked into her eyes...those electrifying eyes that trapped you in their net, and you saw it there, in her eyes, which for the first time denoted a hint of affection. "I love you" God, I wasn't lying. You held on to her like the world depended on it, and with force, before you came inside her, you came out and ended up on her chest, while she squirted beneath you, staining you with her juices. They stood together on the couch, the room lit only by the distant flicker of rays outside the window. The electricity from earlier had dissipated, leaving them enveloped in a dense silence, like the heavy air before rain. Livewire rested on your chest, her breathing still rapid, but calmer, almost vulnerable in the stillness around them.

Leslie’s skin glowed faintly under the dim light, but it wasn’t just from sweat—it was something deeper: a haunting shimmer, as if the storm she had unleashed within her body still left a mark on her soul. Yet there was something different about her now—a serenity blended with her usual disdain. 

“I said a lot of things to you…” she whispered, breaking the silence like a stifled sigh. Her voice was softer, less sharp, and though she tried to hide it, there was an undercurrent of fragility in her words. 

You tensed slightly, a faint fear of what she might say rising within you, but something about her—something in her tone—kept you still, your fingers brushing through her hair in an almost automatic gesture of comfort. 

“Don’t believe everything I say,” she continued, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze. The electric brilliance from before had faded, leaving behind the Leslie she rarely allowed anyone to see. Her eyes, usually full of control and defiance, now seemed vulnerable, almost lost. 

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” you replied calmly. You knew there was more behind her words, but the truth didn’t seem to matter as much in that moment. Just being there with her, listening to her, was enough. 

She let out a small sigh, as though releasing an invisible weight. 

“What I said… ‘I love you’…” she repeated softly, her gaze drifting forward, as if the mere thought of those words unsettled her. “It wasn’t true. I can’t love like that; I don’t know how… I never have.” 

At first, the air felt heavy. An echo of what she had said lingered between you, but you just looked at her—without judgment, without the need to force a response. You knew there was more to her world than her words let on, and this was one of the rare moments she allowed herself to be vulnerable. 

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t feel it,” you said, a bit surprised by your own calmness. Despite everything that had happened, your desire to care for her, to protect her even from her internal storm, seemed stronger than any doubt. 

Leslie looked at you, her eyes slightly wide, as though she hadn’t expected such a steady, understanding response. For a moment, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Finally, she simply nodded, her breathing calmer now, though it still wavered occasionally. 

You moved closer, unhurriedly wrapping your arms around her, as if to shelter her in a warmth so deep that, even if only for a brief moment, the storm would feel like a distant memory. 

“I’ve got you,” you murmured softly, almost without thinking. The words were so simple, yet the way they left your lips felt like a promise that needed no further explanation. 

Leslie, in her silence, leaned into you, resting her head on your chest, seeking that warmth she had always evaded on her own terms. And though no words were spoken, something deeper seemed to bind the two of you in that moment. 

Perhaps it wasn’t love—not the kind you could name—but it was something far more real between you: a quiet understanding, an acceptance. Leslie didn’t know how to love in the conventional way, but you understood that, in her own way, she did—though in a form so complex that only time and patience could unravel it. 

She said nothing more, and she didn’t need to. It was in the way her body relaxed against yours, in how her breathing aligned with yours, in that shimmer in her eyes that now resembled water after a storm—clear but still unsettled. 

And you, without moving, understood her. Not with certainty—because there was never certainty with Leslie—but with an intuition that settled in your chest as gently as her weight did. 

She closed her eyes and leaned into you, a surrender without words that spoke volumes. Outside, lightning still traced fleeting patterns across the sky, but inside, in that moment, there was a silence so profound it almost carried the echo of what she dared not say. 

Maybe it wasn’t love—not yet—but it was something that, in its ambiguity, held everything

A/N ─── Yay, it's done! And... I guess you could say it's a PWP? I'm not sure. It was hard to find the necessary information, but I hope I’ve provided something you’ll like. I’ve been really busy, and right now as I’m writing this, I’m extremely stressed, so I’m not sure if it turned out well or if I have any spelling mistakes. Please correct me if so.

Feel free to ask me anything

Take a bath!

[inafieldofdaisies]

OCs as tragic love archetypes | uquiz | tagged by @adelaidedrubman @corvosattano and @simplegenius042

CUPID'S BROTHER: You have been love adjacent all your life. The faint spill of another story that softly grazed your shoulders when stood too close. Whether by design or not, you have yet to build a clear image of what love means to you. The interlocked weaving of a picture locket bound to strand of hair when hugged to tight, the sunpatch that meets your soles in glaring sun dried fields when running with a friend. You are not far from love, but moving between line of collision and avoidance at all times. A faint glimmer on sea lake surface of what could be. There is time to find what you want, find whether it's enough as is. Love is in you, breathing in another day. Continue as you are, realizing the love that is slowly blossoming in your life as it sharpens and clears in brushstrokes.

CANíBALES/DEVOURER: Love's a knife to skin to you, a vein to woven muscle, blood puddle before you. You listened to all the promises of a stranger's relief and feel the drain of a shower head running it all down again. You committed another murder; kissed and bruised skin with a clench to a quivering wrist and went home in the defeaning quiet of a taxi. There's mold covered rage within you. If to take a heart home with you, you'd bite your way through muscle and ribcage first. Pleasure comes, but there will be no devouring past it. There is fear in settling down and being seen. There is a glass screen between these bodies and you. Relax your tight jaw and feel the real canine fear beneath that scabbed up cavity. The sacrifice of opening up is needed if to be loved as you deeply wish inside. Desire doesn't discriminate between hands or spoken word. Why should you?

If this isn't perfect for Mer, and sacrifice being mentioned ☠️

SUB ROSA: Love is a game of here and there to you. Whether catching glimpse of another's neckline or grazing a knuckle between knocking shoulders of passing by. You have learned to adore in secrecy, the rawness of an outright confession to be spoken a foreign terror. There is ease in pursuing the unavailable, to remain within the space of possibility and nestle the fuzzy words another could say to make or break your day. Instability spun itself into mysterium and while the certainty of love in aging isn't to be forced upon anyone, there is a miniscule part of you testing the limits of ambiguity. Hold down the feeling and settle in the leather seat of a car, kiss the corner of a mouth and say how you feel. Your affection in its vulnerability is to be seen, lift the veil and do not fret when an honest word turns into all you have secretly yearned for. You are meant to be noticed and openly loved.

LESLIE. Goddamn, he is at it again.

MAUDLIN MAGDALENE: An embrace with the shivering figure of a ghost. You cut your hair at 3 a.m. to change it all but it is no use. Love is a war to endure to you. You comfort and hold, kiss pressed to temple and cheek while feeling the numbness filling your nights to brim. What used to feel honorable has now become chore of breathing to sustain another. What else is love, but your disembodied lap to lay another's head into? Your fingers turn blue in the announcing dawn, the cold figure of what you used to know of yourself remains asleep next to them. Another version of you has crept out of your old body, has ripped and eaten itself out of a cast that was fused into the position of nurturing comfort. Remove yourself from your lovers before they become part of you, conjoined with your arms to anothers wailing head you have no life apart of maudlin magdalene. You have given endlessly, but this isn't all there is to you. Acknowledge the good that has been done and let yourself be free. You deserve to feel held as well, you are more than what you can give of yourself before breaking down.

FATHER'S SON: Breathe down your own neck, it's the sound of smashing fist against furniture in another room again. The wringing hem of cloth and pattern of an escalating heart. Love is tumultous to you. There is grief and disguised forgiveness to damp down the yearning. A permanent fear of tender flesh spilling out, still- you must refrain of growing attached to the fear you had installed into you. Let go of the notion that love is still to be cherished with a hole in the head. Scrub crimson ancestry off wooden floors and try again tomorrow when your hands don't shake cold from the blood loss. Love isn't a fist to escape. Fill the hole in your head with cotton and know you are to be adored. You are deserving of an embrace without flinching.

Torn about this one, like pretty boy has a ton of guilt from his past, but the violence isn't something he faced prior to [redacted], esp in his family. He'd argue he's not his father's son, actually.

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @josephslittledeputy @trench-rot @josephseedismyfather @florbelles @direwombat @cassietrn @purplehairsecretlair @voidika @theelderhazelnut @marivenah @madparadoxum @unholymilf @carlosoliveiraa @harmonyowl @nightbloodbix @macs-babies @shellibisshe @onehornedbeast @euryalex @clicheantagonist @g0dspeeed and anyone that would like to do the uquiz for their ocs <3

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 30th. Begging. "Accidental And Unexpected Benefits." Leslie Vernon X AFAB! Reader.

It is here! Second to last day of Kinky December, I forgot what a fucking banger this one is! I didn't do much to it but some fucking about and reformatting. I hope you all enjoy it!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.8K. Warnings. Teasing. Public Fingering. Making Out. Biting. Edging. Orgasm Denial. Begging. Extreme Frustration. Crying Reader. Thigh Riding. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Cunnilingus. And Of Course Leslie Being Leslie. 

