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moody-alcoholic · 1 day ago

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This Is Going To Hurt

Part 1 - Die Another Day

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, torture, waterboarding, descriptions of wounds, kidnapping, assault, blood, strangulation.

AN: I'm posting this early. Lets see how that goes...

Part 2

Enjoy <3

You wake to darkness.

Your head throbs, there’s a stinging down your arm.

The floor feels like sand, you force yourself to sit up against the wall. There’s sand everywhere, in your mouth, nose, eyes, even under your clothes.

The dark has you disorientated, you can’t remember what happened, you were in the convoy. You remember the drive, the truck ahead of you being blown off the road. You don’t remember much after that.

You decide to crawl, you need to know how big this place is, find an exit. Maybe you’re at a safehouse somewhere. No, there’s no safehouse you know that has sand for the floor. As soon as you move you cough, your throat is dry, your lips are raw and cracked.

You bring your hand up spluttering as it sends throbbing pains through your head. A door opens and light floods the room, the coughing stops as you bring your hand up to block the light.

You hear shouting in arabic. Shit, this is not good. You feel round your body, you've been stripped to just underwear and a shirt. The figure moves from the door and you hear more voices. People rush in the room, you don’t have anything to defend yourself with.

You kick and fight as best as you can. Digging your heels into the floor as the strangers pick you up by your underarms and drag out the room. Your left arm stings, you grit your teeth trying to press your feet down. They just lift you up off the floor, pulling you along.

You’re taken into another room and thrown on the ground. This room has a light, you look round your head still throbbing, you don’t get time to take in your surroundings or assess damage before the door opens again. A man with his face covered walks in dragging a chair behind him. He places it down in the middle of the room as you back away.

“Sit.” He says in English, you can hear the thick arabic accent. There’s another man guarding the door with an AK in his hands. You swallow hard not moving, They’re going to have to force you if they want anything.

You can just about see his eyes, that’s all you can see. You don’t know where you are or if anyone else is here too. You hope not, you hope they’re all okay. Fuck. What if they’re here with you, in a different part of this place. You’re not even sure what to call it, it’s barely a building.

“Sit.” He says again. You hold your ground staring him down. He says something in Arabic before coming over to you. His fist slams into the side of your face. It snaps your head to the side. His hand comes down gripping a fist of your hair. You cry out as you’re dragged over to the chair, your eyes fill with water fogging your vision.

He lets go of your hair as he and the other man haul you to your feed and throw you into the chair. You blink the tears away. They don’t bother tying you down. What are you going to do? Run? You wouldn’t stand a chance. You can’t believe this, you have assume you’re alone, you have to assume no one is coming for you.

“British, medic.” He says. You look over at the other man in the room. Maybe if he didn’t have a gun you could take them. You’ve spared enough with Johnny and Simon, they’ve taught you how to fight 2 people at once. You’d be shot before you would even be able to get a good hit off.

“What unit?” He asks, you look back over to him. You wish you could see his expression, it would give you a better idea of what he’s thinking. Now you can understand why people find Ghost so intimidating. You won’t give him anything.

You’ve been trained for this. Not much, but you have a better chance than most.

“What base were you stationed at?” He asks moving closer to you. You can taste blood in your mouth, your arm still stings, you’ve definitely been injured. His fist crashes into your cheek again. You grip the seat of the chair so you don’t fall off. This time you feel your teeth bite down on the inside of your mouth.

“Let’s try again. What unit?” He’s already raising his voice. You cough clearing your airway. The taste of blood makes your stomach turn. You can feel adrenaline flowing through you now, your head stops spinning, your pain turns into a dull throbbing. You feel your heart rate pick up.

The man's hand grips around your throat forcing you to look up at him. You can’t breathe your hands squeeze the chair.

“What is the name of your unit?”He shouts through gritted teeth. You almost want to laugh, you’ll never tell him, you’ll never give them up. But you would like to be able to breathe again. You build up a ball of blood and saliva in your mouth and spit it in his face.

You regret it as soon as you’ve done it. He lets your neck go though and you suck in a gulp of air. It makes you cough again, your hand going up to your neck, it’s raw, painfull. The man shouts something in Arabic and the man on the door moves.

You’re still gasping for air when the butt of his weapon crashes into your head. Your body is thrown off the chair to the ground. You squeeze your eyes closed as nausea rises in you, there’s a ringing in your ears and a throb in your head.

He flips you to your back and you look up at him. His hands rap round your throat, his knee pressing on your chest. You try and fight him, scratching, kicking your legs. Black spots start appearing in your vision.

This is it, this is how you die. You just hope you were right and you’re the only one here.

Simon, Johnny, Kyle and John, that's who you think about. That’s all you think about in your last moments.

___

Johnny clenches his jaw, he’s tried to ignore the anger bubbling in him.

Price hasn’t stopped pacing, Laswell tried to calm him down first. That went about as well as Simon’s attempt. He doesn't know what to say, what to do. For once he’s happy to just wait for orders.

He hears Gaz walk back into the room. He goes over to the table and puts a file down. Ghost walks over to pick it up.

“Shepherds on the line.” Laswell says.

“Put him through.” Price stops pacing and pulls a laptop round to face him.

“Anything new?” Gaz asks, leaning over. Johnny just shakes his head.

“Captain it is 2am, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Shepherd's voice comes through the laptop speakers.

“The convoy was compromised.” Price says.

“And this could not wait until the morning because?” Shepherd sighs.

“We have one MIA.”

“Who?”

“Does it fucking matter?” Price snaps. It makes Johnny’s stomach turns.

“I warned you taking the medic was a bad idea captain.” Shepherd says. Johnny hears Gaz grit his teeth. “I don’t know what you want me to say?”

“We’re going after her.” Price says.

“John. Don’t make me do this:” He warns. He’s not going to stop them, no one is going to stop them. Johnny’s still not quite sure why Price wanted to call him in the first place.

“How did the convoy get compromised?” Price asks stepping away from the laptop. Ghost hands him the file.

“You tell me?” Shepherd replies. Johnny looks over at Laswell, she hasn’t moved.

“You gave us the intel.”

“You organised the convoy.” Shepherd says, Johnny can hear the irritation in his voice.

“Based on your intel.” John turns around handing the folder to Laswell. Now Johnny’s curious.

“What’s in the folder?” He whispers to Gaz. He shrugs, he didn’t look.

“What happened to the convoy? Were there casualties?” Shepherd asks.

“5 KIA, 1 MIA.” Simon says, Johnny looks over at him. Ghost was more than happy to lock himself in a room and do Price’s paperwork while Price went on a rampage.

“No body?”

“No body.” Price replies.

“Look again. We cannot push into al-qatala territory. If they have her-”

“They have her.” Price interrupts him.

“You have your orders Captain. Clean up your mess, finish the job then we will talk about getting her back.” Shepherd orders, raising his voice.

“I’m done cleaning up your messes General.” Price says leaning back over the laptop. “Laswell will send you the intel.”

“Don’t do this John. You’re making the wrong decision.” Shepherd says. Price just lets out a sigh. “If they have her she’s a prisoner of war. We have a protocol for this.”

“I’m not waiting for you to negotiate. I’m done, we’re getting her back, with or without your permission.” Price says ignoring Shepherd's comments.

“John.” Laswell pipes up, everyone turns to look at her. She gets up showing him something on her laptop. Ghost looks over his shoulder.

“If you do this, Captain we will have to stop you.” Shepherd says.

“I’d like to see you try.” Price says, he nods at Laswell and she ends the call.

“What now?” Gaz asks, stepping up to the table.

“They have her, she’s alive.” There’s a collective sigh around the room. It only lasts a few seconds, silent glances are shared between them.

“Gaz, Soap. We need a vehicle. Ghost, we need ammo, explosives. We need to leave here stocked.” Price says ordering people around.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Laswell asks, Price shoots her a glare.

“We’re getting her back.” John says.

“He’ll send the shadows after you. I can try and hold them off for as long as I can. I can buy you 48 hours max.” Laswell says.

“That’s all we’ll need.” John replies. “Don’t sacrifice yourself for us Kate. We'll handle it.”

___

When you open your eyes again the pain in your head is worse. There’s a bright light above you that forces you close your eyes.

“Don’t move.” Someone says, this time the accent is not as thick, there is a hint of something there. You turn your head to the side, you see someone’s hands are on you. You see the gash on your arm. It stings as they dab round it.

You’re laid on something hard, a table you think. You try to move your arms and legs, this time you are tied down. You can feel wet on your back, you can’t tell if it’s sweat or water. You look round the rest of the room. There’s a breeze, you can feel it, cool and refreshing. There’s a sink and a hose, buckets of water and dirty rags.

You know what’s going to happen.

You look back at the person. His face is also covered, this time instead of bandanas and scarves it’s just a balaclava. It reminds you of Ghost, Simon, one of the people you promised you would spend the rest of your life with.

Maybe they’re looking for you, it doesn’t matter you have to assume the worst.

“They’re going to hurt you. I would recommend talking.” The stranger says, definitely an accent from somewhere else. You watch as he wraps your arm in bandages.

If you talk they’ll kill you. Surely he knows that.

You’re not going to talk, you’re not going to give up the people you love. You try to remember what John taught you. You need to focus on a happy place, something you can retreat into while they torture you.

Torture you, it makes you swallow hard, fear rises in you. You can’t panic, panicking will make it worse.

They’re not going to kill you, they want intel. They hit the convoy but they need intel, otherwise you’d be dead.

Something went wrong, and now they have you.

The stranger stands up dragging his chair to the corner of the room and coming back with a roll of cling film. You look away as he starts to wrap your arm, fear bubbles in you again, the pit in your stomach won’t go away this time.

This is going to hurt, it’s going to be hard. You have to stay strong though. If you love them you have to stay strong.

The door to the room opens and another voice addresses the man wrapping your arm in plastic. You look back up at the ceiling, the light burns your eyes. Someone’s hand pulls your head to the side.

Another covered face. Another repetitive voice.

“What is the name of your unit?” He asks, you think it’s the same voice from before. You don’t say anything. He lets your face go, you hear the door open again. More people come into the room, more people talking in arabic.

You turn your head to the other side, the person who patched you up is gone. A hand grips your hair pulling your head back on the table. You’re forced to look up at the ceiling, the light and the grip on your hair makes tears form.

“What base are you stationed at?” The same voice asks. You grit your teeth, your lips are sore now too, cracked and dry, they won’t be like that for long.

The sound of sloshing water makes you feel sick. You can do this.

You close your eyes. You need to find a happy place, somewhere you can focus on.

Johnny and his smile. The way he looks at you with those pretty blue eyes.

Johnny and his pretty blue eyes, that's what you’re going to focus on.

If you want to keep them alive, you have to suffer.

A wet rag is pressed over your nose and mouth, you hear the hose start. This is it, you have to be brave. You have to be silent.

Your body is already pulsing with pain. This is really going to hurt.

Part 2

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marlynnofmany · 17 hours ago

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When I am given my bag and the promised bonus, I assume that the day’s excitement is over. No such luck. The professionals who have whisked away the hex eaters and fussed over the broken portal filter have another request for me.

Would I mind coming along with them in investigating the source of the infestation? They’ve just gotten a message from their home office about a problem on the other side of that portal. And, well, they’re desperately understaffed, and I’ve been so very helpful already…

Sure, why not. I don’t have any plans for the rest of the day.

I say my goodbyes to the adults who are ready to return to the birthday party (I already hear children yelling happily about cake), and we part ways.

They head back to the garden while I stay at the riverside where the two pest-control experts are quietly swearing.

The portal, as I’ve mentioned, is partly broken. These two wizards don’t ask permission before breaking it further, widening it so we can walk through and see where the river comes from firsthand. One of them throws out a row of translucent steps to keep our feet out of the mud. Very considerate.

I make sure not to bump my bag against the edge of the portal as I walk through. Not only could that glittering seam between realities damage the fabric, but I don’t want to think about what might happen if the null stones affect the portal while I’m partway through it.

But I make it past with no untimely deaths or other disasters, and I take in the sights. This is a rich neighborhood in the hills outside town; that is the river funneling into the portal; and that is a lovely rainbow-wood wall with a large hole in it.

I follow the two humans toward the front gate, where a new one waits, dressed in the clothes and the impatience of wealth.

Luckily for me, I am left out of the conversation that follows. I simply trail along behind the others while they enter the grounds and inspect the hole in the side of the house, which matches the one in the wall. In both cases, all the subtle enchantments around them have been drained away. Any sort of intruder could enter unobserved, and by the sounds of the audible chewing, several have.

I see why the two pest-control humans were eager for help. The stained-glass enchantment on a window above the hole fades as I watch. The homeowner points and yells. One professional makes an urgent call back to base while the other pleads for patience. They have baits and small traps, you see, materials for a single creature running wild in a garden, not an entrenched swarm with no motivation to leave. And everyone else is busy.

Everyone but me.

I interrupt a sentence about slow-acting poisons to float a suggestion of my own.

Then, with their permission (and their gratitude/relief/impatience), I call in some friends who are uniquely qualified for this sort of thing.

I’ve told them before that they could find well-paying, valuable work in this field. Maybe after today they’ll believe me.

They arrive together from a square-sided portal that crackles with electricity instead of aura energy. They are slim and silver, like me, with their own preferences in color accents and limb type.

They are ready to hunt bugs like we did at the wand factory.

After conferring briefly with the wide-eyed humans, we take our positions — the human professionals with their small trap in place outside the hole, the human homeowner keeping a safe distance, and the four of us waiting for the trap to seal against the building.

It’s ready.

My good friend Crimson sings a musical scale that swiftly dips below human hearing, down to the range that tells animals that an earthquake is happening. Plants vibrate. Gnawing sounds stop. Insect feet scuttle.

Hex eaters burst out of the hole, straight into the trap, but they also burst out of the wall around it, to the audible dismay of the human wizards.

But my other friends Frostberry and Cloud Shadow are waiting, with their welding lasers active and aimed.

They are excellent shots. Dull carapaces drop onto the tiles that were probably brightly colored once. Other hex eaters emerge to the same fate until the hole is empty.

Crimson stops singing. The plants fairly droop with relief. I put away the null stones that I didn’t need to throw, and I congratulate my friends.

A tiny voice whoops with joy. I see that the homeowner’s family have arrived, including a child slightly older than those at the party. While the adults are expressing their pleasure in more measured tones, this young human is not so restrained.

The pest control humans get the cleanup underway. Crimson chats with the homeowners, complimenting the shape of the archways or something else architectural, while Frostberry and Cloud Shadow do deep scans with their heat vision to check for holdouts.

I stroll over to the tiny human, who has many questions for me.

“That was amazing! My friends are going to be so jealous. It was so fast, and you got ‘em all! What’s your name?”

“Ginkgo,” I say. “Like the tree. And it was our pleasure.”

The child seems surprised. “Why are you named after a tree?”

I shrug easily. “The creche elders thought my generation should all be given tree names. My friends over there come from different creches, with color and weather themes.”

This appears to be mindblowing for some reason. “You get named in groups?”

“Sure,” I say. “It’s a much simpler system than a lot of human families I know. No duplicate names this way. We keep records.”

The child makes a face and admits, “I do have a cousin and a great-uncle with the same name. Wait, what’s your last name? Do you have a last name?”

“I do,” I say, taking a seat on an ornamental boulder so we’re closer to the same height. “Rockhound.”

“Is that because you throw rocks?”

“No, it’s just a name. We’re all named after our creches, and since mine is the only one in my hometown, it’s named after the town. Which was named after some people who went searching for gems and such there ages ago.” I look over at my friends. “Theirs are much simpler.”

“Wow.” The child stares, clearly trying to think up more questions.

I smile and pull a trick. “What’s this behind your ear?”

“Where did that come from?” the child demands as I hold up a plastic flower.

I hand it over for inspection. “Seems like it came from behind your ear.”

“How did you do that? There wasn’t any magic!”

“Sure there was,” I say with a mechanical smile. “My kind of magic.”

When normal people throw a birthday party for their child, they call in a magician. When magicians throw a birthday party for their child, they call you.

#yaaaaay this was fun #last one for now I think #but I'd definitely like to write more at some point #The Magician's Birthday Party #I like this character #and the robot friends #and all the stuff I just came up with about robot naming and childrearing #I look forward to discovering more about this place later #robots #wizards #my writing #February Fiction Fight #happy final day!#this took much longer to write than I planned #but I love how it turned out #enjoy

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arbitrarykiwi · 14 hours ago

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Etched in Ink

Nam-gyu x TattooArtist!Pierced!Fem! Reader Smut Fic

Summary: when Nam-gyu decides it’s time for a tattoo, he asks his best friend, Thanos, where he goes. Thanos raves about his tattoo artist and urges Nam-gyu to schedule an appointment with you. Nam-gyu could not prepare himself for the fact this highly praised tattoo artist is so fucking hot.

Warnings: smut (18+) , reader is described as being tattooed , reader has piercings (tongue, nipple, clit) , oral (f receiving) , p in v sex , creampie , name calling (i think whore like once) , dirty talk , read at your own risk

When Thanos told him that he knows a “fucking crazy good” tattoo artist, he was intrigued.

Nam-gyu had his fair share of ink, multiple pieces littering his skin in intricate vibrant lines. But, he got all the ones he had from some shady underground parlor or even someone’s basement. With the new desire to have the tattoo needle against his skin again, this time with an idea for something much larger than what he gotten before- he decided it was time to find someone a bit more reputable.

So he asked Thanos- the purple hair rapper having a large tattoo of his name down his back, the lines are crisp, the black ink rich and even- simple as the design was, Nam-gyu couldn’t lie, the attention to detail and the skill of the artist was apparent.

Thanos was quick to boast about his tattoo and the artist he got it from, telling Nam-gyu he just had to take him to the place he goes to, to see the specific artist he went to. And hell, with how serious Thanos seemed about his holy grail of a tattoo artist- he agreed.

So he made an appointment on your website. It was easy enough, you had quick availability. So he set a date, paid the deposit and waited (not so) patiently for the tattoo day to arrive. It was late appointment, 8pm. Which was something Nam-gyu appreciated, as an insomniac he preferred to do stuff during the night- and a late night tattoo session sounded like just what he needed.

Thanos had brought him, claiming he just wanted to see you anyway, despite not getting a tattoo himself. Sure, Nam-gyu thought that was odd, he didn’t see why Thanos would want to go out of his way to see a tattoo artist for no reason, but he thought it had to be you were just a chill dude.

But when he walked into the shop with Thanos, and you came up to greet them. He was floored.

You were obviously a female…very obviously. You wore a black tank top, hemmed with lace. It’s tight fitting and low cut, he can’t help but stare at your cleavage and the chest tattoos that litter your skin. He thinks they accentuate one another in the most perfect way.

