#yeah. i mean. yeah. of course. would i want to?

[random-cockroach]

*Sees rough animatics* *squeaks in excitement, runs out, runs back, makes a few circles around, sits back down*

*Shakes pickle jar aggressively in the distance*

Random wip drop plz, and my jar is yours!

*snatches the jar* Fair warning. Most of my wips are really messy and end up being unfinished forever haha (And the ones that almost always end up getting finished are the comic ones. I can’t show them for spoilers reasons)

Oorrrr I have this too:D It’s supposed to be about young Drift seeing a mermaid under the ice

[shadowlord420sgf]

Idk if ur taking requests, but if you are can you write something for the hanks x fem!reader? NSFW perchance 🙀🙀🙀

˚⊹ ᰔ Extreme Measures

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ the hanks x reader .☘︎ ݁˖

⌗ summary: After a near-disastrous adventure, the Hanks confess what they’ve been trying to prove to you all along.

⌗ warnings!: female reader, p in v, oral sex, sixsome, creampie, breeding kink, praise kink, handjobs, masturbation, everyone orgasms

⌗ author’s note: hey guys… the poll between mateo and mitchell is almost over ✌️ one of them is next i promise!!! also is hank 5 really packing all of that? let’s find out! u can also read this on my ao3!

It was obvious that the Hanks liked to go on adventures around the house. Ask any object and they’d tell you about their shenanigans! No matter what new extreme sport the Hanks were doing, you’d always tag along. It made them feel special to have you partake in their ideas of fun.

Of course, with every adventure came serious risks. The same risks that the Hanks lost Hank #6 and #7… and #8 to. You could tell that they were still a little shaken from it. Sometimes, when they thought you weren’t looking, Hank 1 would glance at the hallway where it happened. Hank 2 would grip your hand a little tighter during bungee-cord jumps. And Hank 5, sweet as ever, kept bringing up his dream of having a family “before it’s too late.”

Today’s adventure hadn’t ended in tragedy, thankfully—but it did end with a huge hole in the wall, a nearly concussed Hank 4, and you dragging them all back to your bedroom for a very firm talking-to.

“You guys have to be more careful,” you huffed, crossing your arms as the five hangers looked up at you from the bed, sheepish and sweaty. “We are careful!” Hank 1 defended. “Well, mostly! I mean, this time we actually wore helmets!”

“Guys,” you sighed, moving to kneel beside Hank 4 with an ice pack. “I love you, but you’re all gonna get yourselves killed.”

“Wait...You love us?” Hank 5 asked, way too softly, like he couldn’t believe you’d said it. The other Hanks gasped, waiting for your response.

You froze.

“I mean,” you tried to backpedal, unsure of their reaction, “I care! Obviously! You’re my favorite squad to hang with, but Red Bowl isn’t protecting you enough—”

“We just wanted to impress you,” Hank 3 said, almost a whisper. “Wait, what?” You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Yeah,” Hank 2 nodded quickly, “Like, every time. We’ve been trying to show off for weeks. And you’re always patching us up and being all gentle and nice and—” He trailed off, face going pink.

Well, that explained why they never asked Farya to help with any of their injuries.

“We like you! A lot…” You were so surprised by their words that you couldn’t even tell who spewed out the confession. Maybe all of them?

It was weird to see the Hanks all quiet and nervous like this. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Guys, are you kidding? You’re the coolest people in this house!” You said with a genuine smile. “You’ve all impressed me in ways you couldn’t even imagine.”

All of the Hanks beamed at your words, jaws slack. They looked like they were dreaming, were they dreaming? This had to be a dream.

“You’re just so pretty …and brave, and cool— and you always hang out with us even though we’re always doing something batshit crazy. You’re like, not scared of anything.” Hank 2 confessed as the other Hanks nodded. “Yeah. That’s really hot.” Hank 3 added, blushing furiously.

You stared at them. Five beautiful, wide-eyed, chaotic hangers. Thank you dateviators.

“…So what, you want me to date all five of you?” you said slowly, teasingly.

A pause.

Then Hank 5, sweet and hopeful, whispered, “We thought you’d never ask.” You didn’t even have time to say anything in response before they were on you. All five of them, warm hands and stronger-than-you-expected arms wrapping you up, touching you everywhere, and tugging you into the bed like they couldn’t believe you were real.

Hank 3 kissed you first, messy and fast, just wanting to feel his lips on yours before Hank 1 pulled you towards him and pressed a kiss hard on your lips. You felt dizzy as Hank 2’s lips were on your neck, along with Hank 4’s, sucking and biting until you were stained with purple. If that wasn’t enough, you felt Hank 3 and his hands touching you everywhere , groping so softly at your hips and sides. Hank 5 kissed you like he’d dreamed about it a thousand times, tongue sliding past your lips so slow and sweet, like you were something delicate enough to break at any moment. You couldn’t help the way your back arched into each of their touches, making you whine softly.

“We need you. Right now.” Hank 5 groaned out, pushing you onto your back. You nodded without protest, letting the Hanks pull off your shirt and slide their fingers under the waistband of your pants, pulling them down slowly until you’re left in your under garments. You felt so exposed like this under them, watching how their eyes ravished every inch of your body.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Hank 3 murmured, lips now moving down your neck, kissing every tender mark left by Hanks 2 and 4. You shivered as he pressed a kiss just above your collarbone, making your body feel hot and head fuzzy.

Hank 1 moved to take off his jumpsuit, tossing it behind him without looking. “We should—uh, we should probably lose the rest of our clothes too, right?” he asked, already fumbling at his boxers. The others didn’t even answer—just followed suit, clothes dropping to the floor one by one.

They weren’t shy, but they weren’t rushing either. Each Hank had his eyes locked on you as they undressed, like they were savoring the way your chest heaved and your thighs pressed together. You tried not to stare—but it was impossible.

They were all so different, and all so beautiful. Lean torsos, flushed faces, eager hands. Hank 2 was already hard, and he blushed when he caught you looking. “S-Sorry. Just… kinda excited.”

“Same,” Hank 4 muttered shyly, running a hand through his tousled hair. “You just look… really pretty like this.”

Hank 5 cupped your face gently, thumb stroking your cheek. “Tell us if anything’s too much, okay?” he whispered, eyes searching yours like this moment meant the world to him. “We’ll take good care of you.”

You nodded, already dazed and breathless, unable to say anything but a soft, “I know.” You couldn’t believe this was really happening.

“Okay— I got you… I’ll be gentle, baby.” Hank 5 said breathlessly, his voice cracking with urgency as he pressed sweet kisses to your jaw and collarbone.

You nodded, already dizzy from the sheer intensity of it all. “Please, Hank,” you whispered, and that was all he needed.

He settled between your legs, guiding his thick cock to your entrance slowly, like he was lining himself up with something sacred. “Just tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured again, and then pushed in—slow, deep, his forehead resting against yours as you clenched tight around him.

Your moan was caught against his lips, and he swallowed every sound you made.

Before the delicious haze could fully settle over you, Hank 3 climbed up beside you, already stroking himself, eyes glazed and lips parted. “C-Can I… please?”

You opened your mouth for him without hesitation, and he moaned, “Oh fuck, thank you—” as he slipped his cock past your lips. He wasn’t rough—just eager, desperate. His hand tangled in your hair to steady himself as he slowly rocked forward, matching the rhythm of Hank 5’s slow, loving thrusts.

“God, look at you,” Hank 1 groaned. He was kneeling near your head, pumping his cock as he stared down at your flushed face, lips stretched around Hank 3, and your body trembling beneath Hank 5. “So fuckin’ pretty like this… You gonna let me finish on that face?”

You whimpered around Hank 3’s cock in response, basically telling him you wanted nothing more than that.

Meanwhile, Hank 4 had wedged himself along your side, straddling your thigh, rutting gently against it with a dazed, needy expression that drove you crazy. “I c-can’t help it,” he gasped. “You just feel so good, I just—oh fuck —”

His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he ground against you, moaning softly with each slow thrust of his hips against your skin, warm and sticky with his precum.

And sweet Hank 2– so eager to feel you in any way, kneeling by your free hand, bringing it to his throbbing cock, panting. “Can I…?” he didn’t even finish, just looked at you with big pleading eyes.

You reached for him, wrapping your fingers around his cock, and he gasped like you’d just saved his life. “Oh fuck, oh my god—thank you, thank you—”

You felt fucking insane. All you could hear were five voices overlapping with moans and praise and desperation, every inch of you being touched and loved so sweetly. Every Hank had you in some way, like you were the center of gravity in their world.

Your body rocked with every thrust from Hank 5, slow and deep and so full of love it made your chest ache. His fingers were gripping your warm plush skin, eyes locked on your beautiful face like it was all that mattered.

“You feel… so good,” he panted, hips stuttering as your walls clenched around him. “Better than I dreamed about.”

Hank 3 moaned as he fucked your mouth, careful not to push too far but still overwhelmed by the way your lips wrapped around him so eagerly. “She’s taking me so well,” he choked out, “You’re such a good girl—fuck—”

Hank 1 was close now too, his hand moving fast as he stared down at you. “Gonna make such a mess of you, baby,” he grunted. “Gonna paint that pretty face—can I? Please?”

You tried to nod, your mouth still full of Hank 3, and the groan that tore from Hank 1’s throat was filthy. “Fuck…you’re so perfect.”

Hank 2 whimpered against your shoulder, your hand working his cock faster, slick and warm in your grip. “I’m not gonna last,” he cried out, whole body trembling as he pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna make me come, hah—”

And Hank 4 was losing his mind, humping desperately against your thigh, whining so sweetly with every roll of his hips. “I can’t stop,I can’t—you feel too good—!”

You were just as close, stretched full and fucked open, every inch of your skin burning with sensation. Hank 5 grabbed your hips, fucking into you faster now, messier, moaning your name like it was all he knew. “Come for me—come on, I know you can—wanna feel it, wanna come with you—”

That was all it took. Your orgasm slammed into you like a shockwave, making your whole body seize up. You clenched tight around Hank 5, moaning brokenly around Hank 3’s cock as your vision went white and blurry.

Hank 5 came with a sob, hips pressed flush to yours as he spilled inside you, shaking, pressing kisses to your face over and over. “Loveyousomuch— gonna… gonna put a baby in you—” he panted out.

Hank 3 came seconds later, crying out as he pulled out just in time to finish across your lips and chin, gasping, “Shit…you’re so hot—”

Hank 1 followed, gritting his teeth as he came all over your chest and face, hand still pumping his cock in tight strokes. “Look at you, fuck—look at what we did to you—”

Hank 4 whimpered as his hips stuttered against your thigh, cock twitching as he made a mess across your skin, his voice so soft and desperate. “You’re so amazing—I couldn’t help it…”

And Hank 2? He sobbed your name as he came hard in your hand, biting his lip to keep from crying out too loud. “T-Thank you—oh god—thank you—”

You could’ve died happily right there, in Hank 5’s arms, surrounded by the other panting Hanks who now laid on the bed. Any other person would find this situation suffocating, but it was really quite nice. You felt so at home with the Hanks, as they did with you.

“We’re gonna marry you,” Hank 3 said dreamily.

“I’m gonna be the best dad,” Hank 5 sighed.

“You’re never getting rid of us now,” Hank 1 warned sweetly.

You just smiled, melting between them, sticky and sore and entirely loved.

[leislibrary]

[skz] how they accidentally reveal your relationship

pairing: maknae line x reader hyung line here! genre: fluff, hints of angst wc: 2.8k, between 500 - 800 each

Han - on Bubble

“Hannie, are you aware you’re dating another idol?” Minho asks, eyes trained on his phone screen, legs thrown over Han’s lap. 

“Yes, you’ve been my boyfriend for years now. Don’t tell Y/N,” Han remarks. He continues scrolling through his Bubble messages. He’s trying to respond to as many people as he can to make up for his recent inactivity. 

“That too. But look,” Minho shoves his phone in Han’s face. There, on screen, a headline reads: HAN of Stray Kids Dating ITZY Member?? 

Han scoffs. Idols constantly have dating rumors about each other. Very rarely does it mean anything at all. In this case, a camera captured Han and Chaeryeong talking while waiting for their drinks from JYP’s cafe. The picture crops out Chan standing right next to Han. 

At dinner that night, Seungmin asks, “Hey Han, do you think you can get us tickets to an ITZY concert soon?” 

“Yeah!” Hyunjin chimes in, “I bet it would be so easy now that we have connections!”

“Haven’t you known Yeji longer than you’ve known us?” I.N laughs, earning a flick of water his way from Hyunjin. The table quickly descends into chaos as I.N. tries to hit Hyunjin back but misses and hits Changbin instead. 

Nights like this are rare for them - being able to enjoy each other’s company without cameras documenting their group dynamics or worrying about their rigid schedules. It’s relaxing. Freeing. 

Minho silently hands him a beer. Han accepts. 

The night progresses in comfortability and laughter. The boys pile into the living room for a Tekken-tournament-slash-drinking game. Han scrolls through social media, sending you posts he knows will make you laugh. 

He takes a sip from his third beer and opens Bubble again. He never finished answering everyone earlier. 

An idea forms. Chan and Felix are great at recounting amusing stories or sharing their thoughts with Stay. Why can’t he do that too? He’s positive that his fans will appreciate him making light of the dating rumors. 

He types:

Did you guys see I’m dating someone new? Apparently I’m close with ITZY hahaha I don’t think my girlfriend will be happy about it

He smiles and leans back - drinks affecting him more than he’d like to admit - and imagines your sweet laughter when he can tell you in person tomorrow. He loves the fact you never take rumors seriously. He loves how the silliness of some of them become jokes between you. He loves you. 

The room is quieter than it should be. He opens one eye, and is met with seven pairs of eyes staring back at him. 

“Hm?” 

Chan speaks. “You told Bubble you have a girlfriend.”

“You have my Bubble?” Han unlocks his phone. Rereads the words he sent. I don’t think my girlfriend will be happy about it. 

My girlfriend. 

My girlfriend. 

Everybody starts talking at once. 

“I’m like 70% sure you can convince them you meant Minho!” “You should put your phone in a different room when you drink.” “You’re one to talk! Last week you stole my phone and posted my WORST picture ever!” “Yeah, but that was on purpose.”  “Getting a new tattoo would distract people from this.” “Get a tattoo of Y/N’s face!!” 

Han does not hear them. 

My girlfriend. 

Chan’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Have you and Y/N ever talked about going public?”

Silence. Again. Seven pairs of eyes on Han. Again. 

Of course you’ve talked about it. He tried to convince you to hard launch by posting cosplays. You shut him down, and he made a huge show of how he loves you more than you love him. 

You wanted to protect your privacy for a little longer. He would do anything you asked. 

Except the one thing you asked, apparently. His breathing quickens. He doesn’t register Seungmin asking if he’s okay. 

You’re going to break up with him. His careless words cost him the best thing he’s ever had. 

His phone buzzes. On screen:

Y/Nie 🤍:

Baby I know you’re probably spiraling Chan texted me when you sent it I could never be mad at you for this I love you so much Granted, not the most ideal way to announce it Okay yeah you’re definitely spiraling …we can do your fuckass cosplay idea ONLY if it will help you feel better about this

He loves you. 

Felix - Anniversary Dinner

Felix had insisted on taking you out for your one-year anniversary. He claimed he wanted to properly show you off - the most ”showing off” you two get is hurried moments backstage, fearful of lurking fans or the wrong person’s eyes on you. 

Now, excitement overtakes nerves as you adjust the dress Felix bought you for the occasion. You can hardly even remember the last time you went out without wearing a random SKZ Staff lanyard and toting along a third member. 

JYPE placed that safeguard - nobody would question why Felix was hanging out with staff and at least one of the boys. 

Felix appears behind you in the mirror to wrap his arms around you. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down and resting his head on your shoulder. His hair tickles your cheek. “Really beautiful,” he adds, dragging his eyes down your reflection. 

Your eyes sparkle as you smile back at him. “I’m happy we get to do this.” 

His fingers lace through yours. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, allowing you time to breathe in his cologne. Its scent reminds you of home. Of being in his arms. 

“You’re sure nobody will recognize you?” You ask, worried about what his managers will say if one of their biggest idols’ relationship is unveiled through paparazzi photos. You can’t imagine they would be thrilled. 

“The restaurant is dark, and I’ve booked us a private table. We should be fine,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“What if we aren’t?”

He pulls away, keeping his body pressed against yours, to lock eyes with you. “We will be fine no matter what happens.” His eyes search yours, still seeing your hesitancy. “If ‘what happens’ is our relationship goes public,” he brushes some hair out of your face, “then the world will finally see how lucky I am.” 

Dinner went better than you could have imagined. You hardly recall the food. Just the feeling of what it was like to be out with your boyfriend. To hold his hand. To laugh at his jokes. To admire him across the table. 

To have people recognize you two as a couple in love, rather than writing you off as “an idol and his staff”. 

You are still giddy about last night as you pad into the kitchen. Felix is already leaning on a counter, sipping coffee and scrolling his phone. 

“Morning, baby,” he says. 

You stop in your tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“You only call me normal pet names when something’s wrong.” 

He sighs, taking a couple steps closer. “You’re too observant. It’s nothing bad, I promise.” He pauses, then adds, “Pookiebear.” 

You lean into him. “What’s wrong?” 

His chest rises and falls against your cheek when he sighs again. Wordlessly, he turns his phone to show you his screen. 

An Instagram account you’ve never seen before has posted pictures of you two at dinner. 

Felix lets you scroll through the photos at your own pace. Due to the angle they were taken at, most of them show the back of Felix’s head, with an unobstructed view of your face. You laughing. You mid-bite. You gazing at him like he hung the stars just for you. A couple towards the end capture his face as you leave. 

He takes his phone back. “The good news is you look gorgeous in every single one.” 

You remember one in which you overestimated how much pasta could fit in your mouth. 

He continues. “The bad news is we couldn’t control how everyone sees my gorgeous girl for the first time.”

Your heart flutters at his words. You know this is a huge deal, and his company will be upset, but right now, leaning into him, all you can think about is how much you love him. You two will be okay no matter what, because in the end you will still have each other. 

Seungmin shuffles into the kitchen, staring at his phone, and takes one look at you before deadpanning, “You should take smaller bites. This is gross to look at.” 

Felix lets you go to chase him through the dorm - Seungmin’s screams echoing against your reflection on your life with Felix. 

Seungmin - on a walk

You had a shit day. 

A coworker spilled coffee on your white shirt. Your boss pushed up an already-impossible deadline. You had to cancel dinner with Seungmin the singular night this week he gets out at a reasonable hour. Public transportation shut down - seemingly just to make your day worse. Rain soaked you on your walk home. 

Seungmin darts toward you when you push open the door to your apartment, dripping like a wet rat. 

You smile weakly at him. “Forgot my umbrella,” your voice cracks, betraying any sense of humor you tried to muster. 

“Oh, baby..” his voice trails off as he wraps you in his arms. “Let me take care of you.”

And he does. 

He runs you a hot shower, puts your towel in the dryer so it will be warm and fluffy, and lights your favorite candle - the one he claims smells like the bottom of I.N’s shoe but keeps repurchasing for you anyway. He’s queuing up the next episode of your show when you step into the living room. 

All the emotions you tampered down flood into you when you see him, perfect, waiting for you. Your heart clenches in your chest. Your shoulders shake, and before you know it, tears are streaming down your face as you sit down next to him. 

Seungmin pulls you into him. “Hey, what’s wrong? I thought I did well,” he questions.

“You’re amazing. It’s everything else, I guess,” your voice shakes with the reply. 

“It’s over now, baby. We can decompress - take all the time you need.” He rubs circles on your back, grounding you as you try to stop sobbing. You feel silly crying like this, but it’s hard to stop once you start. It has been so long since you cried, you’re not even sure what you’re crying about anymore. 

“Hey, the rain stopped,” He brings his hand under your chin and gently pushes upwards, forcing you to look at him. He’s right - you no longer hear raindrops tapping against the window. “You want to go on a walk with me? The city will be dark and pretty. And you’re getting my favorite shirt wet.” 

The fresh air will help. You nod. 

The fresh air does help. Puddles reflect neon lights off the ground, and the air smells like rain. Hardly anybody else is out at this hour. It feels as if you and Seungmin have the whole city to yourself. 

Seungmin keeps talking to lift your spirits. You’re walking hand-in-hand as he recounts how both Hyunjin and Han kept messing up the choreo during their practice today. 

“Lee Know was getting so frustrated but taking it out on Hyunjin because you know he can’t stay angry with Han - even though Han was doing worse than Hyunjin. I thought Hyunjin would quit, honestly. But then, Lee Know missed a step and -”

“Seungmin??”

Both of you freeze. 

“Oh my god! Look, it’s Seungmin from Stray Kids!!” a girl on the sidewalk screeches, followed by the sound of her slapping her friend’s arm.

You try to drop his hand. He squeezes yours tighter. 

His management reminds you about the importance of secrecy every single time you see them. It was already risky just to hold hands in the first place, but continuing to do so when he’s approached by fans? They’ll kill you. It’s not even your fault. 

The girls trot over and seem to notice you for the first time. Their squeals overlap, “OHMYGOD I love you!!!” coupled with “Isthisyourgirlfriend??” 

“No,” you two reply in sync, well-rehearsed from practicing with his management team and other close calls. Except, this time, Seungmin is blowing right past “close call” territory. 

He has not let go of your hand. 

As Seungmin begins making conversation with the first girl, the other is staring at her phone, angling her camera towards where you two are connected. She’s filming. You pretend not to notice. Any attention you draw will make it worse when the video is inevitably posted.

Seungmin glances at you, then at the camera. He noticed too. 

He rests his arm over your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

Eventually, finally, the girls leave. The girls never told you they were videoing, but it became exceedingly obvious the more comfortable they got with him. Seungmin never mentioned it, but he also never took his hands off you. 

“What was that?” You ask when they’re out of earshot. “Your company will have a heart attack when that’s posted.”

Seungmin shrugs. “I wanted them to know I’m yours,” he states simply. “Besides, I don’t want JYP to control my personal life. He does not make good decisions.”

I.N - Backstage

The atmosphere is addicting. The electric air. The screaming fans. Your boyfriend on stage like he was born for it. No matter how many concerts you attend, you always crave more when it’s over. 

The crowd surrounding you cheers as they finish their last encore. The group will stay on for a bit after the song is over, but you want to be waiting for your boyfriend as soon as he gets off stage. No matter what time they end, he’s always practically vibrating with energy after performing - especially to sold-out stadiums. 

You push through the crowd, making your way towards a backstage entrance. Along the way, a group of girls is holding up signs, shouting for your boyfriend’s attention. You glance up at him just in time to see him smile back at you. The girls behind you go crazy. 

You fish a backstage pass I.N gave you long ago out of your bag, but the familiar security guard just smiles and waves you through. Since they are playing at a baseball stadium, this “backstage” is still outdoors, but mostly hidden from the seats.

Quiet chaos awaits you. Staff is rushing around, trying to get everything finalized in their dressing rooms, and for the rides back to the hotel, and to make sure everyone has food after the show. The stadium’s staff is planning out the logistics of doing this all over again tomorrow. 

You find a quiet spot in eyesight of where your boyfriend will be coming back to you. A cool breeze blows against your back. 

Soon enough, the boys are filing off stage, each causing the entire stadium to cheer with their unique sign-offs projected onto screens. 

