#you're not a nasty woman you're just an asshole

[madamechrissy]

Well, are you mine?

Pairings: Sukuna x fem reader

Summary- You're Yuuji Itadori's best friend since forever, and his older brother Sukuna is a grade A ass to you. After a nasty breakup with your ex, you text Yuuji who's out for the night, he gives you the go ahead to stay at his place. But it's only Sukuna there, and he is oddly comforting? You've had it bad for him forever, but little do you know, so has he, even if he doesn't show it, because Sukuna thinks Yuuji loves you (ahem, he's WAY wrong) Porn w/feelings, best friend's brother trope, Duo POVS

CW- Modern Sukuna, he's a gamer and tsundere af lol, this is SMUTTY asf, loss of virginity (don't mention much abt it aside from reader is one) Sukuna is ROUGH lol, oral sex (m and f recieving) overstimulation, dirty talk, Sukuna calls reader brat and slutty, lowkey breed kink, possessiveness, marathon sex lol. Sukuna is BAD AT FEELINGS lmaooo, but he whimpers? Reader- 20, Sukuna 25- 6.4k WC!

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one!

You’re walking out in that pathetic excuse for a tank top and the most revealing shorts that morning when Sukuna sees you, peeking up from his monitor, proceeding to get sniped like some damn noob when he sees your nipples perk up through the material. He curses loudly, slamming off his headset then, you look at him in surprise, lips parted just so.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, he glares at you then, standing up as he takes you in, irritated you have such an effect.

“What are you doing here? Yuuji isn’t even home until tonight.” He says with a glare, ruby eyes glinting, you tense just a bit, Sukuna is tall and intimidating, and constantly an asshole.

“He said it was fine, here’s the text.” You swipe up on your phone, he snorts as he looks at it.

“You have a teddy bear case? Stupid.” Your eyes narrow in irritation when he picks up the phone, scoffing as he sees the texts. “God. What a simp you’re making him.”

“What now? Am not even! He’s my best friend, not that you’d understand, you don’t even have any. You’re such an ass.” You snatch your phone back from him, earning his scowl.

“You’re an annoying brat, y’know that? If Yuuji didn’t simp so badly I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

“Whatever! Ugh.”

“Why’d you need to come here anyway? Boyfriend piss you off?” You sigh, crossing your arms, just pressing your breasts up more for his view.

“He cheated on me.” Sukuna pauses then, hearing the hurt in your voice, seeing it on your pretty face, annoyingly pretty face.

“Shit.” Is all he manages, and you sigh, looking at him then, emotions in the back of your throat.

“That was mean of me to say, that you have no friends. I know you do… I’m sorry I said it.” His mouth opens, then closes, his brows lowering.

“You’re always bitchy to me, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“And you’re always an ass to me.”

“Tch, I’m not gonna fawn over you like your little best friend does, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, every time I stay or hang out you tell me you can’t wait for me to leave, or are just mean as shit.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, looking up at the ceiling then, it’s true he is mean to you constantly.

Every time you stay, he’s picking on you or making snide remarks, to the point he’s made you cry sometimes, and then felt like shit. Nothing was worse than seeing you cry, but he didn’t know what else to do, because you’re haunting his every dream, even last night he was stroking his cock to a stupid Instagram picture of you.

The thing is, Sukuna wants you, and wants you badly, so much it makes him pathetic, his little brother’s best friend, who Sukuna knows has had some stupid crush on since forever. Sukuna’s only five years older than you, but twenty just seems too young, you seem too inexperienced, too innocent and sweet, the last thing you needed was him around you.

And he knew you had some little crush on him, most of knowing him, you used to literally make doe eyes at him, he found it sort of cute at first, but now you’re a whole woman, walking around in nothing half the time. He was happy you got a boyfriend, despite the odd clench in his chest from hearing it, only because he wouldn’t have to see you as much.

So, the best course of action?

Make you hate him, and he thinks it’s worked, you don’t make doe eyes, you’re not fawning over him, or pathetically trying to flirt. No, you’re just as mean to him as he is to you now, god and you scowling and flipping him off? That turns him on more than fucking anything, unfortunately.

“Fuck him.” Sukuna says, and you’re shocked for a moment, as you stare up at the guy you’ve had it bad for since you can remember, Yuuji’s older brother, you thought he was so cool, you were always coming over more and more to see him.

Yuuji was the best friend in the world, so it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy hanging out with him, it’s just your mind kept wandering, Sukuna was always a grump, but something shifted in the past couple of years, especially this year. He was downright mean and nasty to you, making jokes, pinching on you, ruffling your hair, rolling his eyes whenever you were near.

If his goal was to make you hate him, you don't, you just really can't stand him. Can't stand seeing him shirtless seeing the tattoos around his biceps, down his strong chest, hate seeing his stupid abs that have abs!?! Why does he have to be such an attractive ass, you don't know, but your crush hasn't gone away.

It's worse.

Last night you'd seen Sukuna was here when you'd used the key Yuuji let you have, he was crashed out on the couch sprawled out, movie ended, you'd covered him with a blanket and given him a pillow. In his sleep he almost looked sweet, you thought, having slept in the guest room, he'd swirled in your mind, your boyfriend having cheated hurt, but thankfully you hadn't taken that step with him…

No, you stupidly still wanted Sukuna as your first.

As if that would happen, he hates you so much clearly, and you have seen the girls he brought over, older and more experienced, more confident and worldly. You weren't there yet, especially when the man you're wanting doesn't see you as anything but a little brat.

“Sukuna, are you comforting me?” Sukuna scoffs.

“Of course I'm not, but also… he's a fucking idiot. You don't deserve someone who does that shit.” You blink back tears then, stepping to him, hugging him.

Sukuna freezes, as he inhales that scent, something floral and irritatingly delicious, your soft breasts pressing against his chest, your nipples taut under the tank top. You're tiptoeing, holding him around his chest, he grimaces, wanting to pick you up and drag you to his room, but he shoves at you.

“Annoying brat, off me god.” You shake your head, snuggling closer, when he realizes you're crying. It annoys him how you wrench his heart when you look up, tears falling out of your stupidly pretty eyes.

Did you have to affect him this way?

“Thank you, Kuna.”

“Don't call me that, ugh.” He places his huge hands at your waist to shove you off, but you gasp at it, taking over your waist, burning your skin then. He falters, his breath coming faster as he holds you there, just a little off of him, eyes going to your lips, tempting him to no end. “Stupid nickname.” He grumbles.

“I… you used to not mind it. What happened to make you hate me so much?” You whisper, hands slipping up his chest, so much revealed in the soft white shirt he's wearing, you feel his heart thudding under your hand.

“Don't hate you, just you're annoying.”

“How?”

“Just being here.”

“So I annoy you just existing?”

“Yes.” He speaks through clenched teeth, when you lean back, and he views your body. “Why do you fucking dress like that!?”

“It's comfy. What do you care, Kuna?”

“Stop it with the stupid nickname. Your… your body annoys me.” He is whispering now, hands slipping down your hips, you let this little sound out from the back of your throat that destroys him then.

“My body, what not your type? Don't wanna see it?”

“You're so fucking stupid.”

“How can a body piss you off? Ah!” Sukuna had you picked up now right on the kitchen counter, your breaths come in pants at getting handled like this, his big hands on your thighs, his eyes boring into you.

“All I can think about is all the ways I wanna fucking ruin you for any stupid boy you'll ever meet.” Your heart thuds in your chest, blinking rapidly as if you're in a fucking dream.

“Wh-what?” He moans softly, rough pads of his fingers slipping up your thighs, watching the goosebumps rise everywhere.

“Thinking how good your little pussy tastes, how pretty your tits must be, how your face would look fucked out.” You're moaning out loud when he finds you then, lips hovering just an inch from yours, he moans when he finds your slick cunt dripping, he laughs then, softly. “That wet for me? Haven't even done shit.”

“Shut up and touch me, please, Sukuna.” The way that his name sounds from your lips? Your eyes dilating? Your wet cunt on his fingers? His cock starts throbbing from touching you, watching your face when he shoves a finger in your hole, you grip him like a vise.

“Anyone ever made you cum? Any of your dumb boys?” You grip his wrist when his fingers curl in your gummy walls, finding that spot instantly and pressing on it, making you gasp as you gush down his fingers. “Fuck you're wet, why are you so stupid tight, fuckin feel you…”

“Don't know… I… Kuna, m’a v-virgin, ngh!” He yanks away then, panic on his face. “Don't stop, please.”

“A virgin, how the fuck?” You whine out as he backs off, sucking you off his fingers, his cheeks moaning, those crimson eyes dilated, the hottest thing you have ever seen. “Why do you taste so good? God I can’t stand you.”

“Kuna, please… just…”

“No, I won’t do that, I sure the fuck won’t take that. How are you even…”

“I’ve been waiting.” You murmur, earning his brows raised, barring you on either side with his strong arms, leaning close.

“You what now?”

“For you, stupid.” Sukuna cups your face with one hand, hot as your overheated cheek, so close your breaths mingle.

“No way, I’m not doing that, it’s bad enough I even touched you, now you’ll be all I can think about, annoying little brat ruining me.” His words hit, your pussy throbbing around nothing then, you lean your head and kiss his palm, melting him as you do. “Don’t do shit like that.”

“Do you want me?” You ask, thighs on either side of him.

“What do you think?” He grabs your hips, and you feel him, huge and hard against you over the fabric of his pants and your shorts, he grabs you tight, you’re looking at those lips, usually in a smirk or a sarcastic grin, so pouty right now, begging for your kisses.

“Doesn’t have to be anything serious-”

“How can you say that? No, it would be.” You would end him the moment he got inside you, he already knows it, tasting your sweet arousal on his tongue, looking at the color your cheeks are tinged, imagining your face as his cock leaks precum against his boxers.

“I can be… casual…” You’re grinding on him, you’ve never felt this, the longing for him in this way, you’re jutting your chin up, trying to kiss him, but he pulls his face away, shaking his head. “Kiss me.”

“No way.” He won’t be able to stop, at least at this point he can rip himself off of you, taking several breaths, turning away from how delectable you look sitting with your thighs spread on his counter.

“I’ve seen all the women you bring over the years, why not me? You clearly are casual about it?” You hate the emotions in your throat. “Am I not…”

“If you say some dumb shit like you’re not attractive, I swear you’ll piss me off. Look at you.”

“You won’t look at me.”

“I can’t right now, I won’t just fuck you, especially your… first I… can’t. Just drop it, just forget it even happened.” You jump off the counter then, breathing fast, heart nearly pounding out of your chest.

“I’m sorry I asked.” He curses as you run off to the room, his head is spinning from your scent, your taste, the images now burned in his brain, your slick still on his fingertips.

He could never just take your virginity, what if he hurt you? What if he hurt you emotionally, he sure his entire life has never had a real girlfriend, he’s had hookups and booty calls, that’s it. And for the past year he’s pictured you half the time when he’s played with himself, when he’s slept with them, but he can’t do that, you deserved better than him surely.

You’re all dressed now, you stand there and look at him, he hates the tears that have streaked down your face, your bag on your shoulder. “You don’t have to leave, just leave me alone.” He says then, and you laugh without humor, shaking your head.

“I can’t face you after that, too embarrassing. Don’t even tell Yuuji I came over, please.” You go to leave and Sukuna stops you, a hand on the knob above you, his hard body towering behind you, you feel so small next to him, god who didn’t?

Sukuna runs his fingers down your spine, you shiver from the sensation, he leans close, his lips against your ear. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“No?” You look at him then, noses touching, so close.

“Everyone wants me, it’s fine brat.” He smirks, you glare then, smacking at his hand on the knob and pulling open the door.

“Fuck you, Sukuna.” You say, he grins at you like the asshole he is, but when you shut the door behind you, you don’t see him cursing himself, forehead resting on the door, his stomach sick.

Why’d he do that?

Why couldn’t he just give you what you wanted, what he wants so badly?

He’s terrified to disappoint you, but he already has.

*****

Two Weeks Later

“Please stay for dinner!? Please, please, please!” Yuuji begs you, literally on his hands and knees bowing, you giggle, shaking your head.

“No, I can’t… your brother-”

“He won’t bother you, he just yells at the game, it’s fine! Never used to bother you, and I miss you.” He looks up with sweet honey eyes, making you sigh then, nodding, he jumps up all excited. “Perfect, I need to show you the recipe my brother Cho showed me!”

“How is he? I miss him.” You say softly, Yuji’s other brother lived far away now, he was a sweetheart, much unlike Sukuna.

“He’s doing so well, his band is so popular now. I’ll tell him you said hi! You know he thought you were so pretty.”

“Cho did? No way.”

“Well who doesn’t, even Sukuna does.” You pause then, faltering as you look at the kitchen, where he’d had a long, thick finger inserted in your little hole. Where he’d tasted you.

“Um, I doubt all that. He hates me.” Yuuji shakes his head, checking his phone then. “Your girl?”

“We’re not dating yet, just talking, but we are going to a movie tonight. You know her, yeah?”

“Yes, she was so sweet in school.”

Sukuna walks in as Yuuji shows you their texts, his eyes darting to you, taking in your little pleated skirt and top with some dumb anime character you liked on it, you looked fucking adorable. So cute he hates it, so he scowls at you, earning your scowl right back, as Yuuji looks between you both.

“Woah, calm down. Sukuna, I have a date!” Sukuna’s heart drops, Yuuji surely would be good enough for you, he’s sweet (annoyingly sweet) and devoted. Choso and Yuuji were sweet, he’s not sure how he got all the asshole of the family, but he supposed it came from taking care of them both, being the oldest.

He should be a little relieved, you’d leave him alone now, right? You wouldn’t give him that look, he would finally know you’re untouchable, he clears his throat now, hating that his heart feels like it’s ripped in half. Just two weeks ago, the last time he saw you, he’d felt your heat, he’d had you begging for him, but he turned you down.

He did this.

“Finally, you two are going on a date, huh?” He says, trying to act casual, and Yuuji snorts, shaking his head, as your eyes go wide.

“Us, no! We’re too close, we’d never ruin our friendship. Though I sure asked her out a lot in school.”

“You tried.” You say with a little smile, as Sukuna stands there dumbfounded. “You’d never have liked dating me, I hate your zombie movies too much.”

“You have the worst taste, it’s true. Now, Sukuna, it's this girl…” Yuuji starts going on, and Sukuna can barely hold his composure, as he shows him a picture of her, as he’s rambling.

He was convinced his brother was in love with you, it’s a huge reason he has pushed you so far away, he’d never dishonor him like that, even if he knew you didn’t feel the same. He struggles to focus now, as you look down nervously, as if you could hear his thoughts, feel what he wants so badly.

“Thought you simped for the brat here.” He says, Yuuji laughs.

“No, she’s just a beautiful best friend.” He kisses your cheek and you smile warmly at him, it lights up your face, doing the annoying thing to his heart again. “If you’re not so mean, maybe she’ll stay for dinner.”

“Me, mean? Never.” You and Yuuji both roll your eyes at him.

“I don’t have to stay, Sukuna, I was just stopping by.” Your words break him down, remembering how mean he was, and he didn’t apologize, why should he though?

He should have said something.

You’re feeling his gaze on you, as he runs a hand through his pastel locks, the same shade as Yuuji but his are longer, messier, he has a little stubble on his cheeks you don’t remember seeing. As you further look, you see the dark circles under his eyes, how tense he is when he opens his mouth, just to close it, and re open it again, as if he doesn’t know what to say.

Sukuna is… on edge?

“You can stay, what do I care? Used to your ass around anyway.” He walks to his room then, and Yuuji excitedly talks to you, but your mind is in that room, with that asshole of a man.

The dinner is awkward as fuck, and when Yuuji leaves to get ready for his date, you hastily start washing your dish, you feel his gaze on you, he’s leaned back in the chair with his legs wide. You don’t dare say a word to him, you’re too mortified still, too confused, his one touch with no kiss has done more than anything you’ve experienced so far.

Awakened shit that was already there.

Made it worse.

“So you two never…” Sukuna trails off, leaving the question open, you look back at him as you dry your hand with a dish towel.

“Never what, dated? Of course not.”

“I thought the kid had it bad for you.” His voice is quiet, you clear your throat, shaking your head then.

“No, I tried to tell you, just friends. Yuuji is sweet and I love him, but I’ve never felt that way… like I…” Like with Sukuna. “Yeah, anyway, the girl is so sweet. I’ll head out when he does, don’t worry.”

Sukuna’s standing next to you before you can blink, he’s wearing this black dress shirt unbuttoned just so, revealing too much of his strong chest, pecs that are ridiculous, your eyes keep darting to it. To those collar bones, the black lines running along, making you wonder just where his tattoos stop, you physically back up, looking away then, unable to even look in his eyes.

“Running away, brat? Scared?” He raises a brow, you blink then, shaking your head. “Yeah you are.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’m ready guys! Oh… are you two gonna… hang out?” Yuuji asks with a little smile, you’re blushing then, shaking your head.

“Hang out with him? What, no.” Sukuna’s jaw clenches now, you smile as you feel how mad he is. “What?”

“What’s so wrong with me?”

“You’re an ass.”

“You’re a-”

“Okay, dumb question, don’t kill each other.” Yuuji does a little spin then, showing off his outfit, you giggle. “How do I look?”

“Amazing!” He kisses your cheek and hugs you then, just the sight of that alone has Sukuna infuriated, imagining kissing you.

What do your lips feel like?

Would they end him?

“She’s staying, she’s gonna… game with me.” Sukuna says then, you and Yuuji both look at him with shock. “Yeah, brat wants some lessons on Call of Duty.”

“Lessons? You game?” You want to burst out in laughter, the only video games you play involve very hot men on your phone.

Sukuna eyes you though, so intense it’s hard to breathe, you smile then, a little shy almost, realizing what he wants even though he’s not saying it. He wants to spend time with you, this shithead, this asshole of a man, he’s… he’s trying to express that he wants you to stay. And, to stay alone with him.

“I do wanna learn though, plus we should try to get along, hmm?” You look right at Sukuna, he’s not smirking or grinning, he’s vulnerable for a moment. His full lips parted just so in surprise.

“This makes me so happy. I love you both so much! If he pisses you off too bad, just text me.”

“What would you do, kid?” He demands.

“I’d… well I’d tell you to be nice.”

“I love you too.” You tell Yuuji then, and he runs off now to his date, leaving you alone in the kitchen again, with Sukuna. “Video games, huh?”

���Video games.” He answers, and before you know it, he’s right in front of you, gently holding you by your face, in a sweet manner you’d never think he could. “I want you, fuck I’ve wanted you for a long time now… but I thought you…” He’s trailing off, words escaping him.

“You thought Yuuji loved me, and you couldn’t do that.” You answer, everything starting to click now.

“That and you irritate the shit out of me. I don’t like what I feel.”

“What do you feel, Sukuna?” You step forward, arms wrapping around his thick waist then, he gulps visibly.

“Too much.” Is all he says, eyeing your lips hungrily.

“Maybe I feel too much. It’s scary, yeah?”

“I’m not scared of shit.” He’s leaning closer, you’re aching for him to just kiss you, licking your lower lip, tantalizing him as it turns glossy.

“If you’re not scared, then why are you so afraid to kiss me?” You whisper the words, his eyes flutter shut, a hand gripping your hair then at the nape of the neck, pulling it just so.

“Because I won’t stop there, I won’t stop till I’ve kissed every part of your body, till I’ve licked every part, until you’re cumming all over me.” Your little whimper from the back of your throat ruins him, he slams his lips down then, and it’s over.

Your kiss is messy, it’s desperate and sloppy, your tongues dripping saliva as he lifts you suddenly, you cling to him, thighs squeezing narrow hips, arms around his neck, your hand drifts through his undercut just so. He’s moaning as he kisses you so brutally, carrying you until you’re against a wall, pressing you there, you gasp for a breath while he starts licking down your throat.

“Kuna…” You’re arching against him, clinging tightly as he bites your throat, his big hands gripping your ass and squeezing.

“Hate that nickname. Hate how much I like it. Fuck you.”

You scowl, pulling away. “Fuck me for what?”

“Being so stupidly pretty. Driving me crazy forever. Fuck you for tasting so good, too.” You’re opening your mouth to protest, but he’s already carrying you to his bed, unceremoniously plopping you down on it, yanking off your top then, your breasts heave as your breaths come quickly, and he eyes you. “Fuck you for perfect tits.”

“Fuck you for being a dick.” You counter, but he’s gripping your breasts in his huge hands, squeezing them, sucking on your nipples, your hands enwrap in his pastel locks as he looks up at you, saliva strings dripping from your breasts. “Fuck that… feels s’good…”

“Fuck your sexy little moans, too.” You can’t be mad, not when he’s got your skirt off you, not when he’s ripping your panties to shreds, not when he eyes your pussy hungrily, shaking his head as he nips your inner thigh. “And fuck if you don’t have the most perfect pussy, what the…”

“Kuna, you’re c-crazy.” You whisper, he laughs then, breath tickling your cunt as he parts your plump lips, inhaling you like some psycho, burying his face. “Kuna!”

“Shut up, brat. Gonna ruin you for anyone.” He’s talking to your pussy it seems now, strong fingers pressing your thighs apart as he swipes a stripe up between your lips, licking you all the way from your hole to your clit, the sensation has your hips jerking, which he pins in place. “Ah- ah brat, stay still.”

“S’too much… I… oh my god.” Sukuna is devouring your pussy, there’s no other term for it, the way he laps at your pussy with his stupidly long tongue, his eyes bright red when they look at you, when he flicks it to your clit. You’re soaking him, hands pulling at his hair, earning his groan against you. “Wh-what… you’re… I…”

“Shut up, brat, I want to hear you cum, not run your mouth.” You should be offended, but you can’t be, not when he’s fucking your velvety walls with his tongue now, pinching your clit with two of his fingers, the stimulation far too much, you feel it, the pressure building in your core, spreading.

“Kuna!” You’re screaming that nickname, he doesn’t care in fact he loves hearing it, loves your pussy drooling around his tongue, he feels your walls tighten around his wet muscle then, looking up at your face, mouth open wide in an O, eyes rolled back, your hands yanking his hair out, and he knows you’re cumming for him.

He’s grinding his cock on the mattress, aching to be inside you, but he also wants to make you beg for it, wants to make you pathetic for him, only him. You’re cumming so blinding, stars bursting everywhere behind your eyelids, your body convulsing as you’re gushing all over his handsome face. You feel his grin against you when he pulls back his tongue, slipping two fingers inside.

“Hear how slutty she is, huh? So slutty thought you were a good girl.” He huffs, you’re reeling from cumming so hard when he quickly finds your g spot, as if he knew your body forever. “Can’t talk? Pathetic.”

“F-fuck… you I… it’s too much!” You whine, he’s scissoring those two fingers in and out of your now soppy little hole, you do hear it, the wetness so fucking loud, he’s licking your clit now, sucking it into his mouth, you’re pushing over the edge again. “Both!? I c-can’t!”

“Mmm, you can, cum again, pretty slut. Lemme drink it.” You’re trying to close your thighs, but he forces them open, smacking at one, shaking his head. “Again, y’can do it.”

“S’too much…” You’re whining over and over, it is so much pleasure you have trouble comprehending a thought, when he crooks his fingers in your gooey walls, and sucks your clit again, you’re shattering.

“Mmm, there you go, you can do it can’t ya?” He’s cooing to you, smirk on his features, that are coated in your slick.

“Please!” You’re yanking him up, he chuckles a bit, letting you, hovering over you with his strong arms, as he wipes your chin with one hand.

“You’re fucking drooling, god, fucked out already? Can you handle me?” He raises a brow, you want to retort, but you are fucked out, you came more than you ever have, now you’re opening your mouth and closing it. “Can’t talk, stupid brat?”