Your hair was pulled back and you were drying off your hands. He could see tattoos along your arms and hands, spaced out and each eye catching in their own right. He assumed your legs must be the same even though he couldn’t see them due to your pants.

“Hey! You must be Nam-gyu.” You say with a smile. Thanos looks over to Nam-gyu, eyes saying everything. ‘See this is what I was talking about’

Not only were you a good tattoo artist, you were so fucking hot. Nam-gyu gathers himself, nodding his head slowly, “Y-yeah.” He says clearing his throat, a pathetic attempt to hide his surprise and dry mouth.

“Perfect! I’m actually so excited, I really like the ideas you sent me.” You say waving the both of them over to your station. He finds it endearing the way you talk so excitedly about his tattoo. He sent you various pictures of what he wanted, a sharp, detailed, abstract line style tattoo that was planned to start on his arm, go up his shoulder and to his chest.

Your voice and kind tone is such a drastic contrast from your physical appearance- a vixen. You were dangerous. Such a kind sweet face and voice with a body that was straight sin.

He starts to think that Thanos set him up. He knew you were this hot, and knew Nam-gyu wanted a chest piece, now he has to deal with you touching on his chest. Fucking great. He’s bringing his hand up to his mouth, silently laughing in a sardonic manner to himself. He was so fucked.

You’re so short compared to him, looking up at him as you talk, gesturing to the tattoo chair for him to sit down. He follows your orders. You sit down across from him on a circular stool, grabbing your iPad to show him the design you came up with.

“You need me to get you a seat, Thanos?” You call over your shoulder, not even looking up from your tablet. Nam-gyu looks over to Thanos who is not so subtly checking you out. It was like Thanos was undressing you with his eyes. Nam-gyu couldn’t blame him.

“Nah I’m good cutie, just came to drop him off.” Thanos says, you laugh and stick your tongue out playfully. Nam-gyu thinks all the blood he was fighting not to rush to his cock was a fight he was not going to win. On your pink tongue was a silver ball- you had a tongue ring. Jesus Christ, you were going to kill him before you even got the stencil on.

“Alright then get going, don’t need you just standing there. He’s a big boy, got some tattoos before. He’ll be fine. I’m not gonna bite.” You say turning back to Nam-gyu and winking. He sucks in a deep breath and nervously chuckles, shifting in the seat to hopefully conceal the growing erection in his pants.

“Mhm…” Thanos says, finally pulling his eyes away from the view of your back and the red lace thing that was peeking out from your jeans. “Don’t fuck him up too bad, he’s still gotta pay his rent tomorrow.” Thanos says with a teasing grin, looking to Nam-Gyu with a devious grin. He definitely knew what he was doing bringing Nam-Gyu here.

“I won’t mess him up…too bad…” You tease as you begin to put on your gloves. Nam-gyu inwardly groans, even your gloves are pink. You’re like a cute princess in the body of a succubus…he was not going to make it through this session. He’s looking up to the ceiling, saying a silent prayer to himself to try and calm down the erection that’s threatening to become obvious. “I’ll take real good care of him.”

Nam-gyu kisses his teeth, sucking in a shuddering breath he’s thankful you don’t hear. His mind is spinning, he swears he heard a purr in your words, like you’re insinuating the same idea that he’s trying to wipe from his mind. He can stop thinking about how you’d look with his cock shoved in your mouth or how you’d look as he fills you to the brim- sinking his cock deep into your pussy. He bets you have the prettiest moans.

He hates his mind- he really does. He never claimed to be a good person but he normally wasn’t this debauched. You’re just a tattoo artist trying to make a living, having friendly banter with clients and here he was thinking about fucking you stupid….yeah great person he was. He thinks that he completely imagined the purr in your voice, he’s just too horny and imagined it.

But when he looks back to Thanos, and sees his expression. Nam-Gyu realizes he didn’t make it up. You did have a distinct tone to your words that even Thanos caught on to. Thanos has an eyebrow raised, like he’s picked up on your words insinuation. His grin widens and he’s winking at Nam-Gyu. “Well then, I’ll take your word for it..” Thanos says in a teasing sing-song voice as he’s crossing the floor and leaving the tattoo shop. “Have fun you two!” The purple haired rapper calls out, like a father seeing off his son and date to prom.

Nam-gyu hears the bell on the shop door ring as it’s opened and closed. Now you two are truly alone. His body feels oh so hot, his pants are uncomfortable and his eyes have not left the ceiling since Thanos walked out. He fears that if he looks at you he might just cum in his pants. He is praising and cursing Thanos simultaneously. Why did Thanos wait so long to show him the work of art personified that was you?! Why did Thanos set him up deliberately?! He couldn’t decide which pissed him off more, the fact Thanos was harboring you like a secret for years or the fact that Thanos deliberately kept you a secret to get Nam-Gyu flustered when all he wanted was a tattoo.

“You want this on your chest and upper arm right?” You say, it brings him out of his trance but he doesn’t look at you. “Mhm.” He says simply, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. His eyes nearly roll back into his skull when you giggle and scoot your chair closer to the seat he was laid back on. “You’re gonna need to take this off.” Your fingers pinch his shirt and pull it up teasingly.

Nam-gyu thinks he’s being tested. All the shitty things he’s done in life have led up to this and now he’s put on trial. Forced to act normal when he can’t get over how incredibly sexy you were. It was a real tragedy. He sits up at bit, pulling his shit over his head and balling it up in his lap.

You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes wander over his bare torso. He was fit, not too muscular, not too thin. He was sculpted like some Greek god. You swallow thickly, trying to remain professional as you grab the tattoo stencil.

You scoot your chair close to the bench he’s laid back on. “Just gotta prep the area.” You smile sweetly, leaning over him. He nods, not able to form words as your gloved hands touch his bare chest. You do the prep work, shaving the area and wiping it down. You don’t miss the way his chest shutters with each breath he takes. Anytime your hands come into contact with his chest you can feel how his heartbeat is practically jumping out of his chest.

When you put the stencil down and run your hand along the expanse of his shoulder and chest he is praying you didn’t realize how his eyes rolled into the back of his head. You definitely did, but you didn’t say anything about it.

“Let me know how that looks.” You chirp, bringing him out of the trance you had put him in. He clears his throat and nods, sitting up and hopping off the bench to the walk over to the mirror in your studio. He admires the stencil, it’s an intricate abstract design that spans across his shoulder to his chest. It’s kickass, not only were you built like straight sin, you were a great artist. He sent you many images for inspiration but somehow the design you came up with is even better than any image online he could find.

“Looks good.” He manages to get out, catching your eyes in the mirror. You roll your eyes and raise an eyebrow playfully. “C’mon if there’s anything you wanna change I can fix it. Is the design what you wanted? The placement alright?” You say, he thinks it’s cute how serious you get about your work- wanting to make sure he really likes the ink you’re about to place into his skin. He laughs, as hard and as flustered as you make him; you were so easy to talk to. You had an air of confidence around you that just drew him to you. You were funny, your voice was so sweet, and you were dedicated as a tattooer. Would it be too forward to say fuck the tattoo and just take you on a date now??

He looks at the tattoo again, really looks at it, and he still doesn’t see anything that needs to be changed. “It looks so fucking good. You really did great with the design.” He says genuinely, admiring the blue ink of the stencil that litters his chest. His eyes look back to catch your face in the mirror again, your smile is wide, proud and you’re dancing excitedly in your chair. “Perfect! Sit back down n’ we can get started!” You say oh so happily, it’s such an endearing tone Nam-Gyu thinks he’s going insane. He’s never wanted someone as much as he wanted you.

He follows your orders and settles back down into the seat, it’s slightly leaned back allowing him to sit comfortably and you to have all the room you need to tattoo. He can’t help but to stare shamelessly as you work with the materials in your small corner of the studio, grabbing the ink and needles. You work so effortlessly, he knows you’ve probably done this hundreds of times but you’re so in the zone he feels like he’s watching a movie about a hot tattoo artist. And it’s all a private viewing just for him to see.

You scoot the chair back up next to where he’s sat, tattoo gun in your hand. “Ready?” You ask and he nods, “mhm.” He can’t bring himself to say much else, he’s trying to think about how he’s going to make it through the next couple hours as you’re oh so close to him and touching on his chest. “Yay! Let me know if you need a break or anything.” You say excitedly, he can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face at your cute display of excitement.

When he feels the first sing of the needle in his skin he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It’s a pain that he’s come to love, a way of feeling something when he’s not on drugs. The drawn out bite of the needle for hours on end almost lulls him to sleep most the times he’s gotten tattooed. Each tattoo he gets he thinks adds something to him that he can’t quite place. He would love nothing more than to be sung to sleep by the hum of the tattoo gun and the sting of the needle, but he can’t even focus on that when he feels your hands gliding across his skin so slowly and meticulously.

He adjusts his arms slightly, letting his palms fall into his lap and cup over the bulge that he knows is beginning to form in his pants. Part of him feels guilty, you’re just trying to do your job and here he is acting like a dog in heat. He can’t help it, you are so fucking sexy. It’s not even the ‘sexy’ that he would attribute to pornstars, no not at all. You’re a salacious deity, effortlessly attractive in every minuscule thing you do, a lustrous vixen that’s built out of straight sin. To top it all off, he thinks you don’t even realize it. You exude an innocence that contradicts your seductive appearance. Fuck, you were perfect.

Throughout the tattoo Nam-Gyu thinks he falls harder. You ask him about himself, maybe you were just being cordial and trying to pass the time but with each answer he gives you follow it up with an happy answer and a follow up question. You inquire about his job and when you find out he’s a club promoter you ask where. When you find out he works at Club Pentagon you gasp, “No way! That’s dope as hell! Thanos actually was telling me all about that club, raving about it. So me and my friends went the other week.” You stop tattooing a second to turn back to the tray you had and pick up more ink, “I can’t believe I didn’t see you!” You finish, turning back to him with the cutest pout he’s ever seen.

“When did you go?” He inquires, a smile on his face as he sees your pout turn into a grin. “It was a Thursday, I know, not the best day to go to the club.” You say, already defending yourself playfully. “Well ya’ gotta come on the weekends, hell even Monday’s. ‘S when I work.” Nam-gyu says, it takes so much to work himself up to say it- would it be too forward? Would you think he was weird?

“Well now I’ll only ever go on weekends and Mondays if it means I get to see you.” You muse, immediately going back to tattooing, he can hardly register your words. You were flirting, right?? “Yeah? I can put you on the list, get you VIP.” He hums, eyes trained in the ceiling, trying to slow his heartbeat down because he knows you can feel it. “Oh really?? Would it get us a private room, too?”

You were definitely flirting.

He draws in a sharp breath, one of many since he’s met you, hoping it comes off as just him breathing through a tough spot in the tattoo. “Y-yeah I can arrange that.” He looks down for once, looking at you as you tattoo. You were so focused, your nose scrunching every so often, your tongue poking out in concentration giving him a nice view of the silver tongue ring you had on your pretty pink tongue. God, his cock was so hard.

He tries to think of anything else to get his mind off the lewd things he was thinking. He wasn’t a saint by any means, he would even call himself sleazy. But you weren’t like the other women he’s gotten with, you are so professional and dedicated to your work- probably just flirting to get an extra tip, being friendly- and here he was thinking about bending you over and fucking you dumb.

He has no idea you’re thinking the same thoughts. How could you not?! He was oh so attractive and your hands are moving along his toned pecks. You can see the other tattoos that stain his skin, only adding to his appeal. You also weren’t oblivious- you could see the way his hands are clasped over his crotch, trying to hide the erection that’s definitely in his pants.

As you work you’re squeezing your thighs together, trying to get all the sinful images you have playing in your mind to stop so you can do what you need to- tattoo him. But there’s something about the way that, now, your art is on him. The design that you made is permanently etched into his skin like a brand. The thought makes you dizzy.

It’s a large tattoo, so it takes a long while, the whole time the tension keeps thickening between you two. The more you work, the further into his chest it is, the further you have to lean over him. You’re practically on top of him, thumb damn near brushing over his nipple as you work on a particular line. He can feel your breath fanning his skin as you lean even closer to make sure your work is perfect. He can smell your perfume and shampoo, every sense he has is overwhelmed by you.

The hours pass and you two talk and talk, learning little things about each other, laughing at jokes that fly between sentences. It’s like you have known each other forever. He learns that you’ve been tattooing for years, starting in the underground tattooing world- even apprenticing under one of the guys who did his old tattoos. Small world!

Finally, he hears your voice chirp excitedly, “And you’re all done!” You’re pulling away and setting your tattoo gun down. You come back with a cool wet paper towel, wiping the excess ink off his chest. He doesn’t miss the way your hand moves extra slow, like it’s lingering against him. “Stand up n check it out!” You say, he is obsessed with the way your hands nearly shake with how ecstatic you seem to be, wanting him to see the work you did. “Alright, alright!” He chuckles, slowly sitting up, “Gotta give me a second, I’ve been sitting in the same position for hours.” He says, getting up and making a show of groaning as he gets up.

“Awh! So now you’re complainin’?” You tease, “you sat so well the whole time, were being sooo good f’me and now you’re complaining.”

He doesn’t miss the way you have a slight purr to your voice or the way your eyes linger on his bare back from the mirror. Did you just want him to bend you over and fuck you stupid in the studio?! (The answer was absolutely).

He laughs off the way that simple sentence makes him flustered and he shakes his head, “Not complain’, sweetheart. Just being honest.” He says, throwing his own little bit of flirting in the ring. The pet name makes your throat go dry, it rolls off his tongue so smoothly that it seems like he thinks nothing of it. You wave him off and turn around to take your gloves off, hiding your bashful expression. When you gather yourself you stand up and meet him at the mirror.

“Sooo what do ya think?!” You say in a sing song voice as you rock on your heels. He admires your work in the mirror- your work was fucking incredible. The lines were crisp, the black was opaque, and the subtle shading you added around the expanse of the tattoo made it so much better. “Holy fuck this is so awesome…” he laughs out in disbelief, all attempt at sounding suave and flirty out the window as he sees it finished for the first time. He’s eve leaning closer to the mirror to look at it in awe.

Your smile widens exponentially when you see how happy he was with your work, you’re even clapping softly. “Yay! I’m so glad you like it, it was genuinely so fun to do.” You say, catching his eyes in the mirror from where you stand behind him. “It looks really good with your other tattoos too!” You point out. He nods in agreement and turns back to you. “I guess I gotta just keep coming here…I don’t think anyone could compare to your work.”

You can’t help the blush that rises to your face, the praise from him boosting your confidence. You make a show of doing courtesy, giggling as you do it. “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.”

He laughs turning back around to face you fully, you’re a couple feet apart. He’s so much taller than you, you nearly have to crane your neck upwards to look at him. You two stand there with goofy smiles on your faces, each standing idle in the thick cloud of sexual tension that hangs around the two of you.

“Do you want to go on a date?”

“Can I have your number?”

You both speak at the same time, words fumbling from lips in a hasty nervous attempt at trying to meet up again- to do anything to ease the ache that is in both of your lower stomachs. Your laughter echos Nam-gyu’s as the overlapping sentences break the silence. You’re both nodding in response to the others question.

“Yeah, we can go on a date.” He says as he smiles down at you, your eyes cant stop drifting down to stare at his bare chest. “Then…yes you can have my number.” You answer, still giggling. You catch his eyes falling to your chest, eyes tracing over your tattoos and then settling on your cleavage.

You take a slow step towards him, he follows, his hand reaching out to hook a finger around one loops of your jeans and pulls you all the way into him. Your hands find purchase on his chest, careful not to touch the raw skin where you just tattooed. With how he pulled you into him, you can feel his erection press into your lower stomach. “You were hard the entire tattoo, huh?” You ask bluntly, smirking up at him.

Nam-gyu falters a bit, covering it up with a laugh, “A pretty girl like you touching on my chest for hours…c-can’t really help it.” He says a bit bashfully. You bite your lip, finger tracing shapes on his stomach, watching as he tenses up under your touch. “We could do something to help that…” you mutter, your voice low as you bat your eyelashes up at him.

He can’t take it anymore, he brings his hands up to hold either side of your neck and jaw, leaning down to connect his lips with yours. It’s raw and primal. Hours of built up sexual tension pouring out as your lips move together. You giggle a bit when you hear him let out a soft whine into the kiss when he feels your pierced tongue run along his bottom lip. He regains his composure and greedily sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s hypnotizing truly, your kind going blank as your mouth is filled with the taste of him.

Nam-gyu pulls away, connected to you my a string of spit. You’re panting, trying to catch your breath. It’s not easy when he’s tilting your head up and running his nose down your neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume that has been overwhelming him this whole time. Your hands reach to his hair, pulling the long black locks as you sigh out blissfully. He leaves open mouthed kisses along your skin, teeth biting into your skin every so often. “Had me so fucking hard the entire time…” he mumbles against your skin, pulling back to lock eyes with you once more.

You bite your lip, fingers tightening their grip in his hair and tugging. A low rumble, resembling a growl escapes his lips as he grinds his painfully hard cock against your lower stomach, like he’s trying to further prove his words. “Bet you were thinkin’ of all the dirty things you wanted to do to me, huh?” You tease, tilting your head mockingly. He huffs, obviously not too enthralled by your mocking, he can’t deny the way it makes his dick jump in his boxers, though.

He pulls you back into him, lips crashing on yours. This time it’s much more frantic, it’s fast paced and full of spit and teeth. It’s messy, filthy even. As his lips wor against yours, his hands are dripping from your jaw to your hips. He’s wasting no time, his hands moving to hastily unbutton your jeans and pull down the zipper. You’re helplessly whining into his mouth, greedily sucking his tongue into your mouth as he’s guiding you backwards.

Your back hits the leather fabric of the seat you were just tattooing him in. His fingers grip at the loops of your pants pulling them down your thighs. He’s groaning into your mouth when he feels his fingers brush against the soft expanse of your thighs. He has to be dreaming.

His large hands work your jeans down to your knees. He’s pulling back from the kiss, spit still connecting your lips together. He grabs at your hips, mumbling a breathless “jump” before he’s helping you up to sit on the chair.

When you’re sat all pretty up on your bench he’s slotting himself between your legs and reconnecting his lips with yours with a desperation that makes your mind spin. He kisses you like you’re a hit of the strongest, rarest drug he’s tried. One taste and he’s addicted to you.

He clumsily pulls your jeans off your legs entirely. Fumbling even more to pull them over your shoes. You’re giggling into the kiss at his eagerness, his hands throwing your jeans to the floor of the studio and reattaching themselves to your bare thighs, grasping at the doughy flesh and moaning into your mouth as he does.