The energy transforms into full-blown chaos in an instant. Hyunjin jumps up and down, unable to contain his energy. Seungmin dramatically collapses and shouts that he can’t get up for another week. Changbin picks him up bridal-style and twirls him until Seungmin screams. 

I.N appears. His eyes search for you, a smile overtaking his face when he spots you. He sprints over, barrelling into you and lifting you up to avoid falling. You still almost lose your balance to avoid crashing into Chan. 

“Baby!! Did you like it?? Did you have a good time??”

Your giggle matches his own as he sets you down, still holding you close and pressing his forehead against yours. You squeal at his sweatiness, but that only pushes him to try to smush your faces together as much as humanly possible. 

With everything happening around you, you two don’t notice the fans filing out of the venue beside you. 

The clamor grows when fans realize it’s I.N that’s holding you like he never wants to leave. 

I.N leans in and kisses you hungrily, exerting some leftover energy into showing his love. 

Chatter erupts into screams. He pulls away and stares into your eyes. A wall of sound blocked you two from even hearing each other. 

Through the corner of your eye, you can see the band members still in the vicinity all staring at the scene: You and I.N, holding each other, all smiles, while an audience grows in the stands behind you. 

[stxrrywoo]

JUST YOU ── c.sn

synopsis ; he was just your annoying roommate that you just couldn't wait to get away from. all of his late night rendezvous started to get under your skin so you just avoided him like the plague. that was until you needed his help getting to class and of course he wanted something in return.

pairing(s) ; san x f!reader

☆ ── wc. ; 7.3k ☆ ── genre ; smut, fluff, roommate!san, roommate au, enemies to lovers(ish) ☆ ── tw. ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, teasing, san acts like a doucebag but is actually pretty sweet, kinda mixed signals, kissing, rough and messy makeout, manhandling, petnames (princess, baby, darling, sweetheart...), dom!san x sub!reader, big dick!san, kinda inexperienced reader, praising, unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting/marking, breast play, dirty talk, hickies, creampie, slight dumbification, rough sex, sickly sweet aftercare, mentions of a sex tape at the end, lmk if I missed anything!!!

A chill ran down your spine as you followed your best friend, Harper, into the school’s main building. The storm from the night before brought a cold front along with it, making the air even more chilly than it’s normally been since fall started. Shaking off the chill, you looked around the hall, noticing that there were fewer people than usual.

“Oh yeah, y/n, did you hear about the science wing?” Harper asked as she fastened the strap around her umbrella after closing it.

You rubbed your hands together, trying to gain some warmth back into them before looking over at her confused, “I haven’t heard anything; what happened?”

“The whole building flooded, apparently, so they moved most of the classes to different buildings.” She explained as the two of you maneuvered your way down the hallway. However, she could tell by the panic in your eyes that you hadn’t heard anything. Stopping, she turned to look at you with a hint of worry: " Didn’t you get the email this morning?”

“No, the storm knocked the power out in the entire apartment complex, so my phone didn’t charge,” You started to panic a little as you pulled the device from your back pocket, and just as you thought the screen would turn on, meaning that it was dead, “it also reset my alarm clock when it came back on this morning so I woke up late and rushed to even get here on time and—”

“Y/n. Girl, please take a breath,” Harper grabbed your arm softly, making you look over at her, “Why didn’t San wake you up? You guys have chem together.” Her question was innocent, but the mention of your douchebag roommate made your mood sour so much more.

“San, wake me up? That’s funny, actually.” You scoffed, shoving your phone back into your pocket and running your fingers through your hair, “No, he was out late at night, probably getting his dick wet per usual.”

Harper couldn’t help but grimace at your vulgar words, but she knew you were right. San was the residential fuck boy, after all.

“I’m sure there’s someone from your class here, just ask them.” She asked as she looked around the hall, trying to stop a familiar face, but came up blank, and so had you.

“Son of a bitch.” You cursed lowly, looking around the hall once more, hoping by some miracle that you would see someone, but again, you couldn’t find a single familiar face. Then, an idea popped into your head, causing you to look back at Harper with wide eyes, “Harp, can I use your phone?”

Harper looked at the time before turning to look at you with a solemn look, “Sorry, babes, I’ve gotta get to class.” She patted your arm before a familiar face caught her eye, “isn’t that San? Why don’t you ask him?” She asked, pointing over your shoulder, and when you turned, sure enough, standing there on the other side of the hall was none other than Choi San, your douchebag roommate. 

Watching him chat and laugh with his friends like he didn’t have class in twenty minutes made your blood boil, it pissed you off. However, it pisses you off even more that you care enough to get upset. His carefree attitude and his self-righteousness were probably some of his more annoying traits, yet… it was also insanely attractive to you, and you hated it.

“Hey, earth to y/n.” Harper waved her hand in front of your face, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, “Go ask him.”

“Fuck me.” You groaned, and Harper patted your shoulder with an apologetic smile. After a few moments of contemplating if you really wanted to ask San for help, you just let out a sigh, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice. “Alright, I’ll see you later, Harper. That is if I don’t get arrested for attempted murder.”

Harper laughed softly with a shake of her head, “Good luck, girl.” Then she made her way down the hall towards her classroom, leaving you standing there.

Mustering up enough willpower to ask your attractive annoying roommate where your class had moved to. Hiking your bag higher up your shoulder, you turned and made your way over to where he was still talking to two of his friends. Once you were within eyesight, a smirk tugged on the male’s lips, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his letterman jacket. Your mind then started to wonder if it smelled like his cologne that you had grown attached to or how warm it was.

“What brings you here, roomie?” San asked, pulling you from your thoughts. Heat rushed up your neck, warming your cheeks. His feline-like eyes trailed the length of your body, which only irritated you further, seeing as you thought it was a bright idea to wear a skirt.

“San.” Your tone was curt as you looked at him, arms crossed over your chest as you tried with all your might to keep your voice steady despite the heat from his gaze. “Do you know where they moved chem?” The sas in your tone caused both of San’s buddies to laugh; one, who you recognized as Song Mingi, hit San’s arm as they looked down at you.

“Yeah, I do, why? Need help getting there?” He asked smugly, a knowing gleam in his eyes that told you that he was already sure that you did, in fact, need his help.

You inhaled sharply, trying to fight the urge to tell him no and walk away just so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing that you needed his help. However, you knew that if you did that, you would just end up being late to your class or missing it altogether. So you licked your lips before rolling your eyes and nodding.

“Yes, I do. My phone is dead, and there’s no one else from our class here," you told him, a small glare adorning your features, causing San to chuckle. The sound alone was enough to make you weak in your knees, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

“All you have to do is ask princess.” San’s lip quirked into a sly smirk as he pushed himself off of the wall, taking a step towards you. His teasing tone made you wanna punch him in his stupidly attractive face because you would rather be caught dead than ask him straightforwardly. 

Dropping your hands to your sides, you glared up at him, “Fine, I’ll just figure it out myself.” With that, you turned and started walking down the hall, trying to ignore the fit of laughter behind you.

San shook his head before looking back at his friends with a dimpled smile, “I’ll catch you guys later.” 

You grumbled angrily to yourself as you made your way back out of the building, head on a swivel, hoping to spot anyone from your chem class to ask for the whereabouts of the building. The cold, harsh wind swept across your body, and you couldn’t help but shiver.

“You sure today was a good day to wear a skirt?” San teased as he stopped right next to you, his voice making you jump slightly. His eyes trailed along the length of your body once more, noticing the layer of goosebumps that covered your legs and how you were starting to shake.

You crossed your arms over your chest once more, trying to warm yourself up, “what do you want, San?”

“I'm taking you to class, of course.” He flashed you his signature dimpled smile, and you had to turn away as heat rushed to your cheek, turning your face red. For once, you were thankful for the chilly wind. “Come on, my car is this way.” San motioned over to the parking lot before he walked off.

You wanted to just tell him to screw off, but you couldn’t not unless you wanted to freeze out in the cold while you tried to find your class that you would inevitably be late for. So, swallowing your pride, you made sure no cars were driving by before jogging across the street and to San’s side.

San glanced over at you as you walked next to him, the small pout that was on your lip made his hands itch, wanting nothing more than to kiss it off. But he decided against it and just reached over, poking your cheek, causing you to swat his hand away and glare up at him.

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, turning back to face away from him, causing him to chuckle.

“You’re cute when you’re all pouty.” He teases, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and unlocking his car. 

You bit the inside of your cheek at his remark, trying to ease the swarm of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

Once you got to his car, you didn’t say a word as you walked over to the passenger side, but San was quicker and opened the door for you. You looked over at him skeptically and he just smiled at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye.

“Ladies first.” He mocked a bow as he gestured to the open door, and your eyes narrowed, trying to read him but to no avail, so you just let out a huff before stepping into the car.

San shut the door after making sure you were in completely before rounding the car and climbing into the driver's seat. He started the car and turned the heat on, making sure some of the vents were facing you before putting the car in reverse.

Your heart nearly stopped when he put his hand on the back of your headrest, turning his head to look behind him as he backed out of the parking spot. You couldn’t help but stare as he did so, and noticing your gaze, he turned back around and winked at you in the process. Heat rushed to your face making your ears ring in embarrassment from being caught. San chuckled softly as he threw the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. 

The drive over to the new building was filled with the hum of San’s car engine and the quiet music that spilled from the radio. Your leg bounced as you stared out the window, the little voice in the back of your mind reminding you of who you were sitting in the car with.

“Did you not check your email this morning?” San asked, glancing over at you just as you turned your head to look at him with a deadpan expression.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you shook your head, “No, the power went out. Which you would have known if you weren’t so busy sticking your dick in some random bitch.”

Your snarky response made San smirk, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he turned into a parking lot. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous.”

A scoff escaped your lips as you looked at him in disgust despite the rapid beating of your heart. There was no way in hell that you would be jealous that he was fucking some random girl almost every week. Rolling your eyes, “Why would I be jealous? Who knows what you have.”

Parking the car, San looked over at you with a smug smirk, leaning over the center console until he was inches away from you. Your breath hitched in your throat when you turned to find him so close, wide eyes staring into his eyes.

“Who said I was talking about me?” He quipped, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes once more.

Your face felt as if it were on fire as you stumbled over your words, none of which made any sense the moment they fell from your lips. San, of course, was enjoying every second of it as he continued to lean closer to you, watching in amusement as you backed away until you couldn’t anymore.

“S-San.” Your tone held a warning as you got ready to push him away, but he reached over to the door, pulling his student ID out of the compartment.

“What’s wrong, princess? You didn’t think I was gonna kiss you, did you?” He raised an eyebrow as he slowly sat back down in his seat.

Annoyance flowed through your veins as he continued to stare at you with that stupid smirk. Your jaw tightens as you unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your bag from the floorboard. Just as you were about to open the door, San locked them, causing you to look at him with a glare.

“What the hell San?”

“I’m going to be out late with the guys, so make sure to leave some dinner for me," he told you before turning the car off and unlocking the doors.

You just stared at him in disbelief, trying to find where the hell he got the audacity to try to order you around. Running your tongue over your teeth, you pushed the car door open, “You’re such an ass.”

San watched as you got out of the car, slamming the door behind you before storming off to the building, not even giving him a chance to catch up. He sighed before getting out of the car and following after you.

During class, no matter how many times San tried to grab your attention or even talk to you, you would just ignore him. Once the professor was done lecturing and left you to do your class work, you quickly pulled out your headphones, hoping to drown out any and all of San’s attempts with music. This worked until class was over.

“Hey, y/n, did you need—”

“No.” Your response was curt as you pushed past San and right out of the classroom because you weren’t about to be stuck in the car with him once again, not after the stunt he pulled before.

San had to bite back the smirk that was fighting to spread across his lips as he watched the tips of your ears turn red any time he got even remotely close to you. Though he knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, not when the two of you lived together.

You did owe him, after all.

—

Later that night, you found yourself standing in the kitchen waiting for the last of dinner to finish up. Watching with tired eyes as the time counted down before finally going off, you pulled the food out of the oven before plating everything on two separate plates and cleaning off all of the dishes that you had used to cook dinner.

Just as you stuck your own plate of food into the fridge, you heard the front door open, and your eyebrows furrowed. San wasn’t supposed to be back for at least another hour or so, you thought. Shrugging, you just grabbed his plate and sat it down on the table before making your way to the hallway, only to run right into San.

“Fancy meeting you here,” San teased, grabbing your arms softly as you pulled away from him. You looked up at him with a half-tired, half-annoyed expression before you noticed that he was alone, which was a surprise.

“We live together, San,” you said before moving to step around him. "Your food is on the table.” 

Noticing that you didn’t have a plate or anything with you, he quickly reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you back towards him. A small gasp of surprise fell from your lips as you stumbled back into him once more.

“Where’s your food?” He asked softly as you started rubbing your temples, just ready to escape back into your bedroom, not wanting to deal with any more of his mixed signal bullshit.

“I’m not hungry.” 

“You need to eat, y/n," San said before moving down to grab your wrist and pulling you into the dining room, ignoring all of your protests.

“San, seriously, I can eat later.” You groaned, trying to slip out of his grip, but his hold was far too strong.

He ignored you as he pushed you to sit down in the chair with his food in front of it. You opened your mouth to say something, but he fixed you with a stern gaze, and you quickly shut your mouth. Sighing, you grabbed the chopsticks and started eating slowly as San watched you for a moment before turning and going into the kitchen to grab the other plate.

When he sat back down, the two of you ate in silence, and you weren’t sure how much more awkward silence you could take before you went insane. So you finished your bite and went to push away from the table, but San’s voice stopped you.

“So, about what you owe me.” He started, setting his chopsticks down to look over at you, finding your confused expression. “Don’t tell me you already forgot about me helping you get to class.” He smirked, intertwining his fingers together to rest his chin on top of them.

You inhaled sharply as you figured out what he meant. Of course, he wanted something in return. Rolling your eyes, you leaned back in your chair, ready to hear whatever it was that he wanted in return. “What do you want, San?”

“You.” His response was curt, and you almost choked on the air as you looked at him with wide eyes. After a few moments, the shock wore off, replaced by annoyance.

Standing from your seat, you shoved the chair back under the table, “Yeah, no.” You huffed as you went to grab your plate, but San grabbed your wrist, tugging until you were standing next to him.

“I’m serious, y/n.” He looked up at you, and you couldn’t tell if he really was being serious or not. The last thing that you wanted was to become another notch on his belt.

“So am I San. I’m not becoming another one of your little playthings.” You stated, pulling your arm from his grasp and grabbing your plate.

You walked into the kitchen, narrowly missing his attempt to grab you once more, and rinsed your plate off. Annoyance radiated off of you in waves as you scrubbed the plate in your hands; you knew that being anywhere near San would only piss you off. Now, with his outrageous proposition, you couldn’t help but feel a bit upset by it. 

Sure, San was hot and was almost everything a girl looked for when looking for a boyfriend, but the only downside is that he never settles. You’re pretty sure that’s what bugs you the most because even if you said yes in hopes of something more happening, the chances were slim to none. So you just put your pride first and decided that you wouldn’t let it happen despite the growing heat that pooled in your core at the thought of San actually wanting you like that.

You had become so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed that San walked into the room until the water was turned off and hands were placed on either side of your body.

“San—” Your breath hitched in your throat as you turned to find him merely inches away. His grip on the counter was tight enough to let you know that you wouldn’t be going anywhere until he moved.

Looking up at him you scanned his face as his eyes flickered down to your lips once again. Dipping his head down, he moved until he was a breath away from your lips, and you were sure that your heart was in your throat at this point.

“San…” Your voice shook as you tried to back away, but the counter behind you left you little to no room to do so. 

“I want you y/n. Just you.” He whispered, his warm breath fanning your face causing your eyes to flutter, but you fought against the urge to give into him. Placing your hands on his shoulders to push away but he moved closer to you, his lips ghosting over your cheek. “Let me prove it to you, please.”

A whine fell from your lips when his breath blew over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The small noise was enough to drive San insane as he pressed against your body and moved to look down at you.

“Fine,” You released a breath as you looked up at him with a hooded gaze, “but I swear to go if you’re lying to me.”

San didn’t need to hear anymore before he reached up to grab the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “I’m not.”

Then his lips were on your with an almost bruising force, stealing all of the air from your lungs. A meek whimper fell from your lips as you tried your best to keep up with his pace, but it was impossible. San’s other hand moved from the counter to grab your waist, pulling you even closer, leaving absolutely no space between your bodies.

“San.” You let out a breathy moan as his lips trailed down your jaw before latching onto the burning skin of your neck. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders tightly, trying to ground yourself, but your mind was slowly slipping as San left dark purple and red marks along your jugular.

“Don’t slip away from me yet, darling; we’re nowhere near started.” His voice was husky as his lips grazed over your ear before nipping at the shell, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

His hands trailed down the length of your body as he captured your lips once more, finding the back of your thighs and hoisting you onto the countertop. A gasp fell from your lips, muffled by his as your hands clutched onto his shoulders.

Slotting his body between your thighs, he grabbed the back of your neck once more, pulling you down to kiss him once more. His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you obey, parting your lips and allowing his tongue to explore every inch of your warm cavern. 

He soaked in all of the little sounds that you made as he continued to play with your body until you were shaking in his hold from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. His fingers danced along the hem of your sleep shorts, igniting a fire in the pit of your gut, and a whine fell from your swollen lips when he moved away.

“As hot as it would be, I’m not gonna fuck you in the kitchen. Not this time, at least.” He chuckled, watching the way your doe eyes stared up at him, a silent plea gleaming in your orbs. Reaching down, he grabbed the back of your thighs once more before hoisting you onto his waist.

“Shit.” You groaned when you felt his hands cup your ass after your legs wrapped around him. The way his scent was surrounding you like this was making you dizzy, your nose buried in his neck as he carried you out of the kitchen. “You smell so good, Sannie…”

A chill ran down San’s spine when he felt your lips press against the sensitive skin right under his ear. He tried to keep his composure as you left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. There were sure to be marks in the morning.

“Princess…” San warned as you snaked your hand under the collar of his shirt, raking your nails down the taunt skin of his back. A loud gasp fell from your lips when his hand made contact with your ass, the skin stinging from the force, “don’t be a brat now.” He growled, but you only responded by latching onto his neck, biting down harshly, threatening to break the skin. “Fuckkk.” 

San was losing his composure by the minute, and the moment he finally made it to his bedroom, he was on his last strand of sanity. Throwing you onto his bed, he quickly crawled over you, trapping your body underneath his once more.

You looked up at him, focusing on how his eyes trailed all over your face before settling on your lips. His hips were pressed firmly against yours, and you could feel his bulge pressing right against your clothed core. You rolled your hips in search of some kind of friction, but San was quick to halt your movements, his grip tight on your hip as he moved a breath away from your face.

“Such a needy little thing. Weren’t you just saying today that you didn’t want me?” He teased, and your face grew warm as you recalled your conversation in the car, “but don’t worry, sweetheart, as long as you’re a good girl, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want.” San smirked as he took in your lust-filled expression, your hips trying to move despite his firm grip.

“I’ll be good, Sannie, please.” You begged, hands grabbing at his shirt, causing him to chuckle darkly.

He then moved his hand from your hip, fingers hooking around the band of your shorts, tugging the fabric down your legs harshly, leaving your bottom half completely bare.

As soon as the cool air hit your heated center a whine fell from your lips, tears already pricking at your eyes. San watched you intently as he moved his fingers down your navel, slipping between your folds, collecting some of your slick on his digits before pressing down on your clit. A choked moan tore through your lips, back arching off of the bed.

“So wet and so sensitive, aren’t you, princess.” San chuckled as he slowly circled your clit, watching your jaw fall slack. Moving from your clit he traced along your slit before plunging one of his fingers into your warm heat.

“San!” You cried out at the sudden intrusion, tears already spilling from the corner of your eyes.

“You’re so fucking tight, fuck when was the last time you got laid?” San groaned, not missing the way you covered your lower face, and turned away from his gaze. Chuckling, he bent down, peppering kisses along your exposed collarbone, “No need to get shy on me now, darling, plus you won’t have to worry about that after today.”

Heat rushed up your neck at what his words implied, but any thoughts were wiped away the moment he interested a second digit, his thumb pressing down on your clit. Your back arched off of the bed, pressing your chest against his when he brushed over that spongy spot deep inside of your cunt. Taking note of your reaction, San continued to abuse that spot, relishing in all of the lewd, wet noises that were coming from your cunt the wetter you got.

“San– fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You cried out, eyes squeezing shut as your legs started to tremble, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening by the second, threatening to snap any moment.

“Go ahead, baby, make a mess of my fingers.” San cooed, nipping at your jaw as your high came crashing down, your whole body trembling in his hold while he worked you through your orgasm. Once the high faded, it was replaced with oversensitivity, making you whine, grabbing at his wrist.

“San–” You choked on a moan as he curled his fingers in you once more, a sadistic smirk playing on his lips. 

He so desperately wanted to absolutely demolish you, leave you ruined for any other man, so you had no choice but to come back to him. But he didn’t want to scare you away when he finally had you right where he wanted you. So he decided to leave his more sadistic tendencies for another time.

With one last stroke of his finger, he pulled them from your soaping cunt, causing you to whine from the empty feeling. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, making your body turn into putty in his hands.

“Don’t worry, princess, I won’t leave you empty for too long.” He slurred, lips trailing down your jaw once more before he pulled away to discard his clothes.

Your eyes were glued to his body, watching as he stripped himself. The sight left your mouth watering the more skin he showed. His perfectly chiseled abs were covered in a thin layer of sweat making his honey skin glow under the dim lighting. Noticing your gaze, he smirked, tugging his sweats off of his legs and letting his cock spring free.

The sight of his angry red tip made you swallow hard. Sure, you have been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. Sensing your unease, San shot you a reassuring smile before climbing onto the bed, his back resting against the headboard. He then motioned you over, and you slowly climbed onto your shaky knees, making your way over to him.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart. We’ll go slow.” His voice was soft as you climbed into his lap, hands tight on his shoulders as you leaned against him. "And if at any point you feel uncomfortable, we can stop, okay?” he asked, fingers rubbing your thighs soothingly. You nodded, but San wasn’t satisfied with just that. He grabbed your jaw gently to pull your attention to his face. “Words, princess.”

“O-Okay.” You stumbled over your words when you felt him press against your bare heat, making your whole body shiver.

“Good girl.” He praised you, hands finding the ends of your t-shirt and pulling it swiftly over your head, leaving you in your bra. You started to rock your hips against his, dragging your soaping cunt along his dick, making him hiss through his teeth. His hands trailed from your thighs up your back until he reached the clasp of your bra, quickly undoing it and throwing it away, letting your breast pop free. “So pretty.” San groaned, hands moving up to cup your soft mounds while you continued to rock against him.

“Sannie…” You whined when he started to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples, another high already close. 

“Fuck you’re so hot like this.” San groaned as he watched you grind against him with fever, chasing another high, your hands gripping onto his shoulders tightly. He then slapped your ass once more, causing you to yelp and your movements to falter.

He then grabbed both of your ass cheeks and pulled you flush against him, another choked moan tearing from your lungs when your clit pressed against his pelvic bone. Using his strength, he guided your hips against his until you were a whining, trembling mess as another orgasm washed over you.