“F-fuck off… ass…” You manage, earning him more hard for you, kissing you deeply, you taste yourself then, but even more when he shoves his fingers in your pussy, scooping out more arousal, shoving them in your mouth.

“Suck them like a good girl, there ya fuckin go, pretty little slut.” You’re in tears from overstimulation as you suck him eagerly. “So ya can follow directions, ha… didn’t know that mouth could shut.”

“Shut it.” You whisper, pulling back with a pop, he falters at your seductive words, shaking his head.

“You sucked dick?”

“N-no.” You admit, he sighs then.

“Look, maybe not the first time.”

“Sukuna, are you being caring?” You tease, his brows lower, lips pressing in a firm line.

“No! Just… you need a lot of workup and… will you stop smiling like that!? Stop looking at me that way.”

“Like what?” You tease, hands unbuttoning him shakily, he pulls back then, taking a breath as he looks down at your pretty body, and you reveal more of his chiseled frame.

“Like… that. Like you’re…”

“In love with you?” His jaw tenses again.

“Shut it, now.”

“I am, stupid ass. Don’t know why.” You sit up when he stands, eagerly unbuttoning his pants, his heart races like he’s the virgin, brain short circuiting when you slip them down, his boxers following.

“I… you… shouldn’t…” He doesn’t remember what he was saying, you’re too sexy, too pretty, your words he’s never thought he’d hear. “You don’t love me. Don’t say it.”

“I do, and I will say it.”

“Then why did you ask for… casual!?”

You’re blushing when his cock is revealed, and it’s massive, thick and heavy, his reddened tip drooling precum. It’s so big you can’t understand how it would fit, your hand barely circles the girth, looking so tiny against him, he’s ridiculously big. You nervously look up, seeing his eyes dilated, his lashes lowered, Sukuna’s hands come to enwrap in your loose hair, gripping it.

“Answer me, brat. Now.”

“Because if that’s how you want to, I’ll do it. I want you, I have wanted you.” He exhales, jerking when you lick his tip.

“I don’t want to be casual with you, okay!?” You smile, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t you dare smile like that. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna be all mushy and dumb.”

“I don’t want to be casual either.” He cups your face with his other hand, groaning when your hot mouth starts sucking him in, there’s too much of him, you barely get the tip and an inch or two, swirling your tongue, tasting the salty precum, his musky scent filling your nostrils.

“F-fuck…” Sukuna’s stuttering, you swear you hear him whine, but you wonder if it’s a trick of your ears, his hand on your face shaky when he starts thrusting his cock in your mouth, eyes locked on yours. “Stupidly pretty brat.”

He might as well say ‘my love’ or ‘darling’ because your body reacts, already having had so much pleasure you’re wet again, when he yanks you more on his cock, shoving it deeper. You’re breathing through your nose as he fucks your throat, as he’s gasping and moaning out your name, you finally think you have a rhythm when he pulls you off.

“Was it okay?” You ask nervously, he shoves you on your back, between your thighs in an instant then, you gasp for breath.

“Okay? Sucked it like some pro. You lyin’ t’me?” You giggle, shaking your head and catching his gaze.

“Watch porn though.”

“Porn ain’t shit to what I’m gonna do.” You’re crying out as his tip leaks precum along your clit, biting your lip when he’s pressing into your tight ring of muscles, your nails dig into his back, feeling the taut skin. “If we do this, you’re never fucking anyone, never. Fuckin got me brat?”

You blink a bit, as his tip presses in, stretching your skin. “You love me too, don’t you Kuna?” You tease, he scoffs, but then nods just a bit, and kisses you, pressing past your barrier, you gasp at it, at the pain, being stretched by him. “Ow! Shit!”

“Shit… y-you’re too tight… loosen the fuck up, brat.” You glare up at him, throbbing from the pain now, he’s barely holding on.

“I can’t. Y-you’re an idiot!”

“Running your mouth?”

“You’re too big!”

“Fuck…” He eases back, leaning up on an elbow, hand slipping down and rolling on your clit. “Relax, annoying ass. Even your pussy is stubborn.”

“You’re… so… ah!” His circles are rough, calloused thumb pressing on your little engorged clit, when he sinks in again.

“Relax, now.” His husky voice gives you that order, you do so then, exhaling and looking into his eyes, that are so dark they look black, you nod weakly. “You… are you alright?”

“You care, aw.” You can’t help it, you’re grinning all fucked up.

He glares again, this time thrusting deep, you scream out at it, he moans, biting your neck again, big hand gripping your thigh and lifting it higher. “Fucking feel her, gripping me my god. She’s mine, huh?”

“Y-yours, Kuna.” Your little whimper destroys him, your cunt pulsing around him, stretching and getting wetter to accommodate, and he begins actually fucking you then, you’re so wet, hot and tight he can’t stand how good it feels, he’s already dreaming of breeding this little cunt as you convulse under him.

“F-fucking love it, slutty little pussy.” His words along with his tip dragging against that spot in your walls send you reeling, you hear it now the skin smacking, his balls slapping your ass, wetness squelching when he pulls back, gripping your hips with a wicked grin. “Look, fucking your guts up, huh?”

He forces your chin to look down at the ridiculous bulge in your tummy, you gasp at it, clinging to his sheets now, so full when he sinks more of his cock in you, so much you don’t think he’ll fit fully, he’s already slamming your cervix. His hands slip up your hips, yanking you down further, you scream out at how good it feels.

“Ruin you, no one… n-no one’s gonna do this, yeah?” He leans over just a bit, fucking you harder, thrusts so rough your tits jiggle, your body moves. “Use you as my little fuck toy, pretty toy, so fucked out and stupid.”

“Ngh!” You are stupid, your eyes are rolling back, you’re drooling, incapable of doing anything but pulsing on his cock now, of desperately clinging to him.

“S-say it, brat.” He’s shoved his cock so deep, your cunt is dripping down his veiny length, you’re whimpering desperately, nodding. “That’s it, cum f’me, lemme feel her clamp down. F-fuck, there she is…”

Now Sukuna is full of nonsense, you’re both mumbling as he does ruin you for anyone, as you ruin him for anyone, he’s kissing you sloppy, his tattooed hand wraps your throat. He squeezes just so, you’re fading as he rails your cunt, muttering filthy, nasty words, you were a virgin, but he sure the fuck wasn’t taking it easy.

Well, you didn’t think he was, Sukuna actually is taking it easy.

He’ll wait before he goes where he wants to, but you so eagerly open your mouth for his spit, desperately cumming all over his cock then. “Made f’me, pussy she’s m-mine, hmm?”

You’re getting choked, swallowing spit, and this asshole asks you a question? You manage a nod, as he slows finally, releasing your throat, hand slipping up your titty to pinch your nipple, hips rolling just so, jerking his cock against your bruised cervix. You’re a stupid mess under him, sputtering when he finally slows his rhythm, when he thickens impossibly in you.

“I’m never pulling out of you, on something?” He huffs, you blink in confusion as he grins. “Asked ya a question brat.”

“On… pill… mmm…” He moans now, exhaling.

“Good, hah-” He thrusts deep again, you’re fluttering around his length. “Wouldn’t pull out anyway. I’d knock you the fuck up, breed your slutty cunt.” You’re done for, when he starts spurting cum, crying out in your ear, taking over everything with his huge body on top of you, in you, around you. He’s cumming so much it’s ridiculous, coating your walls, filling your belly full. “Oh f-fuck… fuckin love you…”

You blink as you come to, as your cum and his are pushed out with each thrust, your thighs shaking, head buzzing from pleasure. He looks at you then, eyes desperate, biting his lower lip while you put it together. “You love me, Kuna?”

“Shut up.” You smile when he kisses you again, and well… you don’t just fuck once for your first time.

You’re fucking in the shower to ‘clean up’ and then he’s got you up on the counter, devouring your pussy again, seeing how many times you can cum, soon he’s got his game going, showing you the controls as you’re cockwarming him. You’re so sore no amount of ibuprofen will fix it, but you want more, you’re grinding on him as you wear his headset, getting shot hopelessly by the players.

That’s where Yuuji finds you all, your tits out, Sukuna half naked, big hands on your hips with his cock inside you, you gasp then, covering your tits with your hands, but Sukuna just laughs, kissing on your shoulders. Yuuji covers his face, turning away quickly in embarrassment.

“K-kuna… s-stop…” You whisper, but Yuuji waves at you all, covering his eyes with a smile.

“You’re getting along!”

“Um… yeah.” You manage, and Sukuna’s laughing so hard it’s annoying, he doesn’t pay attention to your glare.

“Cool… um… bye.” He hides in his room, you try to get up, but Sukuna has you pinned down, tilting your head and kissing you.

“You’re insane, Sukuna.”

“You love that shit.”

“Shush. Show me the… g-game…”

The teammates are very curious why Sukuna started sucking at Call of Duty that day, but he has his new very annoying girlfriend to blame, she’s just squeezing his cock too good.

A/N I really have been feeling some Sukuna latelyyy, I hope ya'll enjoyed the smut aha!! <3

Taglisttt: @yenayaps @schlokki @elliesndg @thelightknight21 @attackonnat @indiewritesxoxo @sylussss7 @ninikrumbs @zezedoesshit @iveiveim @spacefae-x @maomimii @moonchhu @jinxiewritings perma tags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @aldebrana

All my sukuna oneshots hereee

[deathofacupid]

—ME AND CAT MAMA ROLLED INTO THE DISTANT FOG!

LITTLE DID SHE KNOW, I'M A NASTY DOG! — jujutsu-kaisen men/woman as overused pórn tropes.

★ satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, ieiri shoko.

warnings — pórn without a plot, kind of crack. afab!reader. cheating, óverstimulatión, light degrading (slút-shaming), age gaps (teacher/student). both unprotected/protected séx. dumbífícatíon, squírtíng. dom!characters, slightly out-of-character. óral (female/male recieving), fingéring, chóking. 4.6k+ words!

(呪術廻戦) : note — inspired by @fushitoru's work. banner credits to @cuntpress. yes, i was lazy and reposted the toji one from my side-blog... shh, don't tell. also, how do people write long fics? i've passed away from just this one <33

★ SATORU GOJO — GORGEOUS BRIDE RETHINKS MARRIAGE AFTER GETTING THE BEST SEX OF HER LIFE!

"i'm just," you breathe, "i'm just really nervous. i mean, what if he's not the right guy for me?" your fingers fumble with the delicate lace of your veil, your gaze stubbornly fixed anywhere but on him.

"isn't that a question you should've asked before you said yes?" he asks, half-teasing, as his brows raise. satoru licks his lips, fuck, you look breathtaking in that virginal white. it's not fair that you'll be sent off to a man that's not him.

you let out a frustrated whine, tipping your head back against the wall. "don't say that! you're supposed to be reassuring me!"

"well, maybe, you're right," he shrugs, leaning against the wall, satoru's gaze lingering on the curve of your breasts beneath the satin, the swell of your hips.

"what?" you blurt, astounded. if this was his way of making you feel better, it wasn't working very well.

"you're the one about to be bound, legally, to this ass— i mean, man. are you ready for that? can you deal with that douche— shit, guy?" he asks, though the suggestive glint in his eyes doesn't waver.

you give him a look, pointed. he continues, undeterred, leaning in close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your ear. "like, how good does he fuck you?"

"'toru!" you gasp, heat flooding your cheeks and lower.

"what?" satoru asks, as if that was a totally precedented question. "i'm serious? you really wanna condemn yourself to a lifetime of missionary with a limp-dick?"

you click your tongue, "no. wait, that's not important. it's his personality, okay? that's what matters in the long-run."

he snorts. "personality? babe, he's drier than the sahara desert. how'd you even end up with him?"

"oh, my god," you groan, burying your face in your hands. "i'm actually going to be stuck in a sexless marriage with a personality-deficient bore."

"he's also a grade-a asshole," satoru adds, his arms crossed over his chest. his commentary doesn't help your pre-wedding jitters.

"if I were you," he says, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive murmur, "i'd ditch the stiff and run off with someone who'll worship every inch of you. in bed and out."

"like, who?" you scoff, sinking further into the chair you're sitting on. satoru pushes himself off the wall.

"oh, y'know," a lazy shrug, but there's a flicker of something that crosses his features, "me." your eyes go wide, and your thighs clench — almost like it's some perverted instinct.

and, then? then, he's showing you proof, pulling your wedding gown up, with your panty-clad ass facing him. the fabric bunches around your waist, and his hands slide under the hem of your pristine white gown.

for him, you're already soaked. but, like the real gentleman here, he slides two fingers beneath the elastic, parting your folds and thrusting them deep inside. he scissors them rhythmically, stretching you open for his pleasure.

you cry out, chanting his name like it's the only thing you know. well, in this moment, it's the only thing you remember. "oh, sato— shit," you moan, your body instinctively arching, hands gripping the edge of the antique dresser for dear life as you bend over it.

"are you close? are you gonna cum for me, huh?" he groans, relishing in the feeling of your tight pussy, warm and wet. all for himself.

"yesyesyesyesyes," you whimper, your body convulsing, the word a broken string of syllables.

the second you're squirting all over his digits, he wastes no time. with a guttural groan, he yanks down his zipper and guides his thick, throbbing cock to your slick opening. god, the stretch, the fullness —you can feel every ridge, every vein pressing against your swollen, desperate walls.

"do i fuck you better than he does?" satoru mutters into your ear, his breath a ragged caress. he's not just your goofy best friend anymore, not really. you don't know what he is, but you'd like him to stay this way.

the way you cum three times on his length, before he even gets one in, it answers the question for satoru.

well, it's not like you can go out there with your makeup smeared like this, anyways.

★ SUGURU GETO — KINKY MASSEUR HELPS STRESSED CLIENT RELAX!

"how's that feel?" geto murmurs, his voice a low rumble as his fingers dig into the knotted muscles of your hips. you groan, a deep, involuntary sound that vibrates against the plush massage table beneath your stomach.

"mm, feels so fucking good," you manage, the words thick with sensation. you can practically feel the answering twitch in his own body through the slight pressure of his touch against your lower back.

"yeah? and, here?" geto coos, his hands sliding lower, settling on the rounded curves of your ass, the thin white sheet doing little to conceal their shape. it's a blatant caress, and a thrill shoots through you.

the stress of endless office hours had been a constant, dull ache in your shoulders and back. but under geto's knowing hands, the knots were surrendering, melting away as if they'd never existed. he slips his hands beneath the edge of the towel, pulling it down to expose your bare skin.

"just for the best experience," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, and you're in no state to argue. he’s the expert here, his touch already weaving a potent spell. his hands roam freely, shamelessly exploring the contours of your body, kneading, rubbing, feeling. he pauses at the juncture of your thighs, his fingertips tracing the delicate folds of your vulva through the slickness of your own arousal. a shiver rips through you. "oh, shit," you whimper, instinctively pressing your hips down, wanting more of that electric touch.

he smears the slick heat, mingling it with the fragrant massage oil, his thumb now directly pressing against your swollen clit. he lifts your hips slightly, a subtle adjustment he claims is for a "better angle," and your face is pressed into the headrest, your ass now presented to him. two firm hands settle on your lower back, anchoring you, though you have no intention of moving away. not now.

geto's nose nudges against your wet folds, the warmth of his breath mingling with the heady scent of your own arousal. a low groan escapes your lips as his warm, moist breath washes over your most sensitive spot. "fuck," you cry out, a thread of drool escaping your parted lips, your eyes squeezed shut against the mounting pleasure.

his tongue darts out, a wet, insistent stroke tracing the engorged length of your clit before dipping lower, lapping at the slick entrance to your core. he slips in one finger, then another, the gentle stretching sending another wave of heat through you.

geto's fingers begin to pump inside you, a steady, rhythmic thrust that mirrors the relentless assault of his tongue on your clit. the dual sensation is overwhelming, a messy, wet symphony of friction that sends shockwaves of pure, unadulterated pleasure through your body.

it isn't long before the tremors start, building into the unmistakable crescendo of your orgasm. geto’s mouth is still latched onto you, greedily licking up every drop of your release, a possessive sound rumbling in his chest.

he finally pulls back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. a sly smile plays on his lips. "would you mind rating us five stars, then?"

★ KENTO NANAMI — COLLEGE SLUT SUCKS OFF PROFESSOR FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

you were prepared for this. you'd picked out the tiniest skirt, a low-cut blouse to match. you were going to seduce the hell out of your finance professor. seriously. professor nanami was about to get a lesson he hadn't signed up for.

he wouldn't see it coming. well, you know, except that he did.

nanami's eyes were fixed on yours, refusing to wander anywhere else. it threw you for a second, a tiny snag in your carefully laid plans. okay, new tactic, you thought, a little thrill of challenge sparking within you. because, if there's anything you're good at, it's making them ache.

"you should know i worked really hard this semester, sir," you purr, nodding your head. you lean over his wooden desk, just slightly. you make sure he gets the full view this time, the subtle swell of your breasts just visible above the fabric.

a beat. you saw it — the almost imperceptible dip of his gaze, the faintest flush creeping up his neck. score. he cleared his throat, a little rougher than usual. "y/n, the grades are finalized. there's always next year, if you need to retake the course."

you pouted, dragging a nail slowly down a strand of your hair, your eyes wide and falsely innocent. "but next year? that's ages away. surely there's… something i can do?"

he sighs, momentarily considering it. "you're aware of my policy, are you not? i don't do extra credit. it's the end of the grading period, and there's not enough time to—"

"sir," you interrupted, a soft giggle bubbling up. "the extra credit i have in mind, it won't take too long."

"i— i'm sorry?" he stammers, awkwardly shifting his position in his seat. "i'm not sure if i understand."

you coo, a gleaming look on your face, "well, i could show you what i mean." rounding the table, you spin his rolling chair, so that it's facing you. gently, you part his legs, and the restraint on his face is all but gone.

"if you wouldn't mind," you add, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. his pupils are blown, and he hesitates.

"look, i appreciate the, er, enthusiasm, but this isn't appro—"

you're cutting him off, already, dropping onto your knees, between his thighs.

"i bet that hard-on isn't exactly appropriate, either," you pipe in, unbuttoning his slacks. his protests die down, fading into a soft groan. you hands palm his crotch, as you peer innocently above.

"damnit," nanami hisses, his eyes falling shut. messing with his belt, you loosen it, pulling his weeping cock out. you swear, you almost moan at the sight. (actually, you might have.)

"fuck," you breathe, "y'so big." it's mostly to yourself, than him, but he finds himself (anatomically possible, or not) hardening even more. his hands tangle themselves in your hair, tugging softly, the movement needy.

you drag your tongue along the underside of his dick, stopping to swirl at the tip, and smear his pre-cum.

your lips tighten around him, cheeks hollowing with each downward stroke. you can feel the frantic pulse beneath your tongue, the way he strains against your mouth.

your hands are busy too, one stroking the length of him, the other cupping his heavy sack, the weight of it a potent reminder of what you're doing.

breath hitching, his thick-rimmed glasses slide down his down. "shit, shit, d— don't stop. ah, just like that." the back of your throat aches as he thrusts deeper, a strangled sound escaping you. you don't get a warning, save for a slight tremor in his hands, as his heavy balls tighten, and he releases strands of gooey seed.

and, to really make sure you've earned those extra percentages, you swallow, choking down everything you can. it tastes musky, bitter, and utterly his.

a slow, satisfied grin spreads across your face. mission fucking accomplished.

★ CHOSO KAMO — TATTOO ARTIST FINGERS PRETTY CUSTOMER RELAX!

"you need to stop squirming," choso says, his voice flat, utterly devoid of amusement.

"huh?" you mumble, your body instinctively twitching as the needle buzzes against your skin.

"if you don't want this to look like abstract roadkill," he repeats, his gaze never leaving your thigh, "you need to stay still."

a wave of sheepish heat floods your cheeks. "oh. right. sorry. it's just… um… i thought it would hurt less." you cringe inwardly, hating how whiny you sound. jesus, why did you ever think getting inked would some cool, edgy experience? this feels like torture.

he blinks slowly, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arching a fraction. "…right."

it would be nice if he's bothered to distract you, with even just a little small talk. but, this space-bun-haired guy, no matter how sexy, is the driest person you've ever met.

"so…" you shift your gaze from the intricate lines blooming on your skin to his intensely focused face. the proximity is doing nothing to calm your nerves, or your involuntary fidgeting.

okay, yeah, you know he's just doing his job, but the way his dark lashes frame his serious eyes, the slight furrow in his brow… it's distracting in a whole other way. "so, uh, nice weather today, huh?"

"it's raining," he responds bluntly, not looking up from his work.

"yeah. yeah, i mean, rain's good. rain is… good. for the plants. yeah." you wince, making a face at your word choice.

no response. you click your tongue, "not a fan of small talk?"

"nope."

you laugh, nervous, "…right. sorry. just, uh, trying to take my mind off this." your leg throbs, a dull ache that is steadily intensifying.

he finally sighs, his gaze sweeping around the sparsely decorated studio. it's just the two of you in here. you watch as he deliberately sets the buzzing tattoo machine down on the clean side table.

"you wanted a distraction, yeah?" he asks, his dark eyes finally meeting yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. he then reaches out and casually nudges your knees further apart.

"well, i—" your breath hitches.

"fine, then." his hand slides beneath the hem of your shorts, fingers pressing against the fabric covering your most sensitive spot. you flinch, a jolt of surprised heat shooting through you. your eyes widen.

"what're you—?" you gasp, shivering at his touch.

"distracting you," choso shrugs, as if this is a standard part of the tattooing process. wait, does he? you aren't really thinking, too caught up in the sudden thrill, to protest, as he tugs your shorts down.

a flicker of genuine amusement dances in his eyes — the first real emotion you've witnessed all day — as he takes in your damp lace panties. with a swift, efficient movement, he pulls those down too, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.

choso picks up the tattoo machine again, the buzzing a stark contrast to the sudden quiet intimacy, and goes back to meticulously working on your leg.

but his other hand… his free hand is now kneading your clit through the thin veil of moisture, his thumb circling with a lazy expertise that sends a jolt of pure sensation through you.

"cho…" you whimper, your head falling back against the cushioned table. you bite down hard on your lower lip to stifle a moan.

then, two fingers, slick with your own wetness, slide inside you, stretching you open with a slow, deliberate pressure. he curls them, hooking and pulling, each movement sending a wave of intense pleasure that almost eclipses the stinging of the needle.

the pain of the ink is rapidly being drowned out by the insistent throb between your legs. his movements are fluid, almost absentminded, yet devastatingly effective. seriously, how is this seemingly aloof guy — who is putting in less obvious effort than anyone you've been with before — making you feel better than… well, anyone you've ever been with?

even more unbelievably, he is a multitasking god. his brow remains furrowed in concentration as he expertly guides the needle, while his other hand turns you into a quivering, moaning mess.

he knows exactly where to touch, how much pressure to apply, not frantically, but with a calculated precision that keeps you just on the edge, just still enough.

"oh— wait, god," you cry out, your body arching involuntarily, your fingers clenching into the padded table.

"what? you close?" he asks, his voice still calm, as he leans back to assess his artwork from a different angle. "me too, i think."

his name becomes a broken mantra, the only sound escaping your lips as your inner muscles clench around his fingers, your body tightening with the force of your orgasm.

"you do that for all of 'em?" you manage to gasp out, your voice still shaky, as he finally sets the tattoo machine aside, the intricate design on your thigh now complete.

he takes a moment to admire his handiwork, a hint of a satisfied smile playing on his lips before he finally answers, his gaze lingering on your flushed face.

"nah. just the pretty ones."

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO — BORED HOUSEWIFE INVITES SEXY PLUMBER OVER FOR HELP!

you'd like to preface this by saying; it wasn't your fault. it wasn't your fault that your boring, workaholic husband was always at work. what were you to do? a pretty, bored housewife — one left all alone at home.