“G-god fuck-“ Nam-Gyu begins to mumble against your lips, “so. Fuckin’. pretty.” He hisses out between kisses. He thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world, there’s no fucking way he’s got you writhing against him, biting on his lips like some fucking she-devil. Your hips roll against his torso, ass grinding against the leather seat under you.

In a breathless motion, he’s pulling away and dipping his head to your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along your pulse point. There’s no true technique to it, it’s like he’s trying to just taste you. And he is. Maybe you’re wearing some pheromone perfume or something, he doesn’t know, but every time he runs his tongue along your skin, your taste flooding his taste buds, his cock is twitching in his pants- wet spot most certainly forming in his underwear.

He pulls away for a moment to simply admire you, trying to imprint the image of you into his mind just in case this is the only time he gets a chance like this. Your thighs are splayed out so nicely, the plush skin widening with how you’re sat. The slit of your sweet cunt practically hidden by your thighs, giving him the most delicious preview of what’s to come. And what is that…no fucking way….oh he’s already planning his next tattoo appointment just to make sure he sees you.

Nipple rings.

He could see the hardened outline of your nipples and the bars that went through them. Jesus Christ, you were going to actually send him to an early grave. He’s back on you, mouth back on your neck and hands coming to cup your tits over your shirt, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your shirt, massaging your nipples with feather light touches that have you jumping in his hold. Your arms find purchase on his shoulders, wrapping around his neck and gripping at the hair at the back of his neck, pulling his head further into you.

“N-nam-gyu…” his name falls from your lips in a nearly silent whine when his teeth dig a little too hard into your skin, the sharp bite of his teeth sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. He pulls away from your neck, trailing his tongue down to the sweep of your breasts, “say it again.” He mumbles tersely against your skin, lips tickling you. “Say my name like that again.” His thumb and pointer finger pinching the hard peaks and pulling the slightest bit, the black fabric of your tank top stretching with the pull.

“F-fuck! Nam-gyu, p-please.” You’re ashamed you’re already pleading with him, but the throbbing in your cunt has become almost unbearable at this point. You can feel the grin that twists against his lips as he releases your skin from his mouth. He pulls back to admire his work, his thumb moving up from your nipple to brush over the red and purple marks that begin to blossom across the top of your breasts.

“Mhm…that’s it…” he hums, nodding his head slowly, his eyes never leaving your chest, the image of your skin littered with marks made by him had his cock throbbing. So fucking pretty, he thinks. His eyes flicker up to your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your kiss swollen lips, the way your skin is stained with the imprints of his teeth and red splotches that span over the tattoos that are inked into your flesh. It’s like some macabre renaissance painting.

He can’t wait any longer. He’s dropping to his knees and pulling you by the hips towards the edge of the chair. Your skin squeaks against the leather and you squeak out, almost afraid you’ll fall. Your hands grip the edge of the seat, your eyes are wide as you look down at him. “‘M not gonna let you fall, I got’cha princess.” He breathes out as he throws your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open finally.

You watch as he stares at your cunt, his pupils as big as saucers as he takes in your pussy. “O-oh my fucking god…” he laughs out in disbelief, not only do you have the prettiest cunt he thinks he’s ever seen, the hood of your clit is pierced. He’s spreading your lips apart to get a better look, thumbs massaging the sides of your pussy as he takes in the perfect sight before him. He looks back up to you, his face nearly as red as yours, “where the fuck have you been all this time.” He’s chuckling and looking back down to your dripping pussy.

He rests his head on your thigh, his thumb starting to trace feather light circles on your clit, thumb running over the little piercing. You jump into his touch, breath catching in your throat. “B-been here the whole time..” you whine out, hips trying to shift to meet his mouth but he’s too far away, “…t-tattooing T-thanos- ahh!” Your words are abruptly cut off by Nam-gyu delving into your pussy.

He doesn’t start slow or work you up, no, he did it to shut you up. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks, hard, tongue rolling over your throbbing clit in figure eights. You cry out, hand flying to his hair and fisting it into your hands. It’s so much at once, but it’s so good.

“Don’t fuckin’ say his name when I got my face near your cunt..” he growls, lips dancing along your puffy folds as he speaks. He licks a flat stripe up the entirety of your pussy, drenching his tastebuds in your saccharine taste. “Only wanna hear my name.” His words are once again punctuated by his tongue flicking deviously against the silver jewelry adorning your clit. Your hips are pathetically rutting down onto his mouth, urging him to give you more.

But he’s fired up now. Years of being Thanos’ shadow, having to watch as the purple haired rapper got all the girls and left him for nothing. This was his time. His chance. He was the one getting to fuck you, not Thanos. “I’m the one who got you spread out like a whore in your lil’ tattoo studio, right?” Nam-Gyu hisses out, eyes catching yours as he waits for you to answer. You’re sucking in a shaky breath, hand tightening its grip in his hair, nodding.

His change in tone makes your cunt flutter around nothing. “Mhm…y-yeah, jus’ you.” You slur out, hips rolling to try and meet his mouth, every time he backs away so he’d be just out of reach. The corners of his lips curl up when he hears how your voice is higher, words wavering and breath heaving. He’s the one doing this to you. It feels surreal to him. He accepts your answer it seems because he’s diving back in.

His tongue is working messily along your folds. Mapping out every crevice and corner, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Nam-Gyu is watching intently, taking in every reaction you give him. Every twitch of your brow, every time you bite your lip, the way your chest heaves and stomach clenches, he’s spinning. He’s on his knees devouring your cunt, worshipping you like a goddess. He’s not shy about his noises, he’s slurping and lapping up every drop of arousal that pours out your clenching pussy.

“Taste shoo fuckin’ good.” Nam-gyu’s words are slurred by your puffy folds, tongue mapping out every inch of your throbbing pussy. He makes a whole show of dropping his jaw wide open so you can see the slick that drops down his pink tongue and coats his face. He’s so messy, paying no mind to how wet his face has become, how your thighs are painted in your own arousal. Your chest is heaving, your nails are hitting into the leather on the edge of the tattoo seat.

“So fuckin’ pretty too, y’know that?” He hums, his dark eyes trained on your cunt as he pulls back just slightly to take in the beautiful sight before him, “such a pretty fuckin’ cunt.” When he finishes his sentence you have no time to utter a response because he’s diving nose deep into your cunt, tongue circling your sopping entrance as the bridge of his nose rubs so deliciously against your clit.

“N-nam-gyu!” His name falling from your lips is a sound that makes his ears ring and his head fill with static. It’s such a high pitched creaky, pleading whine that’s so different from your voice it shocks him in the best way. One of his hands removes itself from your hip to fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans. His cock is so painfully hard he had to free it from his boxers. When his hefty cock springs free as he pulls his jeans and underwear down just enough, he’s growling into your pussy.

His tongue flattens and he licks a fat drag up the entirety of your cunt, slurping down your thick arousal greedily. “‘M I making you feel good?” He murmurs, eyes watching your every reaction even though your head is tipped back in ecstasy. You nod frantically, eyes screwed shut as he licks up and down, up and down in slow, deliberate drags. “Tell me. Wanna hear it.”

When you open your mouth to speak moans cascade from your lips, it takes a moment for you to even think straight enough to form a coherent thought. One of your hands flies to his hair, pulling the strands back out of his face and fisting the soft strands into your fists. Your head falls back forward, a weak gasp catching in your throat when you immediately catch his eyes, “Mhm, s-so fucking g-good. T-tongue feels so good!”

You can feel the way his lips widen into a smile, satisfied with your words. He nods a bit, his head shaking in your pussy, he’s practically glued. The taste of your cunt is something that not even the best high could compare to. His hands run up your hips and torso, grabbing at the top of your tank top and pulling it down. Your breasts spill out of the fabric giving him the angelic view of your bare tits. Tattoos line your chest, almost like arrows that guide his eyes directly to your pert nipples accessorized so prettily with barbells that have little hearts on either side- framing your nipples so perfectly.

His eyes are fluttering and rolling back at the sight, moaning into the depths of your cunt as he slurps up every possible ounce of your arousal. He can’t help it, he has to remove one of his hands off of your body to reach down to jerk his cock. You writhe and choke out a moan at the sight, his wrist twists around his thick length, smearing the pre-cum that bubbles out of his red tip, smearing it along his throbbing cock. Your hips grind down even harder into his face, his nose grinding so perfectly against your clit as his tongue licks greedily at your insides.

Babbles of his name are lost between wanton moans and pleas for him to continue. Every time he pulls his mouth back the slightest bit you get the most perfect view of his face, absolutely drenched in a milky-white sheen of you. It drips down his adam’s apple tantalizingly, wetting his neck- and he doesn’t care, if he does it only makes him more excited because he’s diving right back in, nose deep to fuck his tongue back into your twitching cunt.

“Ohmygod!” The babbled cry is ripped from your lungs, your hand gripping at his hair harder- nails biting into his scalp. His tongue pulls out of your entrance to lick a fat stripe back up to the hood of your clit, dancing around that pretty little piercing you have, “I’m- fuck! ‘M gonna cum!” You sob out, eyebrows upturning.

As much as Nam-Gyu wants to taste your cum pour down his throat- that would have to wait. He’s so painfully hard, he wants, no, needs to feel you cum on his cock. He’s pulling away, nearly cumming when he hears your whine, so desperate and needy, begging to cum. He stands back up, leaning forward and gripping your face, capturing you in a kiss.

It’s so messy. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. The wetness that was left along his face is smeared across your skin. You’re moaning into his mouth at your own taste, your hands reaching to wrap around each of his wrists as you lean further into him. His taste, although mixed with yours, was something you know you’d forever be addicted to now.

Nam-gyu pulls away breathless, “‘m sorry pretty, I really need to feel you cum on my cock.” He apologizes against your lips, “I’ll make you cum, I promise…” as he speaks, one of his hands snakes down to tap at your clit. He laughs against your pillowy lips when your whole body jolts with each wet tap of his finger pad against your clit.

You nod, hips rolling against his hand, “P-please… Nam-Gyu I-I need to cum. ” You pant out. And how could Nam-Gyu say no to you. He grabs at your hips and pulls you off the bench. Your knees are weak nearly giving out but his grip on you keeps you up right. He’s spinning you around and pushing at your lower back- bending you over the tattoo bench you were just sat on. You whine when you feel your own wetness as you’re laid over the leather, now dirtying your stomach.

Nam-gyu’s hands run up and down your back, pushing up your tank top so he can see the tattoos that are inked on your back. His thick cock is slotted between the valley of your ass, rocking back and forth. You’re shivering, hips shaking left and right to try and urge him to put it in. “Be patient…” he hums, “lemme admire you.”

His hands dance along your skin, taking in all of you, feeling you under his palms. When his hands land on your waist he lets out a low growl. His hands are so large, engulfing your waist. It’s such a sinful sight, if he had an image of it he’d put it as the lockscreen of his phone. He wants to tease you more, draw this out longer, but the throbbing in his cock is painful at this point. He has to be inside you.

Nam-gyu shifts backwards, gripping the base of his dick and swiping it up and down your sopping cunt. Moans echo through the studio as you feel his fat cock head drag through your folds, catching your clit with each slow drag. When he feels the softness of your pussy along his tip he is also moaning, the hand still on you grabbing tighter at the fat of your hips.

When he’s coated his cock in your arousal he lines up with your entrance. When he makes the first push into your tight heat, both of you are letting out blissful sighs. He’s hardly in and you just know he’s going to fill you so well. Ever so slowly, he pushes in deeper. When his fat cock head is fully inside you, your cunt lets out a sickening wet ‘pop’. The high pitched, creaky moan of his name that you let out makes something particularly superior bloom deep inside him.

“Oh fuuckk…” it’s a long drawn out growl, his hands gripping the globes of your ass, the grip only tightening the further he sinks into your tight cunt. It’s so slow it’s nearly killing you, inch after agonizing inch his cock is stretching your pussy impossibly wide over his thick girth. You can feel the engorged, throbbing veins run along your walls, only serving to make the whole thing feel so much better. “P-please put it in! A-all the way.” You cry out, looking back over your shoulder at him. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and his eyebrows are knitted together as he traces every tattoo that litters your back to memorize them. Especially that little tramp stamp you had…that was real cute.

“E-easy…” he hisses out, “You’re so t-tight, sweets. Ya gotta relax if ya want me to go faster.”

His hand reaches around to splay itself across your pubic bone, his deft fingers running along the edges of your cunt where you’re split on his dick to collect your arousal. Traveling back upwards, his fingers meet your clit to rub slow circles into the throbbing bud. You must have loosened up because he’s groaning and sinking in deeper, “Fuucckk yeah, there we go, stretching so pretty around me.”

His words have you moaning, your head falling forward, forehead resting on the leather of the chair. With one final push he’s sinking balls deep inside you. A whine is ripped from your lips, your back arches pushing your hips even further back against him. He’s keeling over you, hunching over and letting out a shuddering breath when he feels the whole length of his cock wrapped in the gooey warmth that was your cunt.

You’re already gushing around him, the force of his cock stretching you out forced a cascade of your arousal down his balls. “Fucking h-hell, so tight. Can feel you clenchin’ around me.” Nam-gyu huffs, his fingers still working on your clit, making your hips roll against him, trying to get him to move. He can’t move right now though, he just knows the second he moves he is going to blow his load deep in your cunt. He tilts his head up and a smirk spreads on his face, a perfect distraction was in front of him.

He leans over you, once of his hands running up your spine, tracing a line of your tattoo, crawling up your neck and grabbing a fistful of your hair. He pulls your head off the bench and you’re met face to face with your own reflection. The same mirror that he used to check his tattoo was now continently placed right in front of you. Your face was flushed, kiss swollen lips hanging agape as you pant. “Look at youuu…” Nam-gyu coos, using his grip on your hair to wiggle your head around to further mock your state.

You look so fucked out, it’s embarrassing, your eyes screw shut trying to hide away from the sight. “Not gonna move until you open your eyes.” The sentence is uttered through clenched teeth, coming out in a hiss. You don’t obey, your eyes are still shut. Your hips try to circle back against him but a desperate cry is ripped from your lungs as he draws his cock back, pulling nearly all the way out until just his heavy tip rests in the tight ring of your cunt.

“I know you can hear me, c’mon.” Nam-Gyu growls, jerking your head back and forth once more by your hair to really get your attention. Weakly, your eyes pry themselves open to look at your reflection in the mirror. You look up and you see his smile widening his black hair falling forward in front of his face like some scandalous curtain. When he knows you’re going to keep your eyes open, his hips are surging forward. When he sinks his cock into you again, a loud ‘squelch’ comes from your pussy, echoing throughout the tattoo studio.

“Good girl, y-you’re so pretty, ya gotta look…can’t waste a view like this.” He praises, his words shuttering every so often when he feels your cunt pulsate around him. It’s an addicting feeling, so tight, so warm. A soft, drawn out whine comes from your throat as you feel his thick length sink so deep into you, you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His fingers are still dancing along your clit, sending wave after wave of exhilarating pleasure throughout your body.

“God you feel so good, so fucking wet…” Nam-gyu huffs out, beginning to piston his hips into your ass, drawing in and out of your sopping heat in dizzying strokes. “Making such a- fucking hell- a fucking mess on my dick.” You watch the way his eyes are focused downwards, where you two are connected. Watching as the frothy white ring that forms around the base of his cock grows with each devious plap, plap, plap of his hips.

“S-so fucking big, sooo deeep.” You whine, your words slurred and drawn out, bouncing in time with each forward drive of his hips. His ego swells even bigger, your fucked out tone and babbled speech just makes him speed his thrusts up, a rumble reverberating in his chest when he sees the plush fat of your ass recoil and jiggle against his pelvis.

He releases his grip on your hair, your head falling forward, cheek resting on the leather of the chair, moth lolling open in silent gasps. His hands grip at the soft flesh of your ass, nails biting into the flesh as he rocks your ass back harder against him, slamming you back onto his cock so anytime he drives balls deep into your gushing cunt, the fat tip of his dick is pressing against your cervix in a way that’s making you delirious. “Yeah? Feels good? Tell me how good it feels.”

You’re drooling at this point, hands gripping helpless at the fabric of the bench. “Mhmm!!! So fucking good!” You cry out, “o-oh my god, so, so good!” One of your hands reaches backwards, gripping at the wrist of one of his arms desperately. “Thaaattss it…” he murmurs, his chest heaving, hips never letting up.

“Fuck yourself back against me, lemme see it.” You waste no time in following his orders, rocking your hips back to meet his thrusts. He expects you to go slow and work up to a faster speed…but no- you’re slamming your hips back against him with a violence that rivals his thrusts. You need to cum.

Nam-gyu thinks he’s in heaven, every time your ass meets his thighs he’s diving impossibly deep into you, stuffing you oh-so-full and stretching you incredibly wide. Anytime you pull away, you can feel the wetness that dirties his thighs and your ass string you two together in some macabre, pornographic connection.

It’s raw and carnal, Nam-gyu’s head tips back in pure bliss as your cunt greedily sucks him in. With each wet slap of your ass against his pelvis you’re driven further and further to your climax. Every time your hips piston backwards his fat cock is bulling itself against your g-spot. “R-right there!!” You cry out desperately, you need to cum.

“Yeah? Right there? That’s the spot?” Nam-Gyu huffs out, his hands digging even harder into the flesh of your ass, hips pile driving into you meeting every one of your backwards thrusts. He angles himself upwards the slightest bit, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you like a target. Your head shakes up and down in a frantic ‘yes’, babbled praises falling from your lips trying to spur him on.

He drives his hips meticulously into that spot over and over. It’s raw and carnal, each thrust is harder than the last and has you moaning out for him like the prettiest song. The tattoos etched into your lower back and hips ripple and stretch each time your ass recoils against him. “Fuck, look at you…” He coos, one of his hands releasing your hip to run back down to your cunt. His fingers run along your puffy folds, feeling the way you’re stretched so wide around him. “Taking it so well, just like I knew you would.”

Nam-gyu’s words go straight to your cunt, you knew he was hard while you were tattooing him but the verbal confirmation that he was thinking about fucking you that whole time just confirms it in the best way. “O-oh fuck, i-i think I’m g-gonna-“ your words are creaky and so broken up by moans, you can’t even finish what you wanted to say because it just feels too fucking good.

“Fuck, yes.” Nam-Gyu growls, his fingers moving up to your swollen clit and dancing along the pulsating bud in mind blowing circles. His tone is one that resonates deep within your mind, igniting every one of your nerves on fire. It was like those words were the ones he’s been dying to hear this whole night. “C’mon pretty girl, I need to f-feel…fuck! I need to feel you make a mess on my dick.”