“F-Fuck San.” You choked out another moan as he continued to rock your hips, prolonging your orgasm. Your nails dug into his skin, threatening to break it as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

After a few more moments, he let up on his grip, allowing you to just lay against him, but the feeling of his throbbing cock under you made your mind reel, wondering what it would feel like to be stuffed full.

“Come on, princess, ride me.” He nipped at your shoulder, causing you to shudder, but you lifted yourself from his neck nonetheless.

San leaned back, watching as you rose on shaky legs and reached behind you to grab his cock. Swallowing thickly, you started to jerk him off, earning yourself a low groan from the male, watching the translucent precum spill from the slit before you moved to slide the head between your slick folds.

You whimpered as you slowly started to sink down on his length, head becoming fuzzy from the stretch while San bit the inside of his cheek to keep from pulling you down all of the way. He didn’t want to hurt you, so he let you take your time, for now, watching with hooded eyes as you let yourself sink deeper and deeper on his cock.

You both moaned simultaneously, him from the way your tight cunt squeezed around him and you from the way he stretched you wide open. Tears dripped from your eyelashes as you tried your best to sit down fully, but you were starting to think you couldn’t fit him, making you whine. San chuckled, his hands squeezing your hips gently.

“Come on, princess," he cooed at you, watching you intently as you continued to try and sink deeper. "You’re almost there; you can do it, can’t you?”

You nodded vigorously, eye meeting his with a pleading look, and he tightened his grip on your hips, helping you sink down his length until he was fully bottomed out. He hissed through gritted teeth, eyes squeezing shut from how tight you were, and you let out a loud whine before your head dropped down into the crook of his neck.

You could feel him in all of the right places making your brain turn into mush, even more tears spilling from your eyes. It took you a few moments to get used to the new stretch before you even attempted to roll your hips against his. San groaned at the way your cunt continued to squeeze around him, your pace almost painfully slow, and he had to steel himself so he wouldn’t take over, but his sanity was hanging on by a thin string.

All of your sweet sounds were muffled by his neck as you continued to rock against him. The feeling of his tip brushing over your sweet spot with every roll of your hips made stars dance along your vision. San let you continue your treacherous pace while his hands continued to roam your body, squeezing at every inch of skin he could reach, soaking in all of the soft noises you were making.

Soon enough you were able to lift yourself up before dropping back down, all of your slick making it easier to glide along his length. San groaned as you kept your slow pace, his grip tight on your hip, trying his best to keep up, but he was slowly slipping away.

“Sannie.” You whined as he pulled your face out of his neck, crashing his lips into yours, swallowing all of your noises as you continued to ride him. His hands guided your hips, positioning you into a new angle that left you gasping for air, your pace faltering altogether.

San groaned as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, “Fuck princess, I’m sorry.” He apologized, and before you could even ask what he meant, he planted his feet behind you and stilled your hips before bucking his hips up into you.

A choked moan tore from your lungs as he set a brutal pace, his tip hitting all of the right places to leave you seeing stars. Incoherent moans and cries of his name fell from your lips as your back arched against him. San took the chance to latch his lip onto your chest, sucking and biting at the skin, leaving behind dark marks, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hand flew to his head, fingers combing through his hair as he continued to suck on your breast.

White spots started to cloud your vision as you felt your high creep up on you, a loud whine was pulled from you as San bit down on your nipple. You couldn’t even warn him as your body tipped over the edge, your body convulsing in his hold, broken and incoherent babbles being the only thing that came from your mouth as San continued to fuck into you.

“Fuck baby,” He groaned loudly from how tightly you were squeezing around him, and he knew he couldn’t last much longer, not with the way your sweet little cunt was sucking him in, “‘M close– fuck, where do you want me to cum princess?” 

You whined as your head fell back from the overstimulation, your thighs burning, begging to relax. You didn’t even register his question until he nipped at your collarbone.

“Inside.” You whined, and San could have sworn he died and gone to heaven, “I’m on the pill, inside, please, Sannie.” Your begging only brought San even closer to his end, and with a few more thrusts, he brought your hips flush against his, spilling deep into your womb.

The warmth was a new feeling making you squirm in San’s lap, your walls spazzing around him as you came once again, milking his cock for all that he was worth. Your body shook in his hold as you buried your face in his shoulder once more, a strangled whine muffled by his skin.

San wrapped his arms around your body as you both came down from your highs, his fingers tracing shapes on your skin to help soothe you. After a few moments, he pulled your face from his neck, making you look up at him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, princess, and then we can sleep," he whispered as he peppered your face with soft kisses, causing you to giggle.

So he slipped out of your spent cunt before helping you clean up and handing you one of his shirts to slip on, even if your room was just across the hall. Then, once you were both back in the bed with the lights out, he pulled you close to him, his face buried in your neck, pressing gentle kisses all along your skin.

“God, I love you.” He spoke quietly, unsure if you had even heard him until you shifted around to face him.

Your hand cupped his face gently as you pulled him down for a kiss, this one completely different from the ones before. It was sweet, gentle, and filled with longing like the both of you had waited an eternity to share it.

“I love you too, even if you get on my last nerve.” You smiled as he chuckled and nuzzled his head into your chest. And that’s how the two of you fell asleep, content and happy in one another's arms.

–

The next morning, you woke up to the sun shining on your face. Groaning, you moved your arm to cover your face. The sun never came through your window this early in the morning, so confused, you cracked your eyes open and looked around.

Your heart then dropped when you realized that this wasn’t your room but San’s. Swallowing thickly, you looked down, seeing that you were wearing his shirt. All of the events from the night before flashed in your mind, making your face heat up.

Looking over, you found the spot next to you empty, making your heart sink. You couldn’t help but think of the worst: that he had been lying to you the entire time, and you felt stupid for even thinking that he was being genuine.

“Stupid.” You grumbled as you caught sight of your phone plugged in by his bed. Reaching over, you grabbed it and turned the screen on. Seeing the time, you almost had a heart attack until you saw the date, seeing that you didn’t have any classes today.

Then, your attention was brought to the few messages you had: one from Harper, one from a project partner, and one from San. You debated opening the one from San, but despite your better judgment, you clicked on it.

‘Had to get to class this morning, but there’s breakfast in the fridge. I’ll see you after class, princess.’

Your cheeks flushed red as you reread the message multiple times, hoping that you weren’t just hallucinating. Biting back a smile you typed a quick message saying that you’ll see him after class and thank you for the breakfast before backing out of his message.

Throwing the blankets off your body, you moved to stand, only to have to sit right back down as your legs shook. The tips of your ears turned red as you remembered how rough San had been the night before, and butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach.

Once you were able to stand on your wobbly legs, you made your way out of the room and towards the kitchen, messaging Harper. She then called you so you propped your phone up on the counter so she could still see you as you grabbed your food.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty– are those hickeys?!” She exclaimed, nearly making you drop your plate as you quickly turned to look at her like a deer caught in headlights. “Wait… is that San’s shirt?”

Swallowing thickly, you closed the fridge before walking over to the counter. "Maybe… " you trailed on nervously, and Harper just fell silent for a few moments.

“Wooyoung owes me twenty bucks.” She cheered, and you couldn’t help but look at her with a raised eyebrow, “We bet on how soon you two would just fuck it out.”

“You– what?” You choked on the air as you looked at her with wide eyes causing her to erupt in a fit of giggles, wiping fake tears from the corner of her eyes after she calmed down.

“Girl, please. We all could sense the sexual tension between you two.” She shook her head as you just looked at her dumbfounded. “So… how was it? Pretty good if those hickeys are anything to go by.” 

Your face started to burn once more as you shoved your mouth full of food to avoid the conversation. Grabbing your phone, you walked into the dining room and sat down at the table. Harper watched you with a smirk getting a kick out of how flustered you were.

Swallowing the food, you opened your mouth to start talking, but thankfully, you heard the sound of the front door opening and let out a relieved sigh.

“San’s back. I’ll talk to you later.” You quickly told Harper, getting ready to hang up the call.

“Okay, okay, but I want the deets later!” She said hurriedly before you ended the call just as San rounded the corner.

Seeing him made you shift in your seat a little, and when he flashed you his signature dimpled smile, you were sure you would melt in the very chair you sat in.

“Morning, beautiful.” He walked over, pressing a light kiss on your cheek before making his way into the kitchen, your eyes never leaving his form. “I have another class but needed to grab a snack," he told you as he walked back into the room.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, knowing that he had plenty of snack options on campus and only came back to see you. Chuckling at your reaction, he made his way to the door once more.

“I’ll see you tonight, princess," he told you as you walked out of the dining room to watch him slip his shoes back on. "Maybe we can watch a movie?” He suggested, and you nodded softly, wrapping your arms around your body.

“Sure,” You smiled at him as you walked over, and he grabbed his school bag from the coat rack.

Turning, he grabbed your waist, pulled you flush against him, and kissed you deeply, “or maybe we can make our own.” He teased, his feline-like eyes narrowing as he watched red dust your cheeks, and you slapped his shoulder.

“Weirdo, go to class.” You pouted, trying to hide your embarrassment, but more so how much his words turned you on.

© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮

[dgknightblue]

Danny, full of truth serum and very loopy tired: This isn’t the first time I’ve been kidnapped! Not even counting last week because my parents sent me there fully trusting the guy since they’re friends, but I didn’t want to be there so I call it that… probably more unlawful imprisonment.

Danny: Anyways, I just don’t trust the guy since he’s a fruit-loop that wants me to be his son! So eating his food is a no go but he found the nutrient bars I had stashed a way so the only option left (I didn’t have cash) was to eat whatever the fruit-loops servants make.

Danny: Of course it was drugged, of course! And I wake up in the dungeon again.

Tim: Dungeon?

Danny: Yeah he’s a fruit-loop that likes to torment me.

Dick: Have you ever considered telling your parents?

Danny: No? Why would I do that, I can handled it by myself or have my friends help me. Though my sister knows and constantly calls even though she’s in college right now.

Danny: I mean, I don’t know what my sister did but when she talked to him one day, I stopped finding cameras in the house. Which was weird, but cool of her.

Danny: Also it would make my parents sad, so I really don’t want to tell them. They trust him a lot- I mean my mom is aware he is in love with her, but she doesn’t know he tries to …. Groom me. I know it sounds bad, but it’s not in a super icky way.

Danny: Like I said, he wants me to be his son because he likes my mom. And other reasons. That aren’t important!

Danny:….. he doesn’t act this way with my sister. He mostly focuses on me or tried to use her against me once.

Danny: He’s kind of a villain, you know? A fruit-loop. Anyways, back to me being in the dungeon. I actually met my cousin there!

Tim: Your cousin?

Danny: Yeah! She’s my clone. He cloned me. I love her. But she wasn’t supposed to be in America so I was surprised to see her.

Dick:…. What was she doing in the dungeon?

Danny: Apparently he wanted to try one last time to make a perfect clone son if I won’t be his son. I just… she was right there. Just because he wanted a son? Sure she wasn’t quite stable at the time, but she wanted him to love her. He could have been a dad, but he wasn’t.

Danny: I don’t get it. The ‘family’ he could have had was right there. He doesn’t deserve a great daughter like her. If he had been a kind person, he could have had the closeness he wanted.

Danny: Well if he didn’t blame his accident solely on my dad and for marrying mom. He’s just a fruit-loop.

Tim: How did you get out if your parents never found out?

Danny: My friends told my sister I was with him and apparently camped out in the woods in case he does something fruit loopy. The second I sent a message to them, she was busting down the doors. I was confused because she was supposed to be in college, but apparently she didn’t have any classes for her spring break.

Danny: We watched her beat the fudge out of him when she saw me be electrocuted.

Dick: You were being electrocuted!?

Danny: Yeah! He knows I’m susceptible to electrocution especially after my accident. Let me tell you, being zapped to the point of needing to go to the hospital is not fun. Or The bullying because now I’m not just the openly queer kid, I’m the disabled and ugly openly queer kid.

Danny: You can be gay if you’re quiet, but ancients forbid if you’re trans.

Tim: That’s awful, didn’t the teachers do anything?

Danny: Ha, fat chance! They watch it happen and then blame me. I got in so much trouble for what they do and do to me, they’re the jocks and A-listers of course they’re above the rules.

Danny: My friend Sam is rich, if she was shallow and flaunted it then she’d be an A-lister too, but she’s not like that, so she gets stuck at the bottom of the social ladder since she’s goth and friends with me.

Danny: If she was just goth, she’d be a little higher and be with the other goths. But no, she’s in the freaks category with me and our other friend.

Dick:… because they hang out with you.

Danny: Yep! Ah. Now that I’m thinking about it, my ex girl friend is the only one I ever dated besides Sam that was okay with me, I was just Danny.

Dick: You dated Sam?

Danny: We didn’t last, as much as she liked me and I liked her it just wasn’t working. We stayed friends.

Tim: Can we circle back to the whole ‘you got kidnapped before’ thing? I feel like we got off topic.

Danny: sure, wait why are we talking about that again? I feel like I got everything.

Tim: I’d like to know who the guy is so I can avoid him.

Danny: Vlad Masters, but he’s not the only one to kidnap me. There’s the GIW, who only managed to get me in their van, but I was with my sister and she beefed up over the summer because of anxiety over my safety.

I like the idea of Danny being protected helped his obsession because I think his obsession stemmed from the single thought of ‘Help me’ that was unanswered in his half-death. So he helps people because of the desire for help being answered, whether it was helping him or others- as long as the plea is answered. ‘To help’.

Something! Idk what the setting is for this, but they are all in one place and kidnapped. Not even in Gothem or by one of their rouges.

The dialogue can be changed around since I’m not hundred percent with it. But Danny can’t lie, he can control how he speaks and can avoid saying certain things but otherwise it has to be the truth.

He’s also very tired.

[em1i2a3]

Oxygen

Pairing: The Void/Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry x Fem!Reader!

Summary: Your period has come, and you’re feeling extremely moody and down, mix that in with intense cramping and you’re absolutely miserable. But when Bob lets out The Void for the night, he has a solution for all your troubles.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Angsty (kind of), Would I say this is Hurt/Comfort? I mean…Kind of? In the literal sense lol. Reader is in pain and The Void is comforting her…So yeah. Reader has an established relationship with Bob. Void is a bit soft here

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up), Period Sex (it’s going to get messy), Descriptions/Mentions of Period Blood (it kind of gets everywhere…Do with that information what you will), Oral Sex (Void being a certified munch…Wheew), Fingering, Void gets a little rough, Scratches, Love Bites (that borders on painful while receiving them, but like…A good kind of pain?), Little bit of hair pulling, Nipple/Breast Play, Reader is Hypersensitive so Overstimulation is a thing, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Dirty Talk, A Bloody Good Time (the request asked for filth…I shall deliver as much as I possibly can.), Aftercare (because hell yeah!)

Author’s Note: Wheeeewww….Wowie. This request was a mood and I thought I would oblige. I love writing Soft Void so much that it’s taken over my life, Jesus Christ! Anyways, I know this may not be everyone’s cup of tea, so hopefully I can make it up to y’all tomorrow with some cavity inducing Fluff? RAF is tomorrow too. However! I hope you guys enjoy <3

Word Count: 11,756

When Bob arrived at your apartment, the front door was already unlocked–just like you’d told him in the text you sent thirty minutes ago, when the cramps had gotten so bad that even reaching for your heating pad felt like too much. It wasn’t that you were being reckless or forgetful. It was just that you had finally managed to contort your body into the one exact position on your couch where the stabbing pain in your lower abdomen dulled to a tolerable throb, and there was no force on Earth–nor in your aching uterus–that could convince you to ruin that hard-earned victory just to answer the door.

You were curled into the deepest corner of your couch, half-wrapped in a fuzzy navy throw blanket that clung to your overheated skin with static. One leg was tucked beneath you while the other dangled over the side like a limp vine, toes grazing the edge of the coffee table. A heating pad was crammed against your lower stomach tucked under the waistband of your oldest pair of sweatpants–gray, baggy, and speckled with faded bleach stains from an old laundry mishap. Your hoodie was black, and your socks were mismatched. You were also surrounded by tear stained tissues, half-finished tea, and two little individual Tylenol blister packs you couldn’t summon the strength to throw away.

You had messaged Bob earlier, before the cramps got really bad—“Door is open”—and he’d replied quickly, sweetly, with “Okay :)” like the smiley face might soften the guilt you were already wallowing in.

Because truthfully, you had tried to cancel the whole night.

Your period had come four days early, and you were completely caught off guard by the sudden flush of hormones and ferality, the fatigue that hit like a train, and the emotional fog that crept in as if someone had quietly dimmed all the lights inside you. Within the span of a few hours you had gone from feeling excited for your night with Bob–featuring blanket, popcorn, movies, him sleeping over, and of course the subsequent sex that came from it–to being curled up on your couch in a haze of discomfort and self-loathing, texting him “actually I think I have to cancel, I feel really gross, and disgusting” with trembling fingers and wet lashes.

But Bob didn’t hesitate at all in his response.

”I still want to come over. Period or not. You know how much I want to be around you, and I’ll be happy to take care of you.” You stared at that message for a full minute before replying, chest aching. You’d always made it a point to schedule your hangouts around your cycle. You didn’t want him to see you like this–emotional, bloated, sensitive to the point of irrationality. It wasn’t just about the pain. It was the unpredictability of your own mood. The way everything felt heavier. The way you got clingy and quiet and sometimes cried over the dumbest things, and how much you hated being perceived when you weren’t at your best.

This would be the first time seeing you like this and nervous didn’t even begin to cover how you were feeling about that situation.

You flinched at the sound of the front door opening with a soft click. You didn’t move. Just held your breath and stared at the ceiling, heart thudding as you heard the unmistakable rustle of a grocery bag, followed by the quiet shuffle of Bob’s sneakers on the entryway mat. His presence was always warm, always calm. Even now, as he shut the door behind him and moved towards your kitchen counter, you could feel the atmosphere of the apartment shift–like someone had finally cracked a window in a too-stuffy room.

”Y/N? You here?” He called out. Not loud or overly careful. Just softness…As if he already knew you didn’t have the energy for more than that. You groaned and closed your eyes.

”Couch,” You croaked, raising your hand up like a flag, your voice dry and almost pitiful. You could hear him let out a little laugh as the rustling of bags followed his movements. He took your outstretched hand gently,–warm, careful fingers curling around yours as he brought it to his lips and pressed a few soft kisses to your knuckles. Each one was slow and featherlight, like he was afraid of overwhelming you with too much affection all at once.

”Hey, hun,” He murmured, his voice low and sweet, vibrating through your fingertips, “How’re you feeling?” You let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but it died halfway in your throat and turned into more of a wheeze. Your eyes stayed closed.

”Like garbage,” You croaked, “And…Gross.” Bob let go of your hand with a soft squeeze and circled around the couch until he was crouched in front of you. He set down the grocery bags on the coffee table, the softest rustling of plastic being heard. You could see that there were an array of chips; plain, sour cream, salt and vinegar, all dressed, and if you looked even closer you noticed there were a few bags of candy and chocolate. The other bag seemed a little less full, but you couldn't tell what was in it from the angle you were lying in.

He shrugged off his jacket, and draped it over the back of the couch, before turning his attention back to you with that familiar crease of concern between his brows and his blue irises studying you, scanning over the expression that was plastered on your face–one that he would probably describe as anguish more than anything. You watched him through heavy lashes as he reached out, fingertips brushing against the apple of your cheek.

The touch sent a fresh wave of heat blooming beneath your skin, and you hissed involuntarily, recoiling slightly from the contact. He jerked his hand back immediately in surprise.

”Crap…Sorry. I didn’t mean to–“ You shook your head faintly.

”It’s okay…It wasn’t you. I run super hot when I’m on my person and I literally feel like a raw nerve. You had no idea.” Bob gave a small, guilty sigh and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, his light brown hair a little mussed from where the wind had caught it outside. He looked sheepish, lips parted like he might say something else–like another apology–but instead his gaze flicked toward the grocery bags.

”Well,” He started, clearing his throat, “I-I got you some of your favourite snacks. And some painkillers. And another heating pad in case this one gives out.” His voice wobbled on the last bit like he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say. Your eyes fluttered open just enough to squint at him.

”You did?” He gave a small, proud nod.

”Of course I did.” You stared at him and felt your throat tighten, something warm and tight rising in your chest like a balloon that was being blown too fast. He leaned forward, took your hand again, and brought it back to his mouth. Another soft kiss, right at the center of your palm this time, “That’s what I would want someone to do for me if I was in pa-pain.” He added softly. You squeezed his hand gently, a tired little grin tugging at the corner of your mouth despite how miserable you felt.

”You’re too sweet, Bob.” His pale cheeks flushed immediately–the tell-tale pink blooming across his face and up the tips of his ears–and he ducked his head just a little, shying away from the compliment slightly.

”It’s the least I can do…” He stated, brushing his thumb along your knuckles, adding in a quieter voice, “I can also help with the heat issue too…If you’d li-like of course.” You raised a brow.

”Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?” He looked up, shrugging slightly, though his fingers twitched slightly in your grip.

”I can call in the re-reinforcements…” You squinted at him, wary.

”Please don’t tell me you’re gonna let Sentry come out…He almost burned a hole through my sheets the last time you let him take over.” Bob let out a short laugh, rubbing his free hand on the top of his thigh, getting rid of the sweat that was building up along his palm.

”No., no. Definitely not him. He’ll make your situation way worse than it already is. You don’t need a sentient sun snuggling you right now.” You snorted softly, even though the vibration slightly disturbed the position you were in, a slight cramp tingling in your abdomen.

”I was actually thinking…” He hesitated, eyes flicking to yours, watching for your expression, “Y’know…The ot-other guy.” Your brows knit for a second before the connection clicked–and your expression shifted, eyes widening just slightly.

”Oh…” Bob gave a faint, awkward little smile like he wasn’t sure how you’d take the offer, but your response was quiet and calm.

“Well…I mean…I’d be okay with that,” You replied, your voice laced with surprising honesty, “He’s an ice cube so that’ll definitely help…And he’s pretty easy to be around.” Bob huffed a soft, disbelieving laugh, squeezing your hand a little tighter

“You know…You still haven’t told me how you made him get all mushy fo-for you,” He muttered, “He gets so angry at the compound when people talk to him, but for some reason he’s a bumbling mess with you, it’s ridiculous.” You shrugged, letting your head tip lazily to the side.

”He’s tethered to you, so technically…He’s just emulating your feelings. Just in a different form. You’re always soft with me and you’re also just…Madly in love with me. So he is too.” You teased, Bob raised a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, but you weren’t done. “And it’s also probably because I constantly feed him. He practically eats me out of house and home when he’s around.” That made Bob smirk.

”I guess food really is the fastest way to a…Dark entity’s heart.” You both let out tired little laughs, quiet and breathy, the kind that fizzled out gently into a soft silence. There was something tender about it–how even in the middle of your worst pain, you could still laugh with Bob. Still feel the warmth in his presence, the subtle rhythm of comfort his voice offered, like your own nervous system was finally allowed to let go.

Your thumb traced absentminded circles into his palm as the moment stretched, quiet and calm. His fingers were still wrapped around yours, warm despite the cool edge now lingering faintly in the air–residue, no doubt, from the Void’s hovering nearness. Your gaze lingered on him for a beat longer than intended–soft, fond, aching just a little.