—

He had far too much fun with this. Leslie was a playful kind of guy, and this was such a surprisingly enjoyable game for him. 

However, it was discovered accidentally. 

He had a thing for hooking up in places you both probably shouldn’t be. For a guy whose career is largely built around killing people he caught in the act of having pre-martial sex and similar such debauchery, he sure seemed to love and get off on it himself. The amount of times when an ‘innocent’ date became so much more than that was notable to say the least. I mean, you enjoyed it too, so you weren’t about to complain. You liked the danger just as much and found yourself initiating often. 

The thing was about doing something like this as often as you did, that you were bound to get caught eventually. 

It couldn’t have been at a worse time, either.

It had begun with the two of you out on one of those aforementioned dates. A movie, seemingly empty, have you ever had one of those days? Where you get a whole theatre to yourself? Some weekday matinée on a day off of yours. 

You kissed him, soft and sweet, slow, it didn’t stay that way, he escalated it. A hand on your knee, deepening that kiss as his touch moves up your leg, when his knuckles brushed over the exposed skin on your thigh, nudging between your knees you pulled back with a breathless laugh- “What are you doing?”

His mouth on your neck, a soft moan crossing your lips, you could feel that impish grin against your throat, a light laugh of his own, more kisses, nipping at your skin before saying, “What? No one else is here.”

Your thighs tightened, trying to slow his hand, his other hand is immediately on your opposite leg, his grip is strong, and you aren’t able to stop him. He spread your legs, forcing them apart, that made you pulse unexpectedly. Whenever he showed off his strength like this, you couldn’t help the small sound that you let out in response, you speak hush and hurried, “Not the point I was trying to make! Leslie we-”

You tried to close your legs again and his grip tightened, holding them open, he bit down on the side of your throat, and it made your sentence stop dead-cutting off with quiet- “-oh.”

He pulled back just a little, he looked at you in that way that made you swallow hard, “We what? ‘We shouldn’t?’ All the more reason if you ask me.” 

Fucking heaven above, the way he said that, that teasing and mocking way he uttered ‘We shouldn’t?’ my God, if you weren’t wet before you certainly were now. 

“Now. Be good and keep em spread for me.” He said it firmly, a statement, not a question. 

You listened. 

He was leaned in close to you, one of his hands sliding up, resting between your spread thighs, under your skirt, palm cupping your already wet cunt through your underwear. You caught yourself admiring his hands often, they were very well worked and capable, and of course for this reason right here, how he used them on you just this well.

He started off touching you through the thin material, teasing you lightly through the quickly dampening fabric. You would attempt to protest further, but it felt so good, how could you? Why would you?

The lights dimmed. Advertisements started up.

“Bet I can make you cum before the movie starts.”

Well now that sounded like a wager you could get behind. If you were doing this, and you were, he had started, and you were sure he had no intention of stopping, not when he got his mind set on something, and there was no one else here.

You’d be an idiot not to take him up on the offer.

He was too fucking good at it. 

You lost yourself in it. At some point he had moved his hand into your panties, and he touched you just so, circling your clit and fingers dipping inside, curling and dragging over that spot that made your legs tense.

It was no contest. 

You were breathing hard, trying to rein in your moans, no one was in here, but you were still trying not to get caught. Leslie was being well Leslie and trying to get you to make some sounds, and he was succeeding as expected of him. 

The pleasure built quickly, you were almost there, your nails were biting into the armrests on either side of you, eyes squeezed shut, you breathed his name in warning. 

He didn’t slow, your chest rising and falling, nearly there, about to tip over and then-

It happened too quickly.

His arm around your shoulders, pulling you even closer to him, your face ending up in the crook of his neck, his hand slipping out of your panties, meeting your outer thigh, forcing your legs closed and tightly together. 

You wanted to groan out in protest, being left on the very edge like that, before you could even consider protesting he whispered in your ear, “Shhhh. Someone else just came in. Play it cool.”

You pulled back and looked and yeah another couple came in. So much for being alone. Worst timing in the fucking world. Once that other couple was seated a few rows ahead you were tempted to beg him to finish you off, you could be quiet when needed. Before you could though his hand on your thigh squeezed gently, his fingers were still wet from having just been inside of you as he whispered, “Be patient. I’m not done with you.”

Should have known better. Leslie always prefers when he can hear you and true while you would have been quieter due to your public setting he still would have gotten what he wanted. Getting you off with other people so close you wouldn’t have been able to hear you at all, and that simply wouldn’t do. 

You nearly shivered from what he said, and you settled back into your seat, crossing your legs and getting ready for the longest movie going experience of your life. 

He had timed it perfectly. If that couple didn’t come in, you would have before the movie actually started. 

Now, he didn’t mean for it to happen. Really he didn’t. He could have sworn at this time on a weekday you two would have been alone, but sometimes things happen, everyone, even the great Leslie Vernon himself made mistakes. 

But this didn’t turn out to be a mistake.

Not really. 

He had enjoyed the movie a lot. You thought he didn’t notice, but of course he did, he was observant. He was always paying attention, especially when you were around and you, throughout the whole movie, were tense. 

When the movie was done, and you had gotten back in the car, he could tell you were restraining yourself. You somehow made it back to his place, and when he finally got you back there, you were so amazingly-what would be a good word-receptive. It all seemed heightened for you, frantic, needy, so eager to please and when he finally did make you cum, it didn’t take long once he got started, when he did, and he brought you relief you were the most beautiful sight. 

How you arched and cried out his name below him, something was just different enough about it to pique his curiosity. 

So an experiment was needed. 

He had to make sure it wasn’t just some kind of fluke, and why not do it? Just for the fun of it.

Another similar event. 

He initiated something, it was hot and fun, intense, he got you close and oops-you were interrupted again. “Weird, right?”

What a coincidence. Lord knows, he would never plan something like that on purpose.

It worked.

He pushed it further. He managed to sneak another edge in, well-timed once more, having to cut it short before you would be exposed. You took a little convincing, your nails biting into your palms, you looked like you wanted to finish yourself off right there, he held his hand out and urged you, that same slight edge to it that did you in every time, “Come on, you don’t want anyone to see you like this, do you?”

You bit your bottom lip and with a shake of your head you took his hand and allowed him to help you up. A laugh and a shake of his head as he pulled you close to him as he said, “Thought so.” 

Couldn’t stay still, you kept shifting your weight all night, trying to find a comfortable position where your soaked panties weren’t sticking to you so damn closely. Weren’t teasing you and giving unwanted extra friction to your already too sensitive self.

When he got you alone later on, you were practically vibrating with need. He took one look at you, eyes dragging up and down your nearly trembling form and with a lopsided smirk he said, “Get on your knees.”

And you did so, dropping to your knees in the damp grass, and you fussed with his belt with shaking hands, and soon he was in your mouth. He found his own release with his fingers in your hair. You had nearly sucked the life out of him and almost brought him to his knees in kind. Turns out a little edging and denial turned you, an already good little cocksucker, into an insatiable dick hungry slut. You fucked your own mouth and throat on his ample length, spit ran down your chin and neck, and soon he came into your mouth, and you showed him your tongue coated with the evidence of his pleasure before swallowing it all back. 

You worked him over with a fervent passion previously unseen from you, and he liked it.

Well, obviously it wasn’t just a mistake or a one time thing. 

So this was his new game now. Seeing how many times he could manage to edge you, bring you so close before giving you what you wanted. He wanted to see you break. Wanted to see how far he could push your resolve, and wanted to see what it would take for you to not be able to stand it any longer and beg him for your release. 

Today was going to be that day.

He could feel it. 

Previously he would always let you cum before leaving, making sure you were spent and satisfied, he was doing this and enjoying the fuck out of it but didn’t want to let on to the fact that he was.

You hadn’t picked up on it. But last night. Last night he didn’t. He left you hanging, literally. 

There were gallows at Eugene and Jamie’s for ‘training’ purposes. You had your hands curled around the rope of the noose, holding on to it for dear life. He had already edged you a few times throughout the day, it was a little funny to him that you hadn’t caught on yet considering how often the two of you and been ‘conveniently interrupted’ but he wasn’t going to question a good thing. You were so damn close, and then he cut it short once again. You nearly wanted to scream from frustration.

Not only that, but you didn’t take care of yourself that night because you knew that it wouldn’t be as good as when he did it. So what would be the point? It would be more depressing than satisfying. A regret instead of a relief. 

I mean, sure, you felt like you were literally on fucking fire and were leaking like a faucet and couldn’t stop thinking about him and the pulsing need between your aching thighs, but you persisted. 

You waited. He knew that you would too. He knew you so well, of course you waited for him.  Now you were fucking starving for it already when you met up, but he wouldn’t give in so easily. 