Your eyes screw shut and you’re helplessly fucking yourself back on his cock, meeting each one of his mean thrusts to drive his cock so deep inside you. His fingers work deft circles on your clit, making even more of a mess of your pussy. You can feel of sloppy you’ve become, your arousal has dropped down your thighs and started to coat the tile below the two of you.

His thrusts are mean and deliberate, speeding up and driving into that sweet spot over and over her needs to feel you cum around him. Moan after moan falls from your lips, each one becoming more higher pitched than the last. You’re clenching around him tighter, spasming in a rhythm that nearly traps him inside your cunt. “F-fuck!! ‘m cumming! Ohmygodohmygod Nam-gyu!” It’s a babbled mess of his name and gasps of pleasure, your back arching even more, your hips shuddering in sloppy thrusts backwards until they stop completely.

Your orgasm makes your vision blurry, your ears ring, and your mind fill with static. When you cum, you cum so hard. Harder than you think you ever have. You’re gushing around him, sobbing out as your body shakes against him. Nam-gyu’s head is tipped back, eyes rolled so far back into his head that he swears he could see his skull. The vice like grip you had on his cock is hurling him towards his own end.

“F-fuck!” Nam-gyu nearly yells out, hips and fingers working you through your orgasm in sloppy movements. “W-where do you want it? F-fuck ya gotta tell me, ‘m so close.”

You can hardly make the words out to respond, but you need it badly, so after inhaling a large, heaving breath and answering him. “I-inside, w-want to feel it..hah!..p-please!” The words are slurred and damn near incoherent- but he hears them perfectly.

With a few more rough thrusts, he’s driving his hips flush with your ass, pushing his cock balls deep into you and cumming deep in your tight heat. You can feel every thick rope filling you up, prolonging your orgasm to the point where you can hardly breathe. His hips rock shallowly into you, making sure every last drop of his cum is pulled from his cock and painting your walls.

You both still, sweaty and breathless, bodies feeling like jelly. “Y-you came so much…” you whine, hips rolling against his mindlessly. Nam-gyu hisses, over sensitive, hand pulling away from your clit so he can hold both of your hips, stilling you. “Mhm…” he hums out, catching his breath, “couldn’t help it, pussy felt too fucking good.”

You smile dumbly, letting out a weak giggle and slumping against the leather bench. With every giggle you let out, your pussy clenches around him like a vice. Nam-Gyu slowly pulls out, his whole body shivering as he slides out of your cunt. He keeps his hands on your ass, spreading you open so he can watch as his cum seeps out of you in thigh globs that drop to the floor and mix with the mess you’ve already made.

His thumb glides over your pussy, smearing the mess as he admires it. “Now that’s a fuckin’ sight..” he hums out, chuckling slightly as you shake anytime his thumb runs over your overstimulated clit. Nam-gyu slides his hands back up your body as he leans down, placing a line of kisses across the back of your shoulder.

You smile when you feel the comforting weight of him over you, trapping you against the chair. You turn your face to try and look back at him, a blissed out smile on your lips. He meets you halfway, booking his face over your shoulder to capture your lips in a slow kiss. It’s languid and full of tongue. You can still taste yourself on his tongue.

“Aren’t we supposed to fuck after the first date?” You mutter against his lips, giggling softly. “Mmm…yeah I guess…but seems like we do things differently.” Nam-gyu says as he pulls away from the kiss, one of his hands is brushing hair out of your face. The next moment he’s holding his phone in your face open to a new contact screen. “Gotta give me your number so we can plan that date.” He says laughing, placing a kiss on your temple.

You can help but laugh, taking his phone and beginning to type in your contact information. Even adding a cute selfie of your fucked out face with makeup smeared and all to the contact as the photo- after your date and the many dates to come he could change it when he had more photos of you (or not).

You didn’t plan to get fucked stupid on your tattoo chair but you weren’t complaining at all, you were so glad he had made an appointment.

I hope you guys liked this one, it was on the back burner for a long while and I really wanted to finish it! I promise I’m still working hard at requests 🙏🙏 thank you all for your support!! Let me know what ya think of this one!! love yew guys!! - <3 kiwi

#nam gyu x reader smut #nam gyu smut #namgyu x reader #player124 x reader smut #player 124 x reader smut #player 124 x y/n #namgyu x y/n smut #namgyu smut #nam gyu squid game #namgyu fanfic #nam gyu x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game fanfiction #x reader squid games #nam gyu x reader smut fic #player 124 x reader #namgyu x reader smut fic #namgyu x reader smut #namgyu x y/n

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ilium-ilia · 3 days ago

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Everything You Touch

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | previously known as "soft spot" | masterlist

Chapter Six: smoldering butterflies

tw: none

“So, what rank are you?”

“Lieutenant.”

“Is that good?”

“Good enough.”

Sparse snowflakes flutter through the air like confused confetti as you and Simon meander throughout the tenebrous streets. It’s one of the rare nights that snow hits London, and though there’s not much of it, you know you appreciate this much more than the skin biting drops of rain that usually assaults the city. Glitter adorns the pavement as a thin layer of frost ices the path back to your apartment. Faded footprints already mar the surface. Smiling, you attempt to walk in time with them; stepping in the prints left by people who came before you.

A faint breeze weaves through the fabric of your clothes, prompting you to rub your hands over your arms in an attempt to fight off the sting. The warmth from the cinema—along with its popcorn and seemingly endless amount of Jelly Babies—offers some reprieve as it lingers on your skin, but it’s fleeting. It dissipates faster than smoke through the webbing of your fingers.

“Does that mean you get to lead other soldiers?” you continue just as your apartment building comes into view. Taking care to not slip on the slick rime, you rush up the steps, impatiently desiring the heat that lies just beyond the entryway door.

“Sometimes,” Simon answers simply. He follows behind you with long, slow steps as you lead him into the building and up the flights of steps leading to your flat. “There are others I have to answer to.”

You hum as you come across your door. Stiff fingers fumble with your keys as you shove it into the lock. One violent twist later and the door pops open, revealing the dull glow of your apartment beyond it.

“And then, what branch of the military are you in?” Stepping inside, the warmth of your home embraces you with thick arms, forcing your skin to defrost.

Simon pauses for a moment as he shuts and locks the door behind the two of you. “SAS.”

Brows pinching together, you work on kicking your shoes off in the entryway while Simon does the same with his boots. Though you’ve been playing twenty questions about his career, you hate to be faced with the fact that you know remarkably little about any of it at all. “I’m assuming that stands for something?”

“Special Air Service,” he explains simply.

You’re halfway into the living room when Simon explains this. His words stop you in your tracks as you twist on your heels with a grin. Shrugging your coat off of your shoulders, you point a finger at him as if you’ve caught him in the midst of some sort of act.

“I knew it!” you exclaim with a giggle. Once you’ve tossed your coat onto the hook on the wall, your hands and fingers morph as if you’re holding a pretend weapon. “High priority missions! Secret agent shit!”

“You make it sound more interesting than it really is,” Simon says dully.

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you plop yourself on your couch. It’s difficult to sink into the cushions when they’re too firm to be fully comfortable, but you make the most of it as you watch him wander around the room.

“It is interesting. You guys sound cool,” you insist.

“I never said we weren’t cool,” he says with dry humor.

Simon makes himself at home as he stands on the other side of the coffee table from you with his arms crossed. It’s one of his quirks, you’ve noticed—the distance he attempts to keep between the two of you. He keeps his space as if you’re a fire he doesn’t want to be burned by; or like he’s a chasm that he doesn’t want you to fall into. Each time you take a step closer, he steps back. For every brick that you remove in his wall, he adds two more.

But his eyes give him away—he can’t hide the benevolence that swims in the gloam of his gaze.

“Is that why you wear that mask all the time?” you ask softly. “Because of work?”

Simon tilts his head, and you very quickly find yourself regretting having asked that question. You think you might have removed one brick too many. “Somethin’ like that.”

Of course. Something like that. You’ve learned that’s the response he gives you when you’re too close to an answer he doesn’t want you to see. Hitting close to home, yet not quite making it there. He keeps you stuck outside of the house, trying to look through the windows with the curtains drawn. It’s easier for him to prevaricate than to burden you with the truth.

“Do you ever… take it off?” you then ask.

“Never,” he answers firmly.

You smirk, but it’s not enough to hide the way you’re squirming beneath his gaze. “Yeah? So you wear it while you sleep and bathe?”

“Naturally.”

Delusional—that’s what you are. You’re damn near delirious for expecting his answer would be anything more than a stoic deadpan. Really, you’re not sure what you’re thinking. Simon has never been anything less than a gentleman to you, yet he never shows his face, always keeps it shrouded behind a mask, and is in the special forces. The squelching sound of Eric’s jaw cracking still echoes in your mind even after all of these months.

Simon should terrify you.

Yet, the hands that sunk into the side of Eric’s face are the very same hands that you tenderly patched up. They’re the same ones who selflessly put your lamp together. They’re the same ones that now twitch as he studies you.

“But really,” you continue. Your voice adopts a tone of solemn curiosity as you trace the muffled line of his jaw with your eyes. “Why don’t you take it off?”

Simon's eyebrow quirks beneath his mask. “Do you want me to?”

Your reply catches in your throat where it festers and burns like poison.

Yes.

“I dunno,” you say instead.

Even without his thick work boots, Simon’s footsteps are sonorous against the hardwood floor as he carefully maneuvers around the coffee table. Neither of you look away from one another. His eyes bore into you as he sinks into the cushion on the couch next to you. Wide shoulders and thick thighs nearly take up his entire side as he settles in, hips rolling until he’s twisted to face you. You don’t know why you’ve never noticed it before, but he smells nice—clean like cedar, yet faintly like the cheap popcorn you indulged in at the cinema.

It’s nice; a far cry better from Eric’s stench of nicotine.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Why?”

“You always ask so many questions?” Simon isn’t irritated—rather, he’s amused. Ador bleeds into his eyes as he watches your lips quirk.

“Always.”

You stare at one another for a moment. He’s so close—enough for you to reach out and grab him; tangible like the immoveable side of a mountain—yet he’s so painfully far. Those butterflies that have been plaguing your stomach all week have decayed into nothing but ash, yet even in death they still smoulder.

Trusting him, you finally close your eyes. The unmistakable sound of rustling clothes fills your ears, and it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s removing his balaclava. Freezing, you keep still as if you’ll scare Simon off if you move so much as an inch. His movements echo through the cushions as he leans forward, fingers brushing against the back of your hands. Thick thumbs press into your palms as he raises your hands from your lap and brushes them against the side of his unmasked face.

“Have at it,” he murmurs.

Afraid of going too fast, you slowly let go of his hands so that you can cup his cheeks. He allows you to explore him with your eyes closed—to feel every inch of his face. Rough stubble pokes the pads of your fingers as you trace his jaw and chin, but it’s interrupted by a fair bit of raised skin. A scar—it’s short but deep. There’s more of them scattered throughout his face. There’s one that dissects his left eyebrow, and another that dances along his cheekbone.

Your efforts become more brave as you continue to explore him. His nose is strong and angled with a noticeable bump on the bridge, and as you trace all the way to the tip of his nose, you take note of how it veers slightly to the right. Nearly straight, but not quite. His breath is warm on your fingers as you dance along his lips, and you feel a huff hit your face as you attempt to wander below his jaw.

Large hands come up to ensnare yours the moment you brush against his throat, preventing you from trespassing where you shouldn’t. All moisture leaves your mouth. “Sorry.”

“Didn’t think you’d wander so far so quick,” he quips. You’d roll your eyes if they weren’t already closed.

“Your ID doesn’t show the scar on your cheek,” you say instead. Carefully, you slip your hand out of his to return it back to his face. The pads of your fingers gently run over the thick tissue of his scar; it’s deeper than any canyon but it feels like you’re tracing the road back home.

“I heard some women find scars attractive.” Once again, Simon’s dry humor is showing. A choked sort of laugh rumbles in your chest as you gently shake your head as you chew on the side of your mouth.

“Maybe if they’re on men.”

Within an instant, Simon’s fingers are cupping your chin. Your heart flutters in your chest as a sour memory resurfaces to bubble beneath your skin. Eric grabbed you like this once—all because of dirty dishes. Even now you still feel the way his nails dug into your flesh. But Simon’s touch doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t dig into your skin as if searching for something you owe. His grip is delicate as his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, lingering on the scar that still taints your skin. Your heart pounds so violently you fear it might break free from your ribs.

“A few more and you’ll look as dashing as I do,” he says, fingers still lingering on your skin.

“Are you always this much of a sweet-talker?” you ask. Your attempt to goad falls flat when you realize just how breathless you are within his grasp.

“No,” Simon answers bluntly. “Just for you.”

You’re not sure how it happens, or who closes the distance, but you find your lips colliding with Simon’s in some unexpectedly gentle way. Those smoldering butterflies in your stomach resurrect with a vengeful fury as his warmth bleeds into you. They thrash around in your stomach with wings of fire as Simon’s hand falls away from your chin, opting to instead press his hand against yours as if reveling in your touch on his cheek. Despite his rough edges, he’s delicate. He does not nip and bite—he does not rip you to shreds. He simply embraces you with a devotion you never thought anyone would ever be able to muster for you.

It takes everything in you to hold back your protest as he pulls away from the kiss. The absence of him leaves your stomach churning with those incessant insects who demand more under the threat of immolating you. Simon pulls you away from his face but still holds you as he lowers your joined hands towards your laps.

“Still keeping your eyes closed after all that?” he asks, the baritone of his voice rumbling you to your core.

Taking his invitation, you finally open your eyes. In an odd way, he looks exactly how he felt. You recognize his strong, slightly crooked nose, the deep scars on his cheek and eyebrow, and strong jawline. A smile breaks out on your lips as you realize that you know Simon Riley by touch alone, and yet he still allows you to peel back his layers to witness all the softer parts of him he’d rather obscure.

“There he is,” you say softly.

“Been here the whole time, sweetheart.”

It nearly kills Simon to leave you when spring begins to roll around the corner. When he’s not in London, he finds himself mentally tracing the curves of your lips and recalling the weight of your jaw in the palm of his hand—it nearly drives him mad. Ghost lurks in the dark corners of his mind, urging him to forget about you, but you follow him everywhere. Even here in the midst of this blistering hot desert, you accompany him in the form of a handkerchief and the tingling in his lips.

The rising sun casts a warm glow across the otherwise bleak cloth as he rubs a gloved thumb over the threads. There are some days when he looks at his gift and recalls the ichor that stained your skin that day at the bank. Sometimes it’s so vivid in his mind that he half expects to see your freshly marred skin when he looks at you, but these days he finds himself thinking about how—despite the scar—soft you are against his mouth.

This goddamn handkerchief. He ought to leave it behind, but he can’t—not when it’s the only thing he has halfway across the world that reminds him of you.

“How’s Wisp?”

Well versed fingers expertly fold the handkerchief up as Simon turns around. Annoyance evident on his face even from behind his mask, he shoves the cloth into his pocket as he faces Johnny. The man stares at him with vibrant eyes as the sun illuminates his tanned skin.

“What’re you on about?” he questions bluntly.

“Wisp,” Johnny repeats. His hands reach up to rest on the straps of his vest as he leans forward with a grin. “Your bird.”

Shaking his head, Simon carefully shoves his fingers into his back pocket, ensuring that the handkerchief isn’t sticking out before he walks past Johnny and mutters:

“Comedian, you are.”

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | get early access to chapters here

#ilium writing #sr ilia #everything you touch #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader

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demon-at-peace · 1 day ago

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DP + DC ficlet

Hi just a short bit of an idea I had, totally non cannon, I basically had an idea and rolled with it,

----

Danny Fenton had died and no one even noticed, no one even cared. At 14 he had stepped into the portal and he died, and he lived. He died a thousand times, and he lived. He was a halfa, a curious being one from myths. No one noticed, and he continued, to live, to fight, except he was dead. He killed pariah dark at 16. He fought with everything he had. He became a king, the ruler of the dead. But he was too alive for the dead and too dead for the living.

At sixteen he died screaming, he died a second time, and he did not come back. Danny Fenton died that day and Phantom remained, and no one mourned either of them. He escaped, he ran, and he gave up in the living. No he served the dead. He gave them peace. He mourned them.

Perhaps he looked strange, but no one asked why he wore black, no one questioned his affinity for solving cases, they never did notice he was merely talking to the victim. He wasn't some genius. He was asked for help eventually, a cold case in Gotham he was asked to take a look at, and he complied, he took the case, and smiled at the shades.

And the shades smiled back and they watched him with curious eyes. They were quieter than other shades Danny talked too, they didn't care about their murders they cared about their avengers, the Gotham shades didn't want revenge, they had already been revenged, by Batman.

Really it was funny the way they talked about him, they were so terribly fond of him. Red Hood would be even more popular if not for the fact that he killed some of the shades. Robin had a good reputation, but the newest robin, he was fear, he snapped and hissed, he was angry. Red Robin, who laughed and talked, who was ever so calm, he had the best reputation among the dead.

Even though they talked about the bats and birds, they still talked about their deaths, they gave him names and faces. It was a week after he'd come to Gotham that he finally reached the shade he needed to talk too. He didn't smile, he never smiled when dealing with death. "Pleasure to meet you, Tim Drake Wayne isn't it?"

The shades head snapped up, and Danny stared into icy blue eyes, "My name isn't Wayne!" he spits. Danny however is barely listening, the only thing he can think about is the domino mask on the shades face. Scratched and marred, covered in blood.

"I suppose not," Danny agrees still staring at the ruined suit, "I suppose this case is a dead end, assuming you died as robin?"

"Please, as if I'm still robin," he scoffs, "But who are you? Or perhaps what are you? After all you can see me and I'm dead," He asks curiously.

----

Yeah not cannon at all, idk if I'll continue it but it was fun to write,

Bye :)

#danny fenton #dpxdc #tim drake #detective danny #dead tim #fuck cannon

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thewitchblue · 17 hours ago

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"Did you join the fucking military?"

Jason asked Tim, who blinked blankly at Jason until he noticed what he was holding. Jason was holding your military tags, which Tim's selfishly kept to himself when you "lost" them. Technically, he stole the tags from you, but you can always get a new set. You'll be matching! He did feel a little bad that you got in trouble with leadership when you asked for new ones, but he's sure you'd be fine without the old pair.

"No."

Tim didn't elaborate further. The tags have practically lived on him since he stole them. He only ever takes them off for showers, which is how Jason found them. Jason scoffed,

"Good. You'd be a shit soldier. Why do you have military dog tags?"