"it's the pipes," you say, soft and breathy. as if you aren't dreaming up the nastiest things that could ever come to mind, eyes roving his fit body. pipes, ones that you'd messed with. there wasn't that much leakage, at least not that you could see.

you think. to be honest, you're hardly aware of how much harm you've inflicted onto them.

you're just a little lady, so, what do you know about these things? instead, you lead him to the cabinets underneath the kitchen sink, leaning back against the counter, pretending to be concerned, as he takes a look.

it takes him less than two minutes to realize the damage was dealt on purpose, to which he responds with a roll of his eyes. "if you wanted to fuck, should've just said somethin'."

and, well, that's how you end up with toji's hips snapping brutally against your ass, the cool slab digging into your skin. your palms are damp with the slick of your sweat, desperately trying to ground yourself, as he rams into you relentlessly.

"this — oh, fuck — is want you wanted, yeah? f— fuckin' better take it." the empty house is filled with the lewd sound of squelching, accompanied by a plap, plap, plap!

he groans, dark hair sticking to his brow. "damn husband of yours, he doesn't fuck you good, huh? you're wrecked already, and we just started."

you can't muster a response, whimpering instead. it spurs him on, his cruel pace only increasing. one of his hands are tangled in your hair, yanking back. the other is digging into your hip, sure to leave bruises in the morning.

his cock stretches you out wholly, forcing yourself to mold to the shape of his thick length. your cunt clenches around his, the fluttering hole doing the best it can. you hardly even last long, body tensing.

"shit, ma, you gonna cum, already? cum on my cock, like some slut?" he sneers, right by your ear. he fucks you hard and greedy, driving into you repeatedly.

"mm—! t— toji," you cry, velvety walls squeezing him tight. your body seizes, and you tremble violently, gushing onto his dick. his stamina? it lasted far longer than yours, and he didn't let up, not until he was shooting ropes into your pussy. overstimulated and fucked-out, you'd lost count of how many times he'd pulled orgasms out of you, waiting for his own to come.

and, when he finally leaves (hours, upon hours, later), you realize he never quite fixed the pipes. oh, well. at least, you had a reason to call him back over, right?

★ RYOMEN SUKUNA — HOT TENANT FUCKS HER WAY OUT OF PAYING LANDLORD'S RENT!

"i just need, like, two more weeks," you plead, your voice laced with desperation. sukuna gives you an unimpressed look, arms crossed.

"it's been seven," he informs you, as if this wasn't information you didn't already know. so, yes, you'd been behind on monthly dues, but it wasn't your fault! blame capitalism. or, um, inflation.

"i know, i know. i swear, though, this is the last time!" you insist, wringing your hands.

he pulls out a cigarette, from his back pocket, the foil crinkling. he places it between his lips, "can't keep making exceptions, sweetheart." it's condescending, tied with a hidden threat, you think.

you blow out a breath, running a hand through your, already messy, hair. watching him light it, your eyes go wide with an idea. shameful, for sure.

but, dignity wasn't going to keep the rain off your head when you were sleeping in a cardboard box.

"not even," you tilt your head, looking at him with innocent eyes, lashes batting, "for me?" the way you're leaning closer, over the desk, it doesn't take him long to figure out what you're insinuating. your chest almost brushing his forearms, sukuna pauses, mid-smoke.

"for fuck's sake," he groans, rolling his eyes. "you're doing the work." he doesn't need to say it twice. sukuna leans back in his chair, his hands now resting loosely on his thighs, a silent invitation.

paying him a favor? bullshit. If anyone was benefiting here, it was you. who in their right mind wouldn't jump at the chance to get their brains fucked out by their ridiculously built landlord?

you didn't hesitate, settling onto his lap with a soft thud, straddling his hard thighs.

"hi," you grin, albeit slightly nervous, rolling your hips on his crotch.

"go on," he tsks, gripping your waist, holding you in place. your lips brush against his, hesitantly at first, then... not so much. his tongue slips into your mouth, exploring, and you moan, grinding against his growing erection.

your fingers fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans, the rough denim scratching against your skin. when you finally got them open, his thick, red-tipped cock sprang free, slapping against his lower stomach with a fleshy sound. a surprised gasp escaped you, and you're too shocked to be embarrassed.

"it'll fit, brat," he mutters, as if reading your mind. not wanting to test his patience, you lift your hips, guiding yourself to the slick head. slowly, agonizingly, you sink down, a sharp intake of breath escaping as you stretched around his impressive girth.

"fuck, you're tight," he groans, breath hitching. it took a moment of awkward squirming, but when you were finally seated fully, a whimper of discomfort and a burgeoning pleasure escaped you.

his large hand clamped onto your breast, his thumb teasing your hardening nipple through your thin top. you threw your head back, a guttural sound rising in your throat.

"s— sukuna... shit, you—!" whatever you'd planning to say, it dies out on your tongue, replaced with quiet whimpers of his name.

"mhm, keep... damnit, just like that." his voice is thick with lust, eyes fixed on you.

your movements lost their initial awkwardness, becoming more frantic as the pressure built in your core. your hands tangled in the short, spiky strands of his hair, gripping tightly as you rode him. sukuna's jaw clenched, his other hand now sliding down to cup your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"'kuna, 'm close," you whine, syllables drawn out.

"i know, mm— me, too," he grunts, his hips starting to buck against yours.

you came in a rush, a series of intense contractions that squeezed him tightly. sukuna followed just seconds after, a deep, guttural groan from his throat.

exhausted and slick with sweat, you collapsed against his chest, your head falling into the crook of his neck, his scent of smoke and pinewood filling your senses.

"if i keep fucking you," you ask, shaky and panting, "do i get to live here for free?"

★ IEIRI SHOKO — GYNECOLOGIST HELPS OUT NEEDY PATIENT WHO CAN'T SEEM TO CLIMAX!

"are you feeling any pain?" she asks, flipping through her notes, her brow furrowed in concentration.

you brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. "no."

"are you on birth control?"

"yes," you answer, fiddling with the thin hem of your paper hospital gown. you clear your throat, a nervous flutter in your chest. "yeah."

shoko clicks her pen, a small, decisive sound, and nods. "how long?"

"three— three years," you stammer, a warmth creeping up your neck. you're not entirely sure why you're so flustered. maybe it's the sterile environment, or maybe it's the fact that your doctor is so unbelievably gorgeous it's hard to focus on anything she's saying.

your gaze keeps drifting to the way her scrubs fit her chest, and you have to actively drag your attention back to her face. oh, thank god you're not a man, you think, a little mortified.

"uh-huh. and, to be sure, you've orgasmed before, right?"

you're also not sure why your face feels like it's on fire. this is her job. this is why you're here — for her to do her job and figure out what the hell is wrong with you.

"um, yeah. myself. i mean, i did it myself." the words tumble out, awkward and rushed.

her eyes flicker to yours, a brief, assessing glance, and you immediately drop your gaze, suddenly intensely interested in the wrinkles in your gown. shoko holds back a small laugh; you're kind of adorable in your embarrassment.

"alright," she says, taking a breath and shifting in her rolling chair. the movement causes a subtle jiggle of her breasts beneath her scrubs, and your thighs involuntarily clench.

pervert, you scold yourself internally. "well, based on your history, it doesn't look like there's any physiological reason for what you're describing."

"really? but, i can't, like, y'know…" you trail off, frowning, the frustration evident in your voice.

"cum?" shoko questions, filling in the blank with a bluntness that makes your cheeks heat — they never really did cool down — at her casual vulgarity.

"well, yeah. i mean, what about that?"

"don't fuck asses," she shrugs, her expression nonchalant. oh, god. was it hot in here? that wasn't just you, right? "but, i'm gonna do a pelvic exam anyway, yeah? just to rule everything out."

you nod, your eyes following her as she pulls out the cold metal stirrups. gently but efficiently, she guides your legs into them, her gaze surprisingly steady and focused on you.

"pulling this up now," she informs you, tugging on the front of your gown. shoko moves it higher, and you instinctively lift your hips to accommodate.

you fidget with your hands, acutely aware of the slickness blooming between your legs. you just know she'll see it. her eyes, no matter how professional she tries to keep them, widen almost imperceptibly as she takes in your pretty, wet folds. you can see the internal battle she's waging not to say something suggestive.

"won't need lube," she mumbles, mostly to herself, but you catch it, your ears burning red. the cool touch of a latex-gloved hand brushes against your swollen clit, and a involuntary shiver courses through you. you clench your jaw, resisting the urge to make any and all embarrassing noises.

then, her middle finger slips inside you, and a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. "sorry," you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand.

"no need to apologize," she says, her voice softening slightly. "it's just us in here, y'know."

"ri— right."

her finger probes the tight walls of your cunt, and you instinctively squeeze around it. another finger slides in, and by this point, she can probably confirm you're perfectly healthy.

but she doesn't stop. not yet.

then, she thrusts them deeper, and your hips jerk up off the table. "ngh, fuck," you murmur, your eyes falling shut against the sudden, intense sensation.

her other thumb comes to rest on your puffy clit, rubbing gently, then pinching with deliberate pressure. shoko's pace quickens, her digits fucking you harder and deeper.

"how's that, baby? feel nice?" her voice is a low, husky purr.

"god, yeah. keep going, please!" you plead, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"close already? haven't even been going for long," she laughs, a soft, breathy sound that vibrates between your legs. "ah, that's alright. go on, prove me right."

your inner muscles clench rhythmically around her fingers, and you moan, the familiar knot of your impending climax tightening in your stomach. it intensifies, coiling tighter and tighter, and with one final, deliberate flick of her wrist, it breaks.

"see? told you, you were just fucking the wrong people."

"and, the right people?" you ask, your body still trembling, your head lolling back against the headrest.

shoko chuckles, a low, knowing sound. "me."

❛ all works belong to deathofacupid, do not steal/plagiarize/repost. ❜

[dinogoofymutated]

Jealousy headcannons! Multi/GN!Reader - Cable, Gambit, Nightcrawler, Quicksilver. Ok I know this wasn't on the schedule butttt Yeahhhh. Cable is going to have an extended version of his fic, and I might do the same for the others but no promises! Also I know that Cable's written half is literally just the snippet I shared with some minor edits but bear with me please his stuff is in the works!!! TWs: Jelousy. Barfights. No violence on Reader but men are creepy. Mentions of sex work. Cable and gambit make public spectacles it's just what they do. The return of wolverine and the X-men Pietro bc I love him

Cable

Look, any man who comes over to flirt with you after you walk in with a legit wall of muscle has to be either stupid or blind.

Cable is by no means a very jealous man. He's not gonna care if a man (or woman) approaches you and starts up a conversation. He might get a little frustrated if they start flirting with you, but he trusts you. He knows you can take care of yourself and he doesn't want you to feel like he's got you on a leash.

But when someone is being persistent, not taking no for an answer, and hell, putting their hands on you? He doesn't take it too well. He's more of an overprotective type when it comes to his flavor of jealousy.

    “That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.

    “Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.

    “Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.

    “Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't. 

    “What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip. 

    “This Husband.” Cable grunts.

    All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.

    “What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and were getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately tried to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable ignores the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.

    “ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. There's a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.

Gambit

Gambit is probably the most jealous man in this lineup. Again, He will get fidgety and somewhat aggressive when someone approaches you and begins to flirt, but he trusts you. He doesn't want you to think he doesn't, and as a result, he tends to grit his teeth and bite his tongue to keep himself in check.

There's definitely a very, very thin line in between "I don't want to be overbearing" Remy and "This guy needs to take the fucking hint" Remy.

He's mostly fine with drunk bastards, He thinks they're funny, and as long as they're not bothering you for the most part he'll keep the aggression to a minimum. -But the one thing he absolutely cannot stand is snobby pricks who think they can steal you from him because he's a "swamp rat."

"It's a shame to see such a lovely creature like you standing here all alone." You try not to roll your eyes at the man that approaches you. You and Remy were supposed to have a nice, romantic night out. It was your anniversary, and Remy had told you that he wanted to pull out all the stops for this one. Unfortunately, fate wasn't on either of your sides today. The X-men needed Gambit, and you told him that the plans can wait for another time. Remy, in a very gambit fashion, told you to dress up anyway and he bet he would meet you there. Definitely a rather High-stakes gamble, but you loved him, so you said you'd hold him to it.

Unfortunately for you, it looked like the restaurant was hosting an event at the bar for what looked like a rather stuffy- sorry, High-end law firm. You had been content with waiting for Remy, even if the waitress clearly looked convinced he was standing you up. You had ordered something to drink while you waited, and caught the wrong kind of attention during your trip to the bar.

"I'm not alone, I'm waiting for someone." You say, flashing him an annoyed smile. He smiles back in a smartass kind of way, flashing you his Rolex as he pushes up his glasses. Great. He thinks you're a sugar baby- or maybe a sex worker. Either way, you really wished he was anywhere but here.

"Right. I'll be honest with you, I know you've been waiting here for what- and hour now? Hour and a half? Any guy that leaves you here for that long is not worth your time, sweetheart." You cringe at the nickname, but he clearly can't seem to tell. At this point, you start debating your options. You could run to the bathroom, but there weren't any windows you could crawl out of and he could wait at the door for you to come out. You could try to leave, but you didn't want Remy to think that you left him hanging. It's probably best if you stay and wait for him, but man was this guy getting on your nerves.

"Again, I'm waiting on someone. I'm choosing to wait on him, and frankly, I'm not interested in you." You say bluntly, getting more and more aggravated. The man only smirks at you.

"You're certainly a fiesty one. Don't worry, I like it when they play hard to get." He sends you wink that makes you want to sock him, and to be honest, you start to think about it. The bell at the door of the restaurant dings, and you glance over, face breaking out in a smile at the sight of the man you had been waiting on.

Remy was still in his x-men suit, obviously having come fresh from the fight. He's got some dirt on his face, and his hair is a little messier than normal, but you had never been so happy to see him.

"Well, don't you clean up well." You joke as Remy walks to your table. He chuckles, barely sparing the other man a side-eye before picking up your hand to kiss it.

"Sorry, Chère. Originally, I planned on changin', but I couldn't stand the thought of leaving you here for another moment." Remy's fond gaze turns into a bit of a glare when he finally looks over at the gobsmacked man across the table from you. "I see you've made a new friend?" You roll your eyes at that, shaking your head. Remy gets the message.

There's a gasp from the other patrons of the restaurant, as the sound the contact made was rather loud. There's already a red mark forming on the mans face as you take Remy by the hand and begin to lead him out of the restaurant. Remy is looking at you like he'd fallen in love with you all over again.

"You've been waiting all this time for some Cajun freak?" The man blurts out, finally having found his words.

"Watch it, Mon ami." Remy's shoulders tense as he snarls at the prick. You stand up, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze before you walk in front of the man. The side of his mouth slightly upturns as you do so, right before you slap the everloving shit out of him.

"I know you really wanted for us to eat here, honey, but to be honest? I like your cooking better anyway."

Nightcrawler

Kurt? Jealous???

Absolutely. He absolutely gets jealous. Kurt is much more of a "cat" kind of jealous than a Guard Dog kind of jealous though. He's not going to do anything crazy like punch anyone, but he's gonna brush up against you, slide his tail around your waist, hold your hand. He wants reassurance from you more than he is angered by whoever is flirting with you.

That's not to say he's not angry. He doesn't like the way some people look at you like a piece of meat instead of the intelligent, beautiful person you are, and he's not afraid to call people out on it.

Kurt knew that the guy you were talking to right now was only stopping to ask you for directions, but he really didn't like how close to you the guy was. Kurt had gone off to get you something to eat from the street food vendor nearby, telling you to just relax and he would be back soon.

When he returned with food in hand, it was obvious to him what was happening, but he still couldn't help but frown. The man is leaning into your space as he shows you the map in his hands. It's fine. There was obviously nothing really going on, the stranger must have been simply touchy. He then watches as the man sets a hand on the back of your waist to point at a building up ahead, and Kurt's mind quickly changes.

Obviously, you had stepped out of the stranger's reach quickly, uncomfortable with the action, but Kurt still slinked up to your side like a cat, pulling you close with his tail as he hands you your food, resting his newly freed hand behind your back.

"There you are, Meine Liebe. I hope you didn't wait for too long." Kurt says sweetly, giving you a grin. You smile back at him, thanking him for the food. You felt relieved to see him. Sure, the stranger that had been speaking to you seemed to be a nice man, but there was a certain amount of comfort and security Kurt provided when he was near you. Kurt makes a show of leaning in and kissing you on the cheek that makes you giggle. The stranger clears his throat after a quick moment.

"-Sorry if I interrupted your date. I appreciate the directions!" He says quickly, face flushed red from embarresment.

"You're perfectly fine! I hope you're able to find what you're looking for alright." You respond sweetly, waving as the man walks off. Kurt is pouting again when you look at him, tail still wrapped comfortably around you. You can't help but giggle.

"You're so jealous." You laugh. Kurt gives you an innocent look as he brushes off the accusation.

"Whaaat? No. Ich habe dich vermisst. That is all!"

Quicksilver

I'm not even gonna lie the fic half of this is just part of that enemies to lovers hcs that I wrote

anyway!!

Pietro is a very pouty, bratty kind of Jealous.

Like sure he trusts you and all but you actually looked at someone else while they were speaking to you? >:[ Don't look at them. Look at him. Smile at him not them. You're laughing at something they said? Well, he's funnier than them!!

He's just, so pouty over the smallest, pettiest things. He just needs a smooch on the forehead and some reassurance and also possibly cuddles, and he'll be fine. God he's such a brat ILHSM

However, If someone is actually flirting with you or going too far and making you uncomfortable, he will in fact throw hands. Or do his speedster thing and find a way to embarrass them, like pantsing them or planting something embarrassing on them. One time he snatched a guy's cell and called his wife before planting it in the man's pocket so she could hear all the flirting he was doing. Now that was fun.

"So I heard you had dinner with the wolfie guy tonight." The sound of Pietro's voice makes you yelp in surprise. You whirl around to see him leaning against the wall of your room, arms crossed. You scoff, and pick a pillow off of your bed to chuck it at him. He catches it easily.

"His name is Logan, and No. Not really. All we did was happen to sit next to each other at dinner." You turn back around to sit at your vanity, but Pietro is already there, sitting on the stool with the pink pillow tucked into his arms.

"So you did have dinner with him?" He pouts. You roll your eyes at him, holding back a laugh as you shove him off the seat. He looses his balance for less than a second before there's a gust and he's sitting cross-legged on your bed, having tossed the pillow to the side.

"What does it matter to you, anyway? You're not even supposed to be here, Pietro." You tease as you sit down, unable to keep yourself from smiling. You comb through your hair as you ready yourself for bed, still grinning like an idiot as you hear Pietro huff and haw.

"Why shouldn't it matter?" He asks, watching as you complete your routine. "I- I have a reason to care." He stutters out cheeks flushing a light pink that reaches his ears. You cover your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

"Don't laugh!" Pietro objects, and it sends you into a fit of laughter as you stand back up and flop onto your back on the bed next to him.

"He's not my type anyway." You say. It only takes a second before Pietro is leaning over you, caging you between his arms. There's the ghost of a grin beginning to form on his face, simply at the sight of your own cheesy expression.

"What is your type, then?" He asks, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Let's just say I prefer a man who can keep up with me." You say with a wink that may or may not have been the most terribly, corny action you could have done. Pietro doesn't seem to care as his face is split with an equally as corny grin.

Both of you are caught off guard by someone calling your same from the hallway, and then a knock shortly after. You take Pietro's moment of distraction and quickly lean up, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Pietro looks absolutely shocked.

"You better get going." You whisper. He smiles at you, almost in disbelief, and then he's gone, the window left open and the breeze catching on curtains, blowing gently.

[freeluigihesbae]

𝓹𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓾𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼 - 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 1

(3,081) words

summary: you're mean. you're bad. but your smart enough to get grades and attention and yet, breaking luigi mangione to be the kind of person you are doesn't seem to work.

little do ya know, he's about to break you instead.

ᴛᴡ: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ, ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴜʟʟʏ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ

~

Computer Science.

Now, hear me out would be the best phrase. Yeah, that's right. You're a woman in computer science at one of the snarkiest, headstrong universities in the country. Penn wasn't all that bad excluding the thousands of students that made it up. Normally, situations would push you be the bigger person and reserve some sense of decency. But in such a competitive market where you were paying to get paid, you had to be nasty.

It just so happened that what started out to be a guide now turned into you. You were and still are a snarky, irritating person that somehow turns heads every time you walk into the room. You've got the typical high-school style clique of girls fawning over you and everyone elevates your position because they are no better.

It does you good, this attitude, because it took you all but two whole semester to kick your grades up so high and absolute shatter the expectations of the degree that people didn't mind ignoring your arrogance to admire how smart you must've been.

Don't get it wrong, because you were and are smart. You're a student but better, you're the Kris Jenner of your year. You were good at marketing shallowness that somehow, was keeping you afloat with profit coming in the form of grades, internships, and attention.

In process, it became frustrating to see others who happened to be in a similar place. You wanted all the eyes on you so you went low with your actions and words to make sure it stayed that way but then, Intermediate Systems - COMPSCI 1570, rolls around and you're paired with Luigi Mangione.

Not paired with, actually, but put in a class with him. But paired in the sense of competition - who could get the most attention. You hate eo admit it, but the guy has got these ridiculously well-defined curls that are so tame yet alluring, it makes you want to rip his head off. You hate the way his smile is effortlessly charming and warms you heart. You hate the kindness that it makes bubble up inside of you.

On the more technical side, you hated how well-rounded the competition between you two was. He knew exactly who you were and you knew him, which meant he always played to get at you. You heard from everyone about how his nose was deep in the books and computer, trying his best to ace the exam only to quietly pass his grade to you. Sometimes, you did better. It made you feel like you're walking on Cloud 9, knowing this irritatingly handsome asshole could be squashed beneath your foot for this one moment, but other times? Oh, he decimated you. The professor would let his name escape from their lips, rather than yours.

It was an ultimate motivation, as you sit there, digging your nails into your palm and wondering why Luigi deserved it. How dare he step above you? How dare he pursue ambition rather than letting you have it all for yourself?

It was such a selfish notion and pursuit that had managed to seduce you with such blindness you never thought to question how you could be such a cruel, tasteless indivdual.

Yet he did. And he did so in all fairness. He, unlike you, was friends with everyone. With the bright-hair colored wimps in the corners and the sluttiest-for-him girls that applied themselves onto him with utter desire which he only combated with smiles and ultimate respect.

How frustrating, really, because even when you did beat him in an exam score, you could never beat him character wise. He would always stand above you and in truth, you were the bug. You were the dust beneath his feet so apart from your degree, you had another thing to acheive.

Him.

Not sleeping with him, no. Not fucking or kissing him throat deep. No.

Rather, being able to break his goody-two shoes act, you called. In reality, it was just him. Luigi Mangione just was a good person and that truth was so sour you only looked at him to arrogantly call him such a good boy and you hated it

You had to make him mean and nasty just like you.

That's exactly what you were going to do.

Or try to.

~

Luigi is sitting at his computer, working away on a new project the professor had assigned a few days ago. No matter where he was, he caught your eyes and this time was no different.

You walk over, swaying your hips a bit too seductively, biting your lip and wearing a stupidly sardonic smile. Your top is a low v-cut, exposing the rounds of your breasts that you were sure to apply body glitter on so everyone's eyes would stare like they were the prize. Your skirt was hiked up just enough to stir wonder and want, and as always, these were only ingredients for your experiment named Luigi Mangione.

"Hey Luigi." You wink before pulling a chair and sitting down next to him, tilting you head to the site with a pout while staring at the screen, scanning his code. It was habit, so your mind was translating the numbers and symbols into understandable language, hiding how impressed you are at all costs.

You're also relieved because you have the same answers, but we don't speak of that, now do we?