He teased you with the threat of it. Maybe too much, I suppose it depends on your definition of too much. Was nearly all day too much?

It certainly was for you.

You finally gave him what he wanted. 

Your back pressed against one of the beams in the barn, your head was currently swimming as you were mid-makeout. One of his legs between yours, you were grinding on him, unashamedly and utterly desperate. He attempted to pull away for what had to be the fifth fucking time that afternoon, and you’d finally had enough. It was too much. Your hands fisted in his shirt, and you tugged, keeping him close to you, not wanting to lose contact for even a second.

“Les-please!”

That small smirk, his hands on your waist, he pressed his leg harder into you and let out a strained moan as he asked, in a faux innocent tone,“You okay, baby?”

You shifted your hips and a bit back another moan, it was hard to string together a coherent sentence when all you could think of was your throbbing cunt. Another grind that had you gasp out the word, “Fine!”

All you could manage after that was a, “Fuc-please?”

You sounded so good to him like this. Brushing some of your hair aside, his forehead was nearly pressed to yours as he asked, “Please what?”

He knew damn well what, but it wasn’t good enough, not yet. He needed to hear it. You whined, head resting against the wooden beam you were against, you clearly needed to be pushed just a little further. He dropped to his knees in front of you, strong hands gripping your hips, looking up at you as he prompted, “Is this what you need?”

His mouth pressed to you through your clothes and that was enough to make you gasp, hands on his shoulders, a furious nod. He shook his head with a laugh, a tsk before saying, “No, no. If you really want it, you gotta use your words. Guess you don’t want it that badly-”

He made an attempt to get up, and that was unthinkable. You had him here in front of you, he was close to you, about to give you just what you needed, you spoke up, cutting him off.

“No! I-I’m sorry, please, please, fuck, stay?”

You sounded so in need. It certainly had his attention, he remained on his knees, looking up at you. You kept going. 

“I need it, okay? Need you, I-I can’t focus, can’t do anything! All I’ve been thinking about since last night is this-”

And as you began begging, his hands started to move, slowly starting to remove what was still on below your waist. Your voice wavered but didn’t stop, your heart pounding, you were so excited, you couldn’t mess this up, not now. “Oh, you NEED me, do you?”

Another nod, his fingers brushed over your clothed slit and your hips arched into his touch, another moan accompanied your admission, “Yes! I need it Les, fuck! Please, please, fingers, your tongue-fucking all of it.”

A kiss finally pressed to you through your panties and the moan you let out, my God, talk about wanton and laced with desire. You were shaking by this point, you couldn’t recall a time you wanted something more, he finally decided to slip your panties down and when you felt his bare fingers brush against you?

You sobbed.

Literally.

He made you fucking cry with need, with the sheer weight of the desire he had whipped up inside of you, eyes shut tight, hot tears sliding down your cheeks. A deep shuddering breath that ended in another fucking gasp and a cry of his name as his hands cradling your hips titled you closer and his tongue ran over your aching clit. 

He never thought it would go this well. Actually making you cry with how badly you needed him? An amazing feeling. What power and control he had over you at this moment. What a fun game, it might be his new favourite. 

He let out a moan of his own against you from your taste, he pulled back, and you whimpered, looking down at him, fuck that look in his eye, oh you knew you had him now.

“Desperation tastes so good on you.”

And mercifully he leaned in again, this time he didn’t stop. You still didn’t take the chance and practically begged him the entire time, but all that did was fuel him. Your cries of ‘please’ and of his name and curse after curse filled the open space in the barn. Of course, one wasn’t enough.

I mean, what is an edge, really? Getting almost impossibly close to the promise of an orgasm and denying it, and let’s just say he made a lot of promises he had every intention of making good on. 

And much later, when you were picking hay off of your sweat slick legs, you couldn’t help but think that maybe this was your new favourite game too. You couldn’t help it as you had the thought later that night back at home.

“How would he react to being on the receiving end?”

[galactickle]

Plus One Chapter 3

Jean-Ralphio Saperstein x reader

Summary: You have been secretly dating Jean-Ralphio for a while… How will the parks department take it when you bring him to Leslie and Ben's wedding?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Masterlist

A/N: this is not canon compliant

It had been over a year of you seeing Jean-Ralphio steadily, but you had yet to let him or yourself tell anyone about what was going on. Even Tom didn’t know yet. 

“Gather around everyone!” Leslie announces, stepping into the office. She hands out envelopes to everyone.

“What are these?” Larry asks.

“Open them!” Leslie urges. You all do as told, and inside you find wedding invitations. 

“Oh my god!” you and Ann exclaim, rushing to give Leslie a hug. Leslie laughs almost maniacally. You examine the invitation again and notice that the RSVP is only for one person. You bite your lip, “Leslie, can I talk to you?” you step to the side.

“Yeah, of course!” the two of you step outside the office, “Is something wrong? Can you not make it?” 

“No no no, actually I was just wondering if I could have a plus one?”

“What?” Leslie looks around helplessly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You mull that over in your mind for a second, “Kind of, I don’t know, but I want to introduce him to you guys.”

Leslie smiles widely, almost mischievously. “Yeah, of course, I’ll tell Ben.”

~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~

Leslie and Ben’s wedding was quickly approaching and you had yet to invite Jean-Ralphio or tell him of your plans.

The two of you sat on the couch in your apartment, eating take out and watching bad reality tv, when you turned to him, “Jean-Ralphio…”

“Yes baby?” he had taken to calling you every pet name in the book. 

“What would you think of going to Leslie’s wedding with me?”

“I didn’t get an invite,” he frowned.

“No, I mean like, you would be my plus one.”

He perked up at this, “Really? So we’d go, like, together?”

“That’s what I said isn’t it?” you giggle.

He sits up and presses a firm kiss to your lips, “Would we get to tell people about us?” You nod, “Tom?”

“Yes, but not til the wedding,” you press a firm finger to his chest. He nods excitedly, pulling you into another kiss. 

~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~

You fussed over Jean-Ralphio’s shirt collar, trying to steady yourself for the wedding. What would they think? What would Ron think? Jean-Ralphio leans down and places a kiss on your nose, before pulling away to jump up and down excitedly. 

You smile at him, “Ready?”

“Ready,” he slips his hand into yours, dragging you out the door. 

You look around in awe at the venue which is decorated with red and white flowers and accents. It’s very tasteful yet pretty. You attempt to release your hand from Jean-Ralphio’s grip to wipe the sweat from your palm, but he squeezes it tightly. You spot April and Andy sitting near the front, and tug Jean-Ralphio down the aisle to the few open seats next to them.

“Heyy,” you say nervously as you approach. 

“Y/N and… Jean-Ralphio, heyyy,” April says stalely. 

You scooch down the row to the open seats. 

“Jean-Ralphio?” you hear Tom before you see him. 

“Hey! Tommy-T!”

“What are you doing here? I thought Leslie didn't invite you?”

“She didn't! I’m here with Y/N though!” he points to you excitedly. 

“Whaaat?” Tom exclaims.

“What?” Ron states from down the aisle, you turn, mouth agape as you try to form an answer or explanation, but you come up with nothing. 

“Ron-” Ben interjects, having arrived at the same time as Ron. 

“This imbecile?” 

“I-” you start.

“Ron, not today please,” Ben pleads. Ron grunts and proceeds to sit in the front row. 

“What's going on?” Andy asks, causing April to smack him on the arm. 

At the reception tensions were high between you and Ron. You almost clung to Jean-Ralphio more than he clung to you. 

“So like, when did this,” Tom gestures between the two of you, “happen?”

You turn to Jean-Ralphio, opening your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “Well this little hottie first caught my eye at the Snakehole-”

“It’s been about a year,” you cut him off.

“A year? How have you kept this from me for a year?” Tom asks, more directed at Jean-Ralphio. 

“Well I wouldn't be able to bang her if I told you, so it was a pretty easy choice,” he grins down at you. You look back up at him and shake your head, smiling. 

“Awwe you two are so cuteee,” Leslie coos. 

You hug her, congratulating her again on the wedding. Then hug Ben, “Thank you again for keeping this a secret.”

“Of course,” Ben smiles at you. 

“Ben knew?!” Tom exclaims. 

“Accidentally,” you explain.

“I knew it would work out with the two of you, you're meant to be together,” Ben says, pulling Leslie into his side tightly. 

“I disagree,” Ron pipes up as he approaches the group. “I think you are making a terrible mistake,” he directs at you. 

You falter, looking down at the ground. “Oh c'mon Mr. Swanson,” Jean-Ralphio punches his arm lightly. 

“No son, you listen to me, you have been nothing but a horrible friend and business partner to Tom, and I don't expect you'll act any differently towards Y/N, so I suggest you leave before you ruin her future.” Everyone pauses, looking between Ron and you.