Then, leaning forward slowly, careful not to upset the careful position of your heating pad or spark another cramp, you brushed your lips to his.

Just once. A soft, grateful kiss. Chaste, almost–more a gesture of affection than desire. Still, it lingered.

When you pulled back, Bob’s eyes blinked open slowly. The familiar, oceanic blue of his irises struck you all over again, even in the dim light. They were that rare kind of blue–pure and soft, but startling in their deepness and intensity. Almost unreal in a sense, like you’d expect to find this kind of blue painted across the sky on the clearest day of the year. Right now, though, they were a little darker, a little stormier, pupils dilating then constricting ever so slightly as he tried to refocus.

And in the very center of each pupil, you saw it–a pinprick of shifting white. That tiny speck of starlight you’d come to recognize as The Void’s slow, and creeping awareness. You brushed your thumb lightly over the back of Bob’s hand.

“I do want you to stay for a bit though,” You whispered, voice quieter now. “Before you let the ice cube out.” He nodded once, his eyes fluttering shut–hard, purposeful. You could see the tension in his jaw as he exhaled slowly through his nose, steadying his breath, pushing the shadow back down beneath the surface. For now.

“That I can do…” He murmured, his voice a little raspier than before. Then, softer still, “Wa-Want me to hold you? I promise I won’t touch your face again.”

You smiled, heart tugging at the awkward little stammer and the genuine warmth behind his offer. “I’d really like that.”

He didn’t waste time. Just moved slowly, carefully, like you were made of glass. He stood just long enough to toe off his sneakers and ease himself onto the couch beside you. Then, without asking again, he opened his arms.

You curled into his side, rearranging yourself gingerly to avoid jostling your heating pad. Your head settled against his shoulder, your cheek pressing into the soft, worn cotton of his shirt. His arm wrapped around you securely, palm splayed warm and steady across your upper back.

The relief that came from being held like that was immediate. Like a switch being flipped. Not because the pain vanished, but because the isolation of it lifted. You weren’t suffering alone anymore. You were here, in the arms of someone who didn’t flinch from your discomfort or try to fix it with empty words. Someone who wanted to be here, in this quiet, messy moment with you.

You leaned forward again just a little, brushing your lips to his cheek. A brief kiss. Gentle. Grateful.

If it were any other night–if your body wasn’t at war with itself–you knew you’d be all over him by now. He smelled good, like wind and clean cotton and whatever fabric softener he always used that clung to your sheets for days after he left. And he was so close, warm and pliant beneath your hands. There was always something about Bob that pulled at your skin like gravity.

But tonight…Tonight was different.

You felt a familiar ache of desire tug somewhere deep in your core, curling low and hot beneath the cramping you were experiencing still. You knew sex could help–that it might actually alleviate some of the pain. But still, the words stuck in your throat. This was the first time he was seeing you like this, and you didn’t want to risk turning tenderness into tension. Didn’t want him to think you were asking for more than he was ready to give under these conditions.

So instead, you let yourself rest. Let your fingers trace lightly over the stitching on his shirt, your breathing slowly syncing with his. You wondered, idly, if he knew–if he had any idea about the things that could help you feel better. If he’d ever read that article or heard someone say it out loud in passing. But if he did, he wasn’t mentioning it. And you weren’t brave enough to ask.

Not now at least.

You shifted even closer to him with a soft, involuntary hum, the smallest sound of contentment escaping your lips as your body registered the warmth of his side and clung to it. Bob didn’t move, didn’t speak–just tightened his arm around you ever so slightly, his hand resting securely on your back like he was anchoring you to the present, to safety.

You closed your eyes, and breathed him in again. The cramping hadn’t gone away, not completely. But it no longer ruled you. It lingered like a distant storm, rumbling at the edges, while the quiet beat of Bob’s heart offered something steadier to focus on.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

You let the sound cradle you, like a drumbeat in your chest that wasn’t yours but still somehow belonged to you, bringing your leg over his slowly, your hips shifting with the movement. Bob responded immediately to the new position, his own leg adjusting instinctively beneath yours to make a little space for you to settle into.

Your face pressed deeper into the hollow of his shoulder, the heat in your cheeks now less about fever and more about quiet intimacy. You stayed there like that, enveloped in the low murmur of his breath and the steady pulse beneath your ear.

Every now and then, he’d shift slightly to get more comfortable, and the subtle motion–his chest rising, his ribs flexing, his fingertips dragging lightly through the fabric at your back–would draw you back from the edge of sleep, until it finally overtook you.

—————————

The first thing you noticed when you stirred awake was the absence of warmth, and the pressure of arms and hands touching you.

Instinctively you reached for Bob, thinking that maybe in the midst of your nap you had untangled yourself from him, only to find the indentation he’d left in the couch and a faint lingering trace of his fabric softener. The fuzzy navy blanket had slipped down your hip, and the heating pad, long since gone cold, pressed heavy and useless against your lower stomach. You sighed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as your ears registered the low, distant whir of the bathroom fan humming from down the hall.

Slowly, your eyes trailed over toward the clock on the wall.

9:25 p.m.

Somehow it felt later and earlier than that all at once, like time had folded in on itself and it was just an odd loop. You sat up with a soft groan, hands bracing against the couch cushions as you shifted. The cramps had dulled–less a serrated edge now, more a muted throb radiating into your lower back like a tired engine. Still there. Still annoying. But tolerable.

You peeled the cooled heating pad from your skin and dropped it beside the grocery bags on the coffee table, your eyes skimming over them with a faint smile, though you had noticed they weren’t as full anymore.

The all-dressed chips were gone, so were the sour cream ones, meaning Bob must’ve eaten them all on his own. You let out a quiet, amused hum and pushed yourself to your feet, stretching just enough to feel the pull in your shoulders, your hoodie exposing your midriff with the movement.

As you padded across the room, you grabbed the unopened bottle of Advil from the second grocery bag, cracked the seal, and shook out two liquid capsules into your palm, tossing them back and swallowing them dry, wincing slightly at the way they briefly got stuck in your throat.

Then you stood there for a beat, letting everything settle around you.

The apartment was quiet, but not silent. Dim, but warm.

A few lamps cast soft pools of light across the space–one near the couch still glowing amber, another by the kitchen left on at half brightness. The curtains over the windows were drawn tight, muting the outside world to a soft shadowplay of headlights passing every so often. On the kitchen counter, Bob’s keys were resting beside a crumpled receipt and the half-empty bag of gummy worms he had clearly dipped into while you were asleep.

You shuffled down the hallway, arms folded loosely across your chest, each step deliberate and soft. A few hours ago you probably wouldn’t have been able to move like this, so evidently whatever you did had helped.

The further down the hall you went, the cooler the air became–less from the apartment’s thermostat and more from him. That telltale prickle at the base of your neck. Not sinister. Not unwelcome. Just a quiet alertness in the atmosphere. The kind of cold that carried intention.

The bathroom door was mostly shut, but the light bled out beneath it in a thin golden strip across the floorboards. The fan buzzed faintly above it, soothing and constant, and you could hear the quiet sound of water–either running or having just stopped.

You lifted your hand, hesitating only for a moment before gently knocking on the door with the soft part of your knuckles.

“Bob?” You called out, your voice scratchy with sleep. There was a brief pause, and then the fan cut off with a quiet click, and for a moment, all you could hear was the dripping of water and your own breath echoing through your nose.

Then the door opened, and standing in the center of the soft bathroom lighting was The Void. He was unmistakable–tall and defined in that way Bob always was, but rendered in silhouette so precise it looked carved from shadow itself. Smooth and obsidian from head to toe, his features unreadable save for the faint glint of white where his eyes should be–those signature star-pupils glowing dimly in the low light–and the suggestion of a mouth that moved only when he chose it to.

He wore nothing but a towel, slung low around his hips, and the fact that he’d just gotten out of the shower was made abundantly clear by the way water still clung to him in languid droplets, trailing down the lines of his chest and abdomen in slow, shimmering arcs. Each drop disappeared into the dark surface of his skin like ink being swallowed by midnight.

His silky black hair was damp and heavy, hanging over his forehead and temples in wet, tousled clumps. It framed the curve of his jaw, you could see it from the way it flowed out a bit and hung slightly. Somehow, even in his wordless presence, he radiated a kind of calm–but it pulsed with tension just beneath the surface. As if the moment could shift at any second, if he let it.

You blinked, eyebrows lifting, “Oh. I didn’t know you were here.”

He nodded, voice lower and smoother than Bob’s but carrying the same gentle breathiness. “Yeah. Bob fell asleep, so I just…Decided to take over during that.” He paused, tilting his head faintly, water dripping onto the tile from his hair. “Was feeling a bit sweaty though, so I wanted to freshen up a bit. Hope that’s okay.” You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing lightly over your hoodie, a smirk pulling at your lips.

”Well, what’s mine is yours,” You stated casually, “So…Have at it.” You caught a flash of his teeth–just the slightest curve of a grin in that shadowy mouth.

“You have quite the array of soaps,” He replied, tilting his head with mock gravity, “So I certainly had at it.” You let out a little laugh, stepping into the bathroom a bit further, heat curling low in your stomach just from the sheer sight of him in basically nothing but the towel itself.

”I’m sure you did.” You commented, before raising onto your toes and giving him a soft, lingering peck at the corner of his cold mouth.”Hello, by the way,” You added, with a little smirk on your face. He hummed, low and pleased, the sound vibrating in his chest. Then he wrapped his arms around your waist in a slow, measured motion–cool to the touch, but not unwelcoming. In fact, he felt like relief. Like stepping into shade after being in the sun for too long. His hands slid along your back, fingers dipping under the hem of your hoodie where your warm skin met his coolness.

“Hello to you too,” He murmured–and before you could answer, he leaned forward and kissed you properly this time, and it certainly wasn’t the same type of greeting you had given him. It was slower. Deeper. His mouth was cool but somehow still pliant against yours, parting just enough for his tongue to tease the seam of your lips before he gently sucked on your bottom lip, drawing it between his own like he had all the time in the world. You let out a faint, breathy sound against him, your hands gripping the towel at his hips for balance. You could feel the heat in your stomach ignite almost instantly, curling low and sharp, like a spark catching dry kindling. Every glide of his mouth against yours pulled you closer to the edge of forgetting–forgetting your cramps, your exhaustion, your discomfort. Forgetting yourself entirely.

Which was exactly why you had to stop.

With reluctant fingers still curled around the soft edge of the towel at his waist, you pulled away from his lips, your breath catching as your forehead gently rested against his.

“Void…” You whispered, voice barely above a murmur, “I’m on my period.”Your hands lifted, sliding up to press gently against the cool, velvet-smooth skin of his chest–broad and unyielding beneath your palms. His body stilled for a breath, but not with hesitation. He let out a soft, breathy laugh, his white pupils glinting like distant stars as he gazed at you.

“I know,” He murmured, without shame or judgment. “I’m able to smell the blood.” You opened your mouth to respond, but he leaned in before you could, placing a kiss to your cheek, then another just below your jaw. His lips were cool and reverent, trailing slowly down to your neck. One kiss. Another. Then another.

Each one was featherlight and deliberate, lips barely brushing against your overheated skin–and yet your pulse fluttered, your breath hitched, and your head tilted almost instinctively to the side to give him more room. The contrast between your warm skin and his chilled mouth made your toes curl, a tingling shiver running down your spine like lightning.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a kiss just beneath your ear, and you exhaled softly.

“You sound like a vampire…” You mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady. Void let out a low, indulgent laugh, the sound vibrating against the hollow of your throat like the roll of distant thunder. Then–without warning–he nipped at your pulse point, sharp enough to make you jump slightly, but not enough to hurt.

“I could be one,” He said slyly, voice curling like smoke. “If you’d allow me to. I already have super senses, so…I’m halfway there…Only thing that’s missing is drinking blood.” The suggestiveness in his tone made your stomach twist into tight, unbearable knots. You were just about to say something back–some equally flirtatious quip to match his vampire fantasy–when he added, entirely too casually:

“Also, with those super senses, I can literally hear your uterus contracting right now. Did I mention that?” You froze. Your head pulling back immediately, brows knitting together in horror as your face twisted into the most incredulous expression humanly possible.

“Jesus,” You groaned, pushing against his chest–not hard, just enough to make him take a step back. “You really know how to ruin a sexy moment.” Void’s mouth curled into a smug smile, the white glow of his pupils sharpening with delight as a low laugh rumbled from his chest.

“Don’t worry,” He murmured, unbothered. “It doesn’t sound weird.”

You stared at him.

“I thought it would be like…Leather gloves squishing together or something–”

“Oh my God–”

“–But it actually registers more like a second pulse of sorts. Slow. Steady. Very, very calming to listen to.” You covered your face with both hands, letting out a muffled sound of despair.

“You have to learn how to keep things to yourself, Void.” You groaned through your palms. He tilted his head, completely unashamed, the way only an immortal void-being could be.

“I find it to be beautiful,” He said earnestly. “It seems like you’re the one who’s embarrassed by a normal bodily function.” You lowered your hands slowly, one brow arched so high it might’ve shot off your forehead.

“Me?” You asked, pointing to yourself.

”Yes. You,” He replied, pressing a cold fingertip to your nose without missing a beat, “I can practically hear the hum of your sexual frustration in your bones–“

”Void–“ You tried to cut in, though he trampled your attempt.

”–But you’re too reluctant to ask me to take care of you because you’re embarrassed about it.” Your mouth dropped open slightly, almost shocked by the forwardness of his statement. He was staring at you, completely composed and unbothered. You gulped loudly, feeling your heart rate pick up under his steady, unblinking gaze. It felt like he was staring through you–like he could peel back each layer of your composure with just a tilt of his head. Void watched the fluttering of your pulse with mild fascination, his eyes gleaming.

”Am I right or am I wrong?” He murmured. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your lips just parted on a soft exhale, throat working as if your body had forgotten how to form a sentence. Your mouth had gone dry–parched like desert heat–and so you broke eye contact, glanced away from him, ashamed at the burn of arousal coiling through your body in tight, low spirals.

“Void…Listen, I–” He reached up, cold fingers brushing along your jaw until his hand cradled the side of your face. He tilted your chin gently, guiding your gaze back up to his. His touch was soft but steady, almost bordering on firm.

“I asked if I was right or if I was wrong,” He repeated, his voice laced with that subtle, grounding dominance. Calm and unshakeable. “Can you answer me, please?” You stared at him, throat bobbing with another nervous swallow. Your pulse thrummed in your ears. His thumb brushed over your cheek, like he was soothing something only he could sense.

“…Of course I’m reluctant to ask,” You whispered, your voice almost hoarse. “Who wouldn’t be?” He exhaled slowly, a little sigh escaping him–less disappointment, more knowing. He shook his head faintly, and the shadowed strands of his wet hair shifted with the movement.

“Someone who isn’t embarrassed of what they want,” He replied simply, and the smirk that followed was sharp–knowing, dark, fond. You could feel your palms getting sweaty. There was a heat building inside you that had nothing to do with your cramps. It was a different kind of ache now–deep and thick and pressing down on every nerve in your body like it had weight.

“I’m not embarrassed,” You muttered, eyes darting to the floor between you like you were hoping for an escape hatch to open beneath your feet. “I’m just…”

The Void didn’t move nor did he blink. He just waited, and watched you closely.

You glanced up to meet his gaze again, but before the rest of the sentence could fully form, he cut you off–quietly, confidently, like he’d been waiting for the moment to fall apart in your throat.

“Reluctant to indulge in something you want?” He finished your sentence for you, letting the words drop like stones between you.

He leaned forward just slightly, not enough to touch–but enough for the chill of his breath to ghost over your cheeks like frost crawling up a windowpane. You felt it like a current–sharp and soothing at the same time–cutting clean through the haze of your heat-flushed skin. It pulled a shiver from you, involuntary, delicate as a blade of grass bending in the wind. The stars in his pupils shimmered faintly, twin glints of something eternal, patient, and entirely undisturbed.

“…Reluctant to put you in an uncomfortable position,” You corrected quietly, the words trembling slightly as they left your lips. They felt too honest, too exposed–but true all the same. “It’s not that I don’t want to–I do. God, I do. But I’m not gonna beg for something if there’s even a chance it’s gonna make you uncomfortable or…Cross a boundary for you. That’s not who I am. And it’s not fair to you.”

There was a pause–soft and heavy.

Then, he let out a quiet, amused sound. A low, warm chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest and unfurled like black velvet across your skin.

“Y/N,” He started gently, shaking his head. The stars in his eyes brightened slightly. “A little bit of blood would never make me feel uncomfortable.” He dipped closer, the line of his shoulder brushing yours, his mouth nearly at your ear now as he murmured, “You should know that by now.”

Your breath hitched.

His words weren’t mocking or pitying–they were gentle. Certain. Like the idea of your bleeding body repulsing him was so laughably impossible that it didn’t even deserve serious consideration.

He drew back just enough to meet your gaze again, but he didn’t move away entirely. One of his hands trailed down slowly to rest just above the waistband of your sweatpants. The tips of his cool fingers brushed your warm skin where your hoodie had ridden up. The contrast made your stomach twitch.

“All I want is to take care of you…And it would be great if you’d let me.” His voice was low and soft, coiling through air like smoke–cool and deliberate. His fingertips slipped under the waistband of your sweatpants and just rested there, grounding you. You bit the inside of your cheek, pulse quickening. His hand wasn’t moving, wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t trying to talk you out of your nerves, wasn’t seducing you in the typical way–but it still felt seductive, still soothing, the way only Void could be. Your throat worked around the ache in your chest, and your voice came out quieter than you meant it to.

“…You really want to do this?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“Of course I do.”

No sarcasm. No smirk. Just certainty.

You brought your hands up slowly to press against his chest–cool, slick, still faintly damp from the shower. The sensation sent a little jolt through your fingers. You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“…Okay,” You whispered. “Just give me a few minutes to get ready at least.” His mouth quirked–barely a smile, but filled with something like affection.

“No problem,” He said, brushing a kiss against your cheek with a softness that made your knees weaken. “I’ll meet you in your bedroom.” And just like that, he slipped past you.

The cool absence he left in his wake was almost startling–the door clicking softly shut behind him as he went. You stood there in the bathroom for a beat, heart hammering, your reflection catching your eye in the mirror.

You looked like a storm had passed through you. Hoodie riding up, eyes sleepy and a bit glossy. Lips kiss-bitten and puffy. You could even feel the shape of his mouth on your neck still. You stared at yourself for a long second, then exhaled hard through your nose and mumbled–

“…What the hell do I do?” Panic flickered just beneath the surface, stuttering hot against your nerves. It wasn’t that you didn’t want this. You did. Badly. Desperately. But then the logistics came crashing in—blood. mess. cleanup. embarrassment. the way your stomach might cramp mid-orgasm. the way you might sob afterward because your hormones were deranged.

You could already feel your anxiety building.

Your gaze darted toward the bottom cabinet beneath the sink, and your body moved before your brain could catch up.

You crouched down and yanked it open, fingers wrapping around a half-used pack of wipes from the last time you’d needed a quick clean-up post-sex. You tossed them onto the counter, then paused.

Okay. Okay. Quick solutions. You’re okay.

You pulled down your sweatpants and underwear, removed your tampon with swift, practiced ease–wrapping it tightly in toilet paper before tucking it deep beneath the mountain of used tissues in the bin. You washed your hands quickly, your fingers trembling slightly beneath the rush of warm water. The stream was too hot on your already overheated skin, but you didn’t care. You needed the sting. Needed the reset.

You paused in front of the mirror again and pushed your hair out of your face, taking a deep breath. You decided to keep your sweatpants off just so they didn’t stain, but your underwear remained on, just for insurance. You tucked the pack of wipes under your arm, before padding back into the hallway, making your way across the hall to your bedroom.

You opened the door to your bedroom slowly, the hinges barely creaking as the light from the hallway spilled across the floorboards in a soft ribbon of gold. But inside–it was all dark.

The only illumination came from the moonlight, cool and silvery, filtering through the slats in your curtains and painting faint stripes across the walls. It caught on the curve of his shoulders first. He was seated at the foot of the bed like a statue carved from night itself, all sharp lines and slick, smooth skin that shimmered faintly under the light.

The towel was still slung low around his hips, just barely clinging to his frame. His posture was relaxed, almost regal, arms resting on his thighs. But the moment he saw you–standing in the doorway, hoodie hanging loose over your body, your legs bare beneath the hem–his head lifted.

Those star-pupiled eyes dragged slowly up your body, deliberate and unhurried. From the tips of your toes, up the line of your calves, your thighs–he lingered there, lips parting ever so slightly–then continued, drinking in every inch of you until his gaze reached your face. The faintest smile curved across his mouth.

“Come here.” His voice was soft, velvety, but there was weight behind it. Command hidden inside kindness. He extended a hand to you, fingers curling ever so slightly, beckoning. You swallowed. Then stepped forward. Your heart beated faster with each movement across the floor, the cool air curling around your exposed legs, your fingertips gripping the edge of the wipe pack a little too tightly. You stopped just in front of him and dropped the pack beside his thigh. He didn’t even glance at it.

He only looked at you.

Your fingers met, and the moment your hand slid into his, his other arm was already reaching to wrap around the backs of your thighs. He pulled you into the cradle of his body gently, slowly, until you stood fully between his knees, the heat of your skin brushing against the coolness of his chest. His hands moved to your ass, slow and possessive–broad palms splaying there with intent. Not squeezing yet. Just holding.

Then he leaned forward.

And kissed you.

Hard.

His mouth was cooler than yours, but it only made the friction sweeter–the contrast sharper. It started with pressure, then parted into hunger. His lips moved with an urgency that surprised you, tongue flicking against yours with teasing precision before deepening the kiss into something that made your knees tremble. He sucked on your bottom lip just enough to draw a gasp from you, one hand slipping higher to squeeze your hip.

You whimpered faintly into his mouth, your fingers finding the slick skin of his shoulders, clinging.

“Void—” You breathed between kisses.

But he just hummed, a low sound of satisfaction, and pulled you forward with firm hands until you had no choice but to straddle his lap. You climbed up instinctively, knees bracketing his thighs, arms looping around his neck. The towel bunched between you, but barely registered. He groaned softly when your weight settled into him, his hands roaming again–palming your ass, your hips, dragging you flush against the line of his abdomen.

“You’re so hot,” He murmured against your mouth, voice dark with awe. “I think I’m going to have to cool you down.” He stood in one fluid, seamless motion–not a jerk or a lift, just a smooth ascension, as if gravity bowed to him. You barely had time to gasp before your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, arms tightening around his shoulders, breath catching in your throat. His hands supported you easily, one cradling beneath your thighs, the other anchoring your lower back.

And then, without warning, he turned.

Your back hit the mattress with a soft thump, the air catching in your chest in surprise before it dissolved into a giggle. A real one. Light and unguarded. The kind that cracked through the last of your tension and made your head tip back for a second, even as he hovered above you.

He loomed, dark and cold and beautiful in a way that never stopped stealing your breath. Still damp, water beading faintly across his shadow-black skin, the remnants of his shower gleaming like stardust scattered across him. His hair clung to his temples, longer pieces curling at his jaw, giving him an almost feral softness. His glowing white eyes skimmed over your face, then down your body, before flicking back up, his mouth quirking into a sly, knowing smile as he straightened up above you, his fingers ghosting over the towel on his hips. He held your gaze with that impossible, infinite stillness–like the stars themselves had gone quiet to witness this moment–before slowly tugging the towel free.