Tim tried to take them back, but Jason held them above his head. Your dog tags are air jailed until he gets answers. Jason needed to know.

"Answer or I'll find a place to smelt them down."

Tim knew he was serious by the gleam in Jason's eyes, so he said,

"My girlfriend is in a special forces unit for the marines. She refuses to tell me which unit she's in, but I've narrowed it down."

Jason was too stunned to notice that he dropped your dog tags. Tim snatched them off the floor and put them safely around his neck again and tucked under his shirt where they belonged. He likes to say that you're closer to his heart with your tags under his shirt with the bonus of protecting him from any potential bullets. Even when you are gone, you promise that you will always come back. He's used to your deployment and the limbo you have him in.

"When do I get to meet her?"

Dick said from the doorway. He was passing by and overheard. His little Timmy has a girlfriend? When did that happen?

Tim touches the tags while thinking of what to reveal and what to keep private. He's never been good at respecting privacy, but he has been learning for you. He knows to keep anything you say to him a secret, but what about other things relating to you?

"Whenever she wants. I'm not her keeper."

Tim answered vaguely. He's flying to see you soon, and he doesn't want to be followed. You've been together for three years, but you met kind of awkwardly. You tackled him to the ground and wrestled with him after mistaking him for one of your friends.

Your willpower eventually overcame his reflexes, and he stopped struggling. You had laughed when you pinned him down and ruffled his hair in victory. It was embarrassing to him how quickly he submitted to you. He watched your eyes widen when you noticed he's not your friend. You took in the scene too slowly. You, straddling who you had assumed was your friend with your hands pinning his wrists to both sides of his head, and Tim blushing underneath you. Tim didn't know how to react either, so you both stared at each other before you started awkwardly apologising.

Tim was a mess, but he was an adorable mess. His hair was ruffled, and his clothes were wrinkled, but there were no bruises nor any scrapes. You were always careful to leave no injuries. He was breathless, just staring at you with wide eyes and a shyness that almost made you smile. He was so cute that you wanted to squish him.

You quickly got off of him once you realised how long you've been staring at him. You pulled him up from the ground when he didn't make a move to stand by himself and actually almost fell right back to the ground because his legs refused to work for him. He was understandly stunned.

This is awkward. How do you explain the tradition of you fighting your friend on sight? Your friend does the exact same thing with you. It was excellent training for your deployment to fight each other on sight without any prep. Enemy soldiers aren't going to reveal themselves before attacking, so surprise attacks help keep your reflexes sharp.

"Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

He couldn't get the image of you pinning him down out of his head. Nobody has ever pinned him down so intimately. You were gentle. Your hold would have been easy to break out of if he didn't stop struggling. It was like you only played until one of you got pinned, and then the fight was over.

Tim was still trying to remember how to function. What does he do? What does he say? He's all shaken up. He had to look away from you. He managed to say,

"It's fine."

He tried to sound like it was no big deal, but it sounded strained. He was pretending like the wrestling really took it out of him by fake panting, but you both knew better. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but pat his back and attempted to leave.

Attempted, being the key word. Tim caught your wrist loosely and nervously said,

"I, uh... would you... Can we... Let's... I'm sorry."

He didn't have the words with you looking at him like that. He was nervous. You smiled softly at him, and he forgot how to speak entirely. He could only stare until you took the initiative and asked him to go on a date before you leave for boot camp. He nodded, and that was that. You gave him your number and continued your run like nothing happened.

The date went amazing. It was a bit unconventional as you took him to a paint gun fight after showing him the gun and explaining the rules. You grinned every time he landed a hit and even wiped away the paint that splattered onto him with a fond expression. You opened up about the fear you have about joining the military, but your desire to help. You want to make a difference, however small or large that may be.

You kissed the bruising wounds softly and banaged the bleeding ones before he could even reach for the first aid kit you brought. You helped him up with a wild grin, and he kissed you until the adrenaline ran out. The guns were empty, and you both were messes, but your hearts were full, and Tim can safely say he hates paintballing. You took him to see a movie like a normal person next date.

Jason and Dick watched their brother soften further and further as he went down memory lane. Dick was ecstatic and already plotting to meet you, but Jason was confused why anybody would date Tim. Yeah, he's had his fair share of partners, but he's surprised every time he gets a date, let alone a girlfriend.

You were his mystery girl, and their family loves a good mystery.

#tim drake x reader #fem!reader #batfam x reader

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jisungiesvzz · 1 day ago

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Hii I absolutely loves ur fanfic!! Would u mind doing a jeongin version on unexpected?

I'm sorry this took so long to write! I’ve been having heavy workloads from school and I've also had writers block ugh. Anyways, I hope you enjoy :).

Crossing Lines

Idol!Jeongin x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing lessons, making out, neck kissing

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: please let me know if I missed warnings, otherwise enjoy :)

Versions: Hyunjin // Han // Jeongin

—

The afternoon sun streams through Jeongin's apartment windows, casting golden hues across the living room. You sit cross-legged on the floor, a small velvet pouch between your fingers as you rummage through its contents.

"I still can't believe I forgot my jewelry," you sigh, carefully examining a silver chain with a small fox pendant. "You sure you don't mind me borrowing yours?"

Jeongin smiles from his position on the couch, phone in hand as he scrolls through his social media feed, hoping to run across a good hang out spot near you. "What's mine is yours, y/n. Three years of friendship earns you jewelry-borrowing privileges."

Giving him a soft smile, you hold up one of his earrings to the light, a simple silver hoop that catches the sunbeam and sparkles.

"It's scary how well you know me," you laugh, sorting through more pieces. "Like, you knew I'd forget something tonight."

"That's why I always keep extra stuff around for you," he replies, setting his phone down. "I am fully prepared for Hurricane Y/N."

You playfully throw a small cushion at him, which he catches effortlessly. You can't imagine your life without these little moments—the casual hang outs in his apartment, the inside jokes, the way he always seems to understand exactly what you need.

"Hey, remember that truth or dare game at Chan's party last week?" Jeongin suddenly asks, a tint of curiosity in his voice.

You groan, instantly knowing where this was heading. "Please, not this again."

"I'm just saying," he continues, sitting up straighter, "I was surprised when you said you've never been kissed. I mean, you're twenty-two!"

You feel your cheeks warm, lowering your voice to a near mumble. "So? Some people are late bloomers..."

"It's not a bad thing," Jeongin says quickly. "I just... I don't know, I just assumed you had."

You shrug, suddenly finding the jewelry in your hands incredibly fascinating. "I guess I've just never found the right person... or the right moment."

A weighted silence settles between you, unusual in its intensity. You can feel Jeongin's eyes on you, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"I could teach you."

The words hang in the air, simple yet earth-shattering. Your head snaps up, certain you've misheard.

"Teach me what?"

Jeongin's expression is unreadable, a mix of nervousness and something else you can't quite place. "How to kiss. If you want."

You feel like the air has been sucked from the room. This is Jeongin—your best friend, the person who holds your hair back when you're sick and who can make you laugh until your sides hurt.

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?" you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, attempting nonchalance though you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. "Only if we make it weird. It's just a skill, like teaching someone to drive or cook."

"A skill," you repeat skeptically.

"Yeah," he says, sliding down from the couch to sit across from you on the floor. "And then when you meet someone you actually want to kiss, you'll be ready."

You bite your lip, considering the possibility. The idea sends butterflies swarming through your stomach, but there's also a strange sense of... curiosity.

"Nothing would change between us?" you ask cautiously.

Jeongin shakes his head firmly. "Nothing. We're best friends first, always. This would just be me helping you out."

You take a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Yes. Teach me." You confirm, your heart pounding through your chest.

Jeongin moves closer, his movements careful and deliberate. "So first, it helps if you face each other," he explains, his voice lower than usual.

You readjust your position, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you and him. The jewelry laying forgotten on the floor beside you.

"Usually there's eye contact," he continues, and you force yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes—those familiar eyes you've looked into a thousand times—now seem different, deeper somehow.

You tried convincing yourself that it’s just kissing lessons but something about kissing him feels more intimate than it should.

"Then what?" you whisper.

"Then, one person usually leans in. Sometimes both." His hand comes up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, and you feel your breath catch. "Sometimes there's touching. Like this."

His fingers trace a feather-light path along your jawline, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. The sensation sends shivers down your spine.

"And then?" Your voice is barely audible now.

Instead of answering, Jeongin leans forward, closing the distance between you. His lips press against yours, gentle and questioning. Your eyes flutter closed instinctively, your hand tentatively reaching up to rest on his shoulder.

The kiss is soft, a brief moment of connection that ends almost as quickly as it began. Jeongin pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

"That's the basics," he says, his voice rough around the edges. "A simple first kiss."

You nod, unable to form words. Your lips tingle where his had been, and you find yourself wanting more—a realization that both thrills and terrifies you.

He's your best friend. Right…?

As if reading your thoughts, Jeongin speaks again. "Then there are... deeper kisses."

"S-show me..." you whisper, surprising yourself with your boldness.

This time when he leans in, there's an urgency that wasn't there before. His lips capture yours more confidently, one hand cradling your face while the other slides around your waist, drawing you closer. You respond instinctively, your fingers tangling in his hair, gently tugging at the strands.

What started as a lesson quickly transformed into something neither of you anticipated. The kiss deepened and you feel yourself being gently guided backward until you're lying on the floor, Jeongin hovering above you, your lips never parting.

When you finally break apart, both breathing heavily, you stare up at him in wonder. His hair is disheveled where your fingers have been, his eyes dark and intense.

"Innie…" you breathe, not knowing what else to say.

Without a word, he dives right back in, capturing your lips with a newfound hunger. There's no hesitation now, his movements filled with a hunger you’ve never seen before — his body pressing down against yours making you gasp into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, any thoughts of keeping distance between you long forgotten.

"There's more I can teach you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with want. Before you can respond, his mouth begins to trail along your jawline, leaving a path of fire in its wake.

"Different types of kisses," he explains between soft pecks along your skin, "are for different sensations."

Your breath hitches as his lips reach the sensitive spot just below your ear. Instinctively, your head tilts to give him better access, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"Like here," he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Then his lips press against your neck, gentle at first, then with increasing pressure. The sensation is entirely new to you, electric pulses shooting through your body with each kiss.

"Innie," you gasp, overwhelmed by the feeling.

His hand slides up to cradle the other side of your neck, a small smile forming on his lips at the nick name as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, his kisses become more intense. You feel the gentle graze of his teeth, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue against your pulse point, a soft moan falling from your lips as he repeated the action.

"Some people," he murmurs against your skin, "are more sensitive here than on their lips." As if to demonstrate, he places an open-mouthed kiss at the space where your neck meets your shoulder, causing you to arch involuntarily against him.

You're lost in sensation, any remaining thoughts about this being just a lesson completely gone. Your hands roam across his back, pulling him closer as he continues his thorough exploration of your neck.

When he finally returns to your lips, the kiss is different—deeper, more confident, as though he's staking a claim. You respond with equal fervor, the taste of him now familiar yet intoxicating.

As Jeongin pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, a small smile plays at his lips. "So," he says softly, "how was your first lesson?"

"I- I don't know what to say," you softly gasped, still recovering your breath.

Placing a soft peck on your lips, he sits up off the ground, gently taking your hand in his. "Come on. Let's go finish our original plans for the day."

Heart beating through your chest, you let him guide you off the ground and through the front door — the heated moment hanging in the air. A small part of you wishing it hadn't ended.

—

The next evening, you were in Stray Kids' dorm, squeezed comfortably between Jeongin and Hyunjin on the large sectional sofa. Chan had insisted on a movie night—something about needing to unwind after their intense practice schedule—and naturally, as Jeongin's best friend, you were included in the invitation.

What the others don't know is how everything changed between you and Jeongin just twenty-four hours ago.

The memory of his lips on yours, on your neck, makes your cheeks flush even now. You've spent most of today exchanging knowing glances, the anticipation of seeing him again had your stomach in knots all day.

"Everyone good with the movie choice?" Chan asks, remote in hand as he navigates through Netflix.

You barely register what film he selected—some action thriller the group has been wanting to watch. All you can focus on is Jeongin's proximity; the subtle scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his body next to yours.

"Y/N, want some?" Felix offers you the bowl of popcorn from across the coffee table.

"Thanks," you murmur, reaching for it. As you settle back with the bowl, Jeongin shifts closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours.

The lights dim as Chan starts the movie. Under the cover of darkness, Jeongin's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours between your bodies where no one else can see. Such a simple touch shouldn't send your heart racing, but after last night, everything is different.

Twenty minutes into the film, you're not following the plot at all. How could you, when Jeongin's thumb is tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand? When his breath occasionally tickles your ear as he leans over to whisper some joke about the movie?

By the thirty-minute mark, his hand had moved to your knee, resting there casually as though it belongs. The weight of it burns through the fabric of your jeans.

Halfway through the movie, during a particularly intense action sequence that has everyone's attention fixed on the screen, Jeongin's hand begins to move. Slowly, torturously, his fingers trace upward along your thigh, just far enough to make your breath hitch, gently squeezing the flesh.

You shoot him a warning glance, but the innocent smile he gives you in return is betrayed by the mischievous glint in his eyes. He knows exactly what he's doing.

His hand retreats momentarily when Changbin gets up to refill drinks, but as soon as everyone is settled again, it returns—this time sliding to your inner thigh, his touch feather-light but unmistakably close to where you could feel yourself growing needy. Your body responds immediately, heat pooling low in your abdomen, his hand now venturing into territory that makes your pulse quicken and your thoughts get jumbled up.

When his fingers inch higher, gently squeezing your thigh, you nearly jump. It's too much—the darkened room, his members just feet away, completely oblivious, and Jeongin's touch threatening to unravel you entirely.

"Bathroom," you whisper, standing abruptly. Jisung pauses the movie, looking up at you questioningly.

"Just need a quick bathroom break," you explain, forcing a casual smile. "Don't wait up, I've seen this part."

You slip away from the living room, heart hammering against your ribs as you make your way down the hallway. The cool bathroom tiles are a relief under your feet as you close the door behind you, leaning against it and exhaling slowly.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, turning to face the mirror — your reflection showing flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

Splashing cold water on your face, you hear a soft knock at the door.

"Y/N?" Jeongin's voice is low, just audible enough for you to hear. "You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, you open the door just enough to see him standing there, concern etched across his features—though the darkness of his eyes tells another story.

"I'm fine," you whisper. "We should get back before they—"

Before you can finish, Jeongin has slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The bathroom suddenly feeling much smaller with him in it, the air between you charged with tension.

"What are you doing?" you ask, voice sounding small.

"I couldn't help myself," he admits, closing the distance between you. "Sitting next to you, not being able to really touch you... it's driving me crazy."

"Your members are right outside," you remind him, even as your body betrays you by leaning toward his.

"They're absorbed in the movie," he counters, his hands finding your waist. "Besides, I told them you weren't feeling well and I was checking on you."

"And they believed that?"

A small smile plays at his lips. "Felix gave me a knowing look, but the others are clueless."

Your protest dies in your throat as Jeongin presses you gently against the wall, his body flush against yours. Any restraints from before evaporated into thin air as his lips capture yours in a kiss that's hungry and desperate.

Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue meets yours. This isn't the careful instructional kiss from yesterday—this is raw need, months of pent-up desire finally breaking free.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt to touch and squeeze the bare skin at your waist. "About you."

Your response is lost as his mouth moves to your neck, finding the sensitive spots he discovered yesterday. The sensation pulls a soft moan from you, which Jeongin quickly silences with another kiss.

"Quiet," he whispers, a teasing glint in his eye. "Unless you want everyone to hear."

The thought of being caught should terrify you, but instead, it only heightens everything—the racing of your pulse, the heat of his touch, the urgency of your kisses.

His hand slides back to your thigh, higher than he dared in the living room, his fingers tracing patterns that make your breath catch. When he presses his hips against yours, you can feel exactly how much he wants you.

"Innie," you gasp as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot below your ear.

“Fuck, y/n.” he grumbles against your neck, softly nipping and licking at the skin there, eliciting more moans from you.

“Innie, ngh, you’re gonna l-leave marks,” you whined, your defiance falling short as you arched into him.

“We should stop,” he mumbles between open mouthed kisses.

You both knew you should, but neither of you make an effort to move.

A sudden knock on the door makes you both freeze.

"Y/N? Jeongin?" It's Chan's voice. "Everything okay in there? Movie's almost over."

Removing himself from your neck, Jeongin clears his throat. "We're fine, hyung. Y/N just felt a little dizzy. We'll be out in a minute."

"Okay," Chan replies, though you can hear the question in his tone. "We're thinking of ordering food after."

Footsteps retreat down the hallway, and you both release the breath you've been holding.

Jeongin's forehead drops to yours, a small laugh escaping him. "That was close."

"Yeah," you let out breathy laugh. "We should get back."

He nods, stepping back reluctantly, but not before pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips. "This isn't over yet," he promises, his voice low with intention.

As you straighten your clothes and Jeongin attempts to fix his hair, you catch his eye in the mirror. The boy who was just your best friend yesterday now looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees weak.

"Ready?" he asks, hand on the doorknob.

You nod, knowing that while you're about to return to a room full of his members and pretend nothing has changed, everything has. The line you crossed yesterday isn't just crossed—it's been erased entirely, replaced by something new and thrilling and completely uncharted.

As Jeongin opens the door, his hand finds yours for just a moment, giving it a squeeze before letting go. It's a promise of what's to come, once you're alone again.

And suddenly, you can't wait for this movie night to end.