“Do you think I’d bring him here if I didn't see a future with him?” you look up at Ron, but your vision blurs.

Jean-Ralphio turns to a caterer quickly, whispering, “Do you have anything circular? Like a ringolo? Ouh! Or a ring pop? A ring pop would be perfect!” The caterer walks away, shaking her head. 

“You’re throwing your life away,” Ron states. 

You felt the floodgates open, rushing off to find the nearest bathroom or corner to cry in.

“Y/N,” Jean-Ralphio tries to grab your arm but you slip right through his fingers, he looks at Ron with sad eyes. 

“Not cool Ron,” Leslie scolds, running after you. April and Andy had been keeping their distance, but when you and Leslie passed, April was quick to follow.

“Did you really have to do that now ?” Ben asks Ron. 

“I can't let her do that to herself,” He gestures at Jean-Ralphio.

“You know she loves him, right? And there's no way you'll change her mind on that.”

“She doesn't love him,” Ron dismisses. 

“She's been hiding her relationship with him for almost 2 years, because she was scared of what people would say, and you just made her worst fear come true. Think about that.” Ben walks away.

You find a bench outside in a secluded enough place and let the tears fall. 

“Y/N,” you hear Leslie say in a soft voice, as she rubs you back soothingly.

“Don't listen to Ron,” April grabs your hands in hers, “He's a stupid man.”

You laugh a little through your blubbering. 

“It’s true, Ron doesn’t know anything about your guys’ relationship, none of us do.”

“Well I know that that fool knows enough about you to get your stupid hard coffee order right,” April says, which makes your heart swell with love. “Annndd that he somehow managed to get you to ditch my wedding.”

You look up, shocked, “How did you know?”

April shrugs, “I put it together after the coffee incident… You were acting weird that night.”

You laugh, full and hearty. 

“See? Ron doesn't know anything!” Leslie says, standing abruptly. “Now let's get back in there, and tell him that you're not giving up on love.”

You release one of your hands from Aprils, and reach out to squeeze Leslies. “Okay.”

When you returned to the reception the men had scattered. You spot Tom getting a drink at the bar and split from the girls. “Where's Jean-Ralphio?” you ask him. 

“I don't know! I feel like I don't know anything about him anymore!” Tom sighs. 

“Tom, you still know him better than anyone, and it was my fault he couldn't tell you. I really held it over his head that I would end it if he said anything.”

“I know, but still! I feel betrayed…” he downs his drink.

“C'mon,” you loop your arm through his, “let's dance.” You drag Tom to the dance floor as Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody plays. The two of you dance for a few songs, and you have so much fun you almost forget the ordeal. 

Then the music stops abruptly, “Can I have everyone's attention please?” you lift your head at the sound of a familiar voice. “I just wanted to say- what a lovely wedding, congrats to Leslie and Ben! And also… Y/N…” Jean-Ralphio starts, “This past year and 8 months have been incredible, and I don't just mean the sex, I mean, you have made me a better person, and you make me want to continue to get better.”  It feels like your heart is beating out of your chest. “For you, I want to be better for you, and as a promise that I will do that, I want to ask you,” he hops down from the stage and into the crowd, stopping in front of you and getting on one knee, “Will you marry me? Cuz you really the beeesssst!” he sings the last part. You look at him, then the ‘ring’ in his hand, then back at him. The crowd holds their breath. 

“Yes.” Jean-Ralphio jumps up, the crowd cheering as he tackles you in a hug and peppers you with kisses, you giggling away. 

“Here,” he grabs your hand.

“Is that a napkin ring?” you ask. 

“Yeah- but I'll get you a real one! I just gotta talk to my dad- you know how he is…” he rambles, but you stop him by pulling him into a deep kiss. 

“Let me do the talking.” Jean-Ralphio nods in response.

[cipheramnesia]

I absolutely adore found footage and mockumentary style horror movies. Have any suggestions?

Mockumentary recommendation, you HAVE to see Behind the Mask: the Rise of Leslie Vernon. However, if you like horror mockumentaries you probably saw it, so how about Ghost Crew (2022). A very very microbudget mockumentary style movie which I found both very effective in its atmospheric horror, as well as sweet and affecting. Adjust your expectations according to the dime store budget and I think you'll enjoy it.

I also have a misplaced fondness for Grave Encounters 1 & 2 - more for part two and its high level commitment to the bit. However, for a richer experience, it helps to watch part one, which by itself is a rather undistinguished, middle of the road found footage flick. I also very much like The Taking of Deborah Logan, though your experience on how it handles Alzhiemers might vary. If you want a real deep cut, check out the Fench classic, Man Bites Dog.

Also notable, the criminally underwatched Savageland. One of the mockumentary style movies that plays things the straightest ever, a Nightline style aftermath documentary of a horror movie we never see. It's a movie that is probably more disturbing now than when it was originally released with its snapshot of culture in the USA.

There's so many, you have to go down a bit of a Tubi recommendations rabbit hole to explore, but you can start off from stuff like Butterfly Kisses or Creep or Death of a Vlogger or any of the above the scrounge up a few.

That said I'm saving a personal favorite for a capstone - He's Watching. This is another fun on a shoestring movie, but personally it's the most fascinating found footage movie I've seen in recent memory. It feels very tied to the current lived reality under the covid endemic, and also has this fascinating drift between the eye of the camera and the eye of the viewer - it uses the found footage element to blur the experience of the movie protagonists between real and imagined. It also does a fantastic job handling the deep terror which can be found in the blackness outside an open door, and other primal childhood fear. To my eyes, He's Watching accomplishes more successfully the kind of horror and uncertainty that many other more well known and similar films want.

[amidst-wonderland]

final fantasy: rebirth {a mess of emotions, not in chronological order}

this is more story-based, so heads-up spoilers below.

“question. does that make me a dumbass?”

not aerith asking about reno

chadley nearly outing cissnei and cloud getting real confrontational about it.

cloud is so much more conversational in this, i felt in remake he was bordering on joker level’s of player-character. he’s a lot more laidback, which is understandable since he didn’t really know anyone but tifa and midgar’s only like what a week long?

the game now feels like an ensemble piece rather an a cloud simulator.

cloud not realising he’s the one loner friend

americans aren’t the best swearers - put to much emphasis on the swear itself but cloud does it so well.

he’s a prickly, backchatting bitch in this game and i love every single second of it. he’s not mopey, stubborn and grumpy. he’s ‘i’m going to actively make myself your problem if you cross me, so don’t.’

barret immitating yuffie?! or, “oh, wow. tell us more.” it’s giving abridged.

yuffie’s little naruto run!

yuffie and cloud’s growing sibling dynamic is the cutest shit. like, he should be be pissed at her but immediately protected her from the captain.

all i hear is priscilla’s dad’s irish accent from abridged when ever someone says her name or, “mr dolphin, ye daft bastard.”

rufus shinra… the man that you are.

every rude and elena scene, just, yes. her with the ice-lolly, the corneo fight, rude’s pub club?! babysitting palmer. (also, they call it the clean-shaven club when rude literally has a beard).

i genuinely thought we were gonna at least get that iconic reno and rude scene outside of gongaga (and as a long-shot a reunion with cissnei - i stand by the fact tseng absolutely knows where she is.)

that final turks training facility was a bitch to find.

don’t get me wrong, yuffie, barret, tifa and red’s trials were sad but aerith’s absolutely wrecked me. like i’ve got a stuffy nose already and i literally couldn’t breathe with the tears.

same with dyne and barret, like what you mean you want me to fight palmer?! i’m sitting here ugly crying about two men who love their daughter and have been through hell and back.

i’d love to see cissnei and leslie get involved with the wutai turk team-up

as much as i love aerti’s ‘improved over og’ friendship. it’s not passing the bechdel test anytime soon.

fuck queen’s blood.

cloud saying “down boy” sir- THE WHIMPERING!

the kids locking yuffie in with the hooded men on the cruise.

nanaki walking in the cabin on two legs fucking kills me. i also caught barret admiring himself in the mirror.

the fact the name tag is, “???” when we can hear yuffie cheering on cloti.

did they kiss?!

so, we finally see loveless and it was everything i ever wanted. genesis, i’m sorry, you were right.