“Y’know,” He said, the corner of his mouth lifting, “You really should’ve gotten those black sheets you mentioned seeing at the store the other day…” You raised a brow at him from beneath your lashes, still breathless from the kiss, heart drumming against your ribs, “Because now we’re going to ruin this towel.” He added, lifting it in his hand and motioning to it. You let out a soft, startled laugh despite yourself, rolling your eyes as you lifted your hips ever so slightly.

“Then I wouldn’t be able to find you,” You teased, adjusting just enough for him to slip the towel beneath you, “You’d camouflage into the sheets.” That earned a genuine laugh–a low, smoky exhale that brushed against your throat as he lowered himself over you, his shadowed skin cool against the fire of your thighs.

“Mmm,” He mused, his mouth hovering just above yours, “I’m sure you would manage it.” And then he kissed you again.

Slower this time. Deeper. His weight settled between your thighs with deliberate care, the blanket of cold that clung to him seeping into your overheated skin like an offering. It made you shudder, your fingers curling in reflex around his arms as your thighs instinctively tightened around his waist. The contrast was maddening–your warmth against his chill, his steady hands anchoring you while your body throbbed with need and ache beneath him.

His lips moved with worship, with reverence. Not frantic. Not rushed. Just sure–like every press of his mouth had a purpose. You whimpered softly into him, and the sound made him groan low in his throat, his hands sliding up your sides with slow, dragging strokes.

And then one hand rose to the zipper of your hoodie.

You gasped faintly as he tugged it down, tooth by tooth, the faint sound of the zipper somehow deafening in the quiet. His lips never left your skin as he worked, kissing the underside of your jaw, then lower, nipping gently at the curve of your neck until you squirmed beneath him. The zipper reached the bottom. He opened your hoodie slowly, like parting the petals of a flower. You were in your old, soft sleep bra–barely supportive, thin and stretched from too many wash cycles–but he didn’t seem to care. If anything, the sight of you–barely dressed, and so open to him–made his pupils pulse brighter with starlight.

He leaned back for just a second, letting his eyes devour the view of you laid out for him. You saw the moment it hit him–his breath caught. His gaze dragged across your chest, where your breasts rose and fell with each shallow inhale, visibly heavy with heat and swelling from your cycle, from the hormones that rushed throughout your bloodstream.

“Oh, Jesus…” His voice broke over the words, a rasp of awe and hunger curling low in his throat. His cold palms slid up from your ribs, “You’re burning up so much,” He whispered, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts through the thin fabric. The contact made you gasp, hips twitching beneath him. His thumbs brushed softly over your nipples and you arched faintly into the touch, breath hitching as the friction sent sparks skittering down your spine. He hummed low in his throat, the sound curling like smoke between your ribs.

“Sensitive little thing,” He murmured, his voice velvety and warm despite the chill of his body. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet, and already you’re squirming.”

You let out a soft whimper, and he took that as permission–slipping the straps of your bra off your shoulders, letting the cups fall away slowly, exposing the full swell of your breasts to the coolness of his body and the room. The moan that slid out of him was low and long, almost involuntary.

“Look at you,” He breathed, “You look so fucking soft.” He ducked his head without hesitation, brushing his mouth over the top of one breast–just a featherlight kiss at first, then another, then another. His lips were cold but plush, the contrast against your overheated skin making your back arch reflexively off the bed.

Then he sucked.

Not gentle.

Not harsh.

Just deep and slow and possessive, like he was savoring the taste of you, mapping you with his mouth. His tongue flicked at your nipple, then flattened and dragged across it, teasing it into a peak before he latched on and sucked again–deeper this time.

“F-fuck–” You gasped, writhing slightly beneath him. Your thighs twitched, heat pooling low in your stomach like a slow, molten tide. He groaned against your skin, the sound reverberating through your chest.

“You like that?” He asked, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over the wet peak, making you cry out softly. “You’re so fucking sensitive. It’s gorgeous.” His mouth returned to your other breast, lavishing it with the same treatment–licking and sucking, nipping lightly, dragging the flat of his tongue over your nipples until they ached in the most delicious way. He marked you there–soft bruises blooming under the suction of his mouth, kisses that would fade slowly over the next few days. Proof that you were his. That you had been worshipped like something holy.

“You taste like a fucking fever,” He muttered between kisses, “And you make the prettiest little sounds when I suck on your nipples, do you know that?” Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, tugging gently, breathless and whining as your hips rocked against his abs. You could feel the damp patch at the crotch of your underwear growing wetter by the second–not just from your menstrual blood, but from arousal now as well.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” You whispered. “Please…Please–”

“Shh,” He soothed, dragging his mouth down your sternum, licking a path down your belly, “I know. I know, little flame.”

He kissed your stomach next, slow and warmly. You felt the points of his teeth graze your skin as he bit lightly–just enough to make you twitch. Each kiss was possessive and deliberate. Your flesh tingled under every scrape his mouth provided, the tension in your core building to an unbearable level.

“You’re beautiful,” He said between kisses. “All of you. Especially like this.” He nuzzled into your navel, then kissed just below it. “Soft. Swollen. Needy.” Your thighs trembled beneath him as he reached the waistband of your underwear. He paused, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You obeyed without question, breath catching as your muscles clenched and your hips tilted up. His hands gripped the sides of your underwear, and he peeled them down slowly–dragging the fabric over your thighs, your knees, and finally your ankles before tossing them somewhere behind him without ceremony.

Then he stilled, crouched between your legs, and inhaled deeply.

His eyes flickered open–bright white star-pupils pulsing softly with what could only be described as hunger.

“You smell delicious,” He praised, voice dark and rich with awe. His nostrils flared faintly as he leaned closer, dipping his face down toward the apex of your thighs. “I’m going to get so fucking drunk off you.” You whimpered, thighs pressing together slightly at the praise–but he immediately placed his hands on your knees and coaxed them open again, eyes glowing brighter as he gazed down at your slick, glistening core. You knew there was definitely more blood there, mixing with your arousal, but Void didn’t flinch, nor did he hesitate. If anything it seemed like he locked in even more, and his hunger only grew.

His fingers dug gently into your thighs as he leaned closer, his breath skating over your swollen folds.

”Mmm fuck.” He moaned, before leaning in and licking.

A long, deliberate drag of his tongue–flat and firm–starting at your entrance and pulling all the way up through your folds to your clit, where he flicked the tip against the sensitive nub with precise, teasing pressure. The moment his tongue touched you, your entire body jolted, a breathless gasp tearing from your throat as your hips bucked off the bed.

“F-Fuck…Void…”

“Oh, I know,” He purred, already moving back in, his breath cold and steady against your dripping heat. “You’re so fucking sensitive. I can feel it…The way your thighs twitch…The way your heartbeat stutters under your skin…” He buried his mouth back between your legs, licking again–this time slower, messier, his tongue circling your clit before sucking it into his mouth gently. Your hands flew to his hair, gripping tightly as you cried out. The sound that left him in response was somewhere between a growl and a moan, vibrating against you like thunder under your skin.

He didn’t stop.

He licked through the blood and slick like it was nectar–like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He groaned again, louder this time, tongue plunging deeper, swirling around your entrance before dragging back up to flick over your clit with maddening precision.

”Tastes so fucking good, I wish I could have you this way all the time.” He rasped, pulling back only to speak for those brief seconds. In the moonlight you could see the way his chin was slick. You whimpered, thighs trembling around his head, the pleasure already cresting far too fast. Your body was so sensitive it felt like every flick of his tongue set fire to your nerves. You could feel every nuance of it–every swipe, every suck, every teasing swirl of his tongue through the slick mess between your thighs.

Then he moaned into you again and shoved his face deeper–pressing his mouth hard against your aching core, his tongue working fast and filthy as he wrapped his arms under your thighs and held you still, forcing you to ride his face. You cried out, hips trying to squirm, but he growled–deep and warning–and tightened his grip.

“Don’t run from it,” He grunted against your clit, the vibration making your whole body twitch. “I want you to fall apart on my tongue. Let it happen. Don’t fight it.” One hand pulled free from your thigh and slid beneath him. Two fingers pressed to your dripping entrance, circling once–slick with blood and arousal–before slowly sinking inside you.

You sobbed. The stretch was gentle, but intense–your body already sheened with sweat and tight and overwhelmed. His fingers curled deep, slow at first, dragging against that aching spot inside you with precision only something inhuman could have. Your walls clenched around him instantly.

”Fuck, Y/N,” He muttered, voice dark and rumbling, “You’re so hot inside…Clutching my fingers like you don’t wanna let go.” Then his free hand rose and pressed flat against your lower stomach, right over the ache. Right over the source of your cramps. And it grounded you instantly.

“You feel that?” He whispered, licking your clit with long, slow strokes while his fingers began to pump inside you. “That pressure? That’s me. Right there, where it hurts. Let me fix it, let me fuck it out of you with my mouth.” You choked on a sob, gasping as your hips arched off the bed, the hand on your belly the only thing anchoring you.

His mouth moved faster. His fingers did too–curling, pumping, coaxing the tension in your core into something unbearable. The obscene, wet sound of it all–his tongue working your clit, his fingers squelching inside your soaked cunt, the wet slap of his chin against your blood-slick thighs–it should’ve embarrassed you.

But it didn’t.

It made you dizzy.

It made you cry out his name again, loud and needy and utterly desperate.

“Void…Void, I…Oh my god—”

“That’s it, little flame,” He growled, lips dragging across your clit again, “Give it to me. Let me taste it. All of it. Don’t hold back.” You couldn’t. You were shaking. Gasping. Your thighs clenched around his head as your back arched sharply off the bed, your body locking up like a livewire.

You came.

Hard.

A sob tore from your throat as your body seized with pleasure, tears springing to your eyes unbidden as the orgasm ripped through you. The combination of his fingers pressing deep, the steady weight of his hand against your stomach, and his mouth–cold, slick, merciless–on your clit was too much. You didn’t even realize you were crying until his tongue slowed, and his fingers gentled inside you. He licked you through the aftershocks, slow and soft now, lapping up the mess he’d made of you like it was holy.

And when he finally looked up, his mouth slick, chin gleaming, star-pupils glowing brighter than ever, he whispered–

“Jesus Christ…That was fucking amazing.” He slipped his fingers out of you, before crawling up your body slowly–like a shadow, like a storm, like something that could devour you whole and still beg for more. His mouth brushed your hipbone first, then your stomach, pausing to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss just above your navel, right where your muscles still fluttered from the orgasm he’d wrung out of you. His breath was cool and steady, his lips slick with blood and arousal. He didn’t bother to wipe them.

He didn’t need to.

He wanted you to taste it.

You could see it in the way his glowing eyes dragged up your body, lingering at every mark, every quiver, every trembling inch of your skin as if committing it to memory. As if this was a prayer, and your ruined body beneath him was a sacred altar.

He reached your chest again, kissing a slow trail up your sternum. You could still feel the faint ache in your nipples from earlier, already hypersensitive again as his mouth brushed them, one after the other. His tongue flicked lazily over one, and he smiled when your breath caught.

“Still so reactive,” He murmured, his voice thick with affection and heat. “You always are. Especially when you’re messy like this.”

He finally reached your throat and hovered there for a moment–just close enough that you could feel the wetness of his mouth against your skin, the blood and spit and come-slick humidity of him.

You were still panting, your cheeks flushed, your limbs limp and boneless beneath him.

“You okay?” He murmured, his voice like velvet smoke. “Still with me?”

You nodded faintly, whispering, “Yeah.”

He smiled against your throat and then dragged his lips up your jawline, slow and savoring, until he reached your mouth.

His tongue was cool. His kiss was filthy.

The moment your lips parted for him, he pushed inside–slow and deliberate–letting you taste the blood and slick and heat still coating his tongue. You whimpered at the taste, hips twitching faintly beneath him, even though your body was wrung out and raw.

“There it is,” He breathed, voice breaking as he kissed you deeper. “Taste that? That’s you. All of you. Sweet and bitter and so fucking perfect.”

You groaned into his mouth, hands sliding into his hair, and he moaned like he could live in this–like your kiss, your taste, your breath were oxygen.

His mouth was greedy, slick and open and unrelenting as he pressed closer, slotting his body against yours like he could mold himself into your skin. You could feel the length of him pressing hard between your thighs, his cock thick and pulsing. You grounded up against him lazily, still slick and hot and sore, but wanting.

He pulled back a little bit and looked down at you, letting out a husky laugh against your mouth.

”You’ve got some blood on your face.” He commented. You blinked, dazed and panting, and he grinned—sharp, glowing, haloed in moonlight. He reached behind him with one hand, retrieving the pack of wipes you’d tossed earlier. With a practiced flick, he tore one free and dragged it slowly across his own chin first, wiping away the glistening blood and slick that still coated his mouth. The red stain smeared faintly along the wipe like paint across linen. Then, with the same slow reverence, he leaned in and gently swiped it along your cheek, cleaning where your own blood had transferred to his mouth, then your skin.

He dropped the used wipe off the side of the bed without a glance, not caring where it landed.

Then his hand was back at your cheek, cupping it as he leaned in to kiss you again.

It was softer this time—but no less intense. If anything, the tenderness of it made the heat in your stomach roar back to life. Because there was nothing gentle about the way his cock throbbed between your thighs, brushing hot and heavy against your slit. You felt it, solid and insistent, grinding lazily along your folds as he kissed you deep enough to make your eyes roll back.

Then his hand moved between you.

You gasped as you felt his fingers curl around the base of his cock, the head nudging against your clit in a slick, teasing drag. His mouth pulled away from yours with a quiet, wet sound.

“You okay for us to have sex still?” he asked, his voice low and steady, but his pupils flaring bright with hunger. You didn’t hesitate. Your whole body arched into him, your nails curling into the damp skin of his shoulders.

“Fuck, please,” you breathed, desperate and hoarse.

That got a smile out of him. A real one. Dangerous and soft, his teeth faintly visible in the moonlight, a haze of red still staining the tips. His cock dragged through your folds again, and he let out a slow, pleased groan, hips twitching at the feel of your slick, swollen cunt parting for him.

“You’re soaked,” He murmured, dragging the blunt head of his cock over your clit once before sliding it down to your entrance, “Bleeding, dripping, fucking throbbing for me. You need to be filled, don’t you?” His voice was velvet filth, low and coaxing, and you nodded frantically.

“Yes…Yes, fuck, I need you, Void…”

“Then take me…” He whispered, and with one slow, brutal push, he sank inside you. Your mouth dropped open on a silent scream.

The stretch burned–hot and overwhelming–your walls clenching around him so tight he groaned deep in his chest, closing his eyes tightly as he continued. He didn’t stop until he was all the way in–buried to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside you, dragging against the sensitive, swollen walls of your still-sensitive body.

“F-fuck, baby…” Ge rasped, voice fraying. “You’re squeezing me so tight–I can feel every flutter, every pulse.” His hips jerked slightly, an involuntary grind, just enough to drag the thick head of his cock against your most sensitive spot. You gasped, back arching.

“God, Void–” You choked out, your hands clutching his shoulders like you needed him to hold you down before you came apart again.

He dipped his head to your neck, tongue dragging slowly along the column of your throat before he sank his teeth into the skin–not enough to break it, but enough to make your entire body jerk. He sucked there, slow and hard, until the blood surged beneath your skin, and your breath hitched in a broken moan.

“I love how fucking warm you are inside,” He growled against your neck, licking over the bite to soothe it, “You’re so soft, so slick…I could stay buried inside you forever.” You whimpered under him, grinding your hips upward as best you could, desperate for more friction.

“Please,” You begged, breathless and raw. “Move. Fuck me, please–” That shattered his restraint.

He pulled back slowly, just a few inches, letting you feel the full drag of his cock against your swollen, aching walls–and then he drove back in with a filthy, wet sound, his hips smacking against your thighs. You gasped–loud and helpless–and he did it again. And again.

And again.

Each thrust was a perfectly measured, brutal stroke. Deep. Sure. Possessive. Like he was carving himself into your body with every push of his hips.

“That’s it,” He grunted, fucking you harder now. “Let me hear those little noises–God, you make the sweetest sounds when you’re getting fucked…” You were incoherent beneath him, crying out with every stroke, nails digging into his back, legs trembling.

“Y-you’re so deep,” You sobbed, voice breaking, “I can feel you everywhere…Oh my fucking god.” His mouth found yours again, kissing you like he was starving for you—like your breath was his only tether to reality. He moaned into you as he fucked you, his pace relentless now,.

“I want it messy,” He hissed against your lips. “I want to ruin this bed with you–ruin this whole fucking night with how good I fuck you through the pain.” You sobbed again, overwhelmed by the pressure, the stretch, the heat–and the devotion in his voice that made it all unbearable in the best way.

“You want that?” He demanded, snapping his hips into you, making your breath hitch. “Want me to fuck you through the cramps? Want me to use this cock to fix what your body’s doing to you?”

“Yes…Yes, please, Void…”

“Say it,” He growled. “Say you need it.”

“I need it,” You gasped. “I need your cock, I need you to fuck it out of me–fuck the pain out, please, I’m yours, I’m fucking yours…” A sound ripped from his throat. Feral. Wrecked.

His thrusts got messier, harder. The bed creaked beneath you. His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, fast circles, your thighs twitching against him instantly.

“Then cum for me again,” He ordered, voice dark silk. “Cum around my cock while I fill this pretty little pussy…Let me feel you tighten around me.” And just like that–you shattered.

You screamed. Loud. Broken. Beautiful.

Your walls clamped down on him so violently it dragged a curse from his lips, and he snapped his hips into you once, twice, three more times–before groaning like a dying man and spilling into you with a stuttered cry. You felt the warmth of his release, thick and hot, flooding your already filled core, dripping out around his cock.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even move.

Just stayed there, trembling above you, forehead pressed to yours, breath shaking between parted lips.

“Holy fuck…” He whispered. “You…You’re fucking perfect as usual.”

Your body was trembling, your thighs were sticky and our mouth was kissed raw.

But when you opened your eyes, all you saw was him looking at you like you were the center of the goddamn universe.

And in his orbit–you believed it.

The only sound was the slow, ragged rhythm of your breathing–and the way his heart thundered against your chest. Your arms stayed around his neck, fingers tangled in the sweat-damp curls at his nape. His weight settled over you like a blanket, anchoring you, keeping the ache of emptiness at bay while your body slowly came down.

He nuzzled into your jaw with something almost shy in the way he breathed you in–soft, slow, like he was memorizing the smell of your sweat and your blood and your orgasm. You felt the chill of his skin even through your shared heat, the contrast making you shiver just a little beneath him.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded, slowly, with a dazed little smile curling on your lips. “You definitely fucked the pain away… because all I feel is absolute… euphoria.”

His mouth quirked into a knowing smirk, not cocky—just deeply pleased. His voice dropped low and smooth as he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “I’m gonna pull out,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice quiet, reverent.

You nodded again, whispering, “Okay.”

He moved slowly, carefully, the way you might handle something precious and fragile. And when he finally slid out of you, the heat of his length dragging against your walls one last time, all you felt was a thick, wet rush between your thighs. A flood of warmth and slick, dripping out in slow, messy streams.

You gasped softly at the sensation, and he let out a quiet, breathy laugh as he looked down between your bodies.

“My god,” He muttered, raking a hand through his damp hair. “We really did make a mess…”

You turned your head slightly and followed his gaze. The towel beneath you was utterly ruined–soaked through in deep streaks of red, streaks of slick and cum painting every fold of the fabric. You groaned, embarrassed but not really.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to use this towel ever again,” He added with a smirk, sitting back on his heels.

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, he reached over to the side of the bed, grabbed the pack of wipes, and got to work–without a word, without hesitation. His touch was clinical, but gentle, as if he were caring for a wound he revered more than feared. He wiped between your thighs first, slow and careful, murmuring a quiet “Sorry” whenever you twitched from overstimulation. It took five wipes to get most of it–blood and slick and his cum smeared everywhere.

Then he shifted lower, taking his time with the mess on your stomach, dragging a clean wipe across the smeared trails of red that had bloomed beneath your breasts and along your hipbones. His thumb brushed over one of the kiss-marks he’d left–dark, blooming like a rosebud beneath your skin–and sighed.

“These ones might take some elbow grease,” He teased softly.

You let out a little wheeze of a laugh, your voice still hazy with afterglow.

Once you were clean, he finally turned to himself, wiping himself off gently. He bundled all the used wipes in one hand and walked across the room to toss them into the little trash bin near your dresser.

Then he opened your top drawer, rifled carefully through your neatly folded underwear, and selected a soft cotton pair with tiny stars on them–one of your comfiest ones. He smiled faintly at the print, then turned and opened the second drawer–his drawer. The one you had made for him months ago. He pulled out a pair of his black boxer shorts, slid them on, and returned to your side.

“Alright, little flame,” He murmured, scooping you up again with ease, one hand beneath your thighs, the other steady against your back. “Bathroom time.”

You didn’t protest. You let yourself be carried, sleepy and raw and warm in the cradle of his arms. He padded down the hall with you, silent and sure. When you reached the bathroom, he set you gently down on the toilet seat, then opened up the cabinet under the sink and handed you a pad. You blinked at him, slow and grateful, while adjusting it onto the underwear he’d brought.

He leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching you with the satisfied look of a man who just cured a century-long affliction with his tongue. The white in his pupils pulsed softly, his expression pure mischief.

“I guess now,” He began, tilting his head, “you won’t be so embarrassed to ask to have period sex, hmm?”

You snorted, letting your head fall forward briefly before looking back up at him with a tired grin.

“I think I’m going to want it until it’s done.”

He pushed off the counter with a pleased little hum, leaned down, and kissed your forehead–soft and cold and grounding.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

He lingered there for a second, his lips pressed against your skin like a promise, his hand bracing gently on your knee. Then he straightened up again, reaching for the plush hand towel on the rack beside you.

“Let’s brush your teeth next,” He said softly, that calm authority slipping back into his tone. “Then I’m putting you to bed.” You laughed, wobbly and fond.

“And after that?” You murmured, blinking up at him.

He grinned.

“Then I’ll hold you all night,” He said, matter-of-fact. “And if your cramps come back…” He leaned down again, voice low and filthy, “…I’ll go down on you until you forget how to spell the word pain.”

Your legs trembled just hearing it.

“Deal,” you whispered.

And he smiled–glowing, content, and entirely yours.

[sugxto]

fire hazard - eddie/volt/reader

⋆syn: There was a mishap while you were talking to Dante. But Eddie and Volt do not like the idea of someone else being so close to you. e/v masterlist.

⋆wc: 4.4k

⋆cw: m/m/ afab, g/n reader explicit sex, possessive, jealous sex, spitting, spit roasting, blowjobs, dirty talk and degradation. there are consensual, temporary marks that resemble burns made on reader's skin

⋆notes: reader insert uses g/n pronouns and is not described with feminine attributes. AFAB genitalia, terms used include hole, lips, entrance, cunt and clit.

⋆snippet:

“There’s something you may not know about us, live wire,” Eddie says, his breath against your ear making your knees buckle, but no matter - you’re still pinned in place. “Volt and I…” his other hand encircles your waist, his forearm over your belly, and pushes you back to his chest, “we don’t like to share what’s ours.”