#jeongin #jeongin x reader #stray kids #skz x reader #jeongin fluff #jeongin smut #yang jeongin #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin angst

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sevsgiirl · 3 hours ago

Text

— do the girls back home touch you like I do?

sevika x insecure!reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: having feelings for the most feared woman in zaun had more cons than it did pros - her being popular amongst women and a regular at the brothel just to name a few. it hurt because you knew with her history there’s no way she’d return your feelings… right?

word count: 5.5k words.

tags: insecure!reader, jealousy, miscommunication, public sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, porn with feelings, top!sevika, bottom!reader.

it was silly, honestly.

you knew it was a shot in the dark for sevika to reciprocate your feelings. much or less consider you an option on her roster.

sevika gets around. there was no denying that, and you’ve come to terms with it the second you caught these stupid little feelings that just wouldn’t go away. no matter how hard you tried.

you assumed it would. back when silco hired you to be his informant, you saw the opportunity as nothing more but an upgrade from your previous jobs. it’s safe to say, you’ve gone through a lot just to get to where you are now. whether it was scrubbing the floors of a dingy, run-down diner that made jericho’s look like a michelin star restaurant, to going as far as thinking about working at babette’s.

but then silco saw some potential in you that not a lot of people have seen before, and you were grateful for it. a lot of your co-workers were tolerable, just as long as you looked past the carnage of their jobs, it was pretty easy to get by when working for silco because he never really asked you to get your hands dirty.

no, he asked sevika to do that.

you knew she was different from the others the second you laid eyes on her. she remained unyielding in the eyes of catastrophe, she gets the job done no matter how tedious the assignments were, and she navigates through life like an enigma.

you were intimidated by her at first. when she walked into a room, her presence demanded to be felt, crowds of people would always make space for her to walk through and she could silence someone with just the heat of her glare. it was then you understood why she was silco’s number two.

but despite her brooding personality, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards her. maybe it was the allure of wanting something you can’t have, but every time you were sent on a mission with her, this desire to know her better always tempted you. even though you wouldn’t know the first thing to say to strike up a conversation with the older woman, you couldn’t deny that what you felt was beyond just physical attraction. you were intrigued by everything about her.

it tethered the line of obsession but hadn’t quite got there yet, the better way to describe it was infatuation.

she’d occupy your thoughts but not so much to the point that she was all you thought about, but when you did, you had to force yourself to snap out of it before it became borderline creepy, and you wanted to justify your feelings thinking she wouldn’t feel the same in a million years.

not only that, but her reputation precedes her.

you knew your hesitation to make a move stemmed more from just being shy or thinking you wouldn’t get along with the older woman, and it was because her sexual proclivities scared the hell out of you.

again, she gets around, far more than most people. before you worked for silco, rumors regarding his second in command traveled through the streets of zaun in whispers, whether it was good or bad, it didn’t really matter.

one detail that caught the attention of many, specifically those of women, were her frequent nights spent at the gardens. you couldn’t deny that aside from being incredibly scary, so much of sevika’s appeal came from her appearance as well - her tall stature, impressive built, corded muscles, the rigged lines and hard angles of her face. she was just as beautiful as she was domineering.

that’s why it didn’t surprise you that women tend to set aside her notoriety in hopes of sleeping with her, but that doesn’t mean the thought didn’t cause your insides to flare up with jealousy.

as mentioned, you thought about working for babette at one point. when your low paying jobs in the past couldn’t suffice to get you through the week, the idea came to mind on some occasions. but you knew it wasn’t easy work, not to mention your looks paled in comparison to the girls you’d seen working there. all slim waists, toned arms, long legs, big tits and even bigger asses.

you didn’t possess any of the traits that made the girls there appealing.

you just set aside the idea because your ego wasn’t big enough to make you think you were up for the job, and knowing that’s where sevika prefers to spend most of her nights made your insecurities worse.

especially when she’d stroll through the last drop late at night littered with hickeys and bite marks around her neck that she’d let the world see without shame, and how you’d just ogle at them with the ugliest emotions churning in the pits of your stomach.

it didn’t help when silco’s men would poke fun at her for it “damn, was the night that rough? you gotta take it easy on those girls.” they’d joke as a sly grin would make its way on her face.

“they love it,” would be her response, which would earn a roar of laughter from the group meanwhile you’d walk away after eavesdropping, with a heaviness in your chest that wasn’t there minutes ago as you tried to erase the image of sevika indulging herself with countless women.

you understood the intention behind it. you knew it was her way of escaping the stress of silco’s workload, and having sex with multiple women was just as much of a coping mechanism as gambling and drinking was.

that doesn’t mean it wasn’t any less painful to think about, even though you knew you couldn’t have stood a chance.

because how could you? who even were you in the bustling, chaotic world that is sevika’s life? if simply nothing more than just her co-worker?

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

you didn’t think she’d ever acknowledge you outside of work.

you’ve had your fair share of interactions but it was all professional so those don’t count. you were delusional but you weren’t delusional enough to think that your quick conversations about paychecks and shipment were considered bonding.

it wasn’t until an incident transpired in one of her missions where silco asked you to come along, and it so happened that the firelights decided it was a good day to ambush you, sevika and the rest of the team.

you cowered away from the commotion because it’s not like you possessed any of sevika’s combative skills. you were an informant, for crying out loud.

but you weren’t quick on your feet, and when the leader of the firelights threw one of their bombs in your direction you were crystallized in place near the cargos, unable to move.

you knew the crystals would dissolve after five minutes, you were aware of how their weapons worked, but the fear of being unable to move still stressed you out, and as you kept squirming you caught sevika’s eye who was immobilized herself.

one thing led to another, silco’s daughter came up from underneath the airship and began firing at the firelights, grazing you with one of her bullets as you let out an agonizing scream in response.

suffice to say, the mission went horribly and everyone who go out was reprimanded by silco, because of course he’d never put the blame on jinx. while you on the other hand, were hunched over the bar later that night, nursing your sides that were still bleeding due to jinx’s mishap.

thieram was more than happy to help, aiding you with your injury but your pain tolerance wasn’t necessarily high, so every time he dabbed you with the wash cloth dunked in alcohol, you couldn’t help it as you let out a wince, clutching thieram’s forearm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, cringing at your pitiful state “I don’t know how-“

“move it.”

your eyes widened as the shadow of sevika’s tall silhouette casted over you, pushing past thieram while she took the bottle of alcohol and cloth from him. she nodded at you for you to raise your shirt up.

“let me see the wound,”

blushing, you were debating whether or not you should let sevika see you in such a compromising position, but she probably only wanted to help and couldn’t care less about seeing you exposed.

so you did as you were told and let her press her large palm onto your rib where a lot of the bleeding came from.

you hissed, gripping the sides of the bar and sevika cursed “fucking jinx,”

you shook your head “it’s okay, it’s not that big of a de-“

“but it is,” she grumbled “if only she did her fucking job and didn’t lose her shit, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

gulping, you tried not to overthink her choice of words and how she only focused on your injury and not the rest, considering you weren’t the only one who got the brunt of it.

“it’s fine, I’m just worried if the others are tending to their injuries.”

“don’t worry about them,” she muttered “they’re built for these kinds of things, you aren’t.”

you snickered, pretending to take offense “excuse me? are you calling me weak?”

sevika couldn’t hide her amusement, wiping away at the little blood smeared on your lower stomach.

“not weak,” she replied “I just don’t think a pretty little thing like you is meant for this kind of work. you’re not equipped for it.”

“I can look out for myself, you know.”

she hummed, her grey eyes staring up at you “maybe, but still. it’d be better if you didn’t need to.”

you tried not to let her words get to you, and calling you a pretty little thing didn’t help with your growing infatuation. perhaps she was just playing coy with you, you thought.

but then silco continued to let you join in on her missions, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered every time she’d ask you to ‘keep close behind’ or how she’d shield you with her massive frame every time danger was imminent.

if she couldn’t trust you to look out for yourself, then she did it for you.

you wanted to excuse it thinking since she’s already lost so much men she didn’t want your name to be crossed off on the list as well. but that doesn’t mean you stopped dwelling on it.

especially when on most nights where she’d catch you in the last drop, she’d ask you to have a drink with her. going as far as to teach you how to play cards when you’d watch her gamble with the rest of silco’s men and how she’d win every time.

“you’re so good at this,” you said in awe during one of her games which earned a chuckle from her.

you were seated right next to sevika, not too close but not too far apart either, that sometimes you’d feel her elbow brushing against yours.

“want me to teach you then?”

“hey, that’s not fair, how come she gets to have you as her teacher while we’re stuck here getting our asses beat?” one of the men she was playing with chided in.

she only ignored him, flipping her cards over to reveal she’s won yet again, making them groan “then play better.” she quipped, turning over to you with a smirk on her face.

you swore butterflies almost erupted out of your belly. she was so smug, but radiant in her victory that you couldn’t even bring yourself too feel bad for the others, if you’d get to see her this way all the time, you hoped she’d win all of her games.

the guy huffed, taking a swig from his beer as he looked up at her, grinning “I dropped by the gardens today, by the way. lily said she missed you.”

you froze as those words left his mouth, but sevika remained ambivalent by the information as she shuffled her cards “I’ve just had a lot on my plate,” and perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you, but you swore you caught her eyeing you for a brief moment.

“well, better not to keep those girls waiting. you know you’re their favorite,” the table laughed and sevika couldn’t help herself from joining along.

“ain’t that right,” she said, chuckling.

you gulped, feeling a lump in your throat as you forced yourself not to spew something bitter because really, who were you to act jealous over who sevika chooses to spend her time with?

she may act flirtatious with you from time to time but it’s not like it meant anything. you wanted to set it aside, and tell yourself it was just never going to happen. spend less time with her if you need to.

but as if it fate wanted to play a joke on you both, that was thrown out the window when one night, sevika came stumbling into the last drop all battered and bruised. her prosthetic dangling from her arm in ruined wires while she tried her best to steady herself as she walked in.

instinctively, you rushed to her side and examined her state “sevika, oh my god.”

she groaned “it’s not a big de-“

“like hell it is,” you reprimanded as you told thieram to fetch the first aid kit and inform silco of sevika’s condition.

she was against it but you simply silenced her, pulling up a chair as you pushed her down “you need to be more careful.” you said.

“stop fussing over me, I’m built for these kinds of things. it’s my job.”

“just because it’s your job doesn’t mean you have to be so reckless! you’re more than just silco’s killing machine. you can’t keep putting your life on the line like this.”

sevika remained silent before soft laughter bubbled out of her, making you raise an eyebrow.

“I guess this makes us even.”

“what?”

“from when you got hit by jinx’s bullets,” she said as realization dawned on you “I guess we’re even now.“

you rolled your eyes at that “I’m not doing this because I owe it to you. you’re more than just my co-worker.”

she eyed you, curious “what am I then?”

there was a moment of silence as you knelt down in front of her, staring at the uneven lines of the wooden floorboards, refusing to meet her eye.

“a friend, if you’d let me,” you muttered.

she hummed, leaning against her seat “I don’t do much of those,”

you snickered “you don’t do much of anything really,”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you realized your mistake but decided to keep it going anyways.

“you’re too guarded. you keep your circle too tight, and I haven’t really seen you out with anyone. romantically, I mean.”

you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut, but you couldn’t help it.

she was silent for a minute “I didn’t know you kept tabs on whether or not I date.”

you scoffed, although it sounded unconvincing “I do not.”

then there was that god awful smirk on her face again, eating away at you as she cocked her head to the side.

“sure you don’t, princess.“

your mind immediately went haywire because oh god, did she know?

on one hand, you weren’t exactly subtle. even thieram would tease you about it. noticing the way you’d sneak glances at sevika whenever she strolled through the bar and you’d hear him let out a snort from behind the counter.

“take a picture, it’d last longer.” he’d joke while you flipped him off.

but judging by the way she teased you about the idea, you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that felt a bit hopeful that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance.

because if there was, it wouldn’t hurt to try and seize the opportunity.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

when silco suggested the group had a day off and to use the bar to their liking for one night as compensation for a successful mission, you were elated. for a number of reasons.

because this is it. this is the moment that you’ve been waiting for, to finally make a move and to squash your fantasies once and for all.

you’re aware about wanting to keep your feelings at bay and to never let sevika know about them, but as the days flew by it was getting harder and harder to stay silent.

especially since the night you tended to her injuries and how she reacted at the idea of you taking an interest in her, and how she didn’t seemed fazed by it, if anything, she seemed intrigued.

it was worth a shot, because it’s better to say you tried than not at all.

so on the night of the party, you went out of your way to doll yourself up for once. your days were normally mundane and your job was tedious enough as it, so you never saw a reason to dress up. living in the under city, going out partying and sleeping with people was scarcely something you ever thought about.

but that doesn’t mean you never anticipated it, and so you went digging under your closet for the handful of dresses you’ve stolen from a couple of boutiques in topside. something you kept for special occasions and this was one of them.

you settled for a black halter dress that stopped below your thighs and also accentuated your cleavage, along with a pair of sheer dark tights that allowed you space to move around freely.

you rummaged through your drawers and pulled out a couple of broken makeup pallets, likely expired, but you didn’t really care as you meticulously dabbed silver eyeshadow on yourself and applied some red lipstick.

you inspected yourself on your mirror and let out an approving hum. you looked nice. you didn’t really consider yourself drop dead gorgeous but when you made some effort to make yourself presentable, the pay-off was worth it.

your chest swelled with hope thinking maybe this will be the day sevika sees you, really sees you. not just as a co-worker, friend, but someone worthy to replace the girls at the gardens with…

with that, you slipped on your combat boots and strode out of your apartment building, walking through the streets of zaun and not minding the lewd comments thrown your way by the men passing by you.

you showed up at the last drop and one of the bouncers, after taking a good look at you, opened the door for you while shooting you a sly grin.

perhaps you’ve outdone yourself, or maybe the people around you just weren’t used to seeing you all dressed up but either way, their reactions stroked your ego. all that’s left now was to just find sevika.

you made your up to the bar where thieram was busy serving drinks, and he didn’t recognize you at first until you called out to him.

he blinked as he said your name “damn, is it really you?” he chuckled “you look great.”

“thanks,” you said, smiling “I never had the chance to wear something like this before but since silco is in a good mood…”

“and it suits you. everyone’s eyeing you like a piece of meat, I don’t know if you can tell.”

“yeah, well. they don’t matter,” you looked around “where’s sevika, by the way?”

because she was the only one that mattered.

she was the reason why you even showed up looking like this, why you got out of your comfort zone even though these types of settings weren’t your thing, but you tried, because you wanted to prove yourself to her.

thieram turned to the side and pointed to his left “she arrived about an hour ago.”

you stood up and were about make your way towards her when the sight that greeted you quickly stopped you dead in your tracks, all previous excitement dying as you sunk to the nearest stool.

because there, in her usual booth, sat sevika with not one, but two girls cozied up against her sides while one of them was practically sitting on her lap, and the other was kissing along her neck while a cigarillo was dangling from her mouth. making more room for them to grind against her as she whispered in one of their ears, causing the girl to giggle as she grabbed sevika’s jaw and connected their lips.

you took a step back as your chest begun to feel heavy, while the room suddenly felt ten times more crowded as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you because of course, this just had to happen.

how dare you think you had a chance when she went out of her way to bring two of babette’s girls to this blasted party when she already visits them on a regular basis. how dare you think you ever stood a chance against these girls, with their pristine clothing, nicely styled hair and perfect bodies.

you wanted the world to swallow you whole.

“hey, you okay?” thieram asked as your breathing became shallow.

you nodded, harshly swiping the tears that threatened to spill at the corners of your eyes as you walked back to the exit.

“y-yeah, I’m just-“

in your stupor, you didn’t even realize a man was behind you not until you bumped into him, causing him to spill his drink and cuss you out as you started apologizing, creating a commotion.

“I’m so sorry!” you said, your cheeks heating up as you looked around the room before your eyes landed on her again.

but this time, sevika was staring straight at you.

swallowing nervously, you pushed past the sea of people and made your way out of the bar, not even bothering to say goodbye to thieram as you busted through the doors of the back exit, breathing heavily as you slid against the wall of the bar, with your hands on your knees and your tears ruining your makeup.

you should’ve known this was a mistake. you mentally scolded yourself over and over because who were you fooling when you thought sevika would spare a glance your way? even if you dolled yourself up, in the end sevika had countless of women to choose from, and you were never going to be an option. no matter how hard you tried.

stewing in self-pity, you wiped away at your cheeks and stood back up, planning to just head back home and forget the night even happened when the doors of the bar suddenly burst open, making you jump as you whipped around, and your breath hitched when you were met with sevika’s steely grey eyes.

she assessed your frenzied state, staring just a bit longer at your attire, scanning your legs up to your thighs until it stopped at your chest, which was heaving erratically, drawing attention to your cleavage.

“leaving so soon?” she quipped, not hiding the shameful way she was ogling at you “especially when you look this pretty?”

biting your tongue, you tried so hard not to let her words get to you. no. this is what she does, she butters you up and makes you think you have a chance then she turns around and makes you feel like utter shit. this is what she does and you’re not going to sit around making an idiot out of yourself.

“I’m just not feeling good is all.” you said as you attempted to walk past her.

but you were immediately stopped when she grabbed your arm, though her touch was gentle “let me walk you home. it’s not safe especially when you’re out here dressed like that.”

you couldn’t stop yourself, you were filled with so much unnecessary bitterness that as soon as those words left her mouth, you could only scoff before ripping away your arm, causing her to look at you with her eyebrow raised.

“I can handle myself, just go back to those girls that were all over you. it seemed like you were having a great time with them anyways.” you spat, attempting to bristle past her.

however, you gasped when she not only blocked your path but abruptly pushed your body against the wall of the building. not too harsh but with enough force to make you look up at her in compliance.

she towered over your smaller form and took your chin using her prosthetic hand, her metal fingers making you shiver as her breath mingled with your own.

“what’s with the attitude?”

“just let me go-“

“the fuck I will,” she cut you off, her tone harsh “now, I’ll ask again, what’s with the attitude? you’re never like this.”

you clenched your jaw “never like what? you don’t even know me enough to make assumptions of how I normally act.”

“like a bitch is what I’m saying,” she said through her teeth “seriously, what crawled up your ass? you show up looking like this and you can’t even be bothered to stick around let alone have a drink,”

“why should I?” you shook your head “you looked too busy anyways. just forget it and go back to those-“

“what’s with you and the girls I brough-“

“because why waste your time on me?” the dam finally broke, and all your thoughts came flooding out as sevika blinked at you, dumbfounded “you never give me the time of the day even though we’ve been working for so long, and it had to take me getting injured for you to even strike up a conversation with me. you’re always at the gardens and I know it’s none of my business what you do with your time but just…”

you looked to your feet, regret washing in “just forget it. it’s so stupid.”

however, her grip on you only tightened “no, you’re right. it is none of your business, that’s why I want to know why you’re acting this way. I’m not a mind reader, princess. you can’t expect me to know what you want and you haven’t really made it easy either. you think I wanted to wait that long to approach you? talking goes both ways. and you avoiding me so much in the past hasn’t really given me the chance to get to know you. fuck, I even thought…”

you waited for her to finish as she faced away from you “thought what?” you said, your voice merely a whisper.

she sighed as she pressed her body closer to you “I thought you didn’t like me. you never a spoke a word to me but I’ve always noticed you. you’re so good at your job but you only kept to yourself. I just thought you found me and the others too vulgar. I get it. we’re different. but then you had a drink with me and you seemed genuinely interested…”

you inhaled sharply “I was, and still am.”

“then what’s the matter? why are you acting like you’re disgusted with me all of a sudden?”