“death doesn’t suit a turk”

cloud jr is too cute and i love my chocobro protagonists

speaking of, i’m in two heads about ffxv. you can see a lot of the inspiration the team got from that game but i think they left out the one thing that made ffxv perfect, which was the constant chatter during traversal

cloud turning on tifa during the gongaga reactor mission is giving the ffxv: omen trailer

i need a tonberry robot for my desk

jessie’s poster! i really thought she’d be alive with biggs

cloud calling gus a prick is when it clicked for me, like cloud’s got bite

i need esther’s red boots

cid is played by j. michael tatum?! sebastian- france- kyouya-

elena stuck in the heat yelling at rude, omg this is the turk moments i love.

as someone who is scottish, i can’t believe i witnessed cait sith tell cissnei to “wheesht”.

not the biggest fan of cissnei’s new colour scheme. would’ve gone with browns, accented gold buckles and mustard yellow personally

wished they’d’ve put in an turk easter egg in her house.

cosmo canyon’s lantern scene is so pretty.

gold-fucking-saucer. woah

sitting at the water tower with aerith felt wrong, and i know that was intentional.

omfg vincent, why he kinda dressed like gyuvin in en garde?

jesus, roche.

still not keen on seph’s voice - mainly because i don’t like tyler and also zack is better but i’m still not keen

symbiote!peter to “OMG GUYSSS HAIIII” is like fucking whiplash. two minutes ago we were crying over harry, now hotels?!

i knew that’s what marlene saw! and now zack knows! i am not okay!

was low-key waiting on elena throwing the keystone to reno to catch for a grand intro but he kinda just appears, and i loved every second of it.

the way both tifa and aerith have had to stop cloud murdering a turk.

cloud with blood by his own hand on his face is such a chilling image. it’s like seeing someone like superman with it.

avalanche versus reno and rude’s fight was giving advent children, like specifically reno and rude’s fight with loz and kazoo. (which i rewatched recently. rude’s face when reno steps on his glasses is the funniest thing in that film, also i can’t unhear fred from scooby-doo when loz speaks even though i know it’s not frank welker - it’s the dude that plays corneo).

[baubeautyandthegeek]

Feeding Her Babygirl - Tamerlane Usher/Verna

A/N: Is it kinky? a little.... happy final fic for @fluffbruary everyone. Pleasure fluffing February with you all. Gif made for me by @whoreofthecottage

Tamerlane had long grown used to Verna coaxing her to eat, gently scooping food into her mouth and taking her time to ready it, all but baby-birding the food into her as they kiss. It’s not her favorite technique but it works. So Verna starts to change it up. Candy, the ‘hooker’, Verna’s chosen way to get closer to Tamerlane at first. Soft fingers scoop peanut butter from the pack, smooth it into her mouth, Candy’s hum soft as Tamerlane sucks and curls her tongue around her fingers, using a technique that puts the focus on pleasure, not food. Kitty, the face Verna had used with Leo, sweetly teasing, sensually smearing Peanut butter against Tamerlane’s lips until she can’t help but lick her lips clean. Repeated over and over, but enough. Pam, Vic’s sickly patient, one of Verna’s softer looks. She’s delicate with Tamerlane looking like this, cradling her gently, coaxing her to latch, sucking Peanut Butter from her chest. It’s slow, hard, work but Verna as Pam is too soft to ignore. Leslie, the demolition worker, Verna looks most butch like this but is still incredibly sweet. Pretending to understand when she refuses food, teasing her into trying to kiss her, sneaking the food between them so Tamerlane is forced to bite, chew, swallow. Philippa, Cami’s security guard, soft but butch enough that Tamerlane half-swoons into her embrace, letting herself be cradled, sucking peanut butter off Verna’s fingers with a weak whine. She likes it, even when she’s embarrassed. Ruby, the red death, sexual and sensual and so teasing that Tamerlane laughs as she licks the peanut butter from her hips, then follows the trail lower. Food may never be easy, but she feels safer now, able, finally, to eat. Breakfast becomes a game, guessing which Verna she’ll get, how she’ll eat, but she does. She eats and she smiles and she finally, finally, finds peace.

[kaysters247]

Deadly Inferno {A Patrick Hockstetter Fic}

Part 6 - Summer of Terror

Word Count: 1415

Warning: Mature

Little red splotches made from candle wax littered my exposed stomach, indicating how deep we'd gotten into our summer sex fling. I didn't know how long he'd fixate on me to be exact. But I honestly didn't want it to end. Most nights were mixed with Patrick, Patrick, and more Patrick, sneaking into my window when no one was up or could hear. I was lost in the madness of what was going on between us, knowing it was nothing more than lust, submission on my part and complete control for Patrick. I was his toy. He made that clear. And he didn't want it any other way. Since he heard Vic and i's conversation, things have been different. Vic doesn't stay around me alone anymore. And it felt weird. He was my best friend. But as long as Bev was around or the guys, he'd stay. I knew it was Patrick. But the fuck if I was going to defy him now.

"I'm leaving for work Leslie. Behave today. I don't want anymore reports." I rolled my eyes with a sigh from my dads words, the week also consisting of slaving away in this house doing his bidding. Cooking, cleaning, beatings. One that even Henry took a beating for so I wouldn't have to. Odd honestly for him. He blamed himself for not watching me and took the beating. He crumbled when it came to dad. I hated watching it. No matter how much of a shit head Henry is, I love him. He's my brother.

"Alright!" I brushed my teeth, noting the dark mark left on my neck from Patrick's little biting expedition. The burn marks had become second nature to me, also leaving marks from my cigs still to ease the discomfort of life in this hellhole. I knew what Patrick did to me wasn't normal. But I craved it. I loved it. It turned me on so badly that once it was started, I became this animal, feeding into Patrick's mayhem.

"Leslie! Leslie! Down here!" I slowly put my tooth brush back after finishing upon hearing my name in an echo, my eyes darting from one spot to the next in the little bathroom Henry and I have littered with clutter over the years.

"Hello....?" The voice had come from within the shower, startling me to no end. What the fuck.....? I crept my way over, throwing the curtain back, only to be greeted with a red balloon that read in white letters:

I

🤍

Derry

"You can float to Leslie! And when you're down here, you can feel all the pain you want...." My eyes widened in fear from the now expanding balloon, before it burst with my terrified screams littering the now blood soaked bathroom, parts of the walls and myself entirely coated. Children's laughter echoed within the drain of the shower, leaving me completely motionless. I didn't dream that! I know I didn't.

"Why the hell are you scre...." But Henry stopped dead in his tracks, his words halted from the sight of blood. He saw it to!

"I....I... I don't know what the fuck just happened. I was.... I was brushing my teeth. And I heard a voice....." His eyes surveyed the room entirely, seeing the now popped balloon on the ground and picking it up, reading the letters.

"It's nothing. Just..... don't answer. Don't follow. Ever." And then he bolted without another word, the slam of his door the only thing heard in the house. It was a warning. But from what exactly?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{At The Kissing Bridge}

"Come on Les.... No one's watching." Patrick had me backed up against the very carved up bridge, our initials never going into the worn wood because how weird would that be? Patrick is libel to burn me alive for that.

"You know Hockstetter, I don't fuck just anywhere. I have standards." He simply cackled at me in such a way, my heart seemed to stop all together. Patrick was the kind of guy to do it anywhere he pleases. He didn't care if someone happened by us in the middle of it. He'd keep going with a smirk of satisfaction.

"Where do you think you're going fatty?" I jumped a little from the sudden sound of Henry's voice, seeing him, Belch and Vic now holding a very scared Ben Hanscom against the bridge further down from us. Ben is such a sweet kid. We've had almost every class together this past school year. And Henry has been targeting him like crazy.

"I got him. He won't move. Trust me." Belch wasn't usually so aggressive. But when Henry told him to be, he would. All I could see was pure red. Ben was a friend. And I wouldn't go for it.

"Don't Princess. Or I could just burn you right now so you can't move like I'm going to do to him....." He finally dragged me away, roughly may I add towards them, his zippo now in his hands. He was determined to join the fun. And I was going to be apart of it whether I liked it or not.

"Henry! Stop!" Patrick slung me up against the bridge so harshly I almost lost breath, seeing Henry taking his knife to Ben's stomach.

"I will carve my whole name into this cottage cheese! Now shut up Les!" I kicked at his hand without thinking, sending his knife flying into the air, just as Ben kicked him right in the stomach and flipped over the bridge, practically flying down the hill.

"What the fuck Les?!" Henry practically shoved me to the ground in pure rage, sending Vic and Belch down to look for Ben. And his knife. Dad would be so furious if he lost it.

"Sucks to be you Hen." He swiftly kicked me as if he had no care in the world, igniting a scream from my mouth. But I wasn't crying any tears of pain. I was simply angry. Angry at how far gone Henry truly was at this point.

"Shut your mouth Les before he kills you." Patrick's warning came as a surprise, no back talking, no words of his own to add like he's going to kill me for him. He just lifted me off the ground the minute Henry went down the hill to look himself.

"I'm not going to spend summer like this. Watching him torture innocent kids Pat." I ran past Patrick to a path I know all too well to reach the barrens, knowing that's where Ben would likely end up.

"Don't go looking for trouble princess. You'll regret it....." I slowed my pace once Patrick's hand came down on my arm, dragging him along with me to find Ben. I knew he was enjoying this as usual. He just wanted to hurt something.