"You again." Luigi turns his head and you feel like clawing your heart out of your chest just to stop the butterflies you feel in your stomach. His lips are parted and puffy, the gap speaking a quiet invitation as if they're meant to be kissed. His nose bridge is screaming an intelligent form of dominance over the situation, as his facial curves the remainder of his gentle vice towering over you, soft yet present in all its overwhelming glory.

"Don't like me Lu? Am I too smart for you to admit?" You giggle, high pitched and bend forward, letting your biceps squeeze your breasts more as you bite your lip and look up at him with poisonously doe-y eyes, trying to make him fall. He takes a cursory glance, though, at your body before chuckling and typing away at his code.

"Are you too poor to figure that out for yourself?" His words cut at your ego and your expression instantly falls, sitting back in the chair and your loud, shocked exhales doesn't go un-missed by either of your. You curse at yourself quietly for letting it make a sound while Luigi only types away, as if he heard nothing.

He heard. Oh, yes, he did.

"Mangione is being an ass today? Code giving you a tough time Lu?" Your voice shakes at first, tears coming to your eyes in reaction to his demeaning question and he doesn't make that much better, ignoring you but smirking as if you're in desperate need of pity and attention.

Because you are and without saying it, he loves showing it to you time and time again.

The lack of answer enrages as you as you feel your heart rate shoot through your chest, prompting you to slam a few keys on his keyboard to which he only pauses, staring at your fingers. He watches how they shake, your acrylics getting stuck in the gaps between the board and keys. The way they wince from the tug of those pauses yet, there is an innocent and pitiable need that he sees and recognizes but staying silent.

Luigi turns his head toward you, cocking his neck down and to the side.

"You done? 'Cause I'm almost finished my code and seeing your excursions on Instagram makes me think your situation is otherwise." He smiles at you and you pant, removing your hands from his keyboard.

"You infuriate me Mangione." You dig your hands into your palm before continuing. "I'm finished dimwit. It's a one-part project and I submitted it yesterday because as always, I would never submit it the day its due, which is today and which is fairly typical for you." You twirl your hair between your fingers, uncaring if he admires you body as your get drunk in the expectance of hearing him sarcastically compliment you.

It's still something, even if he won't mean it.

But instead, his mouth parts and his eyes widen before contorting into a concerningly amused smile and before you know it, he's bending over the table and laughing into the table before looking back up at you.

Your expression is unchanged, but your body goes rigid with expectation.

He pulls his body away from the computer, shutting it down and putting it in his back before he places a hand on your knee.

A shiver makes its way from his fingers to your neck.

"Sweetheart," He starts talking, drawing out the pet name before his other hand slams a packet on the table.

You stare at the papers and back at Luigi.

"Is this a lecture for how I'm supposed to be a good girl?" You bite at him, words unforgiving. He raises his eyebrows before shaking his head and standing up. Your eyes follow, taking in the beauty of his height.

Heat seizes your comfort in the moment as he bends down and speaks into your ear, letting both arms cage you in the chair.

"It's a 3-part assignment. You forgot to scroll all the way down, sweetheart." You eyes widen and you turn your head up to look at him, nearly whimpering when you realize his lips are less than an inch away from yours. Suddenly, all your egotistic ideas and bubbles burst and melt away, leaving you naked as you fight the obligation to cross your eyes from how close he is. He stays in place, pushing himself back while staring into your eyes.

Your lips are parted, vulnerable in arousal and shock as a hand comes to push some loose threads behind your ear. You blink slowly, lips quivering as your realize your royally fucked because one part took four days and now, you had to complete two more in less than eight hours.

Luigi coos, watching how you break slowly in front of him, before his face is back the stoic yet kind approach he utilizes.

"See you at the submission deadline. Or not." He leaves after lifting a hand of yours and placing it on the flipped over directions packet, one that held a dirty, ugly, and devastating truth that you were lef tto fend with until 11:59pm.

~

"You look like you need a beer." Your roommate, Kate, pats your head as you're hunched over, posture despicable as you somehow manage to finish the second and half of the third part using some of your own ideas and resources.

Those resources... which aren't supposed to.

But you could care less.

"Right." You give a curt reply, ignoring the sound of a Coke popping open in Kate's hands, which you don't even need to see to realize.

"Why don't you just let loose for the evening?" Kate casually asks and you half slam your hands on the table.

"I've got this stupid project for my Systems class which I need to finish. Didn't read all the directions and now I'm cramming, so no thank you Kate." Kate raises her eyebrows before laughing.

"Hey, isn't that the class that Mangione guy is in?" She asks curiously and you freeze up.

Not him.

You rolls your eyes, ignoring how your breaths falter as you turn around and nod. "Yeah, what about 'm?" You furrow your eyebrows, licking your lips as they suddenly dry up. Kate gives you a suspicious look.

"I've heard he's one of the smartest guys. Maybe you should ask him at his frat party later." Kate supplies and before you can scream and shout in retaliation, she gets up and opens her closet.

"You can unshackle yourself and get that assignment done. Win-in to me." She rummages through her bling and glitter bodycon dresses, unbeknownst to your fuming.

You had to let her know that was out of question.

"Over my dead body." You spit the words out and Kate turns around, a dress in her hand but she barely reacts.

"And a shit GPA. Suit yourself hardass." She nudges your sitting figure with her hips before before leaving the room, leaving your to your thoughts.

This was, like any other, a crucial project and this was one of the most important classes because a stellar grade in this class meant a higher chance at a scholarship you were applying for. They liked you, but they wanted to see the grade you get in this class as a deal-breaker. If you aced, you got the scholarship.

It was everything, then, this class. You already were utilizing ChatGPT, your textbook, GitHub, and every source on the planet.

Just a half-part more.

But somehow, the last half was the hardest and it ate away two hours of your time already. Every late submission was docked 30% which would drop your grade into a B+ range, something you did not want to admit. Something that would happen because those few times Luigi beat you, he crushed you by over 20-30%.

You were not doing as well as you wanted to in the class.

You check the time, letting the 9:30pm flash into your eyes before the screen quietly goes black.

Maybe an hour wouldn't hurt.

But whatever you did, you were going to walk out finishing this project yourself and not asking Luigi.

~

"You came?" Kate is yelling over the music, dragging you by the arm as you stumbled through the people dancing over the music.

"The fuck? I didn't know Psi Kappa was this disgusting!" You nearly scream, letting Kate guide you through the place. You scan the crowd, trying to find familiar faces and friends so you can gain some footing in the place. The music is too loud, making your head pound.

The smell of alcohol, something you refused to drink, kicked around the nausea and for a second, you regret even stepping foot into this place.

Of course, that all melts away when your eyes land on Luigi Mangione.

He's wearing a white polo shirt, unbuttoned 3/4 of the way down as his pecs and defined abs scream for everyone's attention, detailed in their allure. His arms are deliciously toned and even, despite the flashy lights and revolving colors of the place. His head is craned to the side as you watch him talking up another girl, letting her feel him up.

You don't realize you're staring until his eyes suddenly swerve, directly piercing into yours. You physically feel yourself stutter, freezing as you let him hold the eye-contact. An ever-so teasing smile grace his lips before he's bending down and whispering something into the girl's ear.

You watch her pout, a face she quickly replaces with a flirty smile before letting her sight linger on Luigi and choosing to walk away. He chugs the rest of his drink down before, to your horror, he's walking in your direction.

Funny enough, the crows shifts to the start of a new song and the new gap in front of your confirms he's walking only towards you.

You instinctively take a step back against the soft strain of your own bodycon dress, feeling your legs shake as you hit the bar counter and reluctantly, you face a now towering Luigi smirking down at you.

"What happened to that attitude?" His question should sound a lot meaner, but instead, it comes out soft with a warning and hint of shame intertwined. Your head pounds as you force yourself to come up with some jumble of words to respond.

"It's there." You breath the statement out, but it's not too convincing. Luigi uses that to take a step closer and now, you're forced to stare up and into his eyes.

"Doesn't seem like it. How's that project comin' along?" He cages you in again, both arm circling around your already very limited space and you turn your head to the side, steeling yourself against his presence.

Something about the effect he has on you is so humiliating. This wasn't matching your brand - bitchy, arrogant, and perfect. Rather, this was a complete juxtaposition. You always keep control of the situation with your machinations or outright insults but now, that was not happening.

"Fine." You answers through your teeth, facing away from him still and suddenly you feel his mouth too close to your ear.

"Liar." He whispers it and you nearly moan, gulping down the sounds. He watches you shiver lightly, soaking in the helplessness that is starting to take over your figure.

"You need help baby?" He pushes the boundary, enjoying how you squirm more with every second he forces himself into your space. You're at a loss for words now, unable to distinguish between arousal, frustration, and utter confusion at your behavior right now.

So, you simply shake your head no.

It's an insufficient answers because Luigi's fingers are suddenly gripping either side of your face, making you gasp, before he forces you to look at him.

"Tell me the truth baby." Fuck, that name was really getting to you and his fuckable lips and hands were not helping right now.

Relinquishing the control you never had didn't seem like too bad of an option right now.

"I don't answer to you." You steel yourself, contorting your face and looking up at him with siren eyes which doesn't stand for long before his other hand is making it's way up your thigh and between your legs.

"I don't have a problem," He talks low and seductively in your ear, making your listen to the gravel in his voice, teasing his fingers upwards and watching you heave you chest up and down with increasing nervousness. You let your guard down, whimpering for a second before he retracts both hands.

"I'll get it out of you baby. We all need help sometimes and you..." he trails off, staring at your face that is lolling, lips parted and undoubtedly watery.

"You deserve to get the attitude fucked out of you." And with that, he pushes himself back and through the crowd, not even caring to give a glance back before leaving you alone and shaking, ready to cry.

You were such a weak, pathetic little girl and now, Luigi knew it.

~

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[lookingformoondrop]

ok but Can you image the total shit show it’d be if reader somehow rizzed up BOTH Andrew and Ashley?? 😨 literally preying. Like imagine reader is not necessarily popular, but they definetly are one of the most attractive people in the class if not the most

Andrew Graves x Reader x Ashley Graves

TW: Some nasty cat fights between the Graves siblings, everyone has a potty mouth, mentions of unaliving eachother, not proofread, reader just wanted a cookie.

♥︎Notes: This was actually so fun to write. I always love writing arguments between my two favorite assholes and watching it burn from there. Enjoy this messy headcannon and sorry it took so long<3.♥︎

Someone call the police, ain't no one coming out of this alive.

First, we gotta start with how you rizzed up the siblings. Starting with Andrew,

I can already see that to get through Andrew's heart, you gotta be funny.

Yes I know that this brooding son of a bitch is dressed in only dark colors, but he values some humor and I feel like the way through his heart is that.

You were in class chatting with a classmate near Andrew's desk when the classmate brought up your history teacher. Uptight, strict, and a prick, you said, "If he berates me anymore for my red pen, his head will go so far up his ass he'll find his own bullshit."

Unexpectedly, both of you heard a snort. Searching for the source, you saw Andrew covering his mouth with his hand, horrified by the sound he had just made.

You smiled at him and brushed off the snort to the classmate, "I think we're hearing things."

That truly made his heart flutter.

He had started sitting closer to you after that. Whenever he got ready in the mornings for school, an extra step in his routine was to hope that you were coming too.

"Hey Andrew," you walked by Andrew's desk.

"Y -Y/N! Hi..." Andrew mentally cussed himself our for the stutter.

It was dumb...really dumb.

But it made Andrew smile and feel giddy when he walked home.

I feel like Andrew would be very tame when it came to his feelings for the reader.

He'd blush when you're around and check in with you to make sure you're okay. He'd be too embarrassed to actually ask you out, but he would definitely try to find excuses to hang around you.

Now, the only natural explanation for Ashley's involvement with you would be that she saw her brother with a dumbass grin one day and HAD to investigate.

So, how did you rizz up Ashley?

Well, it's simple, really,

She went to your house to get a clear look at you and saw you dancing through the window,

You were fun and disgustingly too kind.

("Idiot")

But somehow, that fun energy intrigued Ashley. You would smile at her randomly when she corssed the street. You had no idea who she was, and yet that smile irked Ashley (in a somehow pleasant way).

"Hey guys!" She cheerfully entered the classroom doorway, a spring in her step.

Andrew turned to look at the voice and immediately felt a muscle in his forehead twitch. "Great," he thought, "another one of Ashley's ploys so that she can harass any woman out of my life."

You, of course, were baffled at seeing this girl suddenly love up on you, but judging by Andrew's murderous smile towards her, you figured they were related somehow.

But instead of Ashley being an ass towards the reader, she began to cling to their arm.

This began a looooong sequence of events where it would go one of the following ways,

You'd go to a spot around town, invite one of the Graves siblings, and no matter how secluded, isolated, unknown, or illegal said spot was, the other Graves sibling would find and join you.

This definitely opens the possibility of more intense sibling fights.

I say intense, but it's more like,

"SAY HER NAME ONE MORE TIME ASHLEY AND I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"DO IT ANDY, DO IT, I DARE YOU. WHAT WOULD MY Y/N THINK ABOUT A MURDERER, YOU FUCKFACE!"

The fights would get so loud that the neighbors would call the police

By the time the police came to knock at the door, Ashley was pulling Andrew's hair and trying to put him in the washing machine, while Andrew was clawing at Ashley's face and trying to smack her head against said machine.

When Andrew (and for some reason) Ashley came to school, you were startled by how banged up both of them became. Still, when you asked about it, all they did was brush you off (and stomp on each other's toes when you weren't looking).

While they did loath each other for trying to steal Y/N from one another, they never doubted the protection they felt they owed to Y/N.

Some random classmate decided to hit on you and make you verryyyy uncomfy. When you recounted the tale to Andrew, he refused to leave you alone for weeks, constantly fantasizing about bashing the guys face in.

ASHLEY ON THE OTHER HAND would absolutely demolish any shithead who tried hitting on you. "They needed to be punished!" Is the last thing she said, and the last time you ever saw that classmate.

Was it risky? Yes. Did Andrew scold her for it? Yes. Did either one of them regret it? Hell no.

Overall, the entire relationship is a complete shit show. And even if you begged them to play nice, they'd still fight over you.

"Ashley, can you help me? I can't reach that cookie jar."

Ashley sprung up from her seat. "Sure thing, N/M~" But just as Ashley was going to reach for the jar, Andrew pushed her into a pile of trash bags in the kitchen and proceeded to grab the jar for you.

"Here you go, Y/N," Andrew smiled at you while you panicked on who to check in with first.

Suddenly, from the pile of trashbags came, "Andrew, you ass!"

Fight or flight kicked in, and you immediately bolted out of their kitchen. Having remembered plenty of their fights, you decided that for today, you were perfect content with just going home. That was enough Graves for today...

"ASS-KISSER!"

"BROWN-NOSER!"

Yeah, that was plenty of Graves for today.

Thank you for the ask!<3

[underfcvcked]

Human! Muzan Kibutsuji Headcanons

SFW | NSFW

• Premise: You are the beloved wife of Muzan Kibutsuji, although it was a arranged marriage your love for Muzan Kibutsuji was real. so what is it exactly like being his wife?

{SFW}

- Muzan always hated the fact that he have a sickness that is almost impossible to cure so he is always mad about it leading to him having such a nasty personality.

- He mostly takes his anger out on his own Servants and his doctor to whom he refer to as 'Fraudulent Doctor'

- In the beginning, Muzan despised you and didn't want to be near you.

- "Why the fuck do I even need a wife? She's as useless as the servants!"

- You dislike his nasty personality but you also understood that he's only mad about his illness that he takes his anger out on others.

- Despite Muzan's cruel words and actions, you have continued to look after him no matter how hard he tries to push you away.

- But as time goes on, Muzan started to appreciate the love and care that he is receiving from you

- And eventually he developed feelings for you

- He'd still be tough on you, but not so tough.

- Sometimes when he notices how tired you are, he wouldn't say cruel words towards you like what he usually does but instead he would be quiet

- In the end, you would notice that he's too quiet so you started asking him questions if he's okay

- He would get mad at you for asking such a question

- "Do I look okay? I have a fucking illness you dumb woman! just shut the fuck up and rest for the day"

- His sentence got you confused, You don't even know whether he's being cruel or nice

- When it comes to drinking medicine, he would make a huge fuss over it saying that it wouldn't even work but when it's you he would just drink it quietly he would still roll his eyes at you though or let out a 'tch' sound

- He only wants YOU to take care of him and refuses to let anyone else to take the spot

- the only time he lets anyone else do it is when you are sick

- since his body is weak he couldn't really take you out on fancy dates

- but sometimes when he feels like having a date with you he would make his servants cook and prepare a romantic table just for the two of you at home

- Muzan's favorite thing to do is to cuddle with you, he won't admit it but he really enjoys your company and touch

- although he wouldn't really ask directly, he would stare deeply into your eyes in silent with a >:| face

- "Do you need anything?"

- "You already know what I want"

- Aside Muzan's nasty personality, he also have a soft personality that only YOU have access to

- When muzan can't sleep at late night, you and him would have a conversation about life and would often be joking around with each other

- "Would you find someone else if I died?"

- "Don't say stuffs like that, You will survive you just have to believe in yourself"

- "Don't be so dramatic Y/N. it's just a what if, I want to hear your honest answer."

- "No, I don't want to... I'd rather stay at your grave for hours!"

- "Just hours?"

- "No, I'll live in your grave"

- "Good"

- That conversation right there is one of the rare moments you have with him since 99% of the time he's an asshole to you and his servants mostly his doctor

- "Y/N, When my illness is gone. I promise to give you the best life you deserve."

{NSFW}

- DICK: 4 soft, 6'5 erected (Length), 6 in girth, curved upward, Veiny, hairy and tip color is ff9999

- He whimpers

- He's more submissive than dominant due to his body being weak

- You are the one who initiates

- His favorite part of sex is his dick getting sucked on by you

- He likes shoving his cock all the way down your throat

- And he thinks that you are really pretty with his cock on your mouth

- "f-fuck y/n. . . You're sucking it so good~"

- Since he has low stamina you are usually the one on top and the sex position you often do is Cowgirl and Reverse cowgirl

- While doing cowgirl his hands would be on your boobs playing with your nipples or sometimes they are just placed at your thighs giving them a squeeze

- If it's reverse cowgirl his hands would be on your hips and just like cow girl they would also be on your thighs

- You would bounce on his cock while he whimpers and begs you for more

- "ah~....ha~ ...pl-please more"

- Seeing muzan beg for more was amusing so you would tease him about it

- "Please what? Use your words my love~"

- He would get annoyed and grunt but greed took over him wanting more and more, he couldn't get enough of you so he would give in to your tease

- "Please Y/N...Please give me more of you"

- "Good boy~"

- And this is where you would bounce faster

- Muzan doesn't really use nicknames in sex because he's not really that sort of a romantic guy so he mostly just calls you by your own name

- And Muzan doesn't want any nicknames from you

- However you threatened that you would stop moving when he doesn't accept the nickname "Good boy" so he had no other choice but to accept the nickname you gave him

- When cumming he prefers to shoot it inside of you, into your mouth or all over your face.

- "Fuck... I'm close"

- If it's inside of you: he would tightly grip on your hips or thighs

- If it's into your mouth: He would ask you to stop bouncing and to suck his dick, after doing so he would have a tight grip on your hair forcing your mouth all the way down while his seed overfilled your mouth

- If it's on your face: He also would ask you to stop bouncing so he could pull out and come in your face, after cumming in your face he would cupped your cheeks admiring the mess he made

- He could only go for 1-2 rounds so if you are left unsatisfied and still wanting more he would just offer you to ride his face

- Poor muzan's dick was so exhausted after just 1 round

- "Seriously woman? Are you fucking trying to drain me?"

- "Please?"

- Muzan's greatest weakness was YOU, he couldn't refuse your request with that cute face of yours

- Too bad his dick was already exhausted so he offers another way to please you

- "Fuck you woman, Just ride my face and after this go kill yourself"

- Aftercare is important in sex but muzan is too weak to move on his own so you have to be the one taking care of him

- After having a warm bath together and putting on some comfy clothes You would bring in some foods for you and Muzan to eat together.

- After eating, Muzan will offer to let you cuddle with him to which you always Accepts and never once have refused.

- "I hate you but I also love you, but I still hate you more"

- "I love you most"

[sincerelyneo]

no judgement | l.mk

“i can be your lover or your shoulder to cry on, you can be whoever you like”

💿now playing: no judgement by niall horan

❯ summary: Mark’s shocked to see you at his front door step crying, but he isn’t surprised. You do this all the time - get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute that asshole dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces. And he will. He always does.

❯ pairings: mark x fem!reader (brief mention of yuta)

❯ genre: friends to strangers to lovers? smut, angst

❯ words: 4.9k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, protected sex, lowkey sub!mark, hookup, rebound sex, glasses kink, big dick mark bc yes, oral sex (m receiving), nipple play, slight begging, yuta is an asshole for the plot, reader is also kinda mean, mentions of cheating (not between mark + y/n), slight unrequited love, use of ���pretty girl’, reader uses she/her pronouns.

Mark thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. I mean - it would make sense - the last time he’d checked the clock on his desk it was 12:17 am. So, there’s no way the light knocking on his front door is really happening…right? 

He tries to focus on the papers in front of him - a work assignment that was due last week that he’d already managed to get an extension on. He knows his boss will have his balls if he doesn’t have it completed and on his desk by 8:00 am sharp tomorrow (today). 

However, Mark’s fears of premature insanity are put to a quick end this time when the knocking is paired with an unnecessarily loud yelling through his letter box. 

“Mark Lee if you don’t open this door right now, I swear I’ll kick your ass the next time I see you.” 

Now that - the sound of your voice - wasn’t in his imagination. 

You bang harder, clear that you're using a fully clenched fist to make as much noise as possible.  “I’m serious dude, I’ve kicked your ass before, and I’ll do it again. Now open. The. Door.” 

Mark knows he should just ignore you, pretend that he’s sleeping and focus on his work; but, he hasn’t seen you in months, and you are supposed to be his best friend after all. He can’t just leave you out on the street at this hour — he won’t — what sort of friend would he be?

He rises from his desk, removes his glasses, and places them gently on the wooden surface before pinching the bridge of his nose.

You knock (pound) again. 

“‘Alright alright, jeez, I’m coming,” he says, followed by a small curse as he ushers through his hallway to the front door. 

As he swings the door open, he’s almost hit with a nasty sucker punch to the cheek as you simultaneously raise your fist to knock again.

“Woah there, calm down, you’re gonna get me a noise complaint,” he flinches. 

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” you point to the house next door, “That woman has been glaring at me from her window since I got here.” 

Mark peers out of his house, the cold night air nipping at the tips of his ears, and sees his neighbour looking down shaking her head disapprovingly at him. He raises his hand in a feeble apology, with a tight-lipped smile to ease the edge, but it doesn’t, he knows it doesn’t and he knows he’s going to have to do a lot of ass kissing in the morning. 

“Well, Mrs Kim and her husband have just had a baby.” 

He watches you shrug then grimace, “How was I supposed to know that? They didn’t have one the last time I was here.” 

It’s now when Mark takes in the person standing in front of him, a mere silhouette of his childhood best friend. You’re barefoot, which already raises questions in his mind, and a bottle of wine is in your hand. Your hair is dishevelled and mascara smudged under the bottom of your eye – which makes sense since he can see the faded redness from where he knows you’ve been crying. 

 “So, you gonna let me in or what? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Well obviously, Mark thinks, you’re wearing nothing but a short black dress, covered by a thin sheer blazer leaving your legs completely bare in the middle of winter. Your teeth chatter and he has to suppress the smile threatening to dance on his lips because it reminds him of when the two of you used to mess around in the snow during winter break back in high school.