“it’s not you! it’s just…” you let out a shaky breath “it’s just hard to be around you because I’ve always noticed you too. I was just intimidated but I’ve admired your work ethic, just everything about you really, so much that I even… god, it’s embarrassing.”

“no,” she pulled you closer “tell me,”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, looking away “it’s silly.”

she lifted her flesh hand and pushed away the strands of hair that fell over your face. leaning closer that you felt her lips brush against your cheek.

“you got a little crush on me is what you’re saying?” her mouth quirked into a teasing grin as you groaned, trying to push her away.

“you’re such an ass…” you muttered as her hands slowly maneuvered down to your thighs, and suddenly, she was lifting you by her arms and against the wall as you squealed.

her nose nudged your jaw, leaving a soft kiss underneath and your hands found purchase on her strong shoulders.

“you should’ve told me sooner…” she purred, her voice deep and enticing “it would’ve saved me a hell lot of money from visiting the gardens when I could’ve had you all this time.”

you weren’t given the chance to speak when she suddenly captured your lips in a fervent kiss, making you gasp as she lets out a growl hearing your needy whines.

eventually, you surrendered to it, moving in sync with the frenzied way she was kissing you. almost as if she was just as desperate for this as you were.

you rolled your hips against her torso and sevika lets out a chuckle at your urgency, taking your legs as she wrapped them around her waist.

she took the ends of your dress and pulled them up, tearing your tights down and you let out a whine “s-sev… we’re outside-“

“then let them hear,” her breathing was staggered from all the movement “I’ve waited for this for so long.“

you bit your lip “yeah?”

she nodded, slipping your tights off your legs and discarding them to the side “if you think whatever feelings you’ve had for me was one-sided, you thought wrong.” she kissed your lips with bruising force and you could only moan against her mouth “ever since I laid eyes on silco’s pretty little informant, you’ve always been on my mind.”

her fingers felt down your covered cunt, and you writhed against her palm as she pushed past the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them off, teasing you as your slick met her calloused fingers, making her head spin “you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you, princess?” she asked softly.

you nodded as you begun soaking her palm with your juices, riding her fingers and she parted your folds, thumbing at your clit before she slid one finger in, feeling at your gummy walls before adding a second finger and soon, she was scissoring them in you as your forehead dropped to her shoulder.

jostling in her hold as your body shook, she curled her fingers and started a slow pace that got you moaning her name, and she nodded at your desperate sounds “yeah, that’s it, baby. let everybody know how much you needed this.”

she bent her head down and nipped at your jaw while you humped her scarred hand in earnest “you should’ve fucking told me sooner. do you know how much torture it was to see you walk around the office, all pretty and shy, and not wanting to make a move because I thought you didn’t like me? when all this time your tight little pussy has been weeping for me to fill it.”

you cried out, getting closer to that awaited peak especially when she starts to piston her thick fingers inside you at a maddening speed “I needed this so much, sev. fuck.” you admitted, completely lack of shame.

“I know, baby. now that I know how much you’ve needed this I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” she said and you opened your tear stained eyes to look at her.

“do I feel better than the girls you’ve had before?” you whispered and she nodded, an urgency to it as if she wanted to drill it inside your head that she means every word.

“fuck yeah, baby. I can’t wait to have you in every way that I like. on my tongue, around my fingers…” you let out the most obscene moan at her words “and my cock.”

your orgasm tore through you like a punch to the gut, your mouth falling open into a guttural cry as you creamed against her fingers while she kept curling them inside you, already feeling overstimulated while she talked you through it.

“that’s it…” she said in awe “you feel so good, baby.”

she slowly pulled her fingers out of you and you whined at the loss. but your eyes widened when suddenly sevika planted your wobbly legs down onto the ground and knelt down in front of you and started lapping away at your soaked pussy, her pupils blown wide as she began cleaning you up.

once she was done, she stood up and helped you into your underwear, breathing heavily before connecting her lips with yours. you melted as you tasted yourself on her tongue and the kiss was warmer, gentler this time.

she pulled away, leaning her forehead against yours “let me take you out?”

it took a while for your mind to process her words, still fuzzy from the aftermath of your orgasm but once it sunk in, you could only chuckle as you smiled up at her.

“usually you’d ask that first then try to have sex with me in an alley…”

there was a playful glint in her eyes “what can I say, I couldn’t wait any longer.”

you hummed, cupping her face as you drew her in for another kiss.

“yeah, me neither.”

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #arcane #arcane smut #wlw smut #arcane fanfiction #lesbian #sapphic #dividers by fairytopea

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save-the-villainous-cat · 3 days ago

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Hiiii, can you please write something where both the hero and villain are extremely touch starved and they are in some forced proximity situation where they are close together and they both just cling to each other! I love your writing!

“…well?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” the villain mumbled, looking from left to right in the tiny supply closet, their back pressed against the shelf.

There was no room for movement, especially with someone like the hero right in front of them. They supposed there were downsides to being as fit as their nemesis.

“I didn’t expect us to get locked in…” The hero didn’t meet the villain’s eyes and the villain averted their eyes just as quickly. The villain didn’t want to think about it.

They didn’t want to think about the fact that they were chest to chest with their nemesis. That they basically couldn’t move in the slightest; not to the right, nor to the left. They couldn’t turn, they couldn’t switch positions - nothing.

The villain wasn’t claustrophobic and they didn’t think the hero was either. It wasn’t about the space per se, the villain assumed. It was about that one person, that one annoying person being this close. The villain took in a deep breath which pressed them even closer against the hero.

“Is this a prank?”

“Yeah, I guess. Someone must’ve seen us. Sidekicks can be a little mean. I just wanted to talk in private, I didn’t know it would be this…difficult in here.” The hero moved slightly - putting their hand on the shelf behind the villain - and the villain wanted to curse. “The door is definitely locked, I guess we’ll have to wait for now.”

They paused.

“So…uh…what exactly are you doing here?”

“I was asked to come here for negotiations,” the villain said. Their cheeks were burning. If the hero moved again like that, they’d both face a few problems within the next seconds.

“Oh, that explains the nice outfit,” the hero said. They could feel the hero’s warm breath on their neck. Christ.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” the villain asked suddenly. They couldn’t look at the hero and the hero wasn’t looking at them either.

At least they had undeniable awkwardness in common. How charming.

“What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” the villain said. “We haven’t fought in a while.”

“Uh…We can start arguing if you want to..?” The hero moved again and the villain’s head started reeling when they realised how good the hero smelled. Had they ever been this close before? Close enough that the villain could notice that?

With the villain’s thigh basically between the hero’s thighs because of the space?

God, their hearts weren’t that much apart now, were they? What an awful thought.

“I’d like to avoid that, I just mean that I haven’t seen you around much. You’re not plotting my downfall, are you?”

“Unfortunately not, I’ve been busy in the office. Pretty tiring.” Yeah, right. As if someone as important and useful as the hero was being chained to a desk. A secret mission, maybe? “But negotiations, huh? You’re switching sides now?”

“Just some formal stuff,” the villain lied.

“Ah, cool.”

Both of them knew they were being lied to. And both were fully aware that the other was aware of it too. No escape. The villain feared they could only pray.

“I’m not avoiding you,” the hero said, whispered almost.

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know if it came across properly.” Came across properly? The villain took in a tiny breath. It would have been very easy to lean against the hero and start melting.

“It came across, don’t worry.” It would have been very easy to lean against the hero’s neck. To touch their waist. “For how long do sidekicks imprison other people?”

“Uh…like 30 minutes.”

“Dear God.”

They were freed 20 minutes later, but the villain was pretty sure they’d been closer to hell than heaven.

For the next few weeks neither the hero nor the villain could look each other in the eyes when they were supposed to be fighting.

#writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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sweetfuchsia · 11 hours ago

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ex bf! sae x reader who likes to play around w/ him pt 9

m.list

you wouldn’t say that you’ve been running out of ideas.. the right one just hasn’t come to mind yet.

i mean, you feel like you’ve pranked ex bf! sae in every way possible by now. sighing to yourself, you walk over to your bathroom. maybe you could.. hmmm.

after a few minutes of thinking very hard (laughing to yourself about ex bf! sae’s face when you visit him), your gaze snaps to something, and your thoughts immediately come to a halt. you’re momentarily stunned, before a bright idea suddenly makes your lips curve into a wide smile.

perfect, you think.

and that’s how you found yourself in a cute, short dress with really good makeup on. you’re walking down the street to your ex boyfriend’s house, adjusting your grasp on your purse.

what are you doing today? well, if you couldn’t tell by the wig and the different makeup… today, you’re going to infiltrate ex bf! sae’s house!

you step up to this front door after a little walking, and clear your throat. it took a while to perfect your voice, so you’re hoping that it’s believable.

you lift a hand, knocking on the door. taking a moment to admire your new nails— which were totally for the disguise— you smile to yourself. this is absolutely perfect.

when ex bf! sae reveals himself, he jumps slightly at the sight of— who.. are you? name? no, it can’t be… he sighs to himself. how crazy has he gotten to assume every girl he sees is you.

“what is it?” he questions pointedly, raising an eyebrow at your form. who even are you? a fan, he’s assuming?

he takes note of your attire, narrowing his eyes. not too classy, he thinks. you look like some sort of stripper. name wouldn’t wear something like that— it’s definitely not you.

wait, why’s he thinking of name again?

“hi, sae!” you beam, lightly flicking the hair of your wig over your shoulder before placing your hand on your hip. you look cute— maybe if you didn’t have an ex boyfriend to tease you would have gone out.

“it’s me from the bar. you remember me, right?” you tilt your head at him, glossed lips curling into an easy smile. just like you practiced— not that you were thinking of this too much, or anything… definitely not.

“the cutie you kissed.” you add, purposely being a little vague. if he really did meet a girl, you wouldn’t want to be different from her.

“…not really. but okay.” the man deadpans, expression unamused. he doesn’t recall going to the bar or kissing any girl— let alone a “cute” one. if he’s being completley truthful, the last memorable kiss he had was with you.

“uh, well.. anyways!” you cough softly, eye twitching slightly. man, you kinda forgot how difficult ex bf! sae can be. “can i come in? i just haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.” you ask, pretty lips forming into a pout.

you don’t notice the way you take a small step closer— a small habit that you don’t realise you have. but ex bf! sae does. how could he not?

maybe that’s why he feels just a little more comfortable letting you in.

the night goes on pretty well— and your plan is definitely progressing when you’re able to get ex bf! sae to sit closer to you.

you look around his living room, silently noting how similar it is to the last time you came over. everything’s in the same position, all the furniture is the same, your matching photo frames are still there.. wait, what?!

you narrow your eyes at them— and sure enough, those are the photo frames you and ex bf! sae bought together on one of your dates. thief, you scoff to yourself.

the man in question raises an eyebrow at you. what’re you looking at? his gaze follows yours, and he almost grins. so focused on your things, like usual.

ex bf! sae figured it was you as soon as you slipped out of your shoes— you set them in the same place you’d always put them. in front of his, every single time no matter what.

“something wrong?” he’d hum, adjusting his position slightly and throwing an arm (a very nice looking arm, might i add) over the back of the couch— right behind you.

“no, no.” you say immediately, shaking your head. did he catch you?! hopefully not!

“you sure?” ex bf! sae purrs, a smile, or more of a smirk, finding it’s way to his lips as he moves his hand to lightly touch your thigh. part of him wonders where you’d get such a dress from. it’s not like you to wear something like this— are you really that dedicated to bothering him?

ha, it’s working! you smile back at him, leaning slightly closer to him. and just like you planned, he leans closer— but…

everything’s going the way you wanted to. you infiltrated his house, had some fun, tricked him— so why do you feel so… you don’t know.

ex bf! sae hums when he feels the gentle brush of your breath against his lips. why are you holding back? he would’ve thought you’d taken the. chance by now— or at least revealed yourself.

unless this really is just some other woman and he’s going fucking crazy or something.

you both pause, thoughts a scrambled mess and intertwining with each other; “what the fuck have i gotten myself into?”

note: i will continue this in the next part :P

#bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #itoshi sae x reader #bllk smut #blue lock x female reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #sae itoshi x reader

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nachiah · 23 hours ago

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Spoilers for Chapter 14 of Tokyo Debunker under the cut

Chapter 14 only made me love the Mortkranken duo even more!! I'm just gonna kinda ramble as opposed to my usual, more organized stuff with screenshots and whatnot: I really like that it focused mostly on Yuri's backstory - namely the things he would refuse to tell us otherwise. It goes to show that his bravado and somewhat self-centered nature is mostly for show. He's hiding just how bad he's been hurt by others, and keeping his guard up. As for Jiro, we get a little more of an idea of the sort of sheltered upbringing he had. It's becoming clearer and clearer that he didn't spend much time in the outside world. There are places he wanted to go, but couldn't for whatever reason. And now, it's not like he can just go anywhere. Yuri needs to be there with him - and we learn why: It's his stigma. The injection he received in the immortal patient chapter was probably something to further damage the anomaly without damaging Jiro too, too much. He has no control over his stigma, so *anything* that happens to him - including the effects of poisons and injections - happens to the one that inflicted it. My hopes for his stigma being something like that were realized. Perhaps at the point of making the pact, he wanted retribution. He wanted those that inflicted pain onto him to suffer the same fate. That, however was a bit of a double-edged sword, because now he can *only* be treated by Yuri - but we have no idea why he's unaffected. I personally think it has something to do with a certain level of trust, but that doesn't account for the coma... unless he already knew Yuri back then. Now for the ship-related stuff, and boy did we eat good this time: Yuri rips Nicholas a new one after letting the Frostheim thing slip, and gets mad when people mention that house in general... But when Jiro asks about the funding he could've had, he's met with a calm and direct answer. The way he stepped between Yuri and the Frostheim students when they tore into Yuri (and when he probably noticed Yuri couldn't handle it himself). That man was absolutely ready to throw hands. When Yuri was crying in the infirmary, Jiro said something interesting... to "wait until *we're* alone." Not "you." "We." This means, of course, that Yuri has let his guard down in front of Jiro before. More than once, I would assume with that kind of response. Then the tenderness when he asks MC to "keep him from losing his way..." I also have to note the proud smile he had when Yuri was revealing the truth of the matter to everyone. I love their dynamic so much. They clearly depend on each other, but they are independent enough to not give in to each other when there's a difference in opinion. Just a match of wits with a touch of snark. But when something does happen, they do whatever they can to help one another. Even having just struggled to awake from a small coma, Jiro uses everything he's got to relay that important tidbit of information to Yuri. Jiro *needed* to tell him about the discrepancy. I loved it all - start to finish. While MC took a bit of a back seat in this one, I feel like it was necessary to really show both Jiro and Yuri's overall dynamic and to keep the spotlight on Yuri this time.

#tokyo debunker #tdb #jiro kirisaki #yuri isami #yuri x jiro #thoughts about chapter 14 #mortkranken

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uhhlifeig · 2 days ago

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Hiiiii can I have 😍 FOR JARTYLUS? (BARTY X REGULUS X JAMES)