"Or what? You gonna trap me in your pencil box full of dead flies?" The words escaped my lips before I could even think. But I didn't have long before he shoved me up against the nearest tree, his hands firmly on my waist to keep me from moving, his long legs trapping mine as best as he could. His eyes searched mine with a little creepy smirk on his lips, one I've only seen when he's really thinking dark thoughts. The worst kind.

"Tempting. More like my fridge if you keep talking to me like that." His hands slowly left my waist and started to wander around my body, sending shivers straight down my spine in anticipation of what was to come. I was actually frightened for the first time since knowing Patrick.

"You know princess, I used to stalk your brother. But we all got older. My interest changed when you grew....." His hands tightened on my breasts, toying with my nipples that started to harden through my bra. I couldn't take my eyes off his, barley taking in what he had said. He suddenly placed his hand around my neck, tightening his grip to his usual sexual way, his smile never wavering.

"Patrick...." He roughly kissed me, the longest kiss he'd ever given me since we started all this. It felt..... different. But I didn't read into it much. That would be deadly. All I knew, was this town had its secrets. Adults were oblivious to them. Or just pretended to be anyway. Something was happening. And it's only going to get worse. But all i could focus on, was Patrick.

[oracleflown]

stephcass week, day 2: first kiss

short fic i banged out in an hour because Feelings. happy stephcass to all who celebrate

cross-posted to ao3 !!

synopsis: Steph is back in Gotham. It's no secret. Cass wants to leave Gotham. Now they'll share a secret.

It’s… Well, it’s not really a secret anymore. Stephanie is back in Gotham, going to school, living it up every night as Spoiler. Once again. One more chance. She studies, goes to parties, and takes every opportunity to punch criminals as hard as she can. 

So, it’s not a secret. She’s not dead. Never really was. She’s not trying to hide it.

Steph has always been the type to look opposition in the face and not back down. It doesn’t matter who’s pissed at her, it doesn’t matter what she did, this, Spoiler, is who she is and she can’t run from it anymore. Why would she try to hide it?

Confronting the past is easier on paper. 

Cassandra watches her silently from behind her dark mask. When she is Batgirl, she is impossible to read. Nearly imperceptible at all. Steph thinks that’s probably the point. She can’t even bring herself to look at her friend, but she feels her eyes trained on her back.

They’re standing on a fire escape, silent. Classic, Steph thinks. The apartment window beside them is dark, building abandoned. Steph watches the street, the only movement from the shadows of cars and people passing by in under yellow street lamps. How Gothic.

Stephanie pulls back her hood.

It’s been no secret, but that doesn’t make Stephanie feel any less guilty. Not just guilty for what she did, her own lack of thought, her own recklessness, but also for running away. She never told her friends, the very people she did what she did for, that she was okay. Alive, at least.

There was a reason she ran, and she would never regret accepting Leslie’s help (there’s not a lot of options left for you after you’ve so royally screwed up). Still, there had been a part of her, all this time, that ached specifically for Cass, for the connection they shared. 

“Spoiler,” is all that Cass says. 

When Steph turns around, she’s surprised to see that her friend has also pulled back her hood. She is biting her lip, and her eyes are filled with a kind of sadness that Steph wouldn’t need to be a master of body language to see. 

“Batgirl.”

It’s been no secret, but maybe Cass was still surprised when she found out. Maybe Cass had wanted the rumors so badly to be true that believing in them felt like all the confirmation she needed to know they weren’t. Maybe Cass had dreamed of this. Of reunion. Guilt washes over Steph’s whole body.

“I missed you.” Cass says. “So much.”

Steph pulls her into a hug. At first, she feels Cass stiffen. Then she relaxes. Then she hugs back.

“I missed you too,” Steph whispers into her friend’s neck. 

–

It’s only a couple months later, but it feels like little eternities every time they are apart. Yes, it hurts to miss something, someone, you don’t think you can have anymore, but it hurts even more to know that they’re out there, waiting for you. 

Still, there are cases to work, paths to cross, games of tag to play across rooftops. Steph and Cass can still work well together. They spend time together at night when Cass isn’t busy working for Barbara and Steph isn’t busy with school. To put it another way, they don’t get to see each other very often. 

Steph has been avoiding Barbara, too afraid to face her wrath. Really, she’s been avoiding most of the Bats, except for Tim. And Cass, of course. They were both so ready to forgive her, in a way that she imagines would be hard for the others. 

Cass, who has always been slightly distant, becomes even more so. Bruce is dead, Steph has picked up that much. It’s not like it’s a secret.

It’s raining that night, but Steph won’t even remember that. All she remembers in the lead-up is a cryptic text from Cass, an address and a time. Steph arrives five minutes early.

When Cass arrives, she seems closed off, like she’s shutting down. Her movements seem stiff where they would usually be smooth, relaxed, around Steph. And, as a master of body language, she’s gotten pretty good at masking her own. Steph instantly knows something is deeply wrong. 

The conversation isn’t long, and there isn’t a lot Steph can even say. Cass has made up her mind. 

After she’s shoved the Batgirl costume into Steph’s hands, she turns around to, presumably, disappear. The rain is tapering off, and Steph wipes it from her face onto her sleeve.

Steph drops the costume to the rooftop and steps close behind Cass. She freezes and Steph comes around to face her, gripping her shoulders. 

“Listen to me,” Steph says. “You don’t have to do this. You could stay.” Stay with me, are the words between the lines.

“I don’t want to.” Cass avoids Steph’s eyes, staring at her shoes.

“I didn’t want to either, but… This life, this craziness, it isn’t so easy to shake off. It will follow you.” Steph makes promises easily, she speaks so easily. But this has weight.

Cass’ head dips at the mention of Steph’s death. Her brow wrinkles.

“Let go of me,” she says without malice. Steph doesn’t. Cass, trained assassin, trained fighter, doesn’t make any move.

“I can’t let you leave,” Steph admits. “Not after I came back with no one to go to. Not after you were there for me, accepted me.”

Steph feels her breath become shaky. Her body feels cold, distant, her entire attention focused on the moment, on Cass’ pained expression. “You’re my best friend,” she says. 

“You’re mine, too.”

Rarely the initiator, Cass pulls Steph into a tight hug. “I think I need you.”

“I think I need you, too.”

Cass sighs, heavy. Her posture slumps. Water tracks down her face. “I have to leave, Stephanie. Nothing makes sense anymore. I have to figure out why.”

“Please don’t leave,” Steph all but begs. “You can stay here. Figure things out here.”

“I can’t.”

“Then…” Steph struggles to find the right words. There’s too much severity in Cass’ voice. Too much finality. It can’t just end like this. A crazy thought occurs to her. “You’ve still never been kissed, right?”

“Well…” 

“Whatever,” Steph cuts her off. “Just kiss me. Now. And remember that I’m here, waiting for you. Please.”

Cass doesn’t say anything, face screwed up in sadness. Finally, she meets Steph’s eyes. There’s a plea there, one that Steph will think about for the rest of her life. Cass wants Steph to understand, but Steph doesn’t know if she can. Not after she’s gone and come back and nothing has really changed.

Cass wants it all to change. Maybe things have changed. Steph can’t accept it.

She also wants understanding. She wants Cass to understand why she came back, why she was always coming back, why she couldn’t stay away.

Steph forced things to change. They didn’t. Cass doesn’t want to accept it.

Still, Cass leans gently forward, and kisses Steph. It’s soft at first, just a brush of lips. Steph pushes into it and then it’s full and everything and the best kiss she’s ever had. Warmth spreads across her face, her chest, and soon it’s all she can feel. Cass’s hand slides up the back of Steph’s head, pushing through her hair, pushing them closer together. 

Finally, they come up for air. Steph wants to stay in this moment forever.

“I love you,” Steph blurts. 

“I love you too.” Cass smiles, bittersweet. “Thank you. For waiting for me. I’ll be back soon.”

Steph reaches up to feel her face, confirming the blush that’s there. 

She’s the one who turns away first, walking past Cass to where she’s abandoned the costume. Even though it’s ripped, fabric worn, Steph can imagine herself in it. She can picture herself honoring the legacy Cass has left her. When she turns around, after a while, Cass is gone.

She’ll be back, Steph thinks. I just have to hold down the fort until then. 

The memory of the kiss stays on her skin. 

[zorilleerrant]

The Batfam are trapped inside a car or a bunker or something, having been crushed under a landslide or whatever, idk. They’ve already explored all their options, and there’s no way to break out or contact anyone, just hope someone noticed when they went down and is coming to rescue them.

Dick: I guess now’s the time for tearful last confessions, huh?

Bruce: Did I ever tell you about the most traumatizing thing that ever happened to me in my life?

Steph: What, when your parents died?

Bruce: No.

Jason: Oh. When I died?

Bruce: No.

Jason: Yeah, yeah, old man, we get it, you love all your children equally, the worst was when all of us died, don’t be so fair, damn.