But he pushes those memories to the side, just like his front door, as he makes enough room for you to slip into his house. As you step inside, you waste no time making yourself comfortable - old habits die hard you guess - remembering how things used to be.

You remove the blazer you're wearing and walk over to Mark's desk, draping it over the back of his chair. Your eyes fall on the sheets of paper scattered across the surface, partially covered by his glasses. You recall that he had stopped wearing them during junior year, opting for contacts instead - a decision you found disappointing. You had always liked his glasses; they made him look kind of... cute.

“I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

Yes. 

“Nah, not really,” Mark shrugs following in from behind you. 

“Really?” You ask picking up a sheet of paper as you raise an eyebrow, “Marketing campaign for neo gummies, on my desk Monday 8:00 am.”

There’s a smile on your face as you read it because it’s nice to know that the Mark standing in front of you is the same as the one you grew up with. He was always the last person to hand in his college assignments, and school science projects; but don’t get it wrong, he’d always ace them. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve basically finished it.”

Mark’s lying, and you can easily tell by the way his arm reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. It's a mannerism you've become aware of, noticing how he used to do it when you asked him for his opinions on some of your uglier fashion choices throughout high school. 

“You sure?” You add, “I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your boss or anything. Especially now that you live in this fancy-ass townhouse, your mortgage payments must be crazy.”

Mark shakes his head with a smile, reaching for his glasses and putting them back on. “They’re not that crazy…”

You give him a knowing look, his living room alone is practically the size of most apartments in the city. But you didn’t expect anything less from him, he’d always worked hard for everything he had. He graduated with flying colours, found a high-paying job after college, bought a nice house; and you’re sure that one day he’d secure himself a nice girl to live in it with him. 

What you’re trying to say is Mark Lee had something to show for himself, which is more than you can say after you took a more leisurely approach to college. Mark had always worked a little too hard for your liking, or maybe you just worked a little too easy for his. Either way, he’s the one with his life put together and you’re just…standing barefoot in his living room, looking a mess, with a bottle of alcohol in your hand.  

“Well then, since I’m not imposing, how ‘bout a drink?” You suggest, waving the bottle of wine in the air in an attempt to win him over and distract yourself from your own reality. As shitty as it sounds, you come to Mark to escape the chaos of your own life, so dwelling on comparisons isn't something you want to keep doing.

For Mark though, he knows he shouldn't indulge in a drink – after all, the work assignment on his desk is practically begging to be completed. But he's always struggled to say no to you, and he's well aware that you know that too. It's why you're so comfortable knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning when most of the city is asleep; you know he'll always open up for you.

And that’s exactly why he’s heading into his kitchen and rooting through his cabinets until he finds two wine glasses. 

When he comes back into the living room, he finds you standing by the fireplace. It's not unusual, considering you were freezing just moments ago on his doorstep from your attire. However, what catches him off guard is that you're not warming yourself by the fire; instead, you're holding a picture – Mark's favourite one – taken by his parents on the day you got your wisdom teeth removed.

"No way you kept this," you groan, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

"Of course I did. You were completely out of it on anaesthesia, going on about marrying Lee Taemin," Mark replies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, remembering the way you sent the hot senior you had a crush on in your freshman year a DM in your high state. “Oh gosh, don’t remind me.”

But truthfully, that's not the sole reason Mark kept that picture, or why he still chooses to display it despite having hundreds of clearer, better ones of the two of you together. He treasures that particular photo because it was the day you told him you loved him – although you never brought it up again. Mark pins it down to you not remembering from the anaesthetic, but that photo, it’s the last slither of hope he has left. 

“Well, I must say, Mark Lee, you have had quite the glow-up since your high school days,” you laugh putting the picture back on the fireplace. 

Mark can't believe his cheeks are warming up as if he were that same teenager – pathetic, he thinks. And he wants to say the same about you, but he hardly recognizes you. You're a completely different person from the girl in the picture, and while he loves you, truly, it doesn't change the fact that you're a mess sitting before him.

To his defence, it's impossible not to notice it; he saw it the moment he opened the door and saw your smudged makeup and raw eyes – you’re defeated. And even though he knows precisely why, he still asks.

 "What are you doing here, Y/N?"

You swallow, “Can’t I just come and see my best friend?”

“No, you can’t.”

His words carry a double-edged sword, both an accusation directed at you and an expression of the hurt he's experienced from your repeated instances of ghosting him over the last few months. 

You begin pouring yourself a generous glass of the wine you brought along. If you were going to have this conversation with him, you weren't about to do it sober.

“Yuta broke up with me.”

And there it is. You always do this –  get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute the asshole in question dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces. 

And Mark hadn't forgotten the name Yuta; in fact, it had been seared into his mind ever since you posted a picture with him on your Instagram account, looking all lovey-dovey. And then Mark had gone into full stalker mode – because of course he did – he always did. But the thing with Yuta was that he was one step ahead. One particularly awful day at work, when Mark wanted to check your account, he found himself blocked.

Honestly, Mark doesn’t blame Yuta, he’d be lying if he said all his thoughts about you were completely innocent, but you’d never blocked him over a guy before. He's accustomed to the isolation, the ghosting, and the personality changes that come with you getting a new boyfriend; but being digitally blocked by you was a new low. It's safe to say Mark had already formed his opinion about your new ex-boyfriend: he was definitely an asshole.

"Why did he break up with you?" he asks, not out of genuine concern, but rather out of selfish relief. Still, he knows it's the right thing to do.

“He found someone else, or I found him fucking someone else,” you spit bitterly, “and do you know what? That fucker didn’t even give me a chance to grab my shoes before he kicked me out.”

You take a long gulp from your glass, the liquid burning slightly as it goes down your throat, and then you flop back on the sofa. Your movements are heavy, weighed down by more than just the alcohol in your system. As you sink into the cushions, a wave of emotion crashes over you, threatening to engulf you completely. It's a moment of vulnerability that you've been holding back, and tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. You try to fight them, push down the rising tide of emotions, but it's futile. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he reassures, quickly taking a seat beside you on the sofa and resting a gentle hand on your thigh, where he begins to rub small, soothing circles into your skin, just like he used to do. "You can stay here tonight."

You groan into your hands, you can’t believe you're acting like this – pathetic – and it has you immediately defensive. “Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, so quiet Mark almost misses it.

“Like what?”

“All judgy.”

“When have I ever judged you, Y/N?” he questions, his tone gentle, “I’m always your shoulder to cry on, we’re past the judgement stage,”

"I don't cry that much," you protest weakly.

“Well…” he starts, that teasing look in his eye you love.

In response, you push his chest playfully, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Because you’ve missed this – missed him.

And that’s the part that always stings the most: how effortlessly you two slip back into each other's company. Despite not speaking for a couple of months, it's like you didn’t lose any time. And perhaps that's why Mark finds it so easy to keep forgiving you, and why you find it so natural to slide in and out of his life and then expect him to mend your broken heart.

Mark grabs the hand you used to push his chest and looks at you seriously but gently, “Seriously, Y/N, you can just be yourself with me, just like it’s always been.”

His words resonate with you, stirring something deep within the pit of your stomach. You meet his gaze with glossy eyes, and in that moment, you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion. Without hesitation, you lean in and press your lips to his. 

It's a tender kiss, soft and sweet just how you expected Mark’s lips to be. And he melts into it just as much as you do, if not more so. It’s like he craves it, like he’s hungry for it. And he is because you – his first-ever crush, the girl he’s been in love with since he could remember – is pressing her lips to his. The teenager in him is jumping up and down right now.

Just as you're about to deepen the kiss, your face bumps into his glasses, causing both of you to pause as they sit askew on his face. Mark blushes and begins to fumble with them, but just as he's about to take them off, your hand wraps around his and stops him.

“Mmmm. Keep ‘em on,” you bite your lip as you reposition them on the bridge of his nose. “I like them.”

“I didn't realize you had a glasses kink,” he teases.

“Neither did I...just like them on you.”

That triggers something inside of him because his tongue lightly sweeps over your bottom lip where he nips it with his teeth. One of his hands reaches up to cup the nape of your neck; the other finds its way to the hem of your dress, intrusive fingers brushing over your bare skin, making you gasp.

He stills.

Did he just fuck this up? Was he reading it wrong?

There’s a fraction of a beat where you just breathe against him, and Mark feels a twinge of self-consciousness. And just when he’s about to apologise, you dive into him and all reservations are thrown out the window as you give him the green light. 

His hand wraps around your waist and he pulls you over his lap to straddle him. It gives him all the access he needs to grab your thighs and lift you up as he stands. He keeps your lips connected as he wraps your legs around his waist, pressing into you just enough to feel the swelling in his crotch. 

If you thought he was hungry for it before, now he’s starving. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, your breasts crushing against his chest. Your hips start to move against him without any control, almost like it’s instinctual. You suck on his tongue and he groans. And God if it isn’t the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N,” he says into your mouth, “Are we really doing this?”

You smile against his lips, “We’re doing this.”

You both take that as a confirmation to go harder, kissing like you’ve been starved of each other for years, and Mark supposes you have. His body moulds to yours and you feel his hand wander to your ass making your dress lift as he carries you out of the living room. 

When you see him heading for the staircase you know exactly where his head is at, and when he opens his bedroom door with you still in his arms, you feel wetness pool right between your legs. 

He drops you on the bed so gently and carefully not to hurt you – because even though he’s so goddamn horny right now – he’s still Mark. When your back hits the whites of his sheets it gives you a moment to look at him, his chest is heaving, lips swollen and cheeks flush. His hair is tousled and it makes your blood run cold. 

He looks like pure sex. Hot sex. Good, filthy, all-night-long sex. And you want him, more than you’ve ever wanted any man before in your life.

Mark kneels on the bed in the space between your legs, coming close enough to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, and you wonder if he sees you the same way you see him right now. He brushes your cheek gently with his thumb and you lean into his caress and plant a small kiss against his palm. 

His lips meet yours again as his hands slip between you two. They glide up your leg, to your stomach to under your dress, where he finds you not wearing a bra as your nipples pebble under his rough hands. 

Instinctively, your arms stretch over your head, reluctantly breaking the kiss so he can tug the material off and over you, lips crashing back together as you roll your hips into his with desperation and need. 

Mark groans when he pulls away to look at your naked chest in front of him, it’s a picture he thinks. One that needs to be hung up in an art gallery or some shit – actually now that he thinks about it – he hates the idea of you being on display like that for someone else.

His fingers wind themselves in your hair, a delightful shiver skittering along your body as you soften into his touch. You can’t help but grin suggestively as you look him in the eyes, top teeth holding down on your lower lip as your hands creep low enough to hook into the band of his pyjama bottoms. 

Mark practically whimpers as your hand teases at the elastic, “Please.”

The plea has you smiling wider, knowing exactly what he wants. You remove his bottoms without a second thought, the same time he strips from his t-shirt. His cock springs free, thick and long and straining so eagerly for you. 

You get a thrill knowing you’re the one who’s made him this hard and that makes you want to please him badly. So you do, taking control and flipping him over to be underneath you. He gasps at the motion and then he almost cums untouched at the sight of you kneeling between his legs, lowering yourself down just enough to kiss the tip of his cock.

The teasing touch sends a chill right through him. He leans back on his arms just to see you, eyebrows strained as he concentrates, glasses slightly fogged – he wants to remember exactly what you look like like this. You’re intoxicating, strong enough for him to get drunk on.

“So pretty,” he murmurs under a soft breath and you blush.

You lick your lips, focusing on his cock, flattening your tongue from the base all the way up to his head, where the slit is leaking with pre-cum. You hear him suck in a breath and it makes you smile. 

You like knowing he’s needy, teasing him to ignite small reactions, but continuing to do so would only be hell for you; because right now you want nothing more than to suck on his cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever taste. 

You wrap your hand around his shaft and don’t waste another second before your mouth is sinking to suck on him. You manage all you can – there’s a lot of him – and use your fingers to move up the length you don’t swallow, stroking him painstakingly slow.   

As you kiss and lick at him, Mark is going mad because it’s your mouth. Your mouth is wet and hot and currently wrapped around him good enough that his thighs have started trembling. 

It’s not long before his hands find your hair and he helps you to slide more of his cock inside, knowing exactly when to stop instead of making you take too much. But he’s big and thick and your mouth barely covers him – which he hates – it feels like a reminder that he’s not made for you. 

The thought has him letting out a growl, which catches you by surprise from the whimpering mess he was seconds ago. The grip he has on your hair tightens. 

“Fuck, Y/N, suck me harder…” The dirty words sound dominant at first, but they trail off as you continue sucking on him, a lot like you’re melting him, and you fucking love that idea. 

The thought of having him be so desperate for you is making you wetter and needier. And it’s that need that has you reaching up to graze his nipples with your fingers. Mark finds the chill of your cold digits distinctive, responding with a mewl that rings between the walls of his room. 

You can't believe such a small touch makes him so…responsive. 

Every tug on his sensitive peak is enough to pull a sound from his pink lips, enough to make him writhe his hips and edge his cock further into your mouth. 

You twist and pinch and watch as Mark’s face twists in the feeling, mouth dropping open to release a stuttered breath. It’s so sensual - so carnal. 

You pull off his cock with a sickening pop, looking up at him with spit-covered lips. “Who would have guessed your nipples would be so sensitive?” 

Your hand stays at a steady pace, stroking him slowly as you speak. Mark shivers from the loss of your warm mouth around him, but there’s still a part of him that’s glad you stopped. But not because he doesn’t want this — he does, so badly — but because he was starting to feel his cock’s overwhelming urge to twitch with his orgasm. And there was no fucking way he was going to cum before he’d even buried himself inside you. 

In a cooling breath, he replies, “Only sensitive for you.” 

Warmth flushes on your face, and the arousal soaking between your legs begs to soak his cock. He’s so cute when he is all red-faced and whiny, eyes closed tightly as his brows knit together. And you suppose his own state of neediness triggers yours. 

“Want you inside of me now, Mark,” you pant, “Need it.” 

“Fuck~” his voice drips like honey as he moans, hands moving to grab at your waist to flip you under him.

You push yourself further up the bed and he crawls after you. It’s only now he realises the lace barrier still on your skin standing between you and his cock. Your panties are dark blue and they look so pretty against your skin.

He leans down, kissing the inside of your knee, letting his fingers slip up your ankle to cradle your smooth calf.

“Sometime tonight,” you tease.

But Mark likes to go slow, he likes to savour in your sight, study your body to remember every detail for his next late-night fantasy. He wants to bask in you being so bare and so ready for him — not your ex-boyfriend — him. 

He skims his hands further up your bare legs until he slides your underwear down and disregards them somewhere on the floor. Then, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, pressing your chests together skin to skin. He likes it like that — being so close and so intimate with you that it's almost raw. 

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom. You don’t take your eyes off him once as he rips it open with his teeth and rolls it down the entirety of his length. Heat pools in your stomach because this is happening — and that makes your pussy throb. 

He keeps his eyes on yours as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside of you, breathless. You can’t help but sink your head back into the mattress, eyes closing.

“Eyes open.”

You lazily blink them open.

“Eyes always on me pretty girl,” he demands, thrusting into you. 

You’ve never felt anything like him. You feel so full. He’s everywhere. Even your lungs and head are filled with him.

“Taking me so well pretty,” he groans.

His praise has you gushing, whining with the feeling of him stuffing you. It’s not awkward like the first time having sex with someone can be. It feels like you’ve always been doing this.

“You’re okay?” he asks.

He sounds calm, but you can see the restraint that he’s barely holding on to by the tightening in his jaw, and the tension in his brow.

“More than okay. Just fuck me, Mark. Please.”

He brushes his lips over yours and whispers, “Oh I plan to.”

You smile, but it’s quickly gone as he starts to move, fucking you slowly, then quicker and quicker, and harder and faster. The headboard is banging against the wall, surely denting it, and you know if the neighbours weren’t already pissed about your knocking they’d definitely be pissed now. 

And selfishly, you can’t find it in you to give a shit because he’s like a machine, working thrusts into you at all the right angles to elicit sweet moans from your lips. 

You’re panting and groaning like a bitch in heat. Mind fuzzy with euphoria as your flesh slaps loudly together. If college you knew that Mark Lee, your best friend, was about to give you an orgasm she would have laughed in your face. 

But, God, the man can fuck. 

He urges you onto his cock harder, clit rubbing against his pelvic bone, each time your hips connected in powerful thrusts. 

“Oh God, Mark,” you try your best to keep your eyes open, but the pleasure is threatening to consume you. 

“That’s it. Cum on my cock pretty girl. I won’t come until you do.”

The idea makes you want to hold off forever, let him fuck you for hours just to bask in the feeling of your closeness. However, your body disagrees with that sentiment, and suddenly you’re cumming hard. 

“Shit,” he hisses, feeling your walls flutter around his length. 

Mark doesn’t slow down though, he fucks you through your orgasm like a madman, hammering deep to the hilt to chase his high. 

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N…shit…fuck…” He growls a sound so erotic in your ear, you feel like you might cum again.

He sags onto you, his body heavy but not crushing, his skin warm against yours. You touch your fingers to his cheek. 

“I don’t think I can move,” he says, breathless.

“So, don’t.”

The tips of Mark’s ears turn red at the suggestion, but eventually, he figures he needs to move — much to his dismay. He eases out of you, catching hold of the condom and pulling it off his cock. He rolls off of you and out of bed to put it in the trash before he’s back next to you, arms engulfing you in a hug. 

You look up at him and he presses a kiss on your lips before pulling back. “Are you staying?” 

“Do you want me to?”

“I asked first.” He says.

“I’ll stay if you want me to stay.”

Liar.

Mark swallows, “Okay well, I’ll get us breakfast in the morning then, yeah?”

He says it but he knows come the morning you’ll have slipped out in the middle of the night because this isn’t the first time he’s had sex with you. 

Mark has always been your rebound. Yes, he’s your best friend, but he’s also your favourite hookup call when your boyfriend’s being an asshole.

And he knew that when he first heard you knocking on his front door. He knows you'll never change – and strangely, he's content with that, he’s accepted it. Because even though he knows you'll move on again, he doesn't mind keeping your secrets safe until the next time when you want a man to heal your heart.

Because Mark will settle for being a pity fuck if it means he gets to be a constant in your life.

[lottiesgrl]

𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗵𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀

cw: canon-typical violence, mentions of stalking, semi-toxic behavior, smut, fingering (r!receiving), face riding (rhiannon receiving), strap-on use (rhiannon receiving), inspired by an ask that i no longer have in my inbox

🗡you'd be lying if you said you hadn't noticed the way rhiannon looked at you when you talked to your mutual coworkers. you were always able to notice it - the nasty looks she shot your way when you spoke with claudia and linus, even if it's over something as mundane as reporting on a missing bike

🗡you're pretty sure she hates you, and you're not sure why. i mean, what could you have done to deserve the way her eyes bore into the back of your head every time you're in a conversation?

🗡so, you vow to try and talk to her, in order to dissuade this "grudge" she has against you. but when you do, it doesn't go at all how you're expecting. the corners of her lips pull into a shy smile every time you approach her desk, her eyes averted and fingers pulling at the hem of her skirt.

🗡around the same time, you start to notice a few things off around the workplace. whenever jeff, that asshole who keeps criticizing your article proposals, says something particularly harsh, he always coincidentally gets caught up on the toilet. you're not sure if it has something to do with the fact that rhiannon is the one handing him his morning coffee each morning with a sickly-sweet smile that you're sure is hiding years of disdain.

🗡and it's not just at your job, either - the sleazy guy on the trolley that always tries to cop a feel each time you pass him hasn't been on since you complained about him to rhiannon, pointedly avoiding eye contact when you notice him on the street as he rushes to take the tube instead. and the woman in your neighborhood who always complains your lawn decorations has been complimenting them more than usual, with a strange expression that you can't quite discern.

🗡if you though rhiannon's jealousy couldn't get any worse than it already can be, you'd be deathly wrong. when the two of you get together, it's like someone flipped a switch, and her jealousy increases tenfold.

🗡it starts out with subtle gestures and touches, innocuous things that you might not have been able to notice if you hadn't already been aware of her possessive tendencies. a hand wrapped around your waist while you're socializing, intertwining your fingers as you walk to work together, and an arm flung over your shoulders when you're at the pub. she always needs to be touching you in some way, and you don't mind one bit.

🗡but as time goes on, she starts to be less subtle. well, at least she thinks she's being subtle. to you, the way she stares daggers into anyone who even remotely flirted with you was anything but inconspicuous.

🗡it's no surprise that she's incredibly insecure, and this is especially true when you're in a relationship with her. to her, the reason she's so possessive is because you're the only person in her life who truly sees her. no one else has cared about her like you, and the thought of someone else stealing you from her is absolutely mortifying.

🗡there have been many instances in which she breaks down to you about her insecurities, and you understand it. in your eyes, she's the most gorgeous girl you've ever seen, and you experience your fair share of jealousy. you run your hands through her hair, something incredibly vulnerable for her that she's allowed you to do, and assure her that you wouldn't want anyone else.

🗡you're more than content to live with rhiannon's possessiveness, even if it means that the men that bother you often end up missing.

nsfw under the cut

🗡when rhiannon gets jealous, more often than not, she gets turned on. really, really turned on. after all, it gives her such a rush to know that people can look at you all they want, but no one will ever be able to have you, to fuck you, like her.

🗡if she notices someone flirting with you while you're out at the bar, she will be dragging you home, desperate to have you all to herself (but not before she approaches the two of you, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheek while asking, "babe, who's this?")

🗡sometimes, if the bar is too far or she's feeling especially needy, she'll drag you into the nearest alleyway then and there. you have your reservations, but when she's two fingers deep inside of you whispering that she'll kill anyone who sees the two of you, your inhibitions fly out the window.

🗡whether she's dominant or not depends on the day. some days, she wants to bury her fingers deep inside of you, making you cry out her name until she's wrung multiple orgasms out of you. it gives her such a rush, knowing that you give in so easily and so willingly, all because you're hers. but some days, all she wants is for you to get her off. whether it's guiding your hands to her (absolutely dripping) panties, riding your face, or bouncing on your strap, she needs you to make her cum, and you're more than happy to oblige.

🗡she'll force you to look into her eyes, her grip on your chin tightening and wrenching your face up to look at her if you dare to break eye contact for even a second. "look at me", she growls, bottom lip between her teeth as you bring her closer to the edge. she wants - no, needs - you to see her, because you're the only one who can. you see her.

🗡aftercare with her after jealous sex is always so soft, pressing soft kisses to her forehead as the two of you lie in bed panting. you reassure her that you're hers, forever and always, and you can see the way a smile forms on her face at your words.

🗡you're hers. forever. and she'll always make sure of that.

[lightofraye]

your just mad cause ur ex husband probably cheated on u with someone that looks like daneel 🤣🤣🤣

focus on taking care of ur kids and not killing ur cats instead of some celeb woman who doesn’t know u exist

You've been busy.

You followed up with another nasty ask, all incorrect, all false.

"Killing your cats"? Wow. Really? You wanna go there? Rude.

And then claiming I'm pissy because my ex-husband cheated on me with someone who looked like Danneel? Oh honey, he only wishes. He doesn't make enough to get anyone like her to pay attention to him.

As for my children.... My daughter's very proud of me, actually. She sees me standing up against abuse, have stood up against abuse, and will continue to do so. It takes a special kind of strength to keep making such a stand and I will continue to do so.

My son? He's younger, much younger, and respects me--respects that I stand up against his father, who is a right asshole. He sees his mother standing up against a monster and respects and admires that.

The fact you're resorting to personal attacks like this though? I get it. I said something that upset you. You could do yourself a favor and block me. That'd preserve your mental and emotional state. Block the anti tags. Avoid the topic. Clearly you're not mature enough to handle alternative points of views.

Lastly....