“And we especially,” Volt pulls your jaw towards him as he leans down to you, his eyes flashing like a storm, “do not like others making their mark where it isn’t wanted.”

You were so, incredibly fucked.

fire hazard

You were fucked.

Literally fucked, you thought, if you weren’t careful tonight. The gauze around your hand was your skintone, you’d made sure to ask Fayra for it specifically, and honestly, it was barely anything. Just a little bit of redness, a little tenderness, that it would probably disappear tomorrow morning. 

Dante hadn’t meant it, of course he hadn’t, and how could you have known? You touch Volt daily, and while his burns were intentional, they were never painful. But maybe, there was something different in how your skin reacted to fire incarnate versus electricity personified. 

But there were two men you knew who may not see it so simply. 

When you enter the Breaker Box, you’re greeted with a “live wire!” from behind the bar, and  hurry over to them, Eddie throwing a shaker by his head. You give them both kisses on their cheeks, and settle next to Volt when he throws an arm over your shoulder. 

“Whiskey sour?” Eddie asks, and when you say yes, he grabs three glasses and lines them up on the bar, filling each of them equally, with practiced ease. 

God yes, you needed a drink, you think, as you reach out for it, but you realize your mistake s split second too late.

“Darling, what’s this?” Volt grabs your hand, gingerly touches the small bandage that Farya had wrapped around your palm, inspects the palm of your hand with curious white eyes.

You really were too hopeful, you know you were, thinking they wouldn’t notice, and maybe too stupid to think you could hide it from them.

“It’s nothing,” you try, quickly, to assure him, before looking up at Eddie, whose grey eyes are now locked on to where Volt’s fingers hold yours. “Literally, nothing. Just a mishap from earlier today.”

Eddie raises a brow. “A mishap?”

Shit. “Yeah. I,” you swallow, then let out a deep exhale. “I was talking with Dante, earlier, and he, I guess,” you shrug your shoulders, “runs hot.”

Two sets of brows fly up their faces, just, unfortunately, as you suspected might happen.

“He burnt you?!” “Dante hurt you?!” they say, overlapping in their incredulity and thinly veiled rage, and Volt’s fingers tighten around yours, sparks popping along your skin.

“Yes, but he really did not mean it!” You reach for Eddie, find his arm flexed as he grips the bar tightly. “We were role-playing -”

“Role playing!” both of them nearly scream, and you see Rainey, at a table not too far away, turn her head.

You huff, steel your face, and grab Eddie tighter, find Volt’s white eyes with what you hope is a look of confidence, no nonsense. “Both of you, listen to me. He’s been doing this thing where he wants to teach me the ways of how to make new relationships, and he wanted to act out a… scene. A silly scene of, just, finding mutual interests.” Eddie barks out a dry, hollow laugh. “And he grabbed my hand, and I guess, that he doesn’t have the same control over that sort of thing that you two do.” You flick your gaze between them, but neither of their faces have softened. “That’s it.”

And maybe, that would have been it.

If, at that very moment, the door to the Breaker Box hadn’t opened, and a warm, luminous figure walked through it.

Shit.

The fire that you see in Volt and Eddie’s eyes, you know for certain, has nothing to do with the glow that Dante emits, and everything to do with his mere presence. This is not good, very very not good, and without thinking, you run around the bar to meet him before he can get much further inside.

“Dante,” you say, your breath a little hurried, and the smile you put on your face is shaky, because you know you actually have no time to fix this situation. “Hey, um, wh-what are you doing here?”

Dante smiles, making his cheeks and chest brighter. “Hey, ember. Look,” he puts his hand on his neck, tilts his head, “I just wanted to apologize, again, I know you said it didn’t hurt, but still. I know you come here at nights, though, so I figured I could buy you a drink.”

You giggle, forced, and nervously. “That’s… really sweet, Dante, but I don’t know if now is a good -”

You feel him before you hear him, from the buzz on your skin and the way the hair on your neck stands at attention. You knew you wouldn’t be quick enough, but hey, at least you tried. 

Volt’s hand finds your waist, and he presses you, hard, to his side, soldering you to him so there can be no misunderstanding, to anyone in the club. “Dante,” he says, and when you dare to look up at him, you see that hint of blue on his cheeks.

You were so fucked.

“It’s not often we see you at our little hole in the wall.” You can hear the anger being held back by what must be the thinnest wire imaginable. “Is there something we can help you with?”

Dante, you imagine, does not notice the fuse that is daring to blow at any moment, and smiles at Volt. “Yes! Well, I was wanting to buy this enigmatic ember here a drink, seeing as I accidentally got a little carried away earlier today.”

Volt smiles back - but it lacks any warmth, you know, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s mocking, almost, and you fight not to shudder when you feel his fingers singe your skin. “Yes, our spark was actually just regailing us. An accident, we’re sure, but still. We’d hate for it to happen again, so perhaps let’s be a bit more mindful next time, yes?”

Dante’s eyes narrow just the smallest bit, but he nods. “Right. And I can’t apologize enough.”

“Yes, quite right. And I’m terribly sorry, but we’re actually going to have to close up early - something has very suddenly come up, you understand, I’m sure. Perhaps our wire can indulge you another time.”

Yeah, not very likely.

You try to cast Dante a reassuring look, unsaid apologies in your eyes. “Thank you, Dante, but yeah, another time?”

He nods again, a soft look on his face, and a truly apologetic look in his fire-red eyes. “No worries, ember. No worries, at all.”

You hear Eddie yell out at the bar behind you, “We’re closing early! Everybody get out!”

There was a reason that Volt was the face of the club, but Eddie’s bluntness did come in handy when they needed it to.

Dante raises a hand to wave goodbye and takes a step back towards the door. “Till next time!”

You try to wave back, but a shock runs up your side and through your arm, and you shove your hand back down, just as Volt says, “Dante. For future reference, our spark is perfectly content with the relationship they’re in, so further lessons may not be warranted.”

Dante’s brows (at least, what you think are his brows) raise, his eyes now wide as he casts a glance behind you at the bar, where you know Eddie is watching. “I - of course. It was just, two friends having a conversation.”

He, and the rest of the guests leave, mutters of confusion and discontent passing by you and Volt as they exit, his grip on you never loosening. When he finally lets go, it’s only to lock the door, but you can practically hear the buzz of electricity emanating off his body even as he steps away. The ends of his hair are sparking so rapidly, you think that if he was standing by a curtain, they’d go up in flames.

You know you at least have to try, so you take a deep breath. “Volt -”

A lightning flash. Volt’s hand clutches your jaw, his silver fingers pressing deep into your cheeks. It was so fast you couldn’t even gasp, and now you let out a small sound in the back of your throat, somewhere between pleading, and relief. His skin is hot, and you feel the charge of his skin send a current through your own. And his eyes…

They were going to burn you from the inside out.

“Our sweet, darling little spark.” His voice is taunting, it’s dripping with mock sweetness, it’s mean - and you hate how much you love it. “I think we’ve heard all we need to hear, yes?”

“V -” you can’t even finish his name before two of his thick, long fingers are forced inside your mouth, and you cry out as he pushes down on your tongue, holds your jaw still, and he chuckles at how wide your eyes are, filled with pleas you are simply unable to voice. Because of him.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your neck, but it’s a different grip, one that’s humming with power, and the coils of wired hair brush your neck.

“There’s something you may not know about us, live wire,” Eddie says, his breath against your ear making your knees buckle, but no matter - you’re still pinned in place. “Volt and I…” his other hand encircles your waist, his forearm over your belly, and pushes you back to his chest, “we don’t like to share what’s ours.”

“And we especially,” Volt pulls your jaw towards him as he leans down to you, his eyes flashing like a storm, “do not like others making their mark where it isn’t wanted.”

You were so, incredibly fucked.

“So we think,” he says, as you feel Eddie bite down on your neck, “we’re going to have a reminder of our place, hm?” He makes a fake pout when your brows furrow, tsks his tongue at a plea that you’re prevented from voicing. “Oh, we know, little spark.”

Eddie’s teeth find your ear, his voice level, but you know too well the danger that lurks underneath it. “I thought that we should take you right on that stage, just to make the message clear.” When your knees buckle again, his arm pulls you back up, immobilizes you against him. “But neither of us thought anyone in the house deserved that sight.”

“Because you’re just for us, aren’t you?” He forces your jaw up, down, a pitiful little nod, and his voice is so warm, but it burns like a shot of whiskey in your throat. “And we’ll just have to ensure you aren’t likely to forget that.”

Volt’s fingers are gone, and you sputter and gasp, but then you’re being lifted, Eddie hoisting you up by your torso, and Volt bending to grab your legs, holding your ankles in his hands like they’re nothing. You’re suspended, held, between them, as they make their way towards the stairs. You try their names, you try pleas, you try apologies, as you are carried like a crate of whiskey up to their room.

“Volt, Eddie, I swear I -” now you’re airborne, for only the briefest flash, before your body hits the bed with a small bounce. As quickly as you can, you sit up, try to right yourself before them to plead your case, though you know the verdict has already been brought down. They are your judges, your jury, and you know, soon, your executioners. 

You crawl to the end of the bed where they stand, look up at them with eyes you know they’ll ignore. “You two have to know it meant nothing, literally nothing, Dante is a friend -”

“A friend who has marked your skin,” Volt says, in a voice that an untrained ear might classify as unbothered. He’s unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, carefully, but his white eyes are locked onto your face.

It’s Eddie who moves at you first, his hand back at your throat when he bends down over you, his thumb teasing at your pulse. His titanium eyes are dark, that same storm in them that you saw brewing in Volt’s, and he turns your gaze so that they’re the only things you can focus on.

“Ya know, live wire,” he says, pulling your neck up to him, his lips ghosting over your own, “sometimes, you are just like Volt.” He flicks his tongue across your lips, and you moan his name, anguished. “No matter how much I fuck him, it’s like he’s never satisfied.” He pulls back an inch, searches your face with arched lightning brows. “Is that what we’re looking at here? You’re just not satisfied with what we’re giving you?”

“No,” your voice is rough, like it’s fighting to leave your mouth, and you shake your head as much as Eddie’s grip allows for. “Never, never, Eddie. You two are the only ones I want, I swear.”

“Hm,” he muses, and you know from that sparkle in his eye that he’s enjoying this, your pleas, your begs, how willingly you give yourself to them. “Volt, baby, what do you think?”

You feel sparks at your hips, and you’re pulled back, out of Eddie’s grasp, pinned to the burning chest of one of your partners for the second time tonight. One of Volt’s hands deftly undoes your pants, the other slides under your shirt, and you feel the sparks of his hair kiss your shoulders, your neck. His voice, soft and smooth as silk, makes you gasp when he presses his lips to your ear. “Hm, I think, much as they say they’re ours,” his fingers send a zap to your nipple, and you curse through your teeth, “that we need to remind them.” He shocks you again, and you feel Eddie tug at the waistband of your pants. “Don’t you want that, darling? You want to be shown your place, don’t you?”

It was here, between them, always - you knew this. Lived it and breathed it and cherished it every time they touched you.

And amps sake, you never wanted to forget it.

So, feebly, tentatively, you nod, and you find Eddie’s eyes, waiting like a tiger for your answer.

“Show me, please.”

Like a doll, like you’re nothing, they turn you over, your clothes gone so fast you don’t realize you’re naked until you feel their skin on yours (you wonder, in the back of your mind, if they somehow burned them off). Volt pulls your arms, drags you up the bed, and Eddie takes your ankles, manipulating your limbs until you’re on all fours for them. Volt holds your chin again, not so harshly as before, but enough to hinder any movements you may wish to make, as he levels your face to where his cock is standing to attention, tinged the same shade of blue as his cheeks. 

You lick your lips at the sight, and when you feel Eddie swipe a finger over your folds, you groan, your arms already trembling. It’s not often you feel sparks from his fingers, but you’re certain they’re there now, buzzing and vibrating at your entrance.

He huffs out a chuckle, a sound like he’s found exactly what he was looking for. “You are fucking dripping, spark.” The tip of his finger teases its way inside, crooking it just a touch before he pulls it out with a hiss. “So fucking tight. It’s like you’re begging for us already.”

Volt’s eyes are so bright, staring down at your desperate face, and his grin shows a flash of his canines. “Oh, darling. You’re just a little slut for it, aren’t you?” When you moan his name in response, he presses harder on your jaw, and you relish the thought of the ache you’ll wake up to. “You want to be filled up, don’t you? Tell us. Tell us what you want.”

Your nails grip at the sheets beneath you, and when you speak, your words are stifled by Volt’s fingers. “Please, I need you - Eddie, Volt, fuck me. Please fuck me, pl-” 

Volt’s cock forces its way inside your mouth at the exact moment Eddie’s enters your cunt, and you’re sure you know now how it feels to be struck by lightning.

They make you burn, these men who will surely be the death of you one day, who make you feel like you’re going to burst at your seams, and you make a strangled sound of joy, pleasure, at the back of your throat where Volt hits you. Because it’s perfect, it’s home, it’s all you never even knew you wanted, this feeling of wholeness between these two men. This, this was certainly your place.

Eddie’s hands are white hot on your hips as he pounds into you, your back arching to deepen the angle, every thrust shoving you forward to take more of Volt’s cock. No matter how you moved, how you tried, futilely, to adjust yourself, it only led to one of them bullying their way deeper inside you, giving you no room to run. 

Volt holds your face in his hands, hardly having to rut his lips at all, relying on Eddie’s rhythm to move your mouth along his cock. “That’s it, our good little wire. Eddie’s right, you are just like me,” he strokes your cheeks, biting his lip when he feels your teeth, “so greedy for us, oh I know, I know. Two cocks inside you and it’s still not enough, is it?”

You try to make some sort of sound in your defense, but it comes out strangled, entirely fucked, and you feel a strand of drool fall at the corner of your lips. You make a sound of surprise, though, when you feel a zap at your clit, Eddie’s rough fingers giving you a teasing rub, and your arms ache.

“You want more, spark?” you hear Eddie say, his voice husky and warm and hitting you right in your heart. His fingers make small circles around your clit, and you worry you won’t have the strength to hold yourself up much longer. “You gonna cum for me I give you more, like a good whore?”

Yes, you wish you could say, wish you could nod and plead at his feet, yes, give me everything. 

But instead, you can only moan, can only drool around Volt’s cock with your slack jaw, watched by white eyes with rapt attention. You feel it, almost immediately, building inside you, no inch of your body left untouched, and the warmth and tension builds up inside you like a copper coil. And then Eddie hits a new angle and oh, fuck, it’s perfect -

White dots cloud your vision, and your arms give out, your orgasm causing your whole body to spasm and shake, and you see bolts of lightning when you close your eyes. Volt falls out of your mouth, and you scream their names, your cunt tightening around Eddie like a vice.

When you come back to your body a minute, you take a shaky breath and release your death grip on the sheets. When you blink your eyes open, you realize you’re empty, the loss striking, but you don’t remember either of them cumming, so you lift yourself back up, your arms still unstable, and  -

It’s steel eyes that greet you now, and you feel familiar, buzzing hands on your thighs. 

Eddie sits back on his legs, and his hand comes to cup your chin, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Hey, live wire,” he says, brushing his thumb over your swollen lip, “didn’t think you were done so soon, did you?”

Surely, one day, you would not survive them.

“Eddie,” you whisper, not trusting your voice any louder, “my arms, I can’t -”

“Oh, you don’t need your arms, baby.”

He pulls as Volt pushes, and you’re on your back, your head between Eddie’s thighs, one of his hands on your cheeks, the other giving slow, unbothered strokes to his cock. Volt’s hands run up, up your inner thighs, and you shiver as the current from his touch warms your entire body.

“Darling,” Volt says, coming to lean over you, his hair glowing softly, “Eddie and I want to see our marks on your skin. They’re the only ones that belong there, aren’t they?”

You’re entranced by his voice - Volt is a siren, a silvertongue, and you’d do anything if it meant you could hear more of it. So you nod, agreeing, of course agreeing, though to what, you’re not exactly sure.

Eddie continues to stroke your cheek, and he hums. “You trust us, spark?”

With your life.

“Yes, of course,” you respond, flitting your gaze back and forth between them.

“Good. It shouldn’t hurt, but -”

“But you know what to say if it does, right?” Volt finishes, and again, you nod, pulling the word “fuse” forward, just in case, and he grins, softer than before. “Perfect.”

Before you can ask or say anything more, Eddie is guiding his cock inside your mouth, and you close your eyes as he fills you, tasting yourself on his skin. Volt hikes up your thighs, and then, in one quick thrust, he’s inside you too, slick with your climax and still sensitive to the touch. They feel so perfect, so in sync, knowing exactly how to fuck your body to benefit you, and the other. Two halves, completing each other, but completing you between them.

You feel Eddie shift, feel Volt lean forward and balance his arms at your sides, and you open your eyes to see them kissing above you, their tongues swiping at each other’s mouths, and you moan around Eddie’s cock.

White and steel eyes look down at you, up to each other, and back down to you again, twin smiles on their lips. It’s Eddie that speaks. “You want some, baby?”

You nod, as best as you can around Eddie’s cock, and you reach up a hand to hold it while you open your mouth below them, offering your tongue. Two strings of spit fall down, down to your waiting mouth, and you arch your back when they hit, swallowing it down like whiskey.

Volt laughs in a way that goes straight to your clit, and he looks back up at Eddie, the two of them sharing one more kiss before separating, and Eddie’s cock is back in your mouth where it belongs, Volt rocking his hips inside you with a fervor. “So fucking good,” Volt groans as he pulls your hips up, “Doing so fucking good, little spark, just for us.” 

You already feel another orgasm building, winding itself in your belly, and both of them grow more erratic, more volatile in their movements. Eddie’s hand grips your bicep, and Volt finds your waist, and you are warm, so warm and charged and electric and full - 

You groan, cry around Eddie’s cock as you cum, but it’s different this time, it doesn’t stop, it only builds, and the white hot current of their skin is in every cell of your body, burning you from the inside out and blinding your vision with white - and you are floating, outside of your body, in a white, warm haze between their bodies. Somewhere, somehow, you feel them reach their own peaks, filling you at both ends and grasping at your body for purchase.

Two sets of lips on your cheek are what eventually pulls you back, soft, loving kisses that keep you floating even as you return to your body, and you hum in contentment, a smile forming unconsciously on your lips. 

“There they are,” you hear Volt say, feel his breath on your cheek.

“You back with us?” Eddie asks, and when you do finally open your eyes, it's his you see first. 

You nod, though it takes a great amount of effort, and you stretch your arms, feeling sorer than usual. You catch a look between them, that silent thing they tend to do, and you hum again to get their attention back to you.

“Live wire,” Eddie says, and you notice a glint in his eyes, and when you turn your head to see Volt, you see its twin. “Can we show you something?”

You raise your brows, and try to respond, but find you have to clear your throat first. “Do I have to get up?”

Volt makes an amused sound. “I’ll carry you.”

And so he does, easily, and you press your face into his neck, if only for the moment it takes for them to bring you to their bathroom. Eddie’s fingers run over your calf, and he whispers, “Look in the mirror, baby.”

You turn, blink your tired eyes open, and gasp when you meet your reflection.

On your hip, and on your bicep, are two red, unmistakable handprints.

“Eddie,” you breathe, stuck staring at them. “Volt. I - put me down, please.” When he does, you get as close as you can to the mirror, admiring the different sizes that Volt and Eddie’s hands have left on you. They nearly blend into your skin, but are distinct in how raised, how obvious they are. You tentatively touch one, and are surprised when it doesn’t hurt, only the faintest tenderness that doesn’t feel unlike the shocks from their fingers.

They’re perfect. They’re yours.

You feel a lump form in your throat, feel tears start to brim at the corners of your eyes, and you find their reflections in the mirror, both of them beaming with pride, devotion, love. You can only hope your own face shows the face.

“We think they’ll last a week or so,” Eddie offers, leaning against the vanity towards you. “We’re… not really sure how different your skin is to ours, but.”

You shake your head, not caring if they last one more minute, or one more year. “They’re perfect. They’re - Eddie,” you sigh, not even sure how to describe it, and you turn around to find Volt. “Volt. I - I love you so much, I’m…” you trail off, not able to stop a few tears as they fall, and they are on you in a flash, carrying you back to bed, tucking you between them under the sheets. 

They whisper their love for you in your ears as you drift off, your body pressed between them, Volt’s hand resting on Eddie’s handprint, and Eddie’s resting on Volt’s.

This. This was certainly your place.

[lambkinstock]

confessions

the tale of one (fictional) woman's journey (through fiction). told to you by way of a (fictional) story, featuring (fictional) characters.

✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚

If you’re reading this, you’re probably a pervert.

Yeah. You read that right. You’re a sad, lonely little pervert, and we’re all talking about you.

Really, we are. You keep us up at night. All you do is stare at your screen, scrolling and typing and clicking and posting. You’ve probably got a whole queue of posts dedicated to this shit, right? Weirdo. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have any friends?

Of course you don’t. You’re here! And if you’re reading this, it’s probably because you went looking for it.

That’s where our problem begins.

Joel clicks his fingers in front of your face. “Hey. Are you even listening to me?”

“What?” you ask, looking up from your phone. You’ve been talking to your only friend again; a gray floating head with shades on. You’re not sure what it is about them, this faceless figure: they just get you.

“Unbelievable,” Joel says. He shakes his head and struts off.

“I was listening,” you call, chasing after him. “I heard you.”

“What’d I say?”

“You said something about immorality. And therapy. About me needing therapy. Right?”

His jaw clenches, releasing some sort of disapproving grunt. He gauges the distance between you, making sure it’s a respectable, appropriate five feet before he responds. “That’s about it, yeah.”

“Yeah…” You scratch your head. “And what do I need therapy for again?”

Well, that sets him off.

His eyes widen in shock. He gestures between your body and his, gaping. “How about you trying to dream up some world where you and I are in a sexual relationship? I mean, my God, Fellow Legal Adult, it’s like you’re attracted to me or something.”

Fellow Legal Adult. This is his new thing, the nickname he’s been using since baby girl is too inappropriate in today’s climate. He calls his fictional daughters baby girl, and you’re wrong and sick and twisted for enjoying the sound of it in his waxy Texan accent.

“I just thought it might be some fun to imagine it,” you admit. “I don’t actually want to do it, I just want to play pretend and maybe write a story about doing it.”

“No,” Joel says. “Writing a story about something is the exact same as doing it. Every work of fiction ever is actually the writer’s endorsement of that thing. Shakespeare has been cancelled for years over Macbeth, or did you miss that Twitter thread?”

You pull at the skirt of your sundress. Shit – my bad, you’re not wearing a sundress. That’s overdone. Also kinda slutty. You’re only wearing it for easy access, right? Come on, now. This isn’t one of those fics from 2023, with zero plot and just sex. We’re better than that. We’re literates.

That’s why we’re on Tumblr.

You pull at the skirt of your frock. It’s now ankle-length and much more self-respecting. “I’m confused,” you reply. “So you’re saying no?”

“Yes.���

“You’re saying yes?”

Joel sighs, taking another conservative step back. “No. We can’t. This would be wrong.”

“What’s so wrong with it?” you ask, impatient now. You’ve met all the required terms and conditions of pursuing a romantic relationship with a man who does not, never has, and never will exist outside of the confines of your imagination.