Bruce: I was very upset when all of you died all those times. But, no. When I was four years old, my parents took me to the zoo. A giraffe licked me.

Dick: What now? How is that traumatic?

Bruce: Do you know what color their tongues are, Dick??? I thought it was an alien! I thought it was going to devour me and then the rest of the world along with me!

Damian: Is this why you won’t take me to the zoo???

Bruce: I keep telling Leslie to talk to you about this, but, no, Damian, we’re not going back until we get you deprogrammed from whatever is tricking you into liking giraffes.

Jason: Apparently it’s share your stupidest trauma time with the Batfamily, Dick, why don’t you start, I’m sure you have a winner.

Dick: When we first got together Garth convinced me our pet fish hated me and I kept trying to talk it around for an entire week until he admitted he made that up and fish don’t care that much. The rest of the Titans laughed forever and I’m still kind of mad at him about it.

Steph: Oh, oh, me! Once, in, like, third grade, I was at the park and I was picking up random dogs so I could kiss their little noses and one of them peed on me but I didn’t have enough time to change before school and fucking Megan convinced everyone I peed myself and everyone was mean to me until I cried and the teacher sent me home!

Duke: One time a crab bit me.

Steph: What, that’s it? A crab bit you?

Duke: Yeah! We went crabbing on a class trip and they said not to touch the crabs because they would bite, but I was really curious and I touched one anyway, and it bit me, and then I felt really dumb because they told me not to do that because I would get bitten.

Jason: Duke, that’s not even an interesting stupid trauma.

Tim: I did the same thing with an electric socket! I mean, I was, like, five, so it took basically a whole hour to strip it open so I could stick my finger inside it, but that was a pretty terrible experience, all things considered.

Duke: Look, I don’t like getting bitten, crabs or otherwise.

Steph: What happened, though?

Jason: How often do you get bitten this is a concern?

Tim: I mean, what do you expect, I got electrocuted.

Duke: Do you want a list of things that have bitten me???

Steph: Did it hurt?

Jason: No, why would anyone want that?

Tim: Yeah.

Bruce: Sure, Duke, give us the list of things that have bitten you.

Dick: This is what we’re wasting our last hour on?

Duke: Uh, a bunch of cats. The second grade hamster. The Riddler, reflexively, that time I accidentally punched him in the nards. A llama. At least two different species of sharks. Damian.

Steph: You got bitten by a shark???

Duke: Just little ones.

Damian: You know, I think that crab didn’t even bite you at all. I think it just pinched you, since you obviously can’t tell what a real bite is.

Tim: Oh, yeah, baby bat? What’s your stupidest trauma?

Damian: What’s my - I don’t know, perhaps that time I attempted to eat an ice cream and it stuck to my tongue? That was horrifying.

Jason: Hmm, medium stupid.

Bruce: That wasn’t stupid, Damian, that ice cream was not food safe. It took off three layers of your tongue and they shut the entire shop down. I had to take you to the emergency room.

Dick: Oh, that doesn’t count! It’s not allowed to be a real trauma, Damian, you’re playing this game wrong.

Damian: We are all about to die.

Jason: Damian’s disqualified for making us all depressed.

Damian: Fine! Just skip to Cassandra, then, I’m sure she’s much better than I am at telling you a ridiculous story, I don’t care anyway.

Cass: I ate a kiwi.

Tim: That’s not traumatic, Cass.

Cass: It was. It was the most horrible thing I have ever tasted.

Steph: True story. She threw up for like an hour.

Dick: Oh my god? That’s horrible? Cass, I think you might be allergic to kiwis or something, that’s not normal.

Cass: Not allergic. I’ve eaten more. So many more. I’m kiwi-proofing myself and soon I will enjoy them. Or else.

Bruce: I’ve noticed you haven’t offered your contribution, Jason.

Jason: I got a C in history once, okay? Are you happy now?

Dick: You got a C? But you said -

Jason: I know! I lied! Now you all know my dark fucking secret, what, do you hate me? Do you all hate me now?

Bruce: This is your dark secret? Not all the murders?

Jason: Really, Bruce? We’re all about to die, and you want to reopen this conversation? Right now?

Damian: Oh, but I see that Jason isn’t disqualified from this game. You know, once I went to the arcade and an older child stole most of my tokens and I didn’t understand the culture enough yet to know who to go to in order to resolve the issue. How’s that for stupid?

Dick: Aw, Dami, honey, please don’t tell us any more of these....

Bruce: Look, I don’t want to start anything we can’t resolve. Let’s all mock Steph’s clothing instead.

Steph: Me? Why? Go back to murdershaming Jason! There’s nothing wrong with my clothes! I look great in all purple all the time.

Dick: You know, that’s not fair, let’s compromise. We’ll split the difference, right? Why do you always wear that terrible jacket, Jason?

Jason: It’s badass!

Bruce: No, it really makes you look ridiculous.

Jason: When did this become about my fashion choices! I want to go back to murdershaming Jason, too!

Cass: You look like you’re compensating for something.

Jason: What!

Damian: Thank fuck, I hear rescue.

[caffine-addict-living-in-gotham]

A conversation.

"It's weird how many balcony related talks we are having nowadays" Damian said. Christel was sitting on the reiling of their main room's balcony. Damian suddenly joining her.

Christel was wearing the cardigan that hecate has leant her along with an old jacket christel had stolen taken from Damian. It was about 30 minutes since Doctor Leslie left their apartment, along with it being an hour since hecate left for home.

"Do you want to talk about where you stopped or are we putting it up for something you would speak about on your later days" Damian asked. Looking at the night view. He could see a few police cars running somewhere.. Nothing his brothers couldn't deal with.

"I am sorry. I know you would say it's not my fault. But I still feel guilty. You entered the place and he was on top of me.. And then he kissed me prior.. I know I had no control but still" Christel begun. Damian hummed as she continued. "It's a weird feeling. Not being in control of your anatomy I mean. When he threw the wine bottle at me. I just.. Wanted to call for my dad. But he wasn't around. I thought I would just never be.. Me again. Be forced to live as someone's wife. Someone who I knew in the past but who has changed" Christel side eyed Damian. Who was listening calmly.

"The whole situation was so shitty. I don't even know what to feel about Michael's death." Christel said as she finished explaining her feelings.

Damian glanced at her. "I am happy you know, it wasn't your fault and that you don't deserve it.. Your self imagine and how important it is to you is one of the reasons why I want to be with you.. It's actually the reason why I believed that you wouldn't leave me for micheal. Truth be told when I saw that letter, it was laced with strong magic that did cloud my judgement.. But it couldn't cloud the fact that you christel would never breakup by a letter. You aren't a coward" Christel for the first time since coming home chuckled.

Damian smiled at her. "I should also be sorry for doubting you. Even though I myself didn't have control over the magic. I still thought it... So we both can feel guilty together. That's what we do don't we? Feel everything together?" Christel's eyes widened as she exhaled.

"I guess that is us.."

Damian nodded. "I can't say I will protect you or that things like this wouldn't happen but.. I will be here for it all. I know that much" Christel bite her lips as she smiled. "And don't feel bad about not having feelings towards Micheal's death. Possessed or not, he did what he thought. Which wasn't great.. Like you said a very shitty situation"

Christel nodded "yeah.. That's our life isn't it?"

"Exactly.. Life of a witch and a vigilante, if you may"

"They could write a book about us.."

"It would be the best one"

They were sitting in silence until Robin got a message from the gotham-witch blog tagging him. He raised an eyebrow. Christel glanced at him.

"What's up?" Damian looked at her.

"Gotham-witch blog just tagged me in a private message" He replied opening it and letting whoever was texting him know that no hecate wasn't with them. Christel chuckled, coming closer to see.

"Must be kam with some fanfic--" Christel stopped once she read the conversation "huh? They aren't home yet. They really take their sweet time going home then they do coming to our house" Christel lightly joked. Damian hummed continuing to type what she just said.

"Oi don't quote me!"

Damian rolled his eyes.

[ Awww look the girlfriends are having a reuniting hug! ]

[ Are you going to narrate the kiss next? Wait who am I talking to? ]

"Don't be mean. It's kam" Christel lectured. Damian shook his head. "No it's not" As the texting continued.

[ Oh this is Kam. Me and the gfs are the only ones awake right now. ]

Christel smirked as Damian sighed very loudly. "He should be asleep. He has a show and tell tomorrow.. To which I hope he doesn't bring a magic artificial." Christel commented. Damian shook his head. No the boy was certainly planning that. At least he would have.

[ You should go to sleep, it's very late for you. Christel said something about you having a show and tell tomorrow. ]

Christel smile dropped as she saw the next text.

[ HOLY FUCK I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING ]

Both Christel and Damian were off the reiling and into the apartment as Damian texted back.