If you're the one behind the threats that went around to several of my mutuals, harassed several more off Tumblr, may I advise you to please log off and touch grass? This is extreme behavior for someone sharing speculation and opinions of a celebrity.

Also: consider yourself blocked and reported.

[guppybibi]

Ditzy Princess

𖦹 pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x fem!reader

𖦹 word count: 2019

𖦹 content: mild cursing, childhood friends to lovers (eventually..) , denial, she fell first but he fell harder, reader is oikawa’s little sister, reader’s brain is a lil empty, but she's a strong woman nonetheless!!

𖦹notes: i have so many wips..but hajime my Filipino king AUGHH (im gaslighting myself shh)

✧. ┊    Part 1

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Being Oikawa Tooru’s little sister meant that you were equally as insufferable as him, debatably even more than him according to Iwaizumi. Iwa wouldn't go as far to say he disliked you, despite you being 2 years younger than Oikawa, the three of you still grew up together and developed a pretty strong bond. Oikawa had his moments, being the seemingly arrogant and egotistical person he is. Iwa was aware Tooru had some issues with his self esteem and was helping him in his own way. But in your case, nothing was backing you up. You really were just a crybaby diva, wailing as her big brother comes to save her. It really didn't start off so bad, after all you were a child who needed guidance and protection. He expected you to just grow out of it, news flash—you didn't.

Now that you're in your first year in Seijoh, he couldn't avoid you at all no matter how hard he tried. Being a headache must be in the genes, I guess. But you weren't worth putting up with, so he just started distancing himself away from you. Sure, sometimes you would barge into the gym, interrupting their practice to go to your doting brother. Which pissed him off, obviously. Though it was hard to tell since he always had a scowl on his face no matter the situation. Oh and by sometimes, he means every single day–unless you were absent or something.

Unfortunately for him, Oikawa wasn’t present today due to getting a nasty cold. Normally he’d make fun of Oikawa, along with the rest of the Seijoh four but he remembers that you’re present and that he would be your temporary savior while your brother is gone. It didn’t help that today in particular was a pretty stressful one, and as if the Gods above cursed him, a bunch of assholes picked on you for being the ‘uglier’ sibling. A bunch of envious little liars.

Naturally, it was your first instinct to go to annoy him. Your muffled cries could already be heard before you've even entered the gym, which made Hajime groan in annoyance as he muttered a random curse under his breath. And as if on cue, the metal door of the gym slides open; unveiling a very much messed up you.

Your mascara all smudged across your pretty face, fat tears staining it. Your subtly pink lips all wobbly as you make your way to Iwaizumi, knowing your brother wasn't here. At this point, this was basically a daily routine for the team, they didn't complain though. You coming in here and taking their captain and or ace meant they had an opportunity to take a break.

“ ‘Zumi! T-they were being so mean to me again, I didn't do anything wrong!” You cry out as you approach the ace with a pout on your face. ‘Pathetic..’ He thinks to himself, you were more than capable enough to defend yourself. (Verbally, at least. Physically is a different story.) “It's not my fault I don't look exactly like Oikawa! And I can't do anything about it, why pick on me for it?!” You continue, wiping away a tear from your glossy eyes.

Hajime couldn't even say anything in response, this wasn't the first time you came to him after someone bullied you for whatever reason. It was a sad thing to happen to you, but did you really have to go to him or your big brother every single time? What if they're not there for you? What will you do then? Still his good conscience couldn't just leave you sobbing like that, your doting brother wouldn't be happy about it.

Placing a rough calloused hand on your trembling shoulder, as an attempt to comfort you he starts speaking. “And what did you say to them after?” He asks, it was a completely normal question, you knew that. But you were used to just..constant coddling, no other questions asked–just instantly tending to you. “I..Nothing? I mean, maybe what they're saying is true..it still hurts though..” You reply, earning a nod from your older brother's friend. You had a point there, but you should still stick up for yourself! You had to learn, plus he didn't want to keep playing as your knight in shining armor when the two of you are pushing your thirties.

“Did you want to say something back to them?” He questions, raising a brow. You could be doing this for shits and giggles for all he knows, maybe this was a plan you and Oikawa had or something. “Well um, kind of?..” Even that answer somehow made sense, coming from a ditz like you–he didn't really expect much. “So can you or can you not defend yourself?” He asked yet again with a gruff voice, watching intently as he saw you shake your head. Okay, cool. You aren't doing this just to piss him off, that's a start.

“I could teach you, if you want to.” You blink once, twice. “Teach me how to..fight for myself?” You never considered it, you were just used to your big brother being there for you. No matter how serious or stupid it was, he’d be there in a flash. He nodded, crossing his arms as you thought about it. Your brother wouldn't always be here, today was proof of it. The same goes for Hajime, who knows where he's going after high school?

“I..think that’ll be nice actually.” And those were the words that started your tutoring sessions. You were incredibly nervous the first few times, like the personification of an earthquake. You did soon manage to get the hang of it, being able to defend yourself against your bullies unless it was really necessary for your brother and or him to step in.

To be honest, Oikawa was pretty opposed to the idea at first. Saying to his best friend that teaching her all of this ‘nonsense’ wasn't needed since he’ll always be there for her anyway. (What Oikawa didn't know is that Iwa was doing future him a favor, I mean–he didn't know he was going to Argentina!)

And so ‘Operation: Teach Y/N How to Defend Herself’ was successful. It had been like years ago at this point, barely remembered by you two like some distant memory. You didn't piss him off that much anymore, though he did have little to no contact with you; only getting updates through Oikawa.

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When he went to Irvine, California for personal matters he was aware of you being there as well since you went to visit and stayed at your grandparents. The chances of you two meeting were slim but fate had to play its part too! Now the both of you were sitting side by side, having a cup of ice cream as you catched up on your lives.

He told you about the meeting he just had with Takashi, some stuff about sports science and his personal life and whatnot. While you told him about life here in the States, being taken care of by your overbearing grandparents and stuff. You were a lot more mature than what Hajime had remembered, still a scatterbrain though. Though something comes up, leaving Hajime at some random bench while he taps away on his phone after you exchanged him your number. Saving it and putting in ‘Puny Princess’, it was stupid–he knew it was as he chuckled to himself.

No matter how fully grown you are, you’ll always be that spoiled little brat who seeks her dear knight in shining armor's protection.

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He was flying back to Japan soon, and he wanted nothing more but to cancel his flight and stay here–with you. Highschooler Iwaizumi would be laughing his ass off right now, any chance to get away from you was a blessing. He’d get on that plane like he's being chased by the police. He thought about it a lot, was it because you were less of a pain in the ass? Nope, that couldn't be the case because you still were. Sure, you didn't exactly need Prince Charming anymore which made you considerably much more bearable but it felt like there was something more to it. Why won’t life just tell him instead of forcing him to dig through a bunch of dirt in his mind?

Maybe he simply got used to being around you, to be fair–he’s been with you through thick and thin after all. Yup, that's what it was. No need to manually crank the gears in his brain anymore, this was totally it. Would he admit he had a teensy weensy little crush on you when you two were kids? God no, and that doesn't matter! I mean, that was like a decade ago–he doubts that mattered right now in any shape or form.

Well the first stage of grief was denial, he’ll work his way up. You, on the other hand, have fully accepted this stupid happy crush you got on Iwaizumi. Even your big brother knew about it, well you were pretty much an open book. Hey, your brother’s words–not mine. The way your cherubic cheeks would heat up when Hajime helped you up when you got yourself stuck in the mud, it was painstakingly obvious that you had liked him ever since.

You and your big brother had a heart to heart talk about back in middle school actually, it sits there playing constantly at the back of your mind.

It was midnight and Oikawa had come home late, you noticed he had been practicing overtime these days which worried you quite a bit but you knew Hajime was there to keep him grounded. So that's how the two of you ended up at 1AM, your brother silently eating his late cold dinner while you accompanied him.

“Did ‘Zumi practice late with you..?” You questioned, breaking the growing silence in the room. In response, he nodded and let out a dry chuckle. “Mhm, you haven't spoken a word since I got home and when you decide to speak it's about Iwa-chan? Do you not care about your dear big brother anymore?” He asks, dramatically feigning hurt as he places a hand on his chest.

He didn't miss how your lips went and formed a thin line, trying your best not to crack a smile. “Cmon, don't lie to your big brother–you like Iwa, don't you?” He teases, trying to get it out of you like he's sipping the very last drop out of the milk carton. “Maybe just a little..” You mumble, finding it just a little bit embarrassing that out of all the fish in the never ending sea, you manage to have feelings for your brother's best friend. “Hm..well I guess if you were to pick someone to marry I’d honestly prefer Iwa y’know?” You almost choke on your own spit upon hearing his words, blushing furiously. “E-eh?! Marry?! It's too early for that!” You exclaim, while your brother starts laughing like a hyena.

His words were very much true though, he trusted Iwa–so much so that if he had the chance to pick the person you’ll marry, he'd choose Hajime with no hesitation.

You roll around in your soft bed, unable to sleep as Iwaizumi’s face keeps flashing in your mind like a broken record. Wanting nothing more than to scream into your pillow, but your grandparents sleeping soundly in the other room prevented you from doing so. You wondered if you would ever go back to Japan, it seemed like your brother wouldn't after hearing him recently renounce his citizenship but it's not like you were going to follow in his footsteps. You've never felt this homesick before, stupid Iwaizumi–it's his fault for coming here unannounced. You thought your delicate heart moved on from this childish crush of yours after not seeing him in a couple of years, looks like it bounced back after meeting up with him again though..

Well, at least you had some form of communication with him after you gave him your number. That was temporarily enough for you.

[lilacprincess7]

"The winner takes it all, the loser has to fall" (Jude)

x

"Someone to you" (Hector)

summary: in which you're Jude's ex and you had a nasty break up, but handsome Barca player Hector Fort is there to pick up the pieces.

a/n: the inspo from the great @paucubarsisimp

warnings: cursing, break-up, violent but not abusive Jude, narcissistic behaviour, mentions of sex

The opposite version

When you met Jude you were stunned. He was just, so perfect. Or so he seemed. He was kind and polite, gentle, loving. A true gentleman. Opening doors for you and pulling chairs. Cooking dinner. He was everything. He took you for romantic walks, listened to you, cared for you... and yet he became an asshole towards you.

He became jealous, overprotective. He forgot how to care, how to behave. He stopped being gentle, his heart stopped beating for you. It was beating for himself only. After winning the UCL he started talking about himself like he was the best. Like he could get whatever he wanted. And yet, when he decided he wanted you, you denied him.

You fought that night. You were already having thoughts of breaking up with him but this was the drop needed to overflow the glass. He had lost the El Clasico at the Bernabeu and instead of looking for the mistakes he made he blamed you and said that since you were at fault you should be the outlet of his rage. YOUR Jude was long gone. This version in front of you was someone else. He was a persona crafted by the team you hated since you were a kid.

You two didn't live together. You just took your bag and left. You didn't need to say a word. You were done caring for that bastard. He had lost you forever. You wanted to take a walk, clear your head. It was late but Madrid never truly slept. Especially at the area you were in. It had luxurious hotels and extreme security. You headed towards a nearby park. It had a little lake with ducks and swans. You were a nature lover. Your love for the sea was a constant throughout your life. The lake this park offered was just a substitution for the feeling the ocean gave you.

You sat on a bench by the lake. It had post-lambs around you and a guard just close by. Nobody else was around at this time of the night. Even after such a fight you felt at ease here. Suddenly, someone approached you and sat on the other end of the bench. The guard was watching calmly, doing his job to make sure everyone was safe. And you were.

The person that sat next to you was none other than Hector Fort. You knew who he was. At this point everyone and their mother knew who he was. Apart from a talent in football he possessed a face card that was deadly. Any girl in the world would fall at his feet in an instant, feminism be damn, and he knew it. Yet he never acted arrogant because of it. He was never seen with girls that weren't fans apart from his best friend who recently attended one of his games.

You were curious as to what he was doing out and about at this time of the day, so you asked.

"What's a guy like you, who just won an El Clasico, doing here in the middle of the night?" no venom painted your voice, only curiosity.

He turned and looked at you calmly, he had understood that you weren't being mean. He knew who you were too. Nobody could miss you either. The girlfriend of Jude Bellingham, well ex- but the press wasn't yet aware, as well as an established person in your work. Millions of girls aspired to be just like you. And Hector was magnetized. You were the only girl that he couldn't have. And that's just another reason why he felt something for you.

"I came here to relax for a bit. Didn't think that I would run into such a pretty woman though. I guess I'm just lucky." he replied

You had to give it to him, he was smooth. You could tell that even if he was two years younger he knew how to flirt just like a master.

"Guess we are here for the same reason then.."

"Troubles with your guy? I didn't think he would ever risk it. Everyone knows that he scored high above his league."

"Smooth Fort. And fyi he actually more than risked it... I broke up with him.." you said quietly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Hector asked attentively.

"He was being a jerk you know? He stopped caring about anything that wasn't himself.." you admitted bitterly, lowering your head a bit.

"Hey, none of that, you said yourself that he was acting like a jerk. If it makes you feel any better even Pau and Pedri hate him nowadays.." he said calmly.

"Why's that supposed to help though?"

"Pau and Pedri are literally sweethearts. Off the pitch, they like everyone so if they don't like you, you must be-"

"- a bastard?"

"Well, si, I agree, so that's what your ex is." silence ingulfed the two of you. Not the awkward kind, nor the charged one, a peaceful one.

"Come on, your Y/n L/n, you can't just sit around because of a guy. Do you wanna forget about him for a bit? I have some ideas..." he asked

"What kind of ideas, Hector?"

"I like how you say my name" he said charmingly.

"Then I'll keep saying it I guess" you replied, a teasing smile on your lips that he ended up returning.

He stood up and offered you his hand. You took it gracefully. The two of you started walking in the park, admiring its stillness.

"Come, let's get some ice cream."

You agreed easily. Upon exiting the park, the guard nodded towards you and the two of you bid him goodnight. Hector told you that one of Barca's bodyguards was with him, just so you wouldn't be spooked if you realized someone was following you. You asked yourself just how thoughtful was this guy?

He made you feel better, helped you get of your chest whatever you felt for the whole ordeal with Jude and now here he was. Telling you that he had a bodyguard with so you wouldn't be scared.

He led you to a small Gelateria. He explained to you that whenever he was in Madrid he came by with friends. It had become a treat for him and the rest of the squad, whether they felt like they needed to celebrate something or to comfort themselves.

He was so easy to talk to. The comfort was rolling of off him in waves and reached your core. You kept talking throughout the night. He exchanged numbers and he even invited you to watch a game after he found out that you were a culer at heart. He even walked you back home. You asked him about it and he just replied that he didn't want anything to happen. He just wanted to make sure you reached your place safely.

When it was time to part ways, he asked if you wanted a hug. Like how much of a gentleman could a guy be? This didn't even compare to Jude before he became a jerk. Hector was miles above him already. You thanked him for the night you shared. He responded with a warm smile and a kiss on the back of your hand. He told you to call him whenever you felt like it. He said he would always be there when you needed him. And he didn't fail to keep his promise.

You started chatting often, texting or calling. Even facetiming when he was home. You were going to the Catalan city for a business meeting. You had an interview with an important company. You told him about it and he asked you to meet up. He said he wanted to take you out on a date. No strings attached. He said that if you felt like it you could consider it a meeting between two people who wanted to try being something more. If not it was just a dinner between friends.

After talking for four months, you realized that you wanted to try that something more with him. He was like a breath of fresh air compared to previous lovers. He made you feel seen in a way nobody else had ever achieved before him. So you agreed to his preposition of dinner date.

I'll pick you up from the hotel around 8, okay?

Yes, see you then🤗

See u princessa 😊

The pet name had you blushing instantly.

You had informed the reception of his arrival so he would be let through to your room. At 8 o'clock sharp you heard the hotel phone ring. It was from the reception. Hector wanted them to ask you if you were still comfortable with him coming upstairs. You replied positively with no second thought and thought once again just how thoughtful could a guy be?

Two minutes later, you open the door after he knocked to let him in. He has a bouquet of purple tulips on his right hand and a book and a chocolate on his left. He remembered everything. It must have been at least a month since you told him that your favorite flowers were tulips and at least three that you mentioned liking purple. And yet here he was, remembering things you had mentioned about yourself in passing. It touched a heartstring of yours. He was so amazing.

The date passed by in a blur. He took you to a cozy restaurant in the suburbs of Barcelona and you loved it. It was a calm and relaxing atmosphere. He was calmer too. Away from prying eyes he was even more beautiful as a person. Inside and out. He truly shined and whenever he smiled you swore the whole room lit up.

At first you were scared to dive back in right after having such a rough break up with that asshole. You didn't want that to cause any problems for what lay ahead for you and Hector though. You talked to him about it and he reassured you. He explained that if you want time, you have it. He will wait for you. Because in his words 'When you have found your soulmate, everything you do for them and with them is worth it' and your heart melted.

He took you back to your hotel and suggested you meet up the next day for coffee by the sea. You agreed easily, understanding that in reality there was no need to be afraid of love.

Almost a year had passed since you met the love of your life. Hector was the best thing to have happened to you. In just a year he changed your whole existence. You stopped surviving, you started living.

The company you had the interview with wanted you for the position. And since the company was based in the Catalan city, you moved there. You found a beautiful apartment with the help of Hector's network in Catalonia and you made a home out of it.

As for you and Hector, a bit after you moved officially, the two of you committed to an actual relationship. And he was the best boyfriend ever.

He brought you flowers and sweets after coming home from practice. He took you for walks by the sea, he bought you things while he traveled, just because they reminded him of you, he held you at night like you were a treasure. Because in his eyes, you were. For him, you were worth more than the whole planet.

The funniest of moments was in the first El Clasico you attended as Hector's girlfriend. He had scored and assisted, making him the MVP. You were sat outside the locker room with the rest of the Barca WAGs, waiting for your lover. And there you found your ex.

"I knew I would see you around again... So what happened? Realized I'm what's best for you and came back? Baby, I wanna apologize too, but you can't just up and go and reappear a year later..."

"Oh my God, you are so funny" you replied, almost rolling on the floor with laughter. The rest of the women looked at him like he was filth on the floor. You had told them just what a scumbag the guy had been to you and they weren't happy.

Just as he was about to speak again, Hector came out of the locker room, grinning from ear to ear at seeing you.

"Amorrr!!" he exclaimed like a child on Christmas morning. He hugged you tight and kissed your nose, then you cheek and lastly your lips.

Then he saw your ex. His mood didn't turn sour however.

"So, now you can dump this guy, you have me back baby why would you need him? That's why you were with him in the first place, to get me back.." Jude said with a smirk dancing on his lips.

You didn't reply, just looked at Hector who was grinning like a madman.

"GAVI YOUR FAV IS HERE" he shouted.

At that you saw an angry bird exiting the locker room, a couple of their older teammates in tow.

"Oh the bastard is here, how are you doing, little dick?" Gavi asked smirking, he approached the three of you ready to punch Jude at any moment. And he was. A moment later Jude was at the ground clutching his jaw, Pablo and Hector standing over him ready to attack him again. Thank Lewa for pulling them back before your ex had blood on his white shirt.

"First you talk shit in a match, about my boyfriend no less" Pablo said

"Then you go home and take it out on your woman, who you supposedly love" Hector

"Then you trash talk people all over again because you can't win for shit" Pablo continued

"And then you come back and act like MY WOMAN, who just so happens to be your ex, cause unlike your ass I treat women right, and act like YOU OWN HER FUCK NO!" Hector shouted on the other's face. He knelt over Jude and picked him up from his t-shirt.

"If you come anywhere near her again, I swear, they won't find a body to bury.." your boyfriend trailed off.

"I'll help!!" Gavi said enthusiastically

That had the bastard up and running away from the corridor.

Hector took you home that night. You made love on his bed. He treated you like a queen that was meant to be adored. You loved him with everything you got.

The two of you ended up getting married three years after. You went on a honeymoon to Maldives but travelling didn't stop there. Even after he got called up to the Spanish team, he always found time for you. You often travelled with him for games too.

Two years after you got married you welcomed into the family your first child. Little Isabella had her father's curls and your everything. Hector was the ultimate girl dad and your daughter was his princess. You went on to have two more kids. Pau, after Hector's best friend who became the kid's godfather and Aphrodite, for she was so beautiful she captured hearts like it was a game.

The lesson was that through a difficult time, better times so themselves. Through people who hurt you, you can find people who help you heal. That's what Hector was. Your light in the dark. Your better half. Your guiding star. And as you sat by him on the couch in your garden, your kids running around and having fun, you realized that the world the two of you created was he most sacred thing ever.

a/n:thoughts?

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Hey guys!

Summary: This takes place in Alexandria era. There is a welcoming party thrown for the new group. Daryl doesn't come because of his complicated relationship with Y/n but once he stops by the party, he sees Y/n being all flirty and nasty with Spencer lol and Daryl gets superrr jeaolus only for him and y/n to end up arguing like crazyyy and kinda make a scene at the party (?). Daryl and y/n are like friends with benefits??? but it's complicated :/ and this is like a moment where Daryl realizes y/n is more than somebody he happens to share a bed with now and then.

Also they are not DATING. they're just fucking now and then with no strings attached. no emotions involved (atleast that's what they agreed to without ever talking) so this isn't cheating!!!

Warnings: mentions of rape. Spencer being an asshole and trying to take advantage of drunk Y/n. Daryl punching Spencer. Suggestive content. Lemme know if there is more!

this is more of a fancy welcoming party than that of in the show. they aren't gonna show up with jeans and stuff!

Y/n ran her fingers through her body, looking at the her reflection on the mirror with dilated pupils; not being able to take her eyes off of herself. She got all dolled up, her hair and make up done. She was wearing an alluring, ostentatious dress that was hugging her curves flawlessly which was given to her from a lovely woman in Alexandria. Y/n's head was slightly tilted as she kept eyeing herself.

"Ugh I can't even remember the last time I wore a dress." Rosita complained. Y/n looked over at her and gently grinned.

"I know right." Y/n said "Me neither." she added.

Y/n kept leering at her reflection when her eyes caught Maggie entering the room with a charming dress and a pleasant smile on her face. Y/n turned to her and slowly reached for her purse that was on the nightstand.

"Y'all ready?" Maggie queried.

"Almost." Rosita responded back with an enthusiastic undertone. It was true they went through hell to get where they are at this moment. They all knew that. They were all suffering in agony. These thoughts kept pondering Y/n's head when she heard the door being shut loudly from downstairs.

"Daryl's home." Maggie uttered while cautiously leering at Y/n. Nobody exactly knew what went down between them but it was clear as day that something did. They were distant from eachother, barely even talking. Everyone knew they weren't romantic in any sense but some kind of relationship beyond just friends or teammates formed itself between them back in the prison. They were top secret. Even the ones that know what they once were, couldn't dare to talk about it; like Maggie.

"He is not coming to the party?" Rosita mumbled under her breath to kill the peculiar silence.

"I don't think so." Maggie huffed after taking a deep breath, her eyes still roaming Y/n's movements. She took a deep breath again

"You should come downstairs if you're all done. We will be goin' in 10-15 minutes." She spoke after she checked y/n for the last time.

She left the room. Rosita looked over at y/n for a brief moment. She barely knew anyone but she could sense there was something wrong, though, she remained silent.

"Uhh, I need to go to bathroom for something. I'll meet you downstairs." She said in a hurry as she grabbed her purse and made her way to the bathroom.

Y/n sighed audibly. She felt as if her track of thought was transparent and they could sense everything. She didn't know if Daryl was still downstairs and hoped that he wouldn't be. She gazed at her reflection for a brief moment and left the room.