i hope this is up to par since i havent read any jartlus fics lmaooo

here ya go!!

~~~~~

Everyone had one string tied to their finger.

Or, almost everyone.

James had two. He’d always had two, ever since he had discovered his magic and the red threads had appeared.

He’d tried to find who they were connected to, with little luck. Every time he messed with one connection, the other would go haywire.

Maybe his soulmates already knew each other.

Maybe they were already together.

Merlin, what if they didn’t want him? What if he was doomed to be the third wheel forever?

Maybe his soulmates would like him if he were a better person.

And so he made himself look good. He appealed to all of Hogwarts, he was kind, he was accepting of anyone and everyone.

And then his soulmates noticed. They really, really noticed. Not that they hadn’t before, but it was a lot more present now.

James may not have caught the staring from the Slytherin table, but it was always there.

Two boys, sitting hand-in-hand, stared at him.

They watched as he sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face.

They watched as he looked straight at his right hand.

They watched as he pulled his arm back, almost falling off the bench he was sitting on in the process.

They felt it as they lurched forwards in James’s direction, nearly faceplanting into the table.

Barty frowned as he considered what to do. “On three,” he muttered to Regulus, after they had regained their bearings.

He got the message instantly.

“One, two, three.”

The two boys yanked as hard as they could, at the same time, causing James to go flying into the Hufflepuffs

Regulus and Barty grinned, subtly high-fiving under the table.

Their grins were immediately wiped off of their faces the moment that they noticed James stalking towards them.

He looked mad.

“You two,” he muttered. “C’mon.” He motioned for them to follow him out of the Great Hall and into a corridor.

Barty shot Regulus a look that he hoped conveyed a very urgent “we’re going to die today” sort of message.

Regulus sent one back that said something along the lines of, “I don’t care if he’s going to off us, he’s hot.”

James looked back and frowned at the both of them, speeding up.

The three of them reached an alcove before James finally spoke.

“You’re my soulmates, aren’t you?” he asked resignedly.

“Considering the display in the Great Hall earlier, I would assume so,” Regulus frowned. “Why? Do you not want us?”

“No, it’s just-” James cut himself off, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Well, I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

“Of course we’d want you,” Barty gasped. “You’re bloody amazing.”

“Really?” James looked at him hopefully. “I’m not… too much? Too… Gryffindor?”

“I’d hope you’re a Gryffindor,” Regulus snorted. “You’re going to need a lot of bravery to face Sirius after this.”

“Oh, I’m fucked, aren’t I.”

“Yeah,” Regulus and Barty said at the same time.

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4zahara · 9 hours ago

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02 | Let's Stay Home

←Previous. Masterlist. Next→

Word Count: +4k

A/N: English is not my first language. Please be patient with the grammar. I really tried to finish this chapter earlier. I had it written halfway but things happened and it arrived a week early! I think... my sense of time has left me and this ship.

His sister was weird.

Jason had no idea what, exactly, to pinpoint—other than her general demeanor made him reach the conclusion. It wasn’t just your eyes, which always seemed to search for a face on his head, or hair which looked like it had survived electrocution. Maybe it was your personality.

Whatever had been bothering him seemed to settle the longer he sat on the floor, however, processing his new situation.

He wasn't comfortable. He shifted onto the couch when (Name) returned with towels—actually clean ones. Jason placed a folded one on the cushions under him and sat down again, another draped over his shoulders to warm him up—you looked genuinely worried about him getting sick and needing a hospital visit neither of you could afford—the third was involuntarily forced over his head for good measure. He might as well cross "Halloween costume" off his to-do list. He'd be Casper the Friendly Ghost this year.

Although, he wiped the metallic taste of either blood or hunger with the back of his sleeve to speak again, a yawn won its way out. Swallowing saliva could only do so much for him the longer the night got.

"I have—" a voice called from the kitchen, about five feet from where he sat. "Pizza? There are some leftovers too, but I doubt you'll want that."

Jason's drifting attention focus for once and he perked up immediately.

"You have pizza?" he asked—not exactly excited.

Unlike most kids, Jason didn’t get excited at the mere thought of bread with things on top. Even if beloved for many the dish had long since lost its appeal to him. When had a large pizza not been cheaper than a bag of vegetables around here? Too much of anything was unhealthy—not that he really thought about that. He had eaten enough in a single week to make him want to avoid cheese altogether. Eating healthy was expensive. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

"What are the leftovers?" he asked, forcing a strained smile through gritted teeth.

"I'll heat it up for you. It's just rice, chicken, corn—basically a salad."

Jason quickly stood on shaky legs, his eyes never leaving the silhouette of you. Obviously there was lack of trust. Maybe—and just maybe—you reminded him too much of Catherine too.

Weirdly enough, the thought eased his sore chest. Something about seeing you, Jason didn’t want to think too hard about.

He missed his mom.

You looked like her.

Without another word from you, he trailed into the kitchen, dismissing the ache spreading everywhere.

"So... you came because of Mom? What happened?" You hesitated. "Did she and Dad got into another fight? Is that why he's arrested?"

A complicated look crossed his eyes just as he forced the noncommittal response.

"No, it wasn't like that. Willis went away for something else... Mom is—she's not taking it well and... needs you," he leaned against the counter, facing away but still watching you.

Ever since hearing you describe Catherine as unfit to be left alone—even if she not alone with Willis anymore but by herself—Jason’s worry skyrocketed. He kept telling himself she’d be fine without him for one night...

Now keeping his jaw clenched at the thought.

Willis could shove a rusty pipe up his ass.

As the stove flickered to life, heating up the so-called "salad", it was safe to say, a microwave-sized box was too big to hide and too heavy to run with, when you had none.

His sister glanced at him briefly then back to the stove—an action you repeated often. It was obvious you had questions enough for Jason to notice.

Even admitting it would be wishful thinking; to assume it was for his sake you were keeping all of them in.

His gaze flickered around the room to nothing in particular, as if wasn't even made aware of how restless his mind had become—grasping for anything to distract him.

Old bruises and burns on his skin layered with the fresh ones from getting mugged, started to ache. Random memories surfaced, each more unwelcome than the last. And then, the worst thought of all—what else was happening back home?

Dad was gone. But when he realized Jason had up and left, he would’ve been furious.

He’d probably have taken it out on Catherine.

Jason took a shaky breath, trying to suppress the anxiety clawing its way up his throat. He looked at the ceiling, at the stains there, forcing himself to focus. Trying to calm down.

Everything around him seemed to halt—until you placed a plate in front of him. Only then did Jason snap back to himself.

It took him a moment to pull out of his thoughts, and when he did, his eyes widened slightly. He stared down at the plate—rice, chicken, and whatever else you'd thrown in.

You didn’t have anything for yourself, but he caught you eyeing the pizza slices in the fridge.

“…Thanks,” he muttered before shoving a bite into his mouth. It wasn’t poisoned. And, surprisingly, it was good. Then again, maybe that was just the hunger talking.

It took him barely thirty seconds to finish half the plate. He wanted more—needed more—but forced himself to slow down. His body wouldn’t handle too much too soon.

You watched for a moment.

You handed him a glass of water.

Jason glanced at it, then back at you, silently studying your expression, trying to figure you out.

You were… kind. You’d taken him in, given him food—at the very least, you pitied him.

God knows why.

No.

Jason knew why. He knew exactly what he looked like. But he figured you had no business judging him, considering your own appearance.

Not that he was one to judge, either.

He reached out and gently grabbed the glass, taking a sip and letting the cool liquid soothe his dry throat. He would’ve thanked her, but he didn’t.

“What’s with the name on that mug?”

He asked, glancing beside her at a Christmas-themed cup with a name that definitely wasn’t yours.

"Ah. Dunno... I guess it’s the lady who’s supposed to be living here?"

"Someone lives with you?"

"If someone taller than you asks, then yes. Auntie—" She squinted, holding up the mug to read the name. "Gloria... Huh."

Yup. Definitely weird.

Jason knew it wasn’t true the second the name passed her lips because Catherine never mentioned a sister or an aunt. But Willis? That was a different story…

Jason blinked on edge again.

“Auntie Gloria?” he repeats, his eyebrows furrowed together as he tries to think of how to face a possible adult. The idea of an older relative living with you and him not noticing until now was confusing enough on its own, but the name was unfamiliar.

“Wait… she’s related to us?” Carefully adding himself to the mix, but for the sake of his mental health, he indulged for the first of many times to come in not asking about it again when you looked even slightly conflicted.

Ignorance was a blessing and you were underage, so it'll make sense you'll lie to adults about an imaginary aunt.

Jason couldn't risk slipping. You'd be everything he'd had to rely on when he manages to convince you to come with him back home to help with mom.

No doubt that he'll drag you home if he had to.

He had no choice.

He needed your help with Mom and he hated it. Hated how the air felt heavier the longer he stood there. Hated that his sister had chosen *this* place over home.

But mostly, he hated the gnawing fear in his chest—the one that had only grown stronger ever since he walked through that door.

"You need to come back," he said, voice tighter than he meant it to be. He’d practiced what he was going to say on the way here, but now it was all unraveling like the blocks he walked talking to himself under the rain meant nothing. "Mom’s sick, and I—I can’t do this alone, (Name)."

It was a rare admission for him.

You took a seat in front of him and his half eaten plate. Cross-legged under the table but changing your posture as if never truly settled. Probably why you didn’t look up right away. The dim light made your already hard to read face, harder than it was, casting sharp angles where softness used to be.

You exhaled through your nose. "Jason—"

"Please," he cut in, wanting to stand up, heart hammering against his ribs made his legs disobey. "I need you. She needs you."

Something flickered across your face then, quick and uncertain that made you chew on your bottom lip and your fingers tangle absentmindedly, and for a second—a brief, agonizing second—Jason thought you might refuse outright.

He readied himself and picked a counter argument of which he had a lot.

Instead, you sighed.

"Tomorrow," you said. "It’s dark. And it’s raining."

His breath caught. "So… you’ll come back?"

You hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then you nodded. "Tomorrow."

Relief crashed into him like a wave, but it didn’t settle right. There was something about the way you said it—vague, distant, reluctant.

Telling him what he wanted to hear. Just to soothe him.

Jason swallowed hard, pushing that thought down. Tomorrow. You said tomorrow. He'll only calm down once you are at home, but this was enough for now.

Even if something about the way you sat in that dit felt like you were slipping through his fingers.

══════════════ • ✧ • ══════════════

The rain hadn’t let up. If anything, it was getting worse—pounding against the windows, turning the city outside into a smear of dim streetlights and endless shadows.

Jason had refused the bed you so kindly offered him in favor of dozing off curled up awkwardly in the couch, exhaustion pulling him under despite the unease still crawling under his skin.

You sat by the window, knees drawn to your chest, eyes distant, not going to bed yourself because you'll feel guilty for sleeping comfortably while your baby brother struggled to sleep on the couch with a humid towel as a blanket.

And just maybe he thought you were weird for that.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until his voice—low from disuse but child-like pitched—broke through it.

"Is it bad to miss someone you can’t even remember?"

For a moment, you didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Then, slowly, you turned your head.

The words settled deep into your bones, curling around old wounds, reopening stitches sewed with dental floss you have been holding shut with both hands around the stretch marks simulating fingers.

It was not the time for an analogy but your unaware grip tightened slightly against the fabric of your sleeves.

"I missed you," words pushed through softly.

The rain kept falling.

No memory could fill the gap—it had been too long ago, and he had been too young. All he could do was piece together imagined scenarios, trying to soothe himself, only to shudder at the thought of them.

Maybe wanting a real family had been too much to ask for.

A home without a deadbeat dad. A mother who wasn’t drowning in addiction. A sister who never would have left him—never would have left him like you did. And maybe even a family dog.

But that wasn’t the life he got.

And you? You failed.

A bad sister to Jason. A bad daughter to Catherine. You left them with your father, and that truth weighed on you like an unshakable burden. The one absolute you carried on your shoulders.

You felt cold as the monster of your own making clawed at your ribcage from the inside, desperate to break free.

But the real problem—the one you couldn’t afford to face—was how much you missed home.

You couldn't do that to yourself. You couldn't want what you ran from.

Because nothing was more dangerous than the illusion of a family that never really existed.

Jason paused at your words, glancing up.

Normally, your carefree nature would have prompted some teasing remark about staring. But now, the silence stretched between you, heavy and unbroken.

Something he had to say without letting himself stutter.

"You missed… me?"

Almost wanting to brush it off as an empty platitude, something said out of obligation. But deep down, in the twisting knot of his gut, Jason knew you meant every single word. The weight of it had been steeping in years of regret and unspoken sorrow.

And then there was the very idea of you missing him—which was both baffling and, to his surprise, oddly comforting.

"A little weird, out of the blue. I know," you admitted, backpedaling. "I just don’t get why you hardly remember me… I wasn’t gone that long."

Yet weird was putting it lightly.

Jason swallowed hard, his heart clenching painfully under the weight of emotions he couldn’t fully name.

He wanted to remember. God, he wanted to remember you—everything about you. Whatever moments you’d shared, whatever time you'd had together before it all went to hell. He reached for those memories, clawed for them, but nothing surfaced. Nothing real.

His breath wavered as he forced himself to stay steady.

"I… I wish I did. Dammit." His voice was quiet, edged with frustration.

"It 's okay. I'll remember. It’s not enough, but it’s what we get."

Jason nodded slightly, but something about that statement stuck with him.

He couldn’t remember you. And he probably never would.

Other people got their warm family moments, their second chances. But not them.

He took another shaky breath, fighting the lump in his throat, while you turned away, staring blankly out the window.

"It sucks," he murmured, avoiding your gaze. There were no portraits on the walls, just a scattering of trinkets everywhere.

"Like Dad used to say—‘Life’s a bitch, and then you die.’"

Jason scoffed. Of course that was something Dad would say.

"Don’t do that, though..."

He looked up, meeting your tired expression as you side-eyed him.

“Don’t die…?” he echoed, lacing his words with sarcasm. “Yeah, okay… I’ll get right on that.”

"Good boy." You offered a thumbs-up.

Jason snorted in disbelief, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms.

Still… he appreciated it. Keeping himself alive had been hard, but something about the praise made his chest feel a little warmer. Not that he was about to acknowledge it.

"You talk like some old lady," he teased.

"You eat like a dog."

Jason gasped, feigning offense. "I do not eat like a dog," he argued, his voice dripping with exaggerated indignation. "I eat like a growing boy who’s going through puberty and also hadn’t eaten in days and was basically starving, thank you very much."

"What puberty could you possibly be going through? You're eight."

Jason huffed, rolling his eyes before responding, utterly insulted. "I’m turning eleven next month. Which means I’m almost twelve. And then thirteen."

He sounded genuinely offended.

"And I’ve already started growing," he added, even though it was painfully obvious he hadn’t—still a four-foot ball of snark.

"Oh? Growing roots or…?"

Jason groaned, pouting in annoyance. He clearly hated the teasing.

"I've grown, I’ll have you know," he insisted, trying his best to sound confident. "I can cook now and—and I found my way here alone, too."

"I can tell you did," you said, watching him carefully. "Can’t imagine what that must’ve been like."

It was subtle. A small probe, a quiet way of fishing for details.

Maybe Catherine had known you were here.

The smirk faltered—but Jason covered it with a scoff. Mouth opened to ask how you ended up here. But then he hesitated, remembering the promise you’d made him make earlier. He didn’t want to risk breaking it.

Still, it tugged at him.

He thought about asking anyway. But it could hurt.

“…Why here, anyway?” His voice held a tinge of curiosity. “Do you really live here alone?”

"You met the neighbor," you replied, lips curling into a squinting little smile.

Glasses. That had to be it. You probably needed glasses—that’s why your eyes looked so weird.

Focusing on that theory was a hundred times better than thinking about the kind of people who might live here. The kind that had you so scared before.

Because he’d already decided—he was going to believe you weren’t scary.

His gaze flickered around the abandoned building again. Yeah… still not convinced.

It was subtle, but Jason had a habit of checking his surroundings. Always. And you noticed.

“How bad is your vision?” he asked bluntly.

"My vision?" You raised an eyebrow. "I can see you just fine."

Jason rolled his eyes, smirking. "I’m not saying you’re completely blind. I’m asking if you need glasses."

He didn’t add that the squinting seemed suspicious. Instead, he flashed you an innocent smile before adding,

“You look like an owl when you do that, you know that, right?”

"Do what?"

You tilted your head slightly, just like a bird—clearly on purpose, just to mess with him.

Jason couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips.

"That." He motioned toward your head. "Stop that."

He wasn’t really annoyed, though. He was amused.

Something about the way you focused on him, how you responded to everything he said, how you kept looking at him—not just hearing him but listening…

It made his chest feel warm.

Jason shifted, reluctant to leave the warmth of the couch. Exhaustion clung to him, but something about the quiet moment pulled him up.

With a sluggish motion, he pushed himself upright, the towels draped over his shoulders slipping slightly. Instinctively he grabbed onto them, pulling as they were his armor against the lingering cold. The one on his head slid forward though, nearly covering his eyes, and he huffed. There had to be a reason why he tugged it back into place before letting out a quiet sigh when he could have just thrown them around.

Bare feet padding softly against the floor, made his way to your side. Towels rustling with every step. The warmth they held was fading, but he kept them wrapped around him anyway.

By the window, he didn’t say anything at first—just gave a little jump to sit on the counter with you, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours, staring out at whatever had your attention.

Jason reached out, one hand wrapping around your arm while the other cupped your cheek, gently but firmly keeping your head still.

His eyes narrowed studying you—staring at you—his expression unreadable.

“Do you need glasses or something?” he asked bluntly.

"What?"

"You keep closing one eye like that," he pointed out, tilting his head slightly. "You kinda look like an owl."

"An owl? Like... hoot hoot?"

Jason scoffed at your lame attempt at an owl impression.

“Owls don’t even make that sound,” he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm—but the amused smirk tugging at his lips betrayed any real annoyance.

"I tried," you defended with a small shrug. "I’ve never seen an owl in my life."

"Me neither. But I know they don't sound like that,"

With a sigh, Jason finally let go of your face and arm, but not before tapping the top of your head in some vague, brotherly gesture.

“Now answer me. Glasses—yes or no?”

"Probably?" You popped the *p* before hesitating, still smiling but uncertain.

"I can see…" Your eyes narrowed, focusing like it required actual effort. Finally, with newfound, almost forced optimism, you pointed.

"The couch," you declared with newfound optimism from somewhere.

Jason didn’t even bother holding back his expression—half unimpressed, half entertained.

You just couldn’t help it. Something about him was so amusing. If not a little annoying.

“You’re nearly blind, then,” Jason said, his eyes widening like he had just stumbled upon a groundbreaking discovery. Somehow, despite being as blunt as ever, he didn’t sound mean—just genuinely baffled.

“So, the door? You can barely see that behind me? And—and when you stared at me outside, it was because you couldn’t see me?"

“Yeaaaah, sure,” you drawled, dragging out the word. “That’s why I stared at you for so long…”

Jason didn’t catch the sarcasm. If anything, the idea only made him more fascinated, his eyes practically glowing with curiosity.

He turned his head away, trying (and failing) to hide the red creeping up his face behind a cough.

“Wait, wait, wait—you mean to tell me that you were just standing there, squinting at me like that because you couldn’t even tell it was me at the door?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, not when he looked at you like that—like a kid uncovering some great mystery.

The truth was, you hadn’t recognized him at first. And then, when you did, you had hesitated for too many seconds, unwilling to acknowledge it.

So instead, you just stained your smile onto your face, squinted at him again, and shrugged.

“A bit.”

You’d rather let him think you were blind than admit to the real reason. And, to be fair, it wasn’t entirely a lie—your vision did blur every so often.

Jason let out a short laugh at your answer, shaking his head.

“A bit, you say? You straight up stared at me, and I thought you were just crazy or something.” He laughed again, but after a second, his expression shifted. His gaze flickered over the way your eyes kept narrowing and refocusing, and a small frown tugged at his lips.

“…You can’t see anything far away at all, can you?”

"Hey!”

Jason raised a brow, crossing his arms as he held up two fingers right in front of your face.

“You can see what… how many fingers am I holding up, then?”

Deciding to humor him, you rolled your eyes before deliberately answering wrong.

“Four.”

“Ha! Nope, wrong.” Jason waved the two fingers closer to your face, smirking as if he’d just won a game. “You really got that wrong? C’mon, try again.”

His grin was practically gleeful as he held up the same two fingers, waiting expectantly.

You squinted dramatically, leaning in like a grandma reading the fine print on a receipt.

“Oh! …Two!”

Jason narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Is that an actual answer or a guess, you blind bat?”

Before you could answer, he held up four fingers this time, wiggling them teasingly.

“How about this number?”

“Okay, okay, enough eye testing for tonight,” you dismissed, waving a hand.

Jason snickered, finally lowering his hand, but the playful spark in his eyes remained.

“But I was just getting to the fun part.”

Then, as his laughter faded, he leaned in slightly. His smirk stayed, but his expression turned more serious.

“Seriously, though. You’re basically blind,” he said, shaking his head. “You gotta get glasses.”

You shrugged, giving a half-smile. “Maybe one day.”

And why wouldn't he catch the way your voice dipped slightly? Or how your fingers twitched against the counter? Obviously something about the way you said it—too casual.

Jason was young, not stupid.

Of course you didn’t have glasses. Of course, you couldn't just get them. Just like how dinner was either pizza or leftovers. Just like how there was no microwave.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“…You can’t get them, can you?” he asked, quieter this time.

You blinked at him, “I could if I wanted to.”

Jason stared.

You sighed, finally breaking on that front.

“No, I can’t.”

Surprising even if it shouldn't have been. And for some reason, it made his chest feel tight. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much—just one more thing neither of you could have. Jason nudged you lightly with his elbow, like he wasn’t about to say what he was about to say.

“…Guess I’ll just have to be your seeing-eye dog or something,” he muttered.

You snorted. “Oh, so now you admit you eat like a dog?”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Okay, no! That’s not what I meant.”

But when your expression had softened—not in pity, but in something almost grateful, so did he.

And Jason decided right then that until you could afford glasses, he’d just have to be your extra pair of eyes.

#jason todd #batfam #x reader #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #batsis!reader #batman #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #tim drake #duke thomas #dick grayson

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