[ Kam? What happened? ]

[ HANG ON TRYING TO CHASE A BITCH GIMMIE A MINUTE ]

Damian was immediately reaching out for his jacket, so was christel with her shoes. Damian stopped and glared at her. "Absolutely not"

"Damian it can be--" "No it is not" Damian cut her of while typing ahead in front of her.

[ Who are you chasing???? Kam reply fast. You know christel can't deal with stress anymore. ]

Christel was again besides Damian reading the texts. Damian took her hand to calm her down.

[ Long story short, we don’t like Sera]

Damian frowned as christel whispered "what the fuck did sera do??"

[ I don't want the short version? Wait give me a min, I am coming there. ]

Damian let go of christel's hand but christel took it again as they saw the next messages in stunted silence.

[ Sera sticks them with a syringe thingy, they’re unconscious, and the bitch portaled away when I chased her ]

"She WHAT-" Christel yelled out as Damian sent a "...what the fuck?' Christel looked at Damian before looking at the phone. " Not another Victoria situation-- no no Michael-"

"habibti... Calm down, it's fine. Sera wouldn't hurt hecate from what we have seen" Damian squeezed her hand. Christel stared at their hands before nodding.

"Yes yes.. You're right.. She wouldn't"

[ This happened in the span of two minutes, I’m still confused ]

[ Where is Grelitia? ]

Damian kept frowning as the conversation continued he asked for zatanna or John and was met with Zatanna.

[ What's going on with Hecate? Are they okay? Christel isn't allowed to use her phone yet. Doctor Leslie's instructions. So she is just nervously standing next to me. ]

Christel took a deep breath. "Yeah this isn't good for me" She let go of his hand and sat on the couch. Damian glanced at the look he was receiving and sat next to her, letting her see the messages.

[ Oh, right, of course. She should listen to that, and I’m glad she is. Currently, we’re looking through everything we can. So far, we deduced that nothing foreign was introduced into their system, but if that’s the case then something haven’t had to be taken.]

Christel took Damian's hand again as she said "check for potions. Not magic. Just potions" Damian looked confused. "Not all potions are made of magic. Some are just made of pure Mana in things. Like upgraded science" Christel explained.

[ Christel just said to check where potions are inside their veins. Not magic, potions. ]

The conversation took a turn when zatanna stopped it with a oh no.

[ Zatanna don't break off like that. Come on. What's wrong?? ]

Christel started to feel light headed. Damian realized it, taking a hold on her shoulder and letting her head rest on his shoulders.

[ Give the phone to John then. ]

Christel fell unconscious. Shit.

[ Christel just fainted. Wait wait. ]

So much for it to be a normal night.

[faewritesshit]

It was late in the evening, or perhaps already early in the morning, and Micah was buzzing. He was high, and very comfortable, currently. Currently, he was on the roof of Leslie’s building, curled against their chest, both sprawled on the small couch they kept up there. He was pressed comfortably against Leslie’s chest, their legs around him, and one arm wrapped around his middle. His bones felt a bit like jelly, and his skin was tingling. Letting his head fall back against Leslie’s shoulder, he gazed up at the stars, relishing in the warm night air, and just how comfortable. he was feeling, catching sight of Leslie eyeing him, lit join to their lips.

Micah had been learning quite a lot about Leslie these past few weeks. Leslie was funny, and kind, and - for the most part - gentle. They liked physical contact. They liked it a lot, often giving a pout or grumble when the desired contact was broken. More often than not, Micah had some sort of hand on him when he was around them. Usually just a hand on his back, or arm draped over his shoulder. Tonight they were needy, pulling him close so as much of their bodies were touching and feasibly possible. That was how they had ended up in this position, almost fully on top of them, pressing them into the side of the couch. On occasion, they were a different kind of needy, a hungry, demanding, possessive kind of needy. It didn’t happen often, but Micah certainly wasn’t one to complain when it did. Micah let his eyes close, letting out a contented hum as he heard the crackle of the ember as Leslie took a drag. His eyes opened again when he felt teeth on his throat, hot smoke escaping the break between the skin of his neck and Leslie’s mouth. They didn’t bite hard, just a temporary pressure, holding him still. His heartbeat had just begun to catch up to the shifting moment when the teeth were gone, Leslie instead pressing a soft kiss against the spot before straightening, holding the half finished join in front of Micah’s vision.

There was a pause before Micah took the offered joint, picking his head back up to take his pass. He watched Leslie out of the corner of his eye. They were watching him, eyes half lidded, soft smile on their lips, hair nicely mussed from the breeze around them. Their weren’t as gone as he was, but they were getting there. The distraction became a problem when he didn’t notice how deep his inhale had been, and suddenly he was fighting the urge to cough, holding the joint back out for Leslie to take. He exhaled slowly, feeling the heavy smoke vacating from the recesses of his lungs. It wasn’t the first time Leslie had put their teeth on him outside of a sexual context. It was always similar, a short moment of teeth on his neck - always the neck - before being taken back.

“What’s that all about?” The weed was making him bold. Leslie’s eyes slowly focused back on his, they just blinked at him. “The biting.” He clarified.

“Do you want me to stop?” They almost sounded hurt.

“No,” He curled himself farther back against Leslie, pressing his head into the crook of their neck. “Just curious. ‘S different from… everything else.”

Leslie was quiet for a while, and Micah almost thought that he had overstepped some boundary he hadn’t seen. The weed dampened his usual panic response, letting him maintain a gentle curiosity. He allowed himself a glance up at them, they were staring into he middle distance as they held the smoke in their lungs, letting trails drip from the space between their lips.

“Dunno.” Was their answer eventually. Watching the smoke puff out as they spoke was mesmerizing. “I didn’t used to want to before, but it’s just… natural?”

“It’s new?”

“New since my whole… thing.” They grimaced a bit as a memory seemed to surface.

“Some sort of side effect?” He knew the broad strokes of what had happened with them. Leslie never really went into detail about much, preferring to keep details vague, and as light hearted as you can with matters like that.

“I guess that’s what being possessed by a person eating, rage beast does to a guy.” The nonchalant shrug they gave jostled Micah, and he snorted a short laugh, couldn’t help it really. It was inherently ridiculous. Leslie’s arm tightened around his waist, almost nuzzling their face into his hair. “What, my pain and suffering is funny to you?” Their tone was clearly teasing as Micah stifled another giggle.

“No, asshole.” He thwapped a hand against their leg. “You’re so casual about it.” Leslie’s huff tickled down the back of his neck. “You’re weird.”

“Rude, firstly.” They paused to take another drag, pulling long and slow. Micah watched the light off the ember dance in their eyes. “Secondly,” They e facing him again, hand on his chin, bringing their lips close enough to be almost touching as they exhaled. Obediently, Micah took in the smoke, letting his eyes close as the secondhand smoke filled his lungs. “You’d be the one letting the weirdo fuck you. What would the people think?”

The smoke came out of Micah’s nose as he laughed, turning away from Leslie as it turned into a spluttering cough. Leslie’s grip released, allowing him to sit up, burying his face in the sleeve of his hoodie. Vaguely, he heard an apology from Leslie over his coughing fit. Luckily, it was a short one, quickly clearing the smoke from his chest. He let himself fall back against Leslie, hearing a small huff as the impact pushed air from them.

“Oh no.” Lazily, he threw a hand to his forehead, craning his neck to look back at Leslie, a mock distressed expression on his face. “My beloved social reputation, what ever shall I do? How will I cope?”

“I could think of a few ways.” There was mischief in their voice as they watched him, a challenge in their eye.

“Oh yeah? And what would those be?” He was rising to it.

Leslie shrugged, looking around the messy rooftop as they responded. “Alcohol, drugs, sex, violence.”

“Very healthy, Leslie.”

“We already have one of those covered.” They gestured with the hand holding the dying roach. “The night’s young, I’m sure we could check a few more off of that list.” The grin they looked down at him with could only be described as ‘wolfish’ all teeth and intent.

Anxious anticipation began to creep its way up Micah’s gut and into his chest. It had been more than his required ‘days of rest’ he thought about it earnestly for a moment. It had been a shit week, and who was he to deny such an offer? He was starting to get cold anyway.

“No alcohol.” He twisted out of Leslie’s arms, standing up and turning to face them, holding out a hand. “Or I will throw up on you.”

“Deal.” Simultaneously, Leslie ground the crumbling filter down into their ashtray and took Micah’s hand, pulling themself up with surprising fluidity. They were solidly in his space, pulling Micah towards them, leaning to loom in over him. “I think we could arrange you a two for one.”

Their eyes were sharp, narrowed and dark. The hungry look. was back in their eye, lingering there as they looked down at him. The corner of Micah’s mouth threatened to twitch up into an anticipatory grin. A shudder ran down his spine as his adrenaline began to spike. The thrumming in his chest was only amplified by his high, his thoughts were sluggish, vulnerable. The instinct to run made itself known. He loved this part.