••••••

Y/n saw Daryl as she stepped in downstairs. He was in the kitchen, a beer bottle on the kitchen counter. His hair was messy and greasy. His hands were on the kitchen counter. He was looking at the door, his back facing Y/n. He turned his head lightly as soon as he felt someone's presence. Y/n couldn't help but leer at his eyes exactly like he did. He may have checked Y/n from head to toe for a second or so, not showing any kind of affection nor admiration in his eyes or his body language. He made his way to the couch, put the beer bottle on the coffee table and started cleaning his filthy arrows with the cloth that was always in his jean pockets.

Y/n was almost feeling embarrased being infront of him like this. A sexy mini black dress, her hair and make-up done. She was incompetently trying to cover her legs with the purse. She was normally wearing even shorter shorts due to humid and the heat of the south and it wasn't like Daryl hadn't already seen every inch of her body but this, for some reason, felt different. A part of her sinked in sorrow because Y/n knew she couldn't have an intimate night tonight like many other nights with Daryl. "He is acting foolish." She got hot inside of her head. When was she ever gonna wear a dress like this and look like this again? And yet, there he was, missing such a fancy oppurtinity that he could've participated with her, show up with her. Hell, maybe that would keep jerks like Spencer away. It was play pretend. She knew that. The people that took them knew that, however shamming the old world wasn't immoral. Y/n didn't mind the elegance of the event, she cared for Daryl beyond that even if she didn't want to admit it but there was no harm for these type of things here and there. She was almost arguing with herself inside of her head. Y/n could feel herself getting sweaty already in that 6 inch dress. Thankfully, her saviors have been Glenn and Rick that ringed the door bell. She almost ran to the door, Daryl followed her with his eyes but turned back to working on his crossbow right after. Rosita and Maggie came downstairs as Y/n welcomed Rick and Glenn inside. They were gonna meet the others in the party. Glenn rushed over to Maggie, gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Rick couldn't help but look at the ladies with enchanted eyes

"You all look gorgeous tonight." He uttered confidently. There was no denying that he could be flirty.

He leered at Daryl and his smile faded away quickly.

"Your not comin' to the party?" he huffed. One could tell he already knew the answer by his tone. Everyone, including Y/n turned to Daryl. He shrugged his shoulders" 'M fine." He said then took a sip of his beer "Might stop ba later." he grunted.

"You better." Rick spoke in a daring tone as he frowned lightly. Daryl made a "Mhmm." sound and looked at his beer bottle for a moment and went back to continue the tense eye contact they had already formed. Daryl didn't seem bothered at all, not breaking the eye contact with Rick.

Daryl's eyes locked on Y/n's for a brief second before he got up, grabbed his beer and crossbow and went upstairs.

"And I thought I did a good speech about first impressions." Rick huffed under his breath, not hiding his frustration even a little.

Glenn looked at him with a knowing look as they lead the ladies to the door.

•••••••••

At the party, Y/n started helping with the beverages. She gave a proud look to Rosita as she came closer to her.

"Reminds me of old days you know." Y/n spoke as she watched Rosita coming closer.

"What do you mean?" Rosita asked.

Y/n was tipsy. She lightly hit her forehead with her fingers

"You don't know right? I was a barmaiden before all this." Y/n shouted as it could be hard for Rosita to hear her because of loud music. She never loved the job but anyone would miss anything from the past nowadays.

"That's good." Rosita expressed, with a fond smile on her face. She was only growing to love y/n's energy more.

Y/n didn't have to prepare beverages, she wasn't asked to. She only did it because it was taking her off of Daryl. Rosita sat one of the stools infront of her. She was watching people have fun when she saw Spencer approach them from the corner of her eyes.

Spencer approached y/n with a ludicrous smile bearing his face. Y/n instantly stopped what she was doing and looked at him with seductive eyes. She got drunk enough to not care about anything, anyone and after all her thing with Daryl have only been about sexual intercourse, nothing more. For the moment, that felt like a done deal too. No could blame her for wanting look for more. Rosita kept watching them for a minute or so when she decided to leave those two alone.

It was evident that Spencer was a bit intoxicated too if not as much as Y/n. He offered her hand to y/n for her to get out of the bar, she gently accepted his hand. Spencer placed his hands on y/n's waist as she looked at him with tempting eyes.

"You look gorgeous tonight." Spencer spoke. His voice was sloppy, even a little bit alcohol could make him talk funny. On the other hand, Y/n was too wasted to see that. She kept looking at his eyes with those seductive eyes of her. She didn't need to speak. Her eyes would do the job for her most of the time.

"You wanna dance?" Y/n whispered into Spencer's ear. She almost fell into his arms because she had to be on her tiptoes to reach him. He caught y/n and laughed it off.

"Yeah. S-sure." He said in a hectic tone. Spencer held y/n hand and led her to a corner. Y/n couldn't care less how far she'd go. She looked into Spencer's eyes with a fierce, alluring look before placing her hands on his chest. Spencer smirking lightly as he replaced his hands on her waist. They danced in that position for a moment, getting closer with each passing second and snuggling into one another. Their bodies were touching eachother passionately. They could feel eachother's breaths on their skin. Y/n wrapped her hands around Spencer more and went further with her sensual actions. Spencer could feel himself getting dizzy both because of alcohol and how far Y/n was going and grinding herself against him. He would whisper into her hear.

"You're so beautiful."

"Yeah just like that."

Y/n couldn't hear him, she was using him in a sense. She just went further and further with her suggestive moves that would drive any man out there crazy. They were lucky everybody was dancing, otherwise everyone would talk about them and give them disapproved looks. On the other hand, Spencer was fantasizing about taking Y/n to his place, spend a fabulous night. Y/n was wasted anyway, Spencer relieved himself. He wasn't gonna get ignored by her like always. Even at that point, he couldn't believe Y/n was all over him, grinding her ass against him so harshly yet so gently.

"Oh no." Maggie uttered silently as she pulled her arms that were grabbing Glenn on the shoulder softly. She scowled. Glenn took a deep breath, his annoyance growing thicker.

"For the millionth time Maggie, let Y/n have her fun. She is a grown woman." He sighed, obviously giving up. Glenn made out there was no way he could stop Maggie worrying about Y/n.

"No." Maggie said in concern. She softly pointed a spot behind Glenn with her head, her uneasy eyes widening a little bit more with each second. Glenn's eyes followed her gaze and he fixed his leer at Daryl and mildly huffed under his breath

"Fuck. He's been moody all week, right?"

"And he was drinking when we left." Maggie uttered.

They were both perturbed about what might happen.

"Look we step in if something happens, OK?" Glenn gently said to Maggie, trying his best to give her assurance.

"No need to get him all worked up." Glenn was trying to persuade Maggie to stay out of it unless a scene broke out at the party. Maggie nodded, slowly wrapping her hands around Glenn and smiling at once.

••••••••••

Daryl sat down on one of the stools that were lined up front of the bar, looking around to find a familiar face. He sighed at the failure of finding no one that he knew. This party wasn't for him. It reminded him the days where Merle and his friends would force him go downtown to hang out aimlessly in nightclubs, bars; hitting on every single girl that would catch their eyes regardless if they had someone with them. He hadn't really meet anyone yet. He was going on runs without any prearrangments and without letting anybody know, all alone. He asked for a scotch. His mind was busy. He thought guzzling one beer after another and working on his crossbow would engage his mind nevertheless, that failed.

He took a sip from his drink when he narrowed his eyes slightly at something. He thought he must've been hallucinating or mistake her for someone but it was clear as day. Y/n was dancing with Spencer and it was safe to say that it wasn't a cute, typical dance. They were all over eachother as if their bodies were glued. Y/n's hair was tangled and messy from the heat or who knows, from how long she had been dancing. She wasn't breaking the tense eye contact with Spencer. She was touching his face and giggling erotically at the same time. She would turn now and then and grind her entire body harshly against Spencer's for a brief moment in a seductive way. Her already-mini dress would fold everytime she did that. Spencer's hand would run through the front of her thighs. He would stroke Y/n's arms, hair, waist, anything. He would touch and caress every part of Y/n's body and Y/n didn't seem to mind.

Daryl's mind twitched at this scene. He didn't move. He wasn't fully drunk but his mind was growing more and more lethargic. He couldn't think clear. He felt a sense of jeaolusy, but did he have a right to feel that way? He had been avoiding her for weeks and so had she. Did he lose her completely? Did he ever have her entirely to himself? Was she trying to take revenge? Did it look like revenge or was she actually enjoying this? Didn't Y/n once say she liked the attention she was receiving from men when she was working as a barmaiden? Didn't she like to play with them like toys only for them to tip her more?

A heavy feeling of insecurity washed all over Daryl. It was crystal clear that Y/n was bewitching, almost way too bewitching. It wasn't like he never appreciated her beauty. The days he would wake up next to her and watch her chest going up and down lighly and admiring her beauty were countless. Maybe he should've made it more plain. He couldn't. A lump in his throat formed itself when he would think of the wall between them that he created. He couldn't be more. He didn't even know if he wanted to. He never had to worry about someone else back in the prison. There was only them and no one else. Spencer have been boldly flirting with Y/n ever since they got here. Daryl never could've foreseen that it would end like this. Y/n never responded back to Spencer after all.

Daryl's knuckles were turning whiter around his drink everytime he would fix his eyes on them. The sensation of jeaolusy and insecurity were no longer there. He was furious, bitter. All he wanted to do was to punch Spencer in the face. His glare growing more stern with each second, yet he couldn't get himself to get up and go over there. He was breathing fire. He examined Y/n's face, movements. He wanted to despise her but he horribly failed. He could just sit there and torture himself with this view, perhaps he deserved it. He notioned he deserved to torment himself with any way he could. Though he never would've want the torturer to be someone he deeply cared about in deep down. His eyes were hurting.

"Wanna go to my place?" Spencer whispered into Y/n's ear. "This place is getting boring." He added. Y/n gazed at him with puppy eyes before responding "Sure." She was wasted. She could barely even walk. Spencer smirked at her. It was not a pure smirk.

Daryl's eyes darted away to other people in the party for a second and went back to staring Spencer. He has acknowledged Spencer's intentions. He left his drink on the long thin table, he got up and slowly started walking towards them. He couldn't understand why Y/n hadn't see him until then. He knew what he had to do. He was gonna convince Y/n to come with him one way or another.

He got closer to them, he firmly grabbed Y/n by the hand and drew her to himself. She almost fell over him. "Daryl." she said in a tone above whisper. He stared into Spencer eyes in a stern manner and turned back to y/n

"Yer comin' with me." He stated. Y/n pulled her hand to herself and howled

"The hell I'm not." She was drunk yet strong.

"He was 'bout to leave with me man." Spencer spoke in a haggard tone. His tone indicated that he was irascible. Spencer's hand took place between Daryl and Y/n implying that Daryl couldn't touch her.

"She 's drunk, don' ya see that " Daryl grunted. He kept looking at Spencer, waiting for a respond.

"She can rest at my place." He grinned ludicrously.

Daryl could feel his blood boiling. He felt as if this Spencer guy was only trying to get under his skin. "And yer gon' let her sleep just like tha' " He huffed in a sarcastic fashion. He couldn't even believe he was still speaking with him. He looked over Y/n.

"Come on y/n. wer leavin' "

Y/n was sleepy. She clattered a "Mmm" sound as she let herself lean onto Daryl. She couldn't even focus on one thing anymore. Daryl held her by the waist and started making his way to the entrance when Spencer cut him.

"And your gonna let that mess sleep, huh?"

He pointed at Y/n by raising his eyebrows. That ludicrous smirk hadn't faded a bit. He was crossing the line. He was being stupid.

"Don't you think I haven't noticed the way you look at her."

Daryl kept looking at him without saying a word. He then spoke, gritting his teeth.

"Yea wanna do this here man?" He was giving Spencer one last chance so that he doesn't get beaten up. Spencer once again looked foolish, not understanding what he could've meant by that. Daryl was waiting for a response, he never got it but Spencer was not getting out of the way neither.

Y/n wasn't that sleepy at that point. She noticed Daryl's hands on her and freed herself from his grip and simply sat on one of the stools. She grabbed her hand to her head, whimpering in pain while she slowly massaged her temples.

Spencer looked at her with a knowing look. That was it. That was the last straw. Daryl looked over Y/n for a moment before jumping Spencer and punching him on the face with all his power. Spencer fell down and immediatly covered his face with his hand, his blood started oozing from his nose to the floor. He tumbled into some of the people there as he fell, which all screamed consecutively to the scene infront of their eyes. He had a huge ego built in himself that he didn't believe anyone would dare to touch Deanna's son, especially in a place like this; in an event like this. He leered at Daryl with confounded eyes.

Y/n turned to her back after hearing everyone scream. Her gaze shifted to Daryl after she saw Spencer lying on the floor with blood oozing everywhere. Y/n didn't say a word, neither did Daryl. However she had an uneasy look on her face. Daryl looked at her with stern eyes, not saying anything. He couldn't believe she was still where she was, not moving; not coming next to him. He was virtually disheartened.

"Fuck this." He grunted before looking at Spencer for the last time. He walked out from the scene. Y/n's eyes followed his every move when Rick arrived

"What happened?" He asked with curious eyes.

Y/n got up from the stool and sighed

"Daryl happened." She took one last glare to Spencer who was looking at y/n aswell. Y/n couldn't make out what his gaze meant. He wasn't angry, disappointed nor shocked.

Rick tried to grab her by the arm however she left the area somehow.

She scurried out. Her eyes scrutinizing the whole yard looking for Daryl. Y/n walked in a rush for a while when she saw him near the perimeter where people were taking patrols. He turned to her. He was enraged. Y/n had never seen him like this before. He was slightly trembling like he had just crashed into something. He tried to control his panting as he cried out

"If yer here to blame me, don't."

Y/n was taken aback by his cold manner. His "don't" sounded as if he was pleading. Yet she didn't step back. Maybe it was the intoxication, maybe it was the bottled up emotions she had been keeping inside of her for weeks but she didn't step back.

"Who else is there to blame besides you, Daryl" she uttered.

"You started off by ruining everyone's mood back at the house to punch Spencer on the face in the middle of a party." She shouted.

Some of the guards were staring down at them, looking fed up with the noisy party music, people throwing up here and there and now these two.

"A party that was thrown for us." Y/n added. She wasn't lightening the harsh, accusing tone in her voice even a little.

"I don' give a dam' 'bout the party." He uttered, swinging his arm at Y/n.

"You may not care," Y/n said, her voice started to tremble

"But the others do." She ended her sentence.

"It actually matters for some of us to survive in some place that's safe and liveable."

"Hell with all of 'em." He spoke.

There was a brief silence before he grunted

"Funny yea still think this 's all 'bout this damn place." His voice was slightly tall.

"Ya didn't see how he was droolin' all over ya." He looked at y/n. He was still, however his mood lied heavily on Y/n's words.

"Fuck you and Spencer. I was having fun." She emphasized on her words. Her frustration was growing bigger

"Ya callin' that fun? Grindin' yer body against some dude?"

"Yes, I call that fun Daryl. Have a problem with that?" She sighed at his sight.

Daryl stayed silent. He knew y/n was trying to get a reaction out of him. Both of them caught their breaths when Daryl spoke

"Yer so clueless, aren't ya?"

"Yer doin' it on purpose." He laughed it off while shaking his head. Y/n couldn't find something to say. She focused on her breathing, tried to calm herself down. Her heart was beating like it was trying to get out of her chest. She could hear her pulse's banging in her ears.

"He wouldva raped yea 'n yea wouldn't even know."

Y/n narrowed her eyes keenly at his statement.

"You ar- y-you." She was stuttering. She didn't know what to say. She just looked at Daryl. Her eyes got watery, she sobered up right there. Daryl fought back thinking she had something more to say in contrast.

"What? Yea thought he was fixin' to take yea in his place to feed yea a bowl of steamin' soup?" He grunted. He didn't care if he was being bitter. He didn't care if it would cause him to lose y/n entirely. He just knew he had to speak on what he saw tonight. Their eyes were still locked up on eachother when Daryl's eyes shifted something else behind Y/n. Y/n followed his gaze only to see Rick and Maggie coming towards them. The rest of their people were lined up infront of the door, watching them.

"Enough." Rick shouted as he got closer.

Both of their eyes were fixated on Rick.

FOOTNOTE

hey guys!! omg the duties i been ignoring to write these are crazy (no complains whatsoever im into this lol) i initially planned writing this even longer and a bit different (daryl practically dragging y/n to the house and y/n puking etc and it would end in a soft way?? like them cuddling and kissing etc and they would acknowledge eachothers povs etc but it would be a whole damn novel by itself and ive been impatient posting this so idk maybe a sequel??) also ive noticed its impossible to avoid daryl getting ooc now and then.. i yield... sometimes he is gonna feel ooc.. and there is nothing i can do🥹🥹

lemme know your thoughts!! love yall

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/765221485179731968/writing-about-my-favorite-characters-as?source=share

I'm really sorry to hear you're going through this, anon. I'm even sadder that it's not an uncommon story.

As another trans writer (trans woman, in my case) that's stumbled into other people eviscerating her works for "fetishizing" and being "het in f/f's clothing" I really sympathize with you, dude. The way I look at it is that you cannot try alter who you are for these people. They will always find a way to dislike you because you are their ideological enemy. They dislike seeing trans men in what they see as their ship tags, not yours, so they will always find something they view as a flaw and flog you for it until you either conform or leave.

I've had a similar experience to yours, though not a literal thread dedicated to me. Ouch. I write f/f and sometimes that features non-op/pre-op trans characters because I am personally non-op after many years on E, and I'm always astounded by how it obviously upsets people that otherwise claim to be progressive. I also tag things extensively and I even include some terminology clarifications at the beginning of smut fics so that everyone knows what they're getting into. It doesn't matter to them. It'll never matter to them what you or I do, so why bother trying to coddle them?

There are readers that like my works, but after walking into a fandom Discord's NSFW fic channel, I saw how many people assume that my fics are written by a cis person or the fabled Dirty Fetishizer. It's one thing to intellectually know this happens and another to see your own work - something that you as a trans person created to talk about some part of yourself - ripped apart as this nasty tripe that no "real" trans person would write or read.

To make matters worse, I saw all that after I went through a rather nasty spate of transphobic anons when the fandom was very young. It was so tiring. I was exhausted. Seeing virulent hate in the real world and then having it thrown in my face for writing characters in a way that people disagreed with was just too much for me.

My way of dealing with this was disengaging from my own fandom, turning off anons on tumblr, and blocking anyone I even felt slightly annoyed by just in case it boiled over into something else. It sucks, but it's how I continue to have fun with writing for my ships. I basically never go into my ship tags on Tumblr now, I curate whose fics I read carefully, and I only hang out in one Discord server that's very small. I still read and comment on others' works when I have the mental bandwidth for it, but I avoid most other writers, especially those I don't know just in case they're part of that -phobe segment, and keep the most vocally unpleasant authors permanently muted for my own sake.

Frankly, it is what it is, as thought terminating as that phrase can be, and I gave up trying with these people/this fandom. You could keep trying to interact with the greater fandom, but you should block the assholes that disregarded your lived experience for your own mental health.

It's an isolating process for sure, but that's why I supplemented it with seeking out other fandom friends, most of whom are trans. Maybe we disagree with headcanons, and in a lot of cases we're polar opposites, but we all stick together because otherwise we're all thrown into isolation. That, and I always try to focus on the folks that do like what I write.

--

[thirstnotes]

| Rivals To Lovers - Clark Kent - Part Eleven - Intermission|

Pairings: Clark Kent x AFABBlackCurvyReader

Warnings: abduction, Oswald Cobblepot (Penguin), mild confusion, language, minors DNI, bribery

So I'll start with a sincere apology to the darling readers who have been waiting: I'm really sorry this story screeched to a halt like that. The best way to describe it is that life's been lifein'. I've not had the will to write lately. But when I went back over the latest chapters, I hated the way it fleshed out, so I'm redoing them. You can still access the others chapters in the Deleted/Alternative Chapters section on my masterlist or in the chapter lists marked "Alternative". Thanks for hanging in there. Much love to you all.

If you don't like it, don't read it. If you read it and find you don't like it, move on.

If getting abducted and ending up in the trunk of someone’s car is one of your worse fears

Trigger Alert

Because that’s happening right now

A nasty bump roused your drowsy form again and you did your best to look around for a hole in the sack that was over your head. What the fuck was going on? Why were you here?

"Let's go for a little ride."

You'll never forget the gravelly sound of his voice. Nor the rough feeling of his gloved hands as he fought your efforts to defend yourself and eventually gained the upper hand. It was a fairly quick exchange, at least from what you remembered, ending with a blow to the head with something blunt.

That explained the headache.

But who wanted to abduct you? Sure, you were a reporter, but you didn't really do too much to stand out. Although...

Sleeping with Superman and Bruce Wayne was bound to put a target on your back, even though nobody knew who Clark was.

What was up with that, anyway?

A hairstyle and glasses? How was he fooling everyone?

Well. You didn't know either

But you had your suspicions so

A swerve caused a ton of shifting tools in the trunk to slide around. You covered your head to avoid getting another blow to your already throbbing dome.

"Easy, asshole! Cobblepot likes his apples unbruised if you know what I mean," a voice said in the front, his gravelly voice not matching the one you heard in your bedroom.

Cobblepot? As in Oswald Cobblepot? The Penguin? What did he want with you?

"I don't think he cares so long as Wayne's girl is in his grasp."

Confirmed. He thought you were with Bruce

More than that, they were talking about you like you were Bruce's property. Apparently they were planning for you to soon to be Oswald's

Or whatever the fuck he had planned

Fuck that noise

Clark's voice in your head when you were both on that walk kept echoing the same statement.

I personally feel like the further you are away from that guy, the better.

As much as you hated being wrong

You had to admit, you felt like an idiot for ignoring the very real world consequences of being in a relationship with both Bruce Wayne and Superman.

They had plenty of enemies and you didn't need it to be spelled out for you that there didn't need to be a reason for somebody to take you just to hurt them

People like these didn't give a damn about a woman being collateral damage

The car stopped and after a few beats, a heavy clunk of a car door shut before everything was still once again. The harsh light of day hit your eyes as the trunk opened and your assailants stood in view before pulling you out and forcing you down a corridor. There was music playing in different areas, coupled with laughs and screams, which made a sense of dread wash over you.

Finally, you reached a corridor that opened into a large dilapidated ballroom, where a very familiar figure stood at the center with a chair. Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin himself. Sensing where this was going, you didn't need to be forced to sit, instead using the opportunity to map out potential escape routes and weapons in the vicinity. Your restraints were cut as he spoke.

"My, I can see why Brucey choses to play with you, you're lovely," he said, thick smell of cigar hitting your nose as he came closer to study you, "I trust you had a pleasant journey."

"As pleasant as a blow to the back of the head could afford me," you saucily replied and he cut his eyes at one of the two henchmen at either side of you. The man shrank under his gaze, but he didn't budge until Cobblepot waved a hand dismissing them.

"Apologies. They play a lil' rough, but they're teddy bears really."

You might've described them as grizzlies, rather than teddies, but you digressed.

"Sure. What do you want with me?" you asked, not seeing the point of beating around the bush. He seemed to be pleased at that, tilting his head at you with a crooked smile.

"Straight to the point. I like that. Well you could say there's somethin' I need from you."

Here we go

You didn't say anything right away, and he noted that. Probably gauging your loyalty to use to his advantage. A crooked smile colored his lips.

"C'mon now, Darlin', don't be like that. There's a pretty sweet deal in it for you too."

You were moderately insulted--which was increasing all the time-- that he thought you were easily swayed by the thought of money and power. Though, his misstep had it's advantages in that moment and you were all too ready to utilize them. You face hadn't faltered when you gave him a onceover to give him the impression of uncertainty.

"...I'm listening."

His smile grew a bit. "I love it when I'm right. Brucey sure knows how to pick 'em."