You’re not his best friend’s daughter, because – ew, right? Who the fuck wants to fantasize about a clandestine summer fling with a mature, intelligent man who only has eyes for you, against all odds and rules of society; a man who would put his closest friendship on the line because you are just that insatiable to him; a man who treats you with the respect, trust, and – my God, I’m about to say it – the love that no other boy ever has or ever could?

It’s not like you’re calling him daddy, either. What fucking twisted piece of shit would do that? Doesn’t Joel know about the decades of usage of that term, the sheer number of people who buy into such whimsy, the little fantasy one might like to indulge in while existing on this hellish lump of rock and partake in sex so immoral, so filthy, so – incestuous? And here you are, promising to refrain from such practice. Protecting him and yourself from the dreaded patriarchy, which solely oppresses fictional characters, as everybody knows.

Really, he should be grateful.

Jesus, what else? You dress in a frock and petticoat; your ankles are never on display. You don’t allow yourself the fun of pretty, girlish clothes which feed the patriarchy and may lure the untrained eye into thinking you are – oh, Christ, a child! In actual fact, you’re fifty-two – supremely middle-aged – just like Joel. Actually, you never were a teenager, nor a twenty-year-old, not a dreaded, unsightly, geriatric thirty-year-old at all. And if you ever were, you sure as shit wouldn’t write fiction about it, because it is uncouth, tasteless, and downright predatory to imagine yourself a day younger than you currently are.

No. You marched straight from your poor mother’s body, armed with a smartphone in one hand, X-formerly-Twitter pre-downloaded, with some hefty conservative views to punch into it as soon as you learned how to spell the four most important words: romanticize, fetishize, sexualize and normalize. You’ve spent your entire life hunched over the thing, foaming at the mouth and wiping thick globs of saliva with the back of your hand; screaming at people you don’t know, will never know, and reminding them what ugly, loathsome, untalented, worthless people they are.

What the fuck isn’t there to like about you?

Joel sighs. He shakes his head, then reaches around to his back pocket for his phone.

“I have to check what the people online would say about this,” he says. “You know, the ones with blogs dedicated to policing this kind of thing. They give their summers up for this, Fellow Legal Adult, they’re really brave and inspiring and I owe them a lot for keeping my reputation safe. With all the innocent survivors I’ve killed over the years – not to mention the entire hospital I shot up to save one little girl – I really don’t need a completely fictional relationship to turn me into some kind of bad guy.”

“But it’s just fantasy,” you say. “None of it is real. You’re not even real.”

His jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

You scrape together an explanation.

“I just meant: nothing we do actually means anything. We’re just words on this person’s screen. Look at them, reading about us right now. We’re figments of their imagination! I wonder if I have brown or blue or green eyes; I wonder if you have a full beard or you’re the other guy with the curly hair. It wouldn’t matter either way, because neither of us exist! Right?”

“Not the point.” Joel shakes his head, logging in to his account. “It romanticizes unhealthy sex practices.”

“Joel,” you whisper, with love and patience, holding his little brain like it’s a smooth lump of damp clay. “We’re not actually having sex. Same as you didn’t actually blitz a hospital. And anyway, if I consent and you consent, and nobody gets hurt, what’s unhealthy about sex?”

“It normalizes kink and taboo, that’s what.” He nods, dignified, proud of the argument. It took him a whole hour to come up with. His brain grew one wrinkle in the process. For a little extra punch, he adds, “It’s propaganda I’m not falling for.”

“Using normalize and taboo in the same sentence feels a little contradictory, Joel. You’re starting to sound like one of those freaks with a stan account dedicated to Ellie or Tommy.”

He rolls his eyes and shoves his phone back into his pocket. They’re debating the ethics of reblogging other writers’ work right now, and he hasn’t the time to get into it. “You wouldn’t understand,” he grunts. “You’re fetishizing me, you’re glorifying your own abuse and manipulation, and you’re forcing everybody else to be on board with it too. It’s disgusting, Fellow Legal Adult, I’m actually disgusted.”

“Nobody has to be on board with anything they don’t want to,” you say. “That’s a pretty basic rule of thumb in anything, but especially sex. Are you sure you’ve had enough sex to understand the basic concept of consent? Maybe if you spent less time yelling in your tags, someone might want to…”

He laughs. “You’re just a girl who doesn’t know the ideologies she’s playing into.”

“Which ideologies are those?”

He hesitates. “Patriarchy,” he spits out, the word wobbling across his tongue. It sounds like a big word and it victimizes women, so it must be right. It seemed to come up a lot when he asked ChatGPT for an argument which both liberates and subjugates women. He has no idea what it actually means or how it ties into this discussion.

“So, let me get this straight. You think you’re punching a hole in the patriarchy by talking down to women and comparing them to real-life criminals, all for writing some stories on a fandom website?”

He hesitates. Again. He’s not used to having human interaction without his keyboard to hide behind.

Also: he hesitates because he’s not real. I can’t stress that enough. I’m making this dude do whatever the fuck I say. Look, now he’s on a pogo stick. He’s bouncing all over the fucking joint. Joel would never pogo, I hear you say. Too bad! Now he’s going no hands. Damn, this guy’s good.

“Why would women want to fantasize about some of the shit you write?” Joel asks.

Fuck. That’s a great question. I better make him put the pogo stick down.

“Sexuality is a complicated thing,” you reply. “It always has been. We’ve never really understood human desire; that’s kind of why it’s such a heavily-covered topic in media. It’s not supposed to be interpreted literally. The crazy thing is literature is full of metaphors and symbolism, but people only have a hard time understanding that shit when it comes to erotica.”

He scoffs, twisting the pogo stick into the ground. “So you want me to believe you don’t actually want to fuck the people you’re writing about?”

You purse your lips. “I feel like it says more about your intelligence level that you can’t wrap your head around the concept of a metaphor, than it does mine. Maybe you wanna read more books and less anonymous messages?”

“No, thank you,” he says, waving his hand. “I don’t like to be made to feel uncomfortable. By anything. Ever. I live in my bubble of legality and morality. We’re all good people here. That’s why we have an obligation to bully the living shit out of anyone we disagree with, and threaten their personal safety in the process.”

“Right.” You back up, dragging the heels of your sneakers – sorry, your Victorian boots, no ankles. Suddenly, the thought of sleeping with someone so stupid and immature doesn’t feel as fun anymore.

“Where are you going?” he asks, pogoing after you. His voice shudders as the stick makes contact with the earth.

“I think I’m gonna close this doc,” you mumble, gathering your frock as you jog. “I’ll just open a new one and write a version of you who’s normal and doesn’t talk out of his ass as much.”

“Good luck with that,” he replies. “That’s totally out of character for me.”

In one click, he pauses, glitches, pogo stick springing – before he plummets into the recycle bin on your screen. The silence is bliss.

You look around the room. Outside, birds sing and cars soar by on the street. You remember that the real world exists; with real rules and real codes of conduct which help to protect real people. With real patriarchy: not fictional girls in sundresses who like summers of sex, but instead an insidious rot which runs so deep through society, it threatens to permeate the fantastical.

Here on your screen, a blank page and cursor blinking, just waiting for the stories and silliness you might spill into it – none of that shit has to matter. You are safe within the realm of fiction to be whoever you like, do whatever you want. Even shit that makes other people uncomfortable. Think of it like an intellectual jungle gym for adults.

You can paint yourself brave, beautiful, funny, smart, sexy. You can chase your wildest dreams, accomplish the impossible, fraternize with your favorite characters and exist in faraway universes. You can be desired by everybody you ever wanted, or nobody at all. You can explore things that make you feel good, things that make you feel scared, and no harm can ever come from it.

Hell, you might even learn a thing or two about yourself in the process.

That’s the fucking point of fantasy, you incel pieces of shit. Read a fucking book.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

To reference that other post about not being with Bruce your whole life. I'd rais that reader also has a family. I mean they were raised by their mom and hell maybe she got married and you got a dad now too. Now her comes ol daddy Warbucks and is like sorry I'm you actual dad.

Now your looking around like "who's goddanm white daddy is this????", sir I already have a father, he's at home right now, my mother is forcing him to watch love island with her right now. NUCLEAR 👏LOVING 👏 BLACK 👏 HOUSEHOLD!!!!!!! Give me the whole damn family unit with black reader and half siblings, but real siblings because they all live together lmao.

LMAO YESS

Thinking about Batmom, who basically got remarried to a world-famous boxing champ, now retired of course (I kind of want someone who can go toe-to-toe with Bruce, the other bats). She has three beautiful babies with him: your evil little brothers and your darling younger sister Ogun, the second oldest, Harlem, the middle child, and Isis, the baby girl who can get away with almost anything. Let’s be honest here, you don’t think of your siblings as half-siblings, and you sure as hell don’t think of your dad as a stepdad. He was always there for you for school graduations, bake sales, and daddy-daughter dances at school; he was always there supporting you every step of the way, including your nerdiness. He’s the main guy getting you action figures and comic books, endorsing your love for gaming. He likes to say he let you win one of those Mortal Kombat battles, but he knows better. Your younger siblings are never your half-siblings; they are full siblings, if that makes sense. You have all the love and care for them like a big sister/brother would. Sure, they get on your nerves sometimes, and yeah, the boys' pranks can get out of hand, like the time they put Cantu shampoo in one of your shampoo bottles, so your hair became dry. It was murder in that house, to be honest. Let’s get one thing straight: you wouldn’t trade them for the world. Even Isis, as bratty as she can be, gets away with almost anything because she’s the “baby.” Not even the strongest man on Earth can withstand those puppy eyes.

And what are your guys' favorite pastimes? Using your dad like he’s a playground, climbing on him, swinging side to side from his buff arms, watching him throw you up—he’s like his own little Disney ride. The boys are hanging from his arms while you and Isis are dangling off his neck. Your mom tells the four of you to stop torturing him, but she doesn’t torture him by forcing him to watch reality TV shows; Love Island has been playing on repeat, and you don’t think your dad can take much more of this pointless drama. You started making conspiracy theories about the villa, saying “they have no connections with the outside world; they don’t even know what day it is; they have no phones; these people are prisoners.” You all managed to laugh at his ramblings. But then, one day, your boss at Wayne Enterprises says that he’s your father. That has to be some joke. You come back to your mom with the information, and she automatically says it’s true. You never really cared to know about your father because, well, you already had a father in your life, so to you, there was absolutely no point. Canonically, you had a college blend with a billionaire playboy. It makes sense why people often say your celebrity look-alike is Bruce Wayne. Quite a revelation, but I mean, you’re a grown-ass adult now—it doesn’t really matter to you all that much.

So the more and more you try to bond, the more and more it doesn’t really work. And now his adopted kids are trying to get a hold of you. I’m pretty sure Isis completely and utterly despises Damian; those two cannot be near each other for at least one second. Harlem and Ogun get all wishy-washy when Dick calls himself their big brother like he does to you. All three of you give them the meanest stank eye, but the four of you are fans of Alfred; he feeds all four of you cookies. Jason and Cass really like your dad; they often want to spar with him because he is the world boxing champ, and let’s just be honest, he’s cool as shit. Duke is absolutely fanboying when you meet your dad; he’s practically shaking while asking for his autograph. Tim had to get it for him. Never been louder—you’ve got people fighting for your attention, and you’ve got your siblings fighting to get away from them. When did you become all interesting all of a sudden?

[billysgirllol]

“that’s what i believe, but it’s all the other things gettin’ in the way.” that she doesn’t trust, like she said— the things about their lives throwing obstacles at them that they can’t hurdle. “respectfully… of course you respectfully disagree.” lucy gray softly laughs, all in admiration because even he disagrees respectfully. “if the room’s cold, then i will agree. if we went swimmin’ and then walked in a cold room, i’m definitely cuddling you.” the brunette laughs, thinking that’s a good example too. “yeah, that’s how we’ll do it— getting our sleep but wakin’ up early enough, but not tomorrow mornin’ right? the next mornin’.” just to be clear.

“alright, our little tour will be wrapping up a month after you wrap. and the producer, he wants to sign us— he wants me to make a decision by then, to either be lucy gray and the covey small town band, with small venues. or go bigger. but that’d mean i’d have to change up a lot, said he could turn us into the new taylor swift.” she softly laughs, “wants to turn our country music more pop, said it would turn our band huge— we’d get to the big venues if only we switch up our genre some. i could consider it… long as i get to still keep some things acoustic and keep my guitar, good thing is? he didn’t seem to have a problem with that.” which is exciting, becoming a country pop princess? that’s an unexpected turn of events, but she’s all for willing to dive into it. “i got a ton of new songs written, for a first album even. can’t wait to show those off in a brand new way.” even though the country side of her and the covey will always be dear and near to her. “lucy gray perv-aird? THERE’s not no such thing!” playfully scoffing at him— who her? perverted thoughts? why, never. “mhm, to get clean. not to do anything perverted. can’t help you’re thinkin’ perverted, rather than hygienic.” hand smacks the water, sending a splash right in his face. “okay, mama billy, i am.” gently smiling, lucy gray laughs, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. a happy smile crosses her face, enjoying the massage that’s sending a wave of bliss over top of her.

“well, it wouldn’t be a bad thing darlin’.” if he was to blush all night long, it’s all charming and at least he’d be in the same boat as her. “we could, if worst comes to worst.” it’s still an option if it gets that bad, “i hope it’s cool in there… does the ac even work?” and how is her and billy supposed to fit in that bunk, seems more awkward than sharing a lake with him. at least they can keep distance here and it’s dark clearly… in the bed? how is she supposed to do that? guesses she’ll have to pretend it’s old times when they had to share a bed together as kids and put their backs to each other if that’s even possible. “poison ivy ain’t too bad of an idea.” with her secret snake idea. the fact he’s helping her plot on pat’s revenge makes her smirk to herself. “and right, who does that… men are that piggish they lose all sensibility to even realize a girl won’t go for them if they’re sneaking at tryin’ to touch her all over.” his hand prints on her legs, she can imagine where they were and feel like they were burning which just fuels her anger and revenge and she knows exactly where to put that poison ivy. “you’re so wise, billy.” glowing because he’s her partner in crime now. “i ain’t JEALOUS, i just claimed this role long long time ago. who says i couldn’t land it too? up where they walk, up where they run, up where they stay all day in the sun,” bursting into song just like the theater kid she’s always been— just as if she was auditioning for it again, even talented at erasing every bit of the twang in her accent when she wills herself to sing in the tone of a disney princess, “wandering free, wishing i could be— part of that world!” she sings, smiling cutely once she closes. “well because i’m—” mentally his girlfriend, always mentally been his girlfriend since they were tiny, amusingly. “cause i’ve known you longest, than anyone has. and i said you were a prince first, so ha.” her confidence cut short when his hands touch her bare hips, that officially does it, that electric that springs through her. and then the question that comes along with it, causing her to really grow bashful especially the way he gets around to asking her what all the mixed signals are about. “because of fear.” she simply puts. “but see, i didn’t do it this time, i didn’t kiss you— so i didn’t give any mixed signals,” as he put it earlier. “this time. now, dunk under.” covering her chest with one arm, using her other arm to push down on his head.

[screamlet]

reunion cuddles? 👉👈 (also yay you're working on layla and bailey)

a happy one!!! my god!! in this economy!! (and layla and bailey are chugging along, can you believe difficult conversations are difficult to write? surprised the hell out of me) anyway: 850ish words of post s8 fix-it. inspired by @rcmclachlan's recurring tag "a three-minute conversation could fix them." this is like. idk. seven to eight minutes max.

---

As Buck and Tommy unpack their flea market and garage sale findings, Buck looks around his new apartment. He's been here a month and a half and it already looks so much like a home, a place where he wants to spend his time.

He knows in his gut that's because he can see so many pieces of Tommy here. The dark teal vase he said looked better than a navy one. A pair of framed sketches of backyard bugs, where Buck had found one and Tommy had dug around for its match, finally found it for him.

And there's the most obvious: Tommy standing in his kitchen gently cleaning a new vintage serving dish they'd found that Buck can't wait to cook in. Fuck, this is—it's what he wants.

Buck has been thinking and staring long enough that Tommy's finished drying off the dish. He catches Buck's eye and smiles. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, kinda." Buck moves into the kitchen and stands across from him on the other side of the island. "Can we talk about something?"

He can see the way Tommy's shoulders immediately tense. "Yeah, of course. You can tell me anything."

"I know, but as I want this to go both ways," Buck says. He waits until Tommy's done drying the dish and Tommy's done when he realizes Buck isn't talking until he is.

"So what's up?" He looks so terrified already that Buck wants to back off; he doesn't want to be responsible for putting that expression on his face. But the only way out is through, and Buck has to get this thing moving.

"I want to try again. Us. Being together. Dating." Buck doesn't look away. "Would you want that?"

Tommy looks at him like there's a catch and, honestly, he's right to do it. There's lots of catches, Buck's going to make sure of that. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

They say it in unison: "What's the catch?" Tommy rolls his eyes, smiling, and Buck can't help tilting his head to follow his smile.

"We have to talk to each other," Buck says slowly. "I want to know you, Tommy. All of you. I mean it."

He can tell that a dozen self-deprecating jokes want to punch their way out of Tommy's mouth, but he's holding them back. He's digging. They might actually do this. Buck really hopes so.

"I think," Tommy says, "that when you scratch past all this, you're gonna find a whole lot of nothing."

"Yeah, well. Let me decide, would you?" Buck tries his best not to look away. "Maybe what you call nothing means more to me than everyone else's something."

Tommy nods, still unconvinced. Buck asks, "What do you want? What do you need? I want you to stay with me. What can we do to make that happen?"

The silence stretches out and Buck lets it. He can do this—he can make space for Tommy. He's just relieved that Tommy's trying. He's trying to try. He's digging and that's all Buck wants. He wants more Tommy.

"I listen to you, Evan," Tommy says, "and I think you're used to letting your words roll off people's backs. I'm not like that. I hear you. I take you seriously, so you have to watch what you say. You have to think about what you're saying before you say them to me. And if you promise to do that, then I'll promise to stay. I just—" Tommy drums his fingers nervously on the counter. "If I show you my feelings, I don't want them to get hurt. So don't hurt me with things you don't mean."

Buck nods. "Okay. Okay, I can try to do that."

"Okay." He's going to drum the kitchen island to pieces at this point. "And you have to give me time. Like." Tommy laughs and motions to himself. "The excavation process here? It's a long one. A long one. So just. Let me." Tommy smiles. "Like you're doing now. Like this."

"Okay. I can do that." Buck smiles back. "I like hearing things about you. I can listen, Tommy. I want to hear you. So talk to me."

"And we have to talk," Tommy says. "I don't want to bury things because I think you'll leave. I don't want to leave because I think you want me to bury things."

Buck nods, then grins. "I'm getting a notepad. We should write this down."

Tommy laughs. "Really? You can't remember this?"

"Now? Yeah. When we need it, in the moment? Maybe not! So: terms and conditions."

The only paper Buck has is a 5×5" notepad with a crate of vegetables printed in the corner. Tommy shakes his head as Buck comes around with a pen. "Okay, so."

"Come here," Tommy interrupts. He hugs Buck, his hand resting at the nape of Buck's neck. "We're doing this?" he asks quietly.

Buck hugs him back tight, pen and paper in one hand as he sways in his arms. "Yeah, we are. As soon as we finalize our contract."

Tommy hugs him tighter. Buck sighs with relief, the newest piece of his new life finally in place, exactly where he wants him to be.

[sheepispink]

no pressure but aaaa i really love the ghost & lower rank reader thing you wrote 🥺 will there be a part 2?

no pressure + take care of yourself mwah

it’s not a chapter by chapter thing but there will be multiple parts, anyway here’s the next one, bit shorter but there’s a longer one coming after this :)

also tagging @alexinmirrorland for support on the last one :D

and ty to @pythonmoth for the codenames teehee

i forgot to mention that the last one was intended for fem reader but if anyone wants gen neutral or male reader lmk i can make alternate ones 🤝🤝

part 1

——-

The grueling part of work is over, which leaves you and your teammates sitting in the corner of the mess, scoffing down whatever crappy food they’re serving today. There’s plenty of people about, but thankfully not so much that you have to shout just to hear each other.

“So, who are your roommates?” One girl, codename ‘Beetle’, asks after finishing her food, now she leans on the table expectantly. Two of the guys weren’t here when the fire happened, on a small training course and had returned to be immediately placed in a random superior’s room.

“Sergeant Sanderson.. He’s very quiet.” One guy—aka ‘Meatball’— says, chewing down on a bread roll as he holds his cup up in his other hand, ready to chug down the water next. Meanwhile, boy beside him, Vulture, rolls his eyes, believing he’s exaggerating. “It’s true! I don't even hear him leave or enter–I think that’s why they call him Roach.”

The rest of you giggle around the table at that, the codename nothing short of silly despite your own ones, especially when the two idiots are squabbling over whether it’s true or not. “Yeah well that’s nothing, mine opens the curtains at five am every morning–even on weekends. Plus he sprays his cologne everywhere.” Vulture argues, until Beetle turns to you, looking at you curiously. “Who's your roommate? I haven't even heard you complain once, not even in training.”

Everyone turns their attention to you, whose face is still stuffed with the chicken leg you were devouring. “Umm..” You swallow down the last bite, swallowing some water before you end up choking aswell. “It’s Lieutenant Riley. He’s okay.”

“A lieutenant?” Both boys look at you in shock, unbelieving that you’d been paired with a lieutenant of all people, all while she looks at you confused. “Who even is that though? I’ve never heard of him.”

“Oh, right— it’s skull mask. Ghost?”

The table falls silent, mostly because their jaws are dropped, in both horror and shock. “You’re joking, right? You wouldn’t be alive right now if you weren’t”

“I’m not joking” You scoff out, chowing down on the bread roll now and making all your words mumbles. “Why would I even lie about that?”

The three share glances with each other, suspicious ones at that. Of course every damn rookie knows the reputation of him, moreso the stories that have been told about him.

“Prove it.”

—------------------------------------------------------

“Just because he’s my roommate doesn’t mean I'm not just as scared of him as everyone else–this is evil!” You whisper shout as they pull you down the halls, two of them restraining your arms.

”Well we all know you’re lying, so just confess before we make you prove it.” Meatball huffs, tugging your sleeve along even as you squirm again, now trying to gain sympathy points from Beetle instead.

“You believe me right? I’m not lying!”

You almost stumble over your own feet when you come to a stop outside the gym, looking around in confusion before you spot the familiar mask on one of the men walking across the room. “Go on then. Prove it.”

“What? I’m supposed to just go up to him and say ‘hi roomie’?”

“No– obviously not– just ask him a stupid question or something!”

Before you can argue, she shoves you towards the gym doors and you stiffly enter, swallowing sharply as you watch the Lieutenant walk back to the machine he was using, near a sergeant you’re pretty sure is in his team. But it’s not just any sergeant–no– it’s John Mactavish himself, codenamed Soap. The youngest to join the SAS and hell, everyone you know talks nothing but praise about him. You turn back in a moment of desperation, but your friends have dispersed already, heading towards the supply closet so they can ‘retrieve training equipment’. Damn them. So now you stand in the middle of the gym, torn between actually walking up to them or just living you life being framed as a supposed liar or worse—an attention seeker.