He was really staring to irk you, but you let it slide

"If you thought you were right, you wouldn't have sent your goons to rough me up. Why the caveman method?" you asked, folding your arms and crossing your legs.

"A formality, you understand. I couldn't tell what kind of a woman Brucey's been entertaining lately. The fact that you're a journalist was already rubbing me the wrong way, but I figured with your salary, you might be open to negotiations."

The dig at the Daily Planet's pay rate made a smirk tickle your lips, but you tamped your amusement down. "Depends. How much we talking?"

The fact that you sounded like you had an option to say "no" seemed to amuse him, as evident in his lazy smile while he paced.

"Enough for you to never have to work at that gossip rag again. Enough for you to move wherever you wanted and still have enough to live a cushy life for the rest of your days."

You paused again, reading his reaction to your body language as you pretended to be considering his offer. Your eyes flickered to his cane, which was fidgeting from one finger to the next, certain that your answer might evoke a response involving it.

For good measure, your eyes floated to the floor, the back up to him. Guilt. "What do I have to do?"

He thought for certain he had you. His grin tightened so much he nearly severed his cigar. "Good girl. Positively ruthless, I like that."

You were beyond done with this clown, but you listened intently after he took a long drag.

"It's easy, really. Ol' Brucey has been doin' a little diggin' around in mines lately and he's been a little hush hush about his find. Security's ramped up, top secret shippin'. The works. I can't seem to get anywhere near that cargo, so I figure-"

"Why not make it an inside job," you finished, your eyes rolling to your nails.

"Exactly. Care to do a lil work for me, dollface?"

You looked around the room, as if mulling over the proposition. "I'm gonna assume I don't really have the option to say no, but if you're gonna make it worth my while and I don't have to worry about the fallout, why not? It's not like Bruce is gonna be loose with his cash."

He let out a horrible, sharp laugh at that. "My dear, you're almost as bad as the Cat."

"When you're a woman in this world, you do what you have to do to get ahead," you say, rolling your eyes, "So long as you keep your end of the bargain. I don't need Wayne coming after me for this."

"Oh darlin', I'm in the business of protection..." he purred, his eyes slithering over your form again, "...so long as you don't cross me."

You hated this dude

But you did your best not to let it show

"Then we have a deal," you said with a growing smirk, your head throbbing in the worst way now as you went to stand. A hand on your shoulder stopped you and you sat back down with a firm plop. Now what? "The boys'll give you a ride back to your apartment. Gently this time. Can go 'round bruisin' business partners, can we boys?" he sneered, his crooked smile the last thing you saw before a sack was shoved over your head. You felt yourself being led--to Oswald's credit, much more gently--through the corridor and back outside to the car. Of course he had to maintain his location secrecy from a reporter like you. You had to give him a bit more credit for clocking that. But the idea that you were ruthless and selfish enough to sell out a man you'd allegedly been seeing for a few measly dollars and the "promise" of protection by him and his raggedy ass goons was outright insulting.

You were dropped off a ways from your home, at the local donut shop. Relief washed over you, the rest of your adrenaline getting you home in one piece. You couldn't shake the eerie feeling of being watched, knowing Cobblepot was probably having you monitored to make sure you upheld you end of the bargain.

As you approached your apartment, your eyes met with a familiar pair of blue ones, looking at you with curious concern. You kept it casual, your eyes flickering to the flowers in his hands and you smiled. "Those for me?"

(Part 10)

(Part 11 (Alternative))

(Part 12 (Alternative))

[seventeenpins]

triptych - pt i

pairing: tommy miller x joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: after a shitty day, you go to a shitty bar to decompress. you're not in the mood to chat with anyone, but the man who sits at the bar beside you has other ideas. after a surprisingly nice night, you go back to his place only to discover he lives with his brother who happens to be an old flame of yours.

warnings: okay this part is a little suggestive but not really at all filthy (that'll come in part 2), reader comes off as an asshole but really she's just having a bad day, drinking, weed smoking, lil bit of grinding, intoxication with intention to fuck whilst under the influence but they're all into it, reader gets horny cos tommy has a cool lighter ????, no actual sex (yet), innuendo

a/n: thank you for the input both on my recent poll and in response to nb characters in future fic! i'm working on a couple of pieces but decided i'd first start with the poll winner: joel + tommy + reader threesome. there are so many great threesome fics already out there, so thanks for taking the time to read my humble offering to the genre. additional things -- there's no significant age gap. tommy is 25, reader is 29 and joel is 31 (or thereabouts, with that general spacing). sarah (referenced but not seen) is 8. part two is gonna get freaky af, and i'm always happy to hear about what nasty shit people wanna see in fic.

check out part ii

the lighting is low and the music is loud, the bass pulsing through the dive bar. It’s not a nice place, this bar, the floors and counters perpetually sticky in a way that makes you feel unreasonably grimy, but the drinks are cheap and strong.

you’re nursing a jack and coke, your third of the night, and you’re relaxing into the dizzying buzz when you feel the presence of a body scooting into the barstool next to yours.

please don’t try to talk to me, you silently will, just let me have one night of peace, please universe-

“what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” 

fuck

you don’t try to hold back your eyeroll at the cliche and make a show of knocking back the rest of your drink before responding, making no effort to look at the person next to you.

“until about thirty seconds ago, I was enjoying my drink,” you pause for emphasis, "by myself."

the bartender picks up your empty and you nod at him when he asks if you want another.

much to your annoyance, your rudeness doesn’t seem to dissuade your unwanted neighbor at all. he just chuckles. 

“bad day, huh?” he asks, and you nod. 

“yeah, me too,” he agrees, and you can feel his eyes on you as you start sipping. you can feel his hesitation before he speaks again, but you can just feel he's gonna blow right past it. "so, you wanna talk about your bad day? he asks.

"nope," you tell him, "you're not my therapist. you're just some... guy who wants to bother a woman who is very clearly trying to drink alone."

he lets out a sigh.

"look," he says, "i am sorry that i'm bothering you, and if you'd like me to leave, i won't say another word. i guess you just looked, like, genuinely lonely, and that shit fuckin sucks."

you soften at his words, and turn to look at him for the first time as he backs off and starts to get up.

"i'm sorry," you say, "i'm being an asshole."

he snorts, and smiles at you, a little abashed. you take him in. he's tall, with dark hair and dark eyes and, much to your chagrin, a really beautiful smile. he's a little freckled, and wearing a button-up that's rolled up his admittedly gorgeous and muscled forearms, and it's open and you can see the shape of his chest through his undershirt, and your stomach does a little flip.

"it's okay," you tell him, "stay. tell me all about your shitty day."

you smile, encouraging, and he sits down again.

it's an hour later, or maybe two, and you're not quite sure how many drinks you've had, nor how many he's had, but you're definitely on some side of drunk. you're leaning into the man, who's introduced himself as tommy and smells very nice (kinda musky and a little sweaty but in the nicest way and you wish there was a not-weird way to sniff his goddamn armpits but that's pretty inarguably weird.)

you find out you went to the same high school, but you were a few years ahead of him. probably caught one or two of the years my brother was there, though he told you, and you wondered if you'd ever met him.

when you asked if he had any weed, he grinned, very kindly insists he cover all of your drinks (for being a nuisance earlier in the night, please let me make it up to you, hon-) and leads you by the hand through the back of the building to the alleyway.

as alleyways go, this one is pretty nice. it's dark by now, but colorful graffiti covers the walls and though it's not an 'official' mural, you love it dearly and consider it a favorite.

tommy digs in a jacket pocket and produces a slightly-smushed-but-still-fat joint, and holds it out to you. you put it between your lips, and draw back, looking him up and down.

he pulls out a lighter--an oddly old fashioned sort of style that you really didn't anticipate from him. you'd expect a plastic gas station lighter, or even a naked lady bic instead of something that looked antique and well-maintained.

the casual way he interacted with this object he'd clearly taken such care of was, strangely, a massive fucking turn on.

when he'd first sat down, you were certain he was some sort of frat boy asshole. but after he'd told you about his shitty day (in which he ended up being 'slightly electrocuted' and received an absolute lambasting from his 'asshole of a boss big brother' about 'safety measures or some such') then he'd listened to you tell him about the promotion you were just passed over for. he reassured you when you went back and forth about whether you were justified in being frustrated because maybe you weren't that good, and isn't that as good a reason to drink as any? he was kind and patient, but also flirty and confident. and that stupid fucking lighter. in a split second you create a whole backstory. the lighter was his grandfathers, from the turn of the century. he took care of it his whole life, and then tommy's dad took care of it, and then tommy, and he keeps it polished and filled and the wick in good condition--

this may not be the weirdest thing you've ever been turned on by before. probably. but a lighter, really?

and with all of that together, you realised it didn't matter if your little backstory wasn't even slightly true, cos it was weirdly stylish and unexpected and it looked really nice in his big, lovely, veiny, calloused hands.

you needed to fuck this man.

"what'cha lookin' at me like that for?" he asks, and you feel a blush rise on your cheeks, but you gather your confidence and tip your chin up, pointing the end of the joint directly towards him, and he sparks the lighter, shielding the flame from the wind.

when the joint's lit you take a deep hit and hold it for a moment, eyes closed, before you exhale. you're about to pass the joint to him before you get another idea. you inhale deeply again, and then grab him by the collar and pull him towards you.

tommy melts instantly, drawing towards you and capturing your lips in a kiss. it's deep and hot and you can feel yourself getting wet, and then you feel a little bit dizzy and pull back and exhale the smoke into his mouth. he breathes you in and practically moans.

he's beautiful, moving from being silhouetted by the light of the street lamps to being hit with an iridescent glow that makes him look angelic.

you pass the joint to him. hits it. passes it back-

it's a minute before you say another word, and then before you can say it, he beats you to the punch-- "wanna come back to my place?"

after what was probably only five minutes (but feels like an hour) of waiting, you're in the back of a cab straddling tommy. you're not usually this brazen, but you're a little bit crossfaded, dizzy and loose, savoring the feeling the motion of the car, tommy pressing kisses down your throat, the windows rolled down, your hair whipping between both of you in a way that would usually annoy you but is now just an additional sensation that you could get lost in. you let out a small moan when you feel his hands grip your hips and rock you towards him, and his cock is hard and thick in his jeans. you don't realise the cab has stopped by the time you get to his place, and the driver coughs loudly and the two of you break apart.

tommy nods at the house on the left of the car and you both hop out and head over to it. tommy fumbles with his keys as you make your way to the porch but before he can find the right one, you press him up against the door and kiss him again. he growls, dropping the keychain altogether, running a hand down your back and feeling the curves of your body, grabbing at your ass, running his hand between your legs and feeling the dampness at the crotch of your pants.

"jesus christ, girlie," he huffs, and you're about to kiss him again, when you see the house illuminated around you, tommy's and your shadows black against the door, and suddenly, two loud honks of a car horn.

you jump a foot in the air, and tommy shouts fuck with a not insignificant amount of frustration. the car that's just pulled into the drive goes silent. the lights go off, and then you see a broad figure getting out of the car and slamming the door.

you turn to tommy, wide-eyed. "are we-" and you're not sure how to ask what you wanna ask, "are we about to get murdered?"

tommy chuckles, but he still looks pissed off. "nah, sweetheart. that's just my asshole big brother. who wasn't meant to be at home tonight!" he shouts the last part as his brother comes into view, clearly trying to start something, and it almost makes you laugh at how immediately this otherwise charming man goes into petty sibling mode.

but then the approaching man is illuminated by the porch light, and your jaw drops.

"joel fucking miller?" you ask, and you're pretty sure he'd be saying your name like that, too, if he hadn't temporarily lost the ability to speak.

"are you-?" he asks.

"i'm-?" you say.

tommy looks between you two, brow furrowed. "i take it y'all know each other?" he asks, and joel makes a strangled sound while you snort out a laugh.

"sure do," you smile, and look at tommy. "but any chance we could go inside? my feet are killing me."

they both nod and joel unlocks the door, while tommy scrambles on the ground to find his keys.

when you're seated, you get to the story.

"i had the biggest crush on him in high school. senior year, he asked me to prom and we had a great time." joel smiles a little, eyes crinkling in a way they never did when he was younger and it makes you hungry in a way you can't articulate. god he's been aging well.

"but then joel graduated, and i had a couple more years of high school. we took a break for a while, i'd moved out of town for a year, but we went on a couple dates after i graduated and moved back."

tommy looks between you two, and you're glad he doesn't look jealous or upset or anything, cos even though he would have no right, you've absolutely dealt with men like that plenty before. instead, though, he doesn't look mad or frustrated. you can't for the life of you parse the expression on his face. at all. more than anything, he looks amused.

"so, what happened?" tommy asks.

"he found out he got his ex pregnant." you shrug.

you'd be lying if you said it hadn't wrecked you for a while when it'd happened. you made more than a couple mix tapes with truly tragic heartbreak songs, and you had been sad that the possibility of trying this with joel after years of teenage heartache had been ripped out from under you, but you honestly hadn't thought about it for a while. more than anything, you reckon it speaks to his character that he made sure to stay with the mother of his child and do the right thing raising her.

"her name's sarah, right? and how's your wife?"

joel makes a pained expression, and tommy winces.

"ah. 'fraid she left years ago. sarah was still a baby." there's an awkward silence, but then he smiles a dazzling smile, "and sarah's doin great. she's turnin' nine this year and she's top of her class. never thought a kid o' mine could turn out so fuckin' bright. thought i was gonna fuck her up only havin' me around, and her uncle tommy o' course, but damn that girl makes me real proud."

you smile, and you're genuinely glad for him.

"speaking of-" tommy says, and you can swear joel preemptively rolls his eyes, "you said you weren't gonna be home tonight."

"i said i'd be gone for some of tonight. it's already two in the morning. sarah's over at mom's, but i've got work early. she's gonna take care of her all day, and now i won't have to get up at the asscrack of dawn to get to the site on time."

"ah-" tommy says, "well shit."

you're all silent for another moment, and then as if a switch has flipped you realise how fuckin weird this entire situation is.

"so, uh-" joel says, cos now he's somehow become the leader of the conversation, "i take it i've interrupted, so let me get out of your hair. and. i'm gonna go crash in sarah's bedroom, tommy, so i'll... be. at the otherendofthehallway"

you had never seen joel miller so awkward and flustered and you can't help but giggle a little, and joel narrows his eyes at you, but then he cracks a smile, too, and then the three of you are laughing so hard you have to wipe a tear from your eye.

you fall into a silence again, but it's not uncomfortable this time. you need a moment to yourself, though. among other things, if you could tell your nineteen year old self that you're at the home of joel miller, after making out with his incredibly hot brother, and now you're just sitting around with them, you'd be baffled.

"mind if i grab a glass of water?" you ask, and tommy stands to get you one, but you stop him. "don't worry, i've got it. are the ones on the dish rack alright? do you boys have beer? can i grab anything for you?"

"thanks, sweetheart," tommy calls, "there's a pitcher for water in the fridge, and we'd both take a beer. help yourself to one too, if ya like."

you fill up your glass full of water, pop a bottle opener into your pocket, and grab three bottles of beer by their necks in your spare hand. you place them down on the coffee table and open each bottle but take a big gulp of your water before you start on your beer.

when you look up, tommy and joel are communicating in what you can only assume is a sibling-specific language of small head shakes and narrowed eyes, and then finally a brief, firm, synchronized nod.

they both turn to face you, and there's a bit of a weird energy but you're not not into it.

"what's up?" you ask, and tommy looks at joel, and joel nods, and then tommy looks back at you.

"now-" tommy starts

joel cuts him off before he can say anything of substance-- "and we don't want you to feel pressured, sweetheart, the choice is yours, and if you'd like- either or both of us to fuck off, just say the word, yeah?"

you nod slowly.

"but we have a proposition for you, honey," tommy finishes.

you look between them. they're both standing sitting there, a bit bashful, and it's fuckin endearing. two men that you'd use confidence as a descriptor for each of them. very different siblings, both in looks and in personality, but their eyes are the same and you can see a delicious darkness burning in each.

"how would ya like to fuck us both?" tommy asks, and your heart skips a beat.

they don't need to ask you twice. you do your best to hold back your grin.

"fuck yes".

[necrotic-nephilim]

Give me your most controversial dc opinions!!!

HA YES GLADLY I WOULD LOVE TO (added a read more because i had a lot of words oopsie)

The Titans Tower Incident was in character for Jason Todd. at worst, it's a *bit* over-dramatic and a little cringey, but if you consider his actions, his motivations, and what he *actually* does, i honestly don't think it's OOC for him. he's just kind of a dramatic asshole in that era and i stand by that comic. the issue isn't the comic itself, it's how people interpret it.

i think the DC fandom, specifically the Batfamily fandom, really likes to claim to be progressive for brownie points, but then will have the one token woman that everyone decides is acceptable to hate. like, it's one thing if you dislike Carrie Kelley, i get it. Frank Miller isn't a great writer of women and she can be a lack of a character in the original Dark Knight Returns. but if you go out of your way making constant edits and posts shitting on her, it's *weird*. especially when most of the people shitting on her haven't even consumed her source, and their reasons for disliking her can apply to any other Robin, especially Tim. but as long as you put say, Steph or Cass on a pedestal, you can talk on and on about how you want to kill Carrie for the crime of existing. it feels like acceptable misogyny. i also think this extends to writers. if you put say, Gail Simone on a pedestal, you're free to blame everything under the sun on Devin Grayson. (to be clear i think you can and should hate Devin Grayson for a lot of things, but most rumors about her are untrue and if you look at every badly written comic and go "sounds like something Devin Grayson would write" that's really weird bc everything she's done, men like Chuck Dixon, Tom King, Tom Taylor, Marv Wolfman, etc have done in tenfold.) like, misogyny = bad unless it's That One Woman We've All Agreed To Hate. it's weird and i keep noticing it. and no one seems to unpack it. (i mostly see this on TikTok, not Tumblr tbf)

i don't care if you ship BruDick or not, but it's not weird for canon content to imply or state Dick had a crush on Bruce when he was first taken in. even in canon where Dick sees Bruce as a "father figure" in the most generous sense, that bond took years to build and when Dick was freshly orphaned, he *had* the memory of loving parents and didn't want Bruce to fill that role. you don't have to ship BruDick, you don't even have to like batcest, but if you're vitriolic toward just the idea that "hey maybe a young kid on the cusp of puberty might have some weird feelings to work out about the canonically very attractive mysterious playboy who took him in before seeing him as family because that bond took years to build" is nasty and terrible and wrong to you, you don't like the Batfamily, you just like the nuclear "neat" version of it in your head

the Batfamily characters are *all* too hypercompetent. like all of them are just *too* good at what they do that in order to write them in interesting arcs together, you have to willingly make some of them OOC in order to not immediately have the Problem wrapped up. i get it, Bruce is the greatest detective, Tim is wicked smart, Jason's a heavy hitting brawler, but we've reached a point where all of these characters have so many buffs they're not *fun* anymore. especially not in a group setting where you need to justify them needing each other's help. and even worse-so when they interact outside of the Gotham, you end up making every non-Batfam character seem useless just to make the Batfamily look cool. it's exhausting. i want to see these characters lose fights, look stupid, and not be the best for once. they're all getting so good they're just kind of. boring. which is the worst sin for a character, IMO.

i think we should go like. a good year of all Justice League-related teams not having a single Bat on the roster. just as a cleanse so *someone else* can shine. i get why non-Batfam DC fans are sick of the Batfamily bc jesus. it's oversaturation of the market.

power scaling "who would win" fights are fucking boring and i don't care. that's the least interesting thing about the fandom. you're missing the point of all of these characters if you only care about who could win a brawl. also it's just a stupid debate because the answer will *always* be: whoever the author of the comic wants to win.

the Batfamily is too damn big. i love every single one of them do not get me wrong. i'd die for the little niche characters who are likely never going to be relevant again like Julia Pennyworth or Kate Spencer. but it's too fucking big at this point. it's insisted to us that these characters are family but like. half of them have barely existed on the same page together more than once. it's ridiculous and it cannot sustain itself. none of these characters are allowed proper shine because they'll just get dropped for the next new shiny character. i think Maps Mizoguchi is a cool lil lady, but i know in my soul in like. three years she will fade into comics limbo and we'll have a new shiny character to fawn over. it's a brutal cycle bc DC doesn't know how to give any of these characters follow through, just wants to wave around cool new concepts.

both Under The Red Hood and Death In The Family are mediocre adaptations and strip the most important emotional elements of Jason's story from the plot. you can't properly adapt Jason's death if you leave his mother out of it. like they're phenomenal movies as their own pieces of media, but they lack the necessary emotional weight for Jason.

on the note of adaptations: the Young Justice cartoon is i think the best case study of "how do you react to a piece of media that's amazing on it's own, but is a fucking horrible adaptation?" because like, i can't discredit it. it's a good show. but it's a bad adaptation and i think people using it as an entry point for DC can make their views of certain characters and teams *very* warped. the Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey movie falls into a similar vein for me. if that movie was it's own thing with original characters, it'd likely be a top five movie for me. but because it's *such a fucking bad adaptation* i can't help but hate it for brutalizing the characters and the general concept of the BoP. it should've been a Gotham Sirens movie, and Young Justice should've been a Teen Titans show. and sure, adaptations don't owe us accuracy, but they have negative effects on the comics when they gain popularity. so i struggle to like Young Justice bc of how badly it's affected certain characters.

also on the note of adaptations: the best adaptation of how comic media operates is the Sandman tv show. adapting comics to tv shows or movies is difficult bc comic arcs don't operate the way show/movie arcs do, but the Sandman show proves it's absolutely doable to adapt the storytelling style while still making the typical adjustments you need for an adaptation.

DC needs more Deaf representation. in most areas, DC either matches Marvel or outperforms Marvel with representation of marginalized identities, but it's fucking tragic we have no deal Deaf rep in DC whereas Marvel has quite a few to pick from. this one is personal bc i'm Deaf but it does fuck me up the only option we have is a side character from Tim Drake: Robin who doesn't appear anywhere else and isn't a great character overall. DC i'm in your walls.

on the note of representation, if i see one more person say Titans had "perfect casting" while in the same breath admitting Dick was whitewashed, you are weird and i dislike you. it's really fucking weird that whitewashing is permissable to this fandom if the actor cast/fancast is hot. Dick should've been a Roma actor. Damian should not be fancast as a white actor. it's the bare minimum.

i have so many more but i will end with this especially controversial one: Dan Mora's art is overhyped. that man has the worst same face syndrome i've ever seen and i will not lie half the time i can't tell which Robin he's drawing. his art is technically gorgeous and it's so pretty to look at, but begging for every comic series to be drawn by him is boring and terrible. the art style of a comic reflects it's genre. wanting all comic art to look like Dan Mora's art is sucking the style out of comics. i miss art styles like Todd Nauck's that clearly reflected the genre of the comic.

i lied i have one more i'm REALLY passionate about: Tim's vigilante name after Red Robin should not be bird-themed. naming him Sparrow or Cardinal is *just* as bad as naming him Red Robin longterm. they're *just* as derivative and they *sound* cool but don't hold any real unique identity for Tim outside of Robin. like it baffles me we all agree he needs to move on from Robin and then decided "let's name him Robin Lite". if he has a bird name, it should be Jackdaw so at the very least, he's not red anymore. and Jackdaw could be a fun callback to Drake, in that it uses part of Tim's real name (his middle name, Jackson) while standing out a bit. but if i really had creative control i'd give him a completely unique name. if it has to be Batfamily related, Gray Ghost. but in my head, his name should be Conspiracy. i could write a lengthy meta on why and tbh it is based in my love for the Question and wanting Tim to have a similar detective noir-esque gritty solo, but i genuinely don't think he should be Cardinal or Sparrow. those names only continue his identity issues of being trapped as either Robin or a Robin knockoff.