Fate decides its course for you because a bunch of soldiers come for the post-lunch rush, causing you to step out of their way. Of course, you end up stumbling awkwardly over to where Ghost is benching a lot more weight than you could ever handle. “What’re you doing here?” The question catches you off guard and you immediately snap your head towards where he eyes you, not hesitating as he brings the bar lower to his collarbone and then pushes it up to sit on the holder. He sits upright again, still staring, but thankfully Soap has gone elsewhere—likely to refill his bottle or something.

“Uhh.. I have a question.” You glance to the right, wondering if you could somehow make a run for it, but you immediately make eye contact with the three idiots that set you up for this, their glares insistent.

“Don’t got all day, y’know” He huffs, lifting his mask a smidge to wipe his face with the towel.

“What’s your favourite Haribo?”

You really need to get better at what you blurt out because of all of the possible questions you could’ve asked him, even just asking where a piece of equipment was, you had bloody asked him what his favourite gummy was. His eyes narrow in your direction, and you’re convinced it might even be a glare considering that was a very reasonable response to wasting someone’s time.

Unfortunately, it was far worse than any of the possibilities you considered. “Eh? Terrorising the rookies without me?” You freeze, immediately recognising the Scot’s accent, and Ghost seems to read you easily, given that he crosses his arms over his chest, staring straight at you. “My roomate.” He hums, gesturing before turning his attention back onto you. “Go on, repeat it.”

“I- uh– I was just asking the Lieutenant what his um, favourite..Haribo was..” You force each word out, already expecting to be sent to the track for ten laps at this point. Soap smiles at you, lips curling into a sliver of a grin or rather a smirk but he reins it in, tapping his finger against his chin pensively. “Eggs are arguably the best. I’d fight ye on that.”

“Gummy bears.” Ghost plainly states, and you’re ready to give them a thumbs up and run out when Soap nods along in agreement, leaning in just slightly to you.

“This ones a real sadist. Eats the legs off first, then the hands.” For a second, you’re confused, or rather slightly unnerved by his statement though you're not too sure why. Maybe it’s because his elbow is gently nudging yours, or the fact that they look like they’re going to eat you alive. Either way, Ghost nods along to the words, not denying the claims in the slightest. “Bites the head of last. Real cinematic.”

You laugh a little, just for the sake of it, but Ghost stands again, grabbing his bottle in his hand. “I like my sweets the way I like my interrogations. Head off last.”

Now you just stare at the both of them, Soap’s hum of agreement and then the silence that follows. Surely it was a joke, right? You’ve heard rumours before, knew it was probably exaggerated, but now you were getting second doubts the longer they looked at you blankly. Soap’s face is dead straight, staring at you as you blink like an idiot.

“Right. Thanks for the answer.” You nod, a weak smile on your lips, though your face grows paler with each second they refuse to make any reaction apart from a small nod. As soon as Soap turns his head, you make a dash for it, your friends who eavesdropped looking equally as disturbed by the interaction. Soon you all leave the room, silence filling the space between all of you.

Back at the gym, Ghost snorts before patting the Scot on the back and settling himself on the bench again. “Good one mate. I’ll tell ya if she pisses the bed tonight.”

——————

Lmk if the codename thing is weird, not so much the actual names but like using codenames yk? I feel like its easier than calling extra#1 amy or sumthin LOL

oh and do lmk if you wanna not be tagged idm i just figured

[starlostjisung]

Hello, love! I just found your blog and your works are such a soothe after my long days. So, I was wondering if I could please request a Stray Kids x 9th member!afab!reader? If it doesn't make you uncomfortable (I'm very sorry if it does), i had this idea: the reader turned 18 recently and a creepy host keeps asking about upcoming sexy concepts with the reader, making the reader and the members uncomfortable. Once again, I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, you can totally ignore this!

hi love!! thank you so much for your request and your nice words 🩷

first of all, i want to apologise for talking so long to write this one. life got in the way and the last couple of weeks have been exhausting. so i’m really sorry that i couldn’t do this one sooner.

i loved your idea and i loved writing it! the only thing that i’ve changed is the reader’s age. i wasn’t comfortable with such a big age gap between the reader and the rest of the boys, so i made our reader part of the 2000 group! i hope you don’t mind this :)

hope you like this one love 🩷

family means protection

PAIRING: skz x 9th!member

GENRE: angst, comfort

WC: 2k

CW: misogyny, creepy interviewer

SUMMARY: with a new comeback out, the nine of you are immersed in promos and interviews. there was one interviewer you had always hoped you would never cross paths with. it seems like luck wasn’t on your side that day

“that one is spicy”

“yeah and?”

“i don’t like spicy things”

“and?”

“seriously?”

“…and?”

you laughed at the scene that was taking place in front of you. lee know and han were deciding what food they were going to eat during your break between interviews.

you had seen this a million times before, lee know was just winding him up, of course they were going to get the no spicy food.

after having been together for almost a decade now, you knew all of them like the back of your hand, and the same thing happend the other way around.

your latest comeback had recently come out and that meant promo, interviews, travels, performances. in one word: chaos.

a chaos that you all loved.

you had spent the entire morning doing some press to promote the comeback and you would have more interviews after you finished your lunch break.

to be honest, this kind of days could be very tiring and stressful sometimes, but luckily the nine of you always relied on each other and made it fun and manageable whenever you could. sometimes it was easier but well, you were glad you were not alone in this.

you wouldn’t change your job nor the boys for nothing.

the day was almost finished. after your lunch break, you had had some interviews and some of them involved different games and dynamics, something you all were very thankful for because it meant a change of scenery, and not just the same and repetitive questions that you would get sometimes.

also, being your competitive selves on camera always led to no good. these interviews were always a mix of screaming, disaster and laughs. you knew the fans were going to like these interviews.

“okay, we’ve got one more to go and then we’re done for the day”, chan told you all while clapping his hands to get your attention, “everybody ready?”

you all nodded your heads and went to the set where you were going to have the interview.

once you entered the room, you saw there were two rows of chairs for you, five in the front row and four in the back row.

you sat down with changbin and hyunjin on both of your sides and bang chan sat directly in front of you.

you were waiting for the person who was going to interview you when you heard seungmin talking

“chan, you know what?”

you could see the smile on his face. whatever he was playing at, he was up to no good. chan looked at him and nodded his head towards him, waiting to hear whatever he had come up with now.

“you’re almost half 60”

all of you burst out laughing, even chan who had gotten up and went to where seungmin was sitting to jokingly hit his arm.

“yah, seungmin, you’re half 50 this year”, changbin said to tease him as well

that made you laugh even harder - well not seungmin though, he turned around and squinted his eyes at changbin, while using his hand as a pretend knife signaling cutting his neck. all jokingly of course, nothing you hadn’t seen before.

the door opened. all laughs were cut short when you saw the man that was going to interview you entering the room. you felt goosebumps - and not in a good way. the air in the room had dramatically changed.

this man was known to make the female starts he interviewed very uncomfortable. extremely uncomfortable.

you had always hoped your paths would never cross. it seemed like it wasn’t your day.

“hey”, you heard felix - who was sitting next to chan - talking to you, “you okay?”

of course he knew what an interview with this man meant. everyone who worked on this field knew it. you honestly didn’t know how he had been able to do this for so long.

you nodded your head, not trusting your voice enough to speak at the moment. you could feel your anxiety rising and you were ready to finish and go home, and the interview hadn’t even started.

“we got you”, it was lee know - sat on bang chan’s other side - this time. you knew he did, they all did. you breathed deeply and got ready to brace yourself for whatever that was about to happen.

“hello”, the man greeted you once he sat down in front of you, “ready to begin?”, he asked while giving all of you what you thought was a vicious smile.

once he got the green light to start, you all focused on the interview. you weren’t paying much attention, your mind going at a different speed, trying to prepare you for what could happen.

you could see that, at first, he wasn’t much interested in you, always focusing on the other members or asking them questions directly, calling them by their names. never yours. while this was something that any other day would have annoyed you, today you were thankful for it. it gave you a moment of peace.

but peace never lasts long, does it?

“so, y/n”, you heard your name being called out and you raised your head to look at him, “you are the only girl in a group full of boys. how does that make you feel? do they treat you any different?”, he asked you, grinning at you

what was he talking about? you felt sick at the way he was looking at you. your words couldn’t find your mouth, they got stuck in your throat. you honestly didn’t want to be there. changbin could see it - all of them could - so as a way to support you, he placed his hand on your back, making it seem for the camera that he was leaning on your chair. but you knew better. it was his way of helping you.

of saying i’m here.

of saying i got you.

of saying you can do it.

“no, they treat me the same as they treat each other. we all do to be honest. of course at the beginning, it took a bit of time to get used to, but now we’re all family, so yeah, they don’t treat me any different”, you forced a smile on your face, and made your answer short and straight to the point, hoping he would forget you were there and ask someone else another question.

again, no such luck.

“what about the fans? do they treat you any differently?”

“n-no, they treat me the same as the others, i-i… yeah, the same”, you honestly didn’t understand his questions, what he was getting at. he had asked the others about your new comeback and stuff. why were you getting this?

“you sure? i mean, as the only girl in the group, i assume the audience would expect something, let’s say, different from you”

“what do you mean?”

the look that he gave you should have been enough to know where he was going with the question. you felt like you were going to be sick and he hadn’t even answered you yet. you wanted to leave. you needed to leave. but you couldn’t. so you had to wait for the blow.

“well, i’ve seen that in some places, your album versions, the ones where you are alone on the cover, are the ones with the least number of sales. if you were clever you would have noticed this. you could change this you know, showing a bit more of skin o being more revealing for example. the same thing happens with the performances. you are a girl, you should be more spicy and be more provocative with the way you dance and your outfits should show-“

there it was. the moment you had been dreading since you first saw him.

you couldn’t do anything. you felt your body stuck to your chair. your anxiety slowly taking over you. you felt like you were spiralling, you tried to breathe but there was nothing there.

luckily, there were eight pairs of hand who got you from drowning.

“what did you just say?”, it was i.n, his voice was the first one you recognised. after that, everything was a blur.

voices becoming louder and louder. recriminations about the questions.

the boys standing up from their chairs, trying to block him from having even a glimpse at you.

hyunjin pulling you into his chest and placing a hand on your head, trying to ground you to him, to the eight of them.

chan ending everything, “enough, we’re not continuing with the interview, we’re done. we’re leaving right now”, you had never heard him so angry.

you felt yourself standing up from your chair and someone moving you to the dressing room. you thought you were walking but you weren’t completely sure. you were entangled in your thoughts.

why did anyone allow this to go on for so long?

why did they accept an interview with him?

why did he ask you that?

was he right?

do you even deserve to be where you are?

you knew your thoughts were getting out of hand, but at that moment, you weren’t controlling them. they were controlling you.

“y/n, hey, look at me”, you heard a voice calling you. han. you inhaled and exhaled, trying to focus on your surroundings.

you were back in your dressing room. han had his hands on your shoulders. all of the boys were around you, while also giving you some space.

“that’s it, very good, look at me and focus on my breathing okay? in and out yeah? very good”, he continued to help you and that’s when you broke down. you let it all out.

he saw the moment it happened. the moment your eyes focused on him and realised what had happened. he hugged you. not letting you go. he had never done that and for sure he wasn’t going to start now.

“it’s okay, we’re here, we’re all here, let it all out”, he told you while tracing your hair, while his other hand stayed firmly on your back

“it’s not fair”, you told all of them - and yourself - while crying and clinging to han tighter. he hugged you even more.

“no it’s not”, you heard some of the boys murmuring, you weren’t exactly sure who

“hey, look at me”, han pulled away from you, just enough to make you look at him when he grabbed your face, “don’t you dare listen to all the bullshit he has said, alright? he couldn’t have been more wrong and further from the truth”

“but what if-“

“what if nothing. he was just trying to provoke you, none of what he said is true, alright?”, he tried to reason with you

“he is right, that man didn’t know what he was talking about. you don’t have to listen to him. the fans love you, and we love you even more, so don’t listen to what he said”, felix tried to cheer you up this time.

you broke down again, this time because of their words. because you knew that whatever happened, they would always have your back. just like you would have theirs.

you were a family, and that’s how families work.

“thank you guys, i’m honestly really lucky to have you”, you told them with tears still on your face

“you’re our baby, we’ll protect you from everything”, you heard han talking again

“what do you mean baby, i’m just one month younger than you”, you laughed at him

“exactly, a baby to us, well except i.n, but you see my point”, he was rambling now

you laughed harder and pulled him into another hug. a hug that was soon followed by all of the boys.

you knew that people would always talk and have their own narrative of what they say it’s true and what’s not.

but you also knew that as long as you had the eight of them, you would be alright.

[yippeeecentraltraumakin]

I’d imagine it goes something like this

Tim letting it sit for as long as he can. Not mentioning it at all costs. Talia found it hilarious at first but after getting used to his new role while in the process of getting Bruce back, the abrupt end to most of his gestures does take its toll on her.

She’d never admit such a weakness but it’s still true. Tim also has to fight the urge to act paternal towards her while in front of Bruce after it becoming like some sort of second nature to him. He hates how much it’s changed him but he can’t hate it too much because it didn’t make him a worse person. He can even see how it had positively affected him.

Bruce can see the obvious tension between the two and is letting his paranoia run through all the possibilities. He does not like any of them and he needs to know what’s happening, like, yesterday.

Bruce comes to his own conclusion that the two of them may have had relations at some point in which he was absent and are both struggling with the realizations.

While it isn’t what he hope’s happened, is still entirely plausible with the way they have been acting lately. He’s seen what grief does to people and being around someone going through something similar could have lead to this.

It still terrifies him that that is a possibility and he sincerely hopes that it’s just that, a possibility, and not a fact.

Talia is way too old for him, not to mention his son was barely 17 years old. It wouldn’t be right and as much as he doesn’t want to push the topic in fear of what might be revealed, he also knows it isn’t healthy to ignore it.

He decides to talk with Tim about it right before they are about to reach Gotham, providing an easy out of the conversation incase it goes awry. Who the out is for could be anyone’s guess. Hard conversations with Tim don’t entail nearly as many physical alterations as they do with Talia but who knows what could’ve changed in the time he’s been gone.

“Tim, I want you to know that whatever happened these past few months was not your fault”

Tim, for the record, thinks that Bruce figured out he killed Ra’s.

“I know Bruce… I still can’t help but feel guilty about it though. I keep on thinking about whether or not it could’ve been avoided but I know it would’ve been harder to find you if I hadn’t done it. I am sorry about it though, but I knew the what consequences were and I still let it happen.”

Bruce now thinks that not only were his suspicions true, but that Tim was forced into it.

“Tim, I’m not going to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to. But please, if you want to talk to me about it, let me know. I have experience with these types of things. I can get you the help you need.”

“So you’re not mad at me?”

“No Tim, of course I’m not mad at you.”

“Not even disappointed with me?”

“I will never be disappointed in you for this kind of thing. It wasn’t your fault, no matter how much your own brain may tell you otherwise.”

“Bruce, how could it not be my fault?-”

Tim, I’ll tell you whatever you need to hear to get you to stop thinking that.

“-I mean, I was the one who snapped his neck with my Bo staff!”

Wait.. what?

“Even if it wasn’t what I was intending to do, I still did it. I’m still going to hold myself accountable for my actions.”

“Tim, what are you talking about?”

“Y’know, how I killed Ra’s? What are you talking about?”

The sign of relief he just let out could’ve blown out all of Ra’s birthday candles in one go.

“Tim, I- I thought that something had happened to you. Specifically that Talia had done something to you.”

Why would he? OH

“Oh, Bruce no. Nothing like that happened. Ok? I’m ok. Nothing like that happened.”

“I realize that now. Thank goodness. I want you to know we are absolutely talking about the Ra’s stuff later, but for right now I think I’m gonna sit down. You really are ok?”

“Yeah Bruce, I’m fine. Do you want me to sit with you?”

He didn’t know how much he needed that until then.

“Yes, Tim.”

Ok so this is an idea I’ve had for a longgggg time. I’ll probably write a fic or something about this somewhere down the line, but yall are also welcome to write about it as well. I’ll probably add more to this later too but I’m just gonna post this for now :

So during the whole “Bruce lost in time” shenanigans and shit, Tim starts get annoyed at Ra’s for being hella creepy and shit and decides to challenge him to a duel. Except because everyone is a dramatic bitch, Ra’s is like “If I win, I get to use your body as my new vessel” and Tim is all like “If I win, I get to take all of your titles and resources”. And what Tim means is that Tim would get to control the LoA. Somehow Tim miraculously wins and Ra’s ends up dying. So Tim is like “well guess I’m the new Demon Head :D” but then Talia comes in and is all like “yes, father, you are.” And now Tim is like “ermmm tf did you just call me?” And Talia is like “The terms of your duel stated that should you win, you would receive all of Ra’s titles, including his title as my father and Damian’s grandfather. Seeing as you won, I shall address you by your correct title, Father.”

Tim doesn’t know whether Talia is fucking with him or not (she 100% is), but he’s 17, he’s trying to find Bruce, he just fucking killed Ra’s al Ghul, and now he might be a father (and a grandfather as well?). Tim wants to cry. He wants to crash out. He wants to go home and have Dick deal with all this bullshit for him. He wants to quit everything he’s doing and move to a secluded cabin on in the middle of nowhere. He wants a nap. He gets none of those things. Instead, he finds himself signing legal documents to officially make him Talia’s father.

Meanwhile, Talia is in the corner thinking “this is actually kinda funny” only for Tim to actually start trying to parent her. The worst part? He’s kind of good at it. He’s no Ra’s, and Talia has spent a lot of time being brainwashed and abused by her father, but somehow Tim manages to slip past her defenses and slowly starts making progress. He buys her gifts, reads her stories, tucks her into bed, and tries to give her positive reinforcement for the (albeit rare) acts of kindness that she does. He starts to grow on her, not that she’d ever admit it.

By the time they find Bruce, they have some weird sort of codependent relationship going on. Bruce doesn’t notice it at first, but it becomes apparent as they make their way to Gotham. They have no idea how they’re going to explain this, but “I became her father by conquest” probably won’t cut it.

[trulylysme]

Fanboy

═══════════

═══════════════

pairing: fem!streamer!reader x Kimi Antonelli

a/n: Got this idea while watching Caseoh HAHAHAHA. Not good at this kind of dialogue..but I tried.

My 3rd work ever

You guys know the drill. It won’t be that good, since I’m still trying to improve my writing skills :)

Not Proofread

Debating if I should make this a series, I have no clue if I could even handle writing a fanfic series yet. 😭

Fc:Beabadoobee

You’re an up-and-coming streamer on twitch, who’s already been racking up an average viewer count of 5,000 to 7,000 viewers per stream, sometimes even reaching an upwards of 10,000 viewers on a good day. Which is impressive since you’ve only just started streaming in less than a year.

Known by your fans and twitch viewers for your “calm” and “soothing” commentary while playing random video games suggested by your viewers.

No one expected, and I mean no one, absolutely no one, expected your top fan who goes under the twitch username “K_antz12” anonymously, is actually Andrea Kimi Antonelli. Famous 18 year old Formula 1 driver for Mercedes, who occasionally gifted subs and donations on your streams.

The only thing that you’d know for sure, though, is that, you absolutely know nothing about Formula 1. The only driver you knew is Charles Leclerc, and that’s thanks to Chelsea your longtime friend and fellow twitch streamer who would frequently join your streams.

So it’s not like you would’ve ever expected it.

Besides who’s Kimi Antonelli anyways?

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“You’ve been awfully quiet over there. Is it Antz again?” Chelsea’s teasing voice asked through the other end of the Discord call. Honestly, you forgot you were even on call with her.

You tried playing it off of course, you didn’t want to be caught red-handed, again. “What, no?” you huffed out trying to sound unbothered.

Chelsea snorted, clearly not buying it one bit. “Sure, I totally believe you, babe.”

“He’s in the UK right now” You casually said.

“That’s nice, another reason to come and visit me yeah?” Chelsea joked in amusement, she always found it amusing how you, of all people, had gotten “friendly” with a random fan.

“What’s he doing here anyway? and why didn’t he stop by at the fan meetup?” Chelsea asked, which earned an annoyed groan from you.

“He was apparently too “nervous”…or some shit” You rolled your eyes instinctively. You just didn’t get it. Why would Antz even be nervous? you two had been talking in twitter, and even in instagram for months.

“Maybe he’s just some old geezer pushing 50.”

Of-course,just what you needed. Chelsea snapping you out of your own internal monologue, by one of her stupid jokes.

“Oh fuck off Chels.”

You were instantly greeted by her laugh, that somehow always sounded like a dying goose.

You both ended up laughing on call

“What kind of 50 year old creep uses a dumb roblox character as their twitter profile picture?” You said between laughs.

That only made Chelsea laugh even harder

Your were laughing so hard you didn’t even notice Chelsea quieting down

“N/n, aren’t you supposed to be streaming right about now?”

Oh, right. The stream.

“Fuck.”

You can already imagine Antz’s worried twitter messages flooding your inbox.

And you were right.

Because he already sent an array of worried twitter messages, after you being only one minute late on your usual stream schedule.

What a fucking fanboy.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

[namgoonerr]

𝑾𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔~𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒈𝒚𝒖 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

summary: sure you and namgyu acted like a couple sometimes but you really were just friends… right?

no games au

tw: swearing

You and namgyu were strictly friends so why did it seem like you weren’t? Yeah you do ‘couple things’ but did that really matter? So what you hardly paid for anything anymore, or hardly ever walked on the road side of the sidewalk, don’t watch movies alone, or eat alone but that didn’t mean anything.

“You two aren’t together?” thanos asks after you make a comment about being single to namgyu. “No? Why would you think that?” You could see why a stranger you pass on the street or waiter at a restaurant might think so but one of your friends? “Uh hello? The pet names, the constant touching, I hardly ever see you two away from eachother-not to mention the hardcore flirting” As he listed the things off you tried to think of a way to assure him that you and namgyu were just friends. “Well the pet names are more a joke, we’re just touchy and we’re like best friends so of course we’re together a lot” You explain like you’ve had the explanation planned for occasions just like this. “And the flirting?” He goes to sip his drink as you glance at namgyu leaning back in his chair “We’re just flirty people?” you respond more like asking then answering

Later in the week the whole group was hanging out in the living room of thanos apartment. You were sitting on the couch leaning into namgyus side with his arm around your shoulder both of you scrolling on your phones. “So guys we get you two are together and in love and shit but helping us would be great.” se-mi says across the room as her, minsu, and gyeongsu were helping move some of thanos new equipment for his so called ‘rap career’ “uh me and namgyu aren’t together?” you get off your phone looking at semi with a genuine look of confusion of how not one but two of your friends thought you two were together. “Wait really?” gyeongsu asks with a look of confusion back at you. “No..? Wait did you all think we were together?” you glance to minsu who responds with a small nod as you sit up looking at them. “You two act like one either way so” semi shrugs before going back to doing what she was doing.

“How could our friends think that, we don’t even act that much like a couple” you ramble on to namgyu who was only listening to a degree humming along when it seemed needed. “How come you never tried to correct them?” you look at him with a raised eyebrow as he looks from his phone to you before shrugging. You both look at eachother for a minute before you start to talk again “Are we just friends namgyu?” You ask genuinely before he shrugs again and responds. “Depends. What do you want us to be?”

a/n: this ending is lowk rushed like my other fic but I’m rly